#felix leiter

[viximillarumvitarum]

Me: So if Aaron Taylor Johnson is the new Bond they’re going to need a new CIA buddy, Felix.

Husband: I suppose…

Me: And in the books Felix is from Texas

Him: *sigh* Lemme guess…

Me: I think Glen Powell would be PERFECT

Him: If Aaron Taylor Johnson AND Glen Powell were in a Bond movie together you would literally pass out. Like bloody nose and everything.

Me: You’re not wrong.

AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO THINKS THIS WOULD BE PERFECT CASTING???

#glen powell #husband conversations #he gets it #007 #james bond #felix leiter #aaron taylor johnson #glen “the one with the toothpick” powell #celebrity crush #tgm fandom #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #top gun: maverick #top gun

[pedroam-bang]

Opening Titles - Casino Royale (2006)

#2006 #gif #film #movie #animation #Casino Royale #Daniel Craig #James Bond #007 #Eva Green #Vesper Lynd #Mads Mikkelsen #Le Chiffre #Jeffrey Wright #Felix Leiter #spy

[crewman-penelope]

#james bond #felix leiter #nttd #nttdedit #film edit #filmedit #movie edit #movieedit #Espionage #Romance #No time to die #Daniel Craig #jeffrey wright

[ultimate-007]

LICENCE TO KILL 1989

David Hedison, Priscilla Barnes, Timothy Dalton

#licence to kill #timothy dalton #david hedison #felix leiter #007 #james bond

[aniron48]

When they ask, what do I see? / I say a bright white beautiful heaven hanging over me

#I realize I have done this to myself #and thus only have myself to blame #just up in my 00leiter feelings this evening #james bond #felix leiter #00leiter #the national #don’t swallow the cap

[skatingthinandice]

007 FEST 2023 || felix friday

#007 fest #007 fest 2023 #team civilian #felix leiter #felix my most beloved #james bond #bond edit #my edit #my caps #mine #LUCY LUCY LUCY

[bluebellofbakerstreet]

Felix Leiter

#007 fest 2023 #team q branch #QB-B3 #myart #my007 #felix leiter #jeffrey wright

[samanthahirr]

007 Fest - Felix Friday Cocktail

The Jamaica Contact with a Side of Danger

1 1/4 oz lightly aged Jamaican rum 2 oz crème de banane  1/2 oz lime juice 1/2 oz demerara syrup + 1 oz Jamaican overproof rum, served separately

Combine the first 4 ingredients with ice in a rocks glass. Serve with a shot of overproof rum on the side, to be poured in to taste.

The original film version of Felix Leiter, as introduced in the movie Dr. No, blends in while undercover by imbibing the local beverages. This simple and well-balanced cocktail features a smooth blended Jamaican rum (I recommend Appleton Signature Blend for delicious caramel notes) balanced with a quality crème de banane and fresh lime juice. Amp up the complexity with a demerara sugar syrup, and you have a handsome 4-ingredient taste of the tropics that’s fine on its own…but it’s better with a side of danger!

The Jamaican classic overproof white rum by Wray & Nephew (126 proof) brings a bright, grassy freshness to the drink…and packs one hell of a punch! Float as much or as little of the overproof rum shot atop the cocktail as you like, but be sure to keep your wits about you; you can’t afford to get so soused you miss your contact!

Note: Not all banana liqueurs are created equal, and this drink really exposes the quality of its ingredients. The pall of cloying, artificial ‘banana flavoring’ from a cheap label will murder this drink, and not in a sexy Bond Girl way (more like an eaten by sharks way). Your best selections for naturally made banana liqueurs are Giffards’ Banane du Brésil or Tempus Fugit’s Crème de Banane. 

#007 fest 2023 #007 fest #teamqbranch #cocktail recipes #felix friday #MI6CafeRecipes #james bond #007 #felix leiter #jack lord

[laurelins-light]

007 Fest 2023 - Felix Friday

Have some headcanons about Felix!

He has a daughter, they are publicly estranged but only because they both work in espionage and they don't want to risk each other. They regularly pass messages and communicate however, just via clandestine means instead.

Felix loves coming to the UK and seeing James (and Alec). He knows he can count on them to understand his life and to have some crazy stories that make him feel good about his own crazy missions.

