007 Fest Poetry Table: Acrostic

Resting bitch face hides how Each loss burns like the first. Guilt accomplishes nothing. Remain resolute and persist despite Exhaustion from the effort not To weep for what cannot be changed.

Q when thinking about Mallory…

And This Finishes Fest For me

Bredlik: Slep

My name is Q

And wen its time

Or wen my tec

Shine too brite

I leave the lab

To search for bed

I tak the tube

I rest my hed

I fall aslep

I mis my stop

Oh mi god

I think I'm lost

Closing Fest Poetry, inspired by a quote by Stephen King.

i carry your gun with me (i carry it by my heart)

For the @mi6-cafe poetry month:

After leaving his personal statement in a Komodo dragon nest, Bond starts to send Q unconventional not-quite-apologies. Q would rather he returned his kit.

A labour of love 

Smoking and bullet ridden 

Unforgivable

–

Remember the time you Q Branched my car and I destroyed it?

I thought you'd kill me...

But you didn't.

————— 

God damnit, Bond. I'd consider it a personal favour if you returned the DB10 unscathed.

–

Three million pounds

Please bring it back in one piece

Tiber's getting dredged

0017 End of Fest Poetry Report :

I Loved My Friend

(600 words) by notesofbergamot

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Relationships: James Bond/Q

Characters: Q (James Bond)

Additional Tags: No Time to Die (2021) Spoilers, No Time to Die (2021) Compliant, One-Sided Attraction, Alcohol, Q is in mourning, Pining, Angst

Summary:

Inspired by “Poem” by Langston Hughes. Q spends a night drinking and thinking about what he lost and what he could have had.

The Ballad of 007 and Q

Not long ago, for our story anyway,

There were two clever men

Back and forth, exchanging quips in play

The older one wished for an exploding pen.

James Bond was the elder of the two,

Though still strong in his prime.

He was a spy, to England true,

Able to take down Lords of Crime.

His name was legend, especially abroad,

A secret whispered by those wanting to hide.

Some enemies saw him and were awed

Others never had a glimpse before they died.

But he had a secret, one only he knew.

He was growing weary of his work.

Perhaps he was burning out, could be true,

Hard to tell behind his trademark smirk.

He was contemplating retirement

Or drinking himself to an early grave:

This “blunt instrument,” trained to be violent,

This world renowned scoundrel, this knave…

Until one day, arriving at Six

Expecting old Boothroyd for his kit

Whom did he find, with a bag of tricks,

But a skinny boffin, wearing a sweater of knit.

He stared at Bond for a second

Gaze impassive and hazel eyes clever,

Then he took out a handgun, beckoned,

And Bond sauntered over at his leisure.

Closer to the man, Bond could see

Just how wavy his hair was.

A tousled mop, untamed, free.

He wanted to touch… just because.

Bond noticed the eyes again,

Hazel and sharp behind the glasses

That framed his face. Eyes like rain

Over the moors- they were hardly passive.

In a few short moments, this man showed Bond

More about his tech than old Boothroyd ever had

And then, in a shock to the older blond,

The young man said he was the new Q. This LAD.

He was too young, Bond immediately said,

Barely out of nappies. How could this be?

But the new Q smirked, and instead

He wished Bond well, and sipped his tea.

Over the next few missions, Bond came to find

That this scrawny Boffin, this new Q

Had the single most brilliant mind

Of the entire Six crew.

So each time he returned to Six

Bond found his way down

Returning his broken bag of tricks

Just to then tease Q’s frown.

And as time passed, they grew closer

Spending more time together at work.

Bond would nap, no gun in his holster

While Q tinkered, each design a new quirk.

Soon the agent came to find

That the new Q would forget to eat

So Bond started returning cleverness in kind

Bringing food to Q, the occasional treat.

Meals turned into more shared space

As Bond began to crash at Q’s flat.

The agent knew Medical wasn’t the place.

He’d rather be with Q and the cat.

So imagine his surprise one day

To discover that his favorite coworker

Felt more like home to him, nay,

More like love… Bond felt the growing ardor.

Q was always there to help him

Especially when he had to stitch himself back together

And one day, seemingly on a whim

Bond decided Q was to whom he wanted to tether.

Years later, if you find your way to Six

And head down into the basement lair

You can find two men who still get their kicks

In the love and lives they share.

For Poetry Day, 007 Fest 2021.

Calligram (002 poetry table)

Inspiration image: Walther PPK

Created on Procreate for iPad.

TEXT:

Bond, James Bond

A blunt intstrument

Hardened into deadly force

For Queen and country in the name

Of Freedom

In spite of trauma and loss.

wip wednesday thursday:

About an hour after they’ve left, Kate’s landline begins to ring. 

The dial tone keeps going in his ear for a good twenty seconds and he sighs, checking his watch. 

“Hi, you’ve reached Kate. Unfortunately I’m not able to take your call at the moment, so please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you when I can.” 

007 Fest Poetry Prompt Table: Ballad

Alone along the Thames I walk in the night Stars lost beyond the haze Of the city lights

My thoughts turn in circles As they always do The compass spins My path turns round And I come back to you

Half-way round the world In the bright light of day I admit it’s just another Attempt to run away

Afraid of what it means Or what it could cost To number you among those I have loved and lost

My thoughts turn in circles As they always do The compass spins My path turns round And I come back to you

There can be no escape From the only certainty Your hands hold the promise Of ruin or ecstasy

It’s time I roll the dice Time to face my fate Cards on the table I hope I’m not too late

My thoughts turn in circles As they always do The compass spins My path turns round And I come back to you

I’m coming back to you I’m coming back to you I’m coming home to you

It’s WIP Wednesday!

Post a line or three from a current WIP, and then tag @mi6-cafe so we can find and reblog it!

OR you can reblog this post with your WIP excerpt!

All ships, fandoms, and WIPs are welcome.

Just a little bit of Merlin and some friends.

She said she would ask around and look in the library for some other clues. "Think of it as a reason to come back within the next five years."

Merlin smiled ruefully as Ethal laughed. "Just because you can get the apple mead on your own doesn't mean we don't miss your company at the Killer Kelpie."

"Alright, alright. I'll make sure it's not so long. And I'll bring Mithian along as well."

"If she's available, bring Guinevere, too," Ethal requested. "You and Arthur spoke highly of her and she is really changing the political landscape. I would love to speak with her."

Merlin shrugged. "That one is harder. You might have to come visit Camelot instead and try to catch one of her rare free days."

Scavenger Hunt #69 - Blackout Poem

Czech version, page 112 of Zlatý fantóm (Goldfinger)

nehty zaťukala

vyčerpala

zbývá

setkání

a paní

chladně řekla

miláčku?

zamilovaně

a 

vážně. Pak

smrt

nehoda

smích

——

English version

tapped her nails

drained

remains

a meeting

and a lady

said coldly

darling?

lovingly

and

seriously. Then

death

accident

laughter

Scavenger Hunt Item #21: Write an acrostic poem for any Bond title.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained

On and on, it ends with pain.

To be a spy is to give yourself

Into liquor bottles on the shelf.

Making enemies on the street,

Enticing women you’ll never meet.

To be a spy is a broken man

On foreign soil shit hits the fan.

Determination cannot last long 

In bloody wounds without a comm, does

Everybody last this long?