thestalwartheart

[thestalwartheart]

In writing, epithets ("the taller man"/"the blonde"/etc) are inherently dehumanizing, in that they remove a character's name and identity, and instead focus on this other quality.

Which can be an extremely effective device within narration!

They can work very well for characters whose names the narrator doesn't know yet (especially to differentiate between two or more). How specific the epithet is can signal to the reader how important the character is going to be later on, and whether they should dedicate bandwidth to remembering them for later ("the bearded man" is much less likely to show up again than "the man with the angel tattoo")

They can indicate when characters stop being as an individual and instead embody their Role, like a detective choosing to think of their lover simply as The Thief when arresting them, or a royal character being referred to as The Queen when she's acting on behalf of the state

They can reveal the narrator's biases by repeatedly drawing attention to a particular quality that singles them out in the narrator's mind

But these only work if the epithet used is how the narrator primarily identifies that character. Which is why it's so jarring to see a lot of common epithets in intimate moments-- because it conveys that the main character is primarily thinking of their lover/best friend/etc in terms of their height or age or hair color.

#god this is such a good point #writing

[thestalwartheart]

“english isn’t my first language sorry for any mistakes” —proceeds to write the most beautiful work of art ever created with grammar ten times better than an english professor

[thestalwartheart]

the great dark ocean (redux)

Words: 5896 words Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Bond/Q Tags: Romance, Friends to Lovers, Art History, Developing Relationship Summary:

When they kiss for the first time, the sun is setting; that burning old empire of Rome is ablaze in orange.

#self reblog #in case you missed it #one last one for the road #this is one of my faves in a while

[thestalwartheart]

the great dark ocean (redux)

Words: 5896 words Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Bond/Q Tags: Romance, Friends to Lovers, Art History, Developing Relationship Summary:

When they kiss for the first time, the sun is setting; that burning old empire of Rome is ablaze in orange.

#00q #in case you missed it #self reblog

[thestalwartheart]

If you got a comment reply from me today and it was months late, a) I'm sorry, and b) please know my brain thinks that roughly one minute has passed since you left the comment (time has passed me by so quickly and ruthlessly this year). Also, c) ily.

[thestalwartheart]

One of my absolute favorite tropes is

“We have taken the one you love most!”

“Oh, have you? Good fukken luck lmao”

*distant screams of kidnappers as loved one escapes*

or the flipside:

“We’ve kidnapped you!”

“You are in so much trouble. You are in so much fucking trouble. You are in the most trouble ever, oh my god.”

*DOOR EXPLODES INWARDS AS LOVED ONE ARRIVES*

and the alternate:

*vehicle pulls up, door opens, person is shoved out, door slams, vehicle screeches away*

“Did you get kidnapped??”

“For a minute yeah”

#this is VERY GOOD #go on and write the fic jamesbloodybond <3 #you'd be the very man for it ;) #lol sorry my jokes are terrible

[thestalwartheart]

Ao3 subscriptions are so fucking wild to me. Every time I write my silly fanfictions and post them 124 people get an email just to let them know that this idiot is posting their fanfictions again. I send 124 people an email every time I write smut. Imagine sending 124 physical letters out just to be like “hello everyone, I put some guys we made up in our heads through the horrors again.” Absolutely absurd. I am kissing all of you on the lips.

#just checked my stats #saw the number #i am whispering what the fuck in wonder and love #i love all of you <3 #i'm making out with you #i am giving you a hug or a high five if you'd rather

[thestalwartheart]

Random writing tips that my history professor just told during class that are actually helpful

Download all your sources or print them so you can turn off your wifi

Give your phone to someone

Just. WRITE. Writing is analysing, you’ll get more ideas as you write. It doesn’t need to be perfect, for now you can just blurt out words and ideas randomly. You can fix it later.

Create a skeleton/structure before writing.

Stop before you get exhausted. It’s best to stop writing when you still have some energy and inspiration left, this will also motivate you to get started again next time.

Make a to do list

Work in bite sizes. Even if it’s not much, as long as you put some ideas on paper or do some editing.

Simple language =/= boring language, simple language = clear language.

Own your words. If they are not your words, state this clearly in the text, not just in the footnotes.

STOP BEFORE YOU GET EXHAUSTED. Listing it again because it’s easily one of the best tips a teacher has ever given me.

#writing

[thestalwartheart]

but if I don't get weird and horny about this then who will

[thestalwartheart]

the great dark ocean (redux)

Words: 5896 words Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James Bond/Q Tags: Romance, Friends to Lovers, Art History, Developing Relationship Summary:

When they kiss for the first time, the sun is setting; that burning old empire of Rome is ablaze in orange.

#00q #00q fic #my fic #james bond

[thestalwartheart]

#he's so full of bloodlust about it i love them #slow horses

[thestalwartheart]

Daniel Craig - The New Yorker magazine

#stop it #like actually stop it mr craig I have had it!!!!! #top right lives in my head rent free #daniel craig

[thestalwartheart]

people telling you they reread your fic is the biggest compliment you could ever receive. there are thousands of stories out there begging to be found, to be explored, but your story meant so much to someone that they came back to it eagerly, they went over every word again. to love is to return and loving a fic is rereading it. thank you to all readers and rereaders <3333

#❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[thestalwartheart]

MONDAY

A four o'clock espresso is the devil's work. I drink it down anyway.