When he doesn't have missions, Felix lives on his boat that he takes all around the world, it's helpful for both his cover and he also just loves sailing. James sometimes joins him to get away, and it's usually crashed by Alec at some point during their trip.

James tried really hard to stop Q and Felix from meeting because they knew Felix would try and recruit Q. When both finally did meet they laughed, turns out Felix had rescued Q from a bit of trouble in America when Q was a teenager (before he was MI6) and they both had been friends and remained friends since. James is baffled by this and feel slightly betrayed no one told them anything.

#007 fest #007 fest 2023 #teambondvillains #team bond villains #Felix Leiter #TeamBondVillains

[i-eat-your-pancakes]

The three objectively best versions of Felix Leiter.

(Jack Lord, David Hedison, and Jefferey Wright)

Sorry I missed Felix Friday, something came up and I was busy all weekend!

#my art #007 Fest #007 Fest 2023 #teambondvillains #James Bond #Felix Leiter #Jack Lord #David Hedison #Jefferey Wright

[themancorialist]

Market Street, Manchester.

#watch out #he's got a shooter! #grubby mitts #hand prints #fingerprints #ice hockey boot print #007 #felix leiter #halifax #not howard #the daft loon #Manchester #window dressing #what is the city #street photography #winter sun #sunset #lens culture #et cetera

[castillon02]

Fried Pie at the Flying J

Angela put her phone down and looked alive behind the counter. The suits who had just come in were different than her usual run of weathered old Texans, although they had the familiar road-stunned look of long driving in the past and long driving ahead, same as most people who came into the Flying J. People liked to stop here in this place so deep on the highway. The gas was reasonable and the food was good. If you had time to stop and eat, the attached Denny’s had the cleanest bathrooms for fifty miles, but she figured that wasn’t what these guys were after.

Sunglasses Suit---he hadn’t bothered to take off his designer shades when he came in---made a beeline for the door that wasn’t to the Denny’s, and he put his hand on the other suit’s arm when the man made to follow him. “Hang on. You won’t want to go in there.”

“Hmm? Why?” Ooh, a British accent!

Sunglasses Suit jerked his head at the sign on the door: The Original Fried Pie Shop.

“Oh.” British Suit made a face. Rude. Don’t knock ’em till you try ’em, bud. Especially if you’re from England. Even Angela had seen enough TV to know about bangers and mash. (Her opinion? Needs more barbecue sauce.)

“They’re basically empanadas,” Sunglasses Suit said, sounding defensive. 

“I dare you to tell Camille that,” British Suit replied, arching his eyebrows. The hint of playfulness lightened his old boot of a face, made him look suddenly handsome.

“No deal,” Sunglasses said, maybe ruefully. “Anyway, Mama liked them, so---” He swallowed. The past tense hung heavy in the air. Poor fella. He had a black shirt on beneath his black suit jacket, and now that looked more like funeral-wear than Johnny-Cash-wannabe.

British Suit briefly put his hand on Sunglasses’s shoulder.

Sunglasses cleared his throat. “Anyway, just stay out here and find something that will suit your picky palate.” He went in to buy some pies---which, yeah, were basically empanadas, but with fruit in them. Or meat. Or cheese and pizza sauce. The Original Fried Pie Shop didn’t discriminate when it came to fillings.

British Suit perused the aisles---something military in his walk, hard to peg what. He ignored the candy and the Hostess stuff, stopped in front of the nuts and jerky, and stared with what might have been horror at the hot food station.

Angela pursed her lips. Sure, their jumbo breakfast burritos weren’t exactly gourmet, but she had made them fresh only two hours ago! And there was always the breakfast croissant if the guy missed Europe so bad. Jeez, wait until he got a load of what they had at the Exxon. “Can I help you, sir?” she asked with her most professional cheerfulness.

British Suit turned and approached her. “Angela,” he said, his eyes glancing off her name tag, “I’m afraid I don’t know what a ‘tater tot’ is and why it should be in a burrito.”

Angela eyed him. Bless his heart. Was he serious? “Fried grated potatoes. They add crunch,” she said, and added with sweet vengeance, “Would you like a free sample?” She wanted to see his judgy British face when he found out they were good. 

