#m james bond

[lithiumseven]

Part II, Part I

[thestarwarslesbian]

Bond: You want me to make out with Q for the mission?

M: No

Bond: *shakes his head as he walks over to Q* I can’t believe you are making me do this

M: I’m really not

Q: shut up and let him speak

[headcanonthings]

Bond: If you don’t let me go on this mission I will be such a pain in your ass- M: You’re already a pain in my ass Bond: I feel like we both know I can get worse

[envihellbender]

I think M and C should have a fight with their fat

Rating: Mature

Fandom: James Bond (Spectre)

Characters: M, C

Content: Extreme weight gain, feedee meets feedee, fat fighting, bellies

Summary: C attempts to mark his territory, M gets in the way.

—

“Mister Maximilian Denbigh is in the building, Sir,” Ms Moneypenny said nervously, and for good reason. His presence had been known to mean department lay offs and replacements, there had been talk of the possibility for a while.

“Thanks for the warning,” M replied, he sighed in frustration but maintained his attention on his laptop. It rested on his plentiful breasts and despite this information distracting him, he continued typing after Moneypenny returned to her desk, and heavy footsteps began slowly waddling down the hall towards M’s office. They were far louder and dragged much more than M had anticipated, and the wheezing voice seemed out of place when Denbigh greeted Moneypenny. M typed with his bloated fingers as he heard the door open, he frowned and closed the lid, pushing it to the side and looking up.

“Well, to what do I owe the pleasure… C, now, is it?” M asked, he didn’t get to his feet - it was far too difficult for his legs to take his weight at the best of times. That may have made Denbigh look far bigger, but M was amazed all the same. Last time they met C was plump - thick thighs and a round stomach. Now however, Denbigh was causing the floorboards to creak and his belly hung out of his white shirt over his knees which strained desperately over his pale flesh. He had a heavy duty rollator that he controlled from the front whilst the back padded, reinforced seat took his weight. If M had to guess, he would say C had gone from 350lbs to 720. Quite an admirable feat.

“C or Denbigh will do. I thought it was worth checking in,” C wheezed, his overgrown paws were screwed into bloated fat balls similar to gigantic dumplings - the price of not wanting to ask for a seat. “Considering we’ll be working together soon.” His rollator groaned as C put all of his weight onto the seat.

“Mm, well, yes. Good of you to check in,” M narrowed his eyes - the grey irises poking out behind bloated cheeks. He wheezed and groaned as he shifted, his reinforced armless office chair was remarkably comfortable but was difficult to move around on. He made a point of looking C up and down, as if he didn’t inspect every millimetre of Denbigh’s gargantuan body from the moment he came into view. M’s plump lips spread into a wry grin. “Goodness, you’ve been doing well for yourself, C.”

“You seem surprised.” C sounded irritated, M noticed the hint of a neglected child inside the mass of adipose, he’d been underestimated and he despised it. “I half expected someone from your unit to be wasting taxpayers money stalking me.” A snide comment, but M knew there was a hint of hope in it.

“Clearly my department have not been quite so thorough as I’d hope,” M shrugged his fat slabs that had once been defined shoulders.

“Well, perhaps that’s a sign that the entire department needs reorganising.” C was not subtle, he did not succeed in playing games, and M had very little time for it.

“Hm, I have to I say I disagree.” M sat back and folded his swollen arms across his plentiful chest stubbornly.

“How much do you weigh, M?” C asked suddenly, M’s arms that had finally become comfortable dropped to his sides as his body rippled and shook as he was so taken aback.

“What does that have to do with anything?” M snapped, feeling as if his privacy was being invaded. If C thought he was fatter than M, well, M couldn’t help but think that was certainly a sign of C’s arrogance and cluelessness.

“Curiosity. It’s a sign of how much time has been dedicated to your work, don’t you think?”

“Office work, perhaps.”

“Everything now can be done remotely,” C began, moving with his rollator closer to M, until his front wheels were parallel with M’s desk. “You know, with the right setup I can make this department more secure and powerful than ever. The envy of the world.”

“I am not sure having all eyes on us will end well. If you will give me a moment.” M prepared himself to stand, grunting as he built up moment in his adipose ridden arms. Normally, he used his wheelchair to get around, which was with Ms Moneypenny until it was needed. As such M had the desk reinforced exponentially so he could lean on it as he got to his feet, that was what he did that afternoon, he wheezed and groaned as he did. He spluttered and shook back and forth, exhausted from the slight movement.

“Good, I was hoping you’d stand, you look smaller sat,” C declared. He rolled his rollator forwards, pushing it into M’s desk as C closes the difference between them. Their guts were almost rushing against each other, the heat between both becoming overwhelming. As M was about to speak, C pushed his gut forwards. It slammed into M’s causing his bloated paws to grab the desk to steady himself.

“This is rather immature of you,” M wheezed. Despite this however he still slammed his girth forwards in retaliation, shoving force into both his stomach and chest. C was taken by surprise, he gripped his rollator to stop himself from falling, wheezing and shaking as he did.

“Some muscle under that adipose, isn’t there?” C croaked, his accent slipping slightly with the exertion.

“Mhm, it’s why I can still walk and throw my weight around with significantly better aim than you, C,” M growled. With one final heaving motion he slammed C down onto the ground, his walker breaking underneath their combined weight, their fat merging into a pile, over a ton between them and all C could see was fat that he could not parse for his own or for M’s. The beast guarding the tower had made his move, and all the hero could do was feel the floorboards groan and protest beneath him, begging for them to hold the two.