#a reverse haiku for you all that explains my afternoon

[thestalwartheart]

No Time to Die (2020) dir. Cary Fukunaga

#top tier dynamic #no time to die

[thestalwartheart]

if you're still taking prompts from the list:

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

Hey @dude-watchin-with-the-brontes! Thank you so much for this prompt, and apologies for taking so long to get something written! Here's a short little prompt fill for you. Enjoy 💙 Read it below or on AO3.

drunk.

When they emerge from the pub, it’s still light out, which seems like madness until Q remembers the recent turn of the clock. Daylight savings. The most wonderful time of the year. The night sky is a haze of pink and orange, and if he were a different man, Q would call it romantic.

“It is.”

“Hm?” Q turns to the man beside him. Bond. The last man standing, as ever. He looks remarkably sober for having polished off an incalculable amount of hard alcohol.

“Romantic,” Bond says. “The sky. I was agreeing with you.”

“Right. Yes. I definitely—” Q swallows a small burp. “I definitely meant to say that aloud. Christ. I’m ratarsed.”

Bond laughs. Laughs. It’s such a rarity that Q closes his eyes for a moment. Tries to seal it into his memory and lock it away with everything else that should only be declassified in seventy-five years.

When he opens his eyes, the sky is even pinker, and Bond is standing in front of him. His eyes are lovely, but lovelier are the laugh lines around them.

Deep, they are. Well-worn.

Q knows it’s just genetics. DNA-sequencing. A pinch of his mother, more of his father. The creases of his face don’t mean Bond’s laughed so much in life, really, and yet he smiles easily when they’re like this: drunk under London’s sky, meandering through the city, usually while it’s raining. Thank goodness it isn’t tonight. Q hasn’t an umbrella on him, not even a dangerously experimental one.

“All right, Q?”

“Fine. Yes. Lovely.”

“And ratarsed.”

Q wobbles on a loose paving stone. Bond’s hand steadies him.

“Mm. But a merry sort of ratarsed. I think the fresh air’s helped.”

A laughing couple walk past. They’re handsy, all over each other, and their loud public affection might normally prove annoying, but it isn’t tonight. The sky is lovely, and the company is even lovelier, so why shouldn’t everyone kiss where they like?

Why shouldn’t Q?

He leans in.

But Bond’s hand moves from his arm to his chest, and Q is kept at bay.

“Q.”

“What? But we—” Q breaks off, frowning.

They’ve done this before. They’ve done this in Q’s office, and they’ve done it in Bond’s. They’ve done it in a hospital, and they’ve done it once in Cyprus amongst the olive trees. Infrequent as it is, Q’s habitual drunken snog with Bond is one of the two constants in his life. The other constant is the cats, and he can’t very well snog them.

“I know.”

“Is there someone else?”

He cringes as soon as he says it averting his eyes. He sounds like a desperate wife concerned about Bond’s mistresses—all those overseas trips, the late nights at the office. It’s nine o’clock. Where’ve you been? Absurd, if only because Q’s the one who’s always staying late.

So. They’ve snogged a few times. So what? Q shagged a man named Iain a few weeks ago. Bond’s fucked three women with three different names since. Q forgets them. He’s sure Bond hasn’t.

There’s a messy, drunken taxi line forming outside the pub. People waiting for their Ubers, give their friends one last hug, then two, then three. A weight sinks in Q’s stomach and sloshes about amongst seven pints.

“Too many people, then?” he ventures.

“Q, look at me.”

He does.

“I’d have you in front of a football stadium if that’s what you wanted.”

Q’s breath feels punched out of him.

Bond steps closer, slides his hand up Q’s jaw. Their foreheads touch; Q’s messy curls, greasy from the day, pick up the clammy sweat on Bond’s forehead. Bond’s lips are so close. They look cold. Q wants to warm them.

“I’d just prefer to have you sober,” says Bond.

“Oh. Yes.” Q digs his hand under Bond’s jacket and urges him closer. Behind them, someone lets loose a catcall. “Yes.” He bites his bottom lip. “Perhaps one for the road, though? While I sober up?”

Bond smiles. He turns his head until his lips meet Q’s cheek—or rather his jaw—and there is nothing chaste about the kiss he places there. It’s louche and incendiary in the way of all Bond’s actions. Q’s body does not know the meaning of whisky dick.

When he surfaces from the haze of the last few minutes, an MI6 driver is waiting to take him home. He climbs into the car with Bond, knowing that when he gets out, he’ll be getting out alone. The thought doesn’t smart like it might have on some other night. He creates a reminder in his phone for the following morning — CALL BOND - DATE?? — and leans back against the headrest.

Bond’s hand is waiting for him; it tangles in Q’s hair. Outside, the day disappears into a navy blue sky.

#self reblog #in case you missed it #00q

[thestalwartheart]

Daniel Craig as James Bond, filming a subsequently-deleted scene in Spectre (2015)

#!!!!!!!!!!!!! #one of his finest looks tbh