Sunglasses Suit chose that moment to exit with his bag of pies. “Come on, Bond,” he said. “I got you beef and vegetable. Don’t pretend you don’t eat beef pies in the motherland.”

British Suit, Bond, smirked at her. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get that sample,” he said, flashing his eyes up and down at her.

Jesus Christ. Had he somehow turned a tater tot into an innuendo? And was she really thinking that it was a shame she’d missed out?

Bond turned away from her. “Got what you needed, Felix?”

Sunglasses Suit, Felix, nodded. “Yeah. It’ll be good to---you know, the family will appreciate it,” he said. “Anyway---come on. Burnin’ daylight,” he added, his accent heavier than it had been. More familiar than it had been.

A small-town boy, Angela realized, who’d grown up and left for the big wide world like so many kids around here did. Had his mama driven him to DFW to send him off to college, and they’d stopped for pies on the way? How often had he come home after that, in between traveling the world and making friends with British folk? 

Well, Felix was here now, and he’d remembered the pie. There was probably a good son under that suit, buried deep, in the same place he kept the accent. She worked in a gas station in the middle of nowhere---she saw every day that some things buried deep were worth coming back to, even if it was an effort to get there.

Less of an effort when you had company, at least. She was glad this Felix had someone with him---even if it was that weird Bond guy.

#castillon writes #007 fest 2023 #team00 #felix leiter #OC Day #scavenger hunt: local landmark #cw: mention of funeral

[mi6-cafe]

July 7th is Felix Leiter Friday!

The Americans were Fleming’s favourite people to make fun of: he typically characterized them as stupid, fat, and lazy. Except for Felix Leiter. Today is the day to celebrate our star CIA agent! 

Ways to participate:

Post Felix headcanons

Draw Felix fanart

Write Felix ficlets

Make Felix meta 

Rec Felix-centric fancreations

Create Felix-inspired recipes (don’t forget to tag with #mi6caferecipes)

And any other Felix-related activities! 

Also check out the Scavenger Hunt items #4, #5, #25, or #30 for some more inspiration.

Tag with #007 Fest and we’ll reblog!

#007 fest 2023 #felix leiter

[crewman-penelope]

#felix friday #felix leiter #jack lord #Cec Linder #Rik Van Nutter #Norman Burton #david hedison #bernie casey #john terry #David hedison again 💖 #jeffrey wright #Team civilian #Gingerfan #mi6 cafe

[ultimate-007]

NEVER SAY NEVER AGAIN 1983

Bernie Casey

#never say never again #bernie casey #felix leiter #james bond #007

[aniron48]

24. just really needed a hug sort of hug for 00leiter would be amazing if inspiration strikes! 🥰

Alex, mi vida! Thank you for always inspiring and indulging my deep-seated need for 00leiter, and thank you for this prompt. 🥰 Your wish is my command, my friend! It's here, continuing below the cut, as well as on ao3:

sometimes it takes the night to fall

“My mother wanted me to go to law school,” Felix says. His tone is measured, and this, this, is something he’s going to include in his annual performance review at the Agency, which his supervisor signs every year without reading a word: Agent Leiter is calm and measured, even when he is soaking wet, covered in pink feathers, and holding a flash drive with the plans for a chemical weapon designed to take out half of Europe, circumstances which Agent Leiter would have avoided entirely had his MI6 counterpart not been a fucking asshole.

“‘You’ll make good money, son,’ she would tell me,” Felix says. He pulls his Glock out of his holster, pointing it toward the floor to let the water drain from the barrel. “‘You’ll wear nice suits.’ But no, I knew better. I didn’t want to take the motherfucking bar exam.”

“You wear nice suits now, Felix,” Bond drawls, looking him up and down, and Felix is either going to punch or kiss that look off his face, but he hasn’t decided which, yet.

“Normally, I would agree with you, James,” Felix says. Measuredly, again, because he’s a goddamn station chief for the CIA. “But right now, my nice suit looks like it survived simultaneous explosions at a poultry farm and a Pepto-Bismol factory.”