[archerygun]

James Bond movie concept

James Bond. Unsurprisingly, another one of my hate obsessions. I know an absolutely unreal amount of Bond trivia for someone who hates the films. But I’ve formed a sort of Stockholm Syndrome about them, and part of that revolves around my obsession with how I’d make them good (or just personally appealing to me as a piece of cinema).

LET’S GO.

So, back in the 60s-maybe 70s if we’re pushing it (because I know Roger Moore is an icon - HE NAMED GEORGE LAZENBY AS A TOP THREE BOND, LOOK, I GIVE HIM MY RESPECT FOR THAT AT LEAST), James Bond is called to tackle another villain who’s built a mysterious machine believed to be a superweapon MI6 isn’t totally sure about yet. A mixture of recon and destruction.

Bond fights the villain, he’s about to win, but Villain (nameless cos I’m lazy) activates the machine. 007 is officially pronounced missing.

Flash forward to the modern day.

A man turns up at MI6 headquarters, demanding to see M. He says he has important information for him, and claims to be ‘007’ - a sign that definitely doesn’t belong to him. They look the man up, probably to send him home, but they can’t find a single thing about him ANYWHERE.

The documents on Bond, and what he was fighting against, have all been super duper sealed, and everyone in his MI6 died and took the knowledge with them. He’s been wiped from history, pretty much. We’re a good nation at hiding things. So while MI6 work to unseal old documents, they reluctantly assign Bond to the mission of taking down Villain, who has also mysteriously reappeared and is being a massive Pain In The Arse.

(The machine in question somehow freezes the two in stasis; the level of threat posed to the world and villain’s motivation? You decide.)

Cue average time-travel comedy beats (mostly contributed by my friend who I bounced this idea off of).

“Wow, Q! You’ve really outdone yourself! What is this astonishing machine!?”

“Bond, this is an iPhone.”

Can:

Kill anyone within a mile radius

Speak several languages fluently

Fiddle with specialised equipment

Fly a jetpack

Can’t:

Coffee machine

“You’re telling me you disarmed a nuclear rocket and you need help because you changed your phone’s language to Japanese and can’t change it back.”

“THE ROCKET DIDN’T HAVE TOUCH-SCREEN.”

Bond still operates on what was considered ‘inconspicuous’ in 1969 and shows up to an undercover op in full florals and flares. “You said it was a party. I’m just trying to blend in!”

M is going to be losing her mind. Q might die of frustration. It would be glorious. Lean into the weird family dynamic MI6 has in older Bond movies. Hell, no romance. Just 2 hours of “What do you mean, ‘CPR’?”

[foeofcolor]

Someone on Twitter proposed a craig!bond, Brosnan!bond and Connery!bond crossover where they treat Connery!bond like the old insane bigot grandpa and Brosnan!bond as the pretty boy and I can't stop thinking about it.

CRAIG!BOND : Who are you, why are you here-

CONNERY!BOND : The HELL ?! M is a WOMAN-

BROSNAN!BOND : *just stands there looking pretty and menacing*

They do like, one mission, and Connery!bond and Craig!bond are getting into fights while Brosnan!bond is just like. steals a machine gun and shoots bad guys en masse.

*Brosnan!bond voice* Efficiency!

[worshipcircle01]

UPDATE: THE DECISION

Among spies, trust is a weakness

[foemancer]

something something her agent her son her loyal attack dog

[russellius]

@.georgerussell63: Easing into the weekend with my Ingenieur.

[snoweylily]

skyfall x dolce

or, in other words, emotionally-repressed blond serial killers and their curly dark haired sarcastic bitch boyfriends surrounded by paintings with far too many metaphors

[pedroam-bang]

No Time To Die (2021)

[lithiumseven]

Part I, Part II

[philtstone]

ooooh i was wrong i was wrong chief vick and shawn arent m and james bond. theyre athena and odysseus

[merrysithmas]

the more chatgpt combs the idiots of humanity into its fetid drainpipe and scrapes for the diamonds of human creativity like some kind of a grotesque Gollum, the more i think of Bond's line to Q in Skyfall in the National Gallery

"-Or not pulled."

and it's like yeah, true, one day people aren't going to have practical experience in almost anything

but like secondly, this is why a film about Q would be so relevant today. they didn't follow through on the theme from Skyfall with the rest of the Craig Bond films, but going off their convo in the National Gallery the inevitability of time occurred: Q essentially "replaced" Bond (Bond died in NTTD), and the younger generation of Britain, represented by Q, took over without its stalwart steward Bond to mind the gates. The new ideas and changing world that Bond (and Dench's M) were rueful about took precedence.

Now we have monsters made of the tech that was supposed to save us and bring equity - because tech isn't a pure medium. It is made by imperfect men and thus is imperfect.

It would be gratifying in today's world of shitty generative AI, predatory online monitoring, disinformation, deepfake video and audio, unchecked data collection by websites and apps, unrelenting ads, subscriptions, and international election interference - that someone like Q would reflect on the unfurling of his generation's (ours) hopes and dreams.

He would be a great modern Agent protagonist to go up against toxic tech and the unjust surveillance that goes both unaddressed and used with flagrant abandon by governments, corporations, and individuals towards the generation population.

And that, of course, would tie back into his fateful convo with Bond and the humility Q gained as he got older and reflected on the world - and how to protect people, ironically by resurrecting concepts from the derided Old World to save the New.

[charlottenewtons]

THINK ON YOUR SINS.

The World is Not Enough (1999) // Skyfall (2012)

[spockvarietyhour]

Licence to Kill (1989)