Felix had had plans for their mission in Prague, plans which involved a timeline, and coordinates on a map, and the judicious use of SIGINT. James Bond had had instincts, and even if those instincts had been accurate, as far as identifying the Belarusian middleman they were looking for went, his methods left a lot to be desired, seeing as they primarily involved a chase through a crowded craft fair in the center of town, followed by what could charitably be called hijacking a bachelorette cruise in order to chase said middleman down the Vltava River. And now here they were, on a deserted dock in a decidedly seedy part of town, mercifully free of bachelorettes, but with an unconscious henchman tied to an oil barrel behind them, waiting for the ride that would take them not to their warm, comfortable hotel room near Karluv Most, but to the U.S. Embassy, where Felix could hand off the hard drive and then spend the rest of the night filling out the ream of paperwork required after the sort of nuclear-grade shitshow James Bond tended to leave behind him on a good night.

“I think I know what you need, Felix,” Bond says, and the way his mouth turns up at the corner can’t mean anything good.

“What I need,” Felix says, “is not to be picking penis-shaped confetti out of my beard.”

“No,” Bond says, stepping closer, and if the British exfil team doesn’t get there soon, Felix is going to paddle to the Embassy on a goddamn inflatable canoe, “No, that’s not it.” 

He brings a hand to the back of Felix’s head, drawing him in close. “Why don’t you start by putting your arm around my waist.”

They’re Felix’s own words from years ago, directed back at him with Bond’s characteristically lethal precision. Not long after the events in Bolivia, Felix had flown into London for the memorial service of another MI6 colleague who had died in the line of duty. Later, after everyone else had left, he’d joined Bond where he stood in the back of the church, stiff with grief and the bone-deep chill of the British winter.

“She drowned, you know,” Bond had said, his tone conversational. “004, I mean. She deserved better. It’s a terrible way to go.”

Bond and Felix had been lovers for mere weeks at that point, if that designation even applied to the handful of hours they’d stolen in South American hotel rooms and, on one memorable occasion, the lost luggage room of a train station in the middle of nowhere. But Felix wasn’t an idiot. He’d been in Venice when Vesper died. Even then, he’d known Bond well enough to know what wounds would be fatal to him, if left untreated.

“It is,” Felix had said. He hadn’t dared to say much of anything else. “I’m sorry for your loss, James.”

“It’s England’s loss,” Bond had said. He’d already begun to go distant around the edges, all of the lines of his body tensed for a fight. Felix had wanted nothing more than to demand Bond come back with him to his hotel room, to fuck him fast and merciless until all the tension bled from his body, until he was easy and louche again, unspooled against the Egyptian cotton sheets. But his first instinct with Bond wasn’t always the right one, back then, and he’d looked at Bond in silence for a long moment before making his decision.

“Come here,” he’d said. “I’m going to give you a hug.”

Bond had looked at Felix like he’d just suggested they piss in the baptismal font. “A what?”

“A hug, Bond. Jesus Christ. Come here.” He’d pulled Bond in by the lapel of his expensive wool coat. “You start by putting your arm around my waist, like that. Then you put your other arm around my shoulders. Like this, asshole. And then—” Felix had squeezed with all his might. “Then you hold on tight.”

They are here, now, tonight—and by “here” Felix means Prague, means the dock, means covered in dirty river water and the detritus of phallus-shaped souvenirs, but he also means so much more than that—in no small part because all those years ago, his own instincts had been right when he’d taken James Bond in his arms in an empty church, and so as angry as he is, he’s powerless to deny James this, now. He gives in to the inevitable and steps into the embrace, dropping his head against James’s neck.

“I hate you,” he says, but there’s no longer any heat in it. “This was the worst night of my career.”

“The ladies liked it,” Bond says.

“The ‘ladies’ thought we were strippers. One of them threw her drink on me when I refused to take my shirt off.”

“The night is still young,” Bond points out. Felix refuses to turn his head to look at him, on principle, but he can feel Bond’s smile against his cheek.

“Fuck you and your entire country,” Felix says. “I’m glad we threw your fucking tea in the harbor.” But his head is still on Bond’s shoulder, and his arms are around his waist, and he’ll stay that way until the sound of a distant motor signals that their ride is near, and the night moves on around them.

#prompt fills #one shot #my fic #sometimes it takes the night to fall #james bond #felix leiter #00leiter #fluff