#Mickey Pearson

[followthemadrabbit]

Matthew McConaughey as ᴍɪᴄᴋᴇy ᴩᴇᴀʀꜱᴏɴ in ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇᴍᴇɴ (2019) ᴅɪʀ. ɢᴜy ʀɪᴛᴄʜɪᴇ

[fiery-courage]

❝ Ah! He's bought you a gun. That's a nice little gift. Five years in prison, all in one little box. ❞

[deathbecomesnerds]

"Glass" | Astrid x Raymond | 18+++

A/N: If you remember this post, this is where this all started.

A03 Link

Michael Pearson had people, but so did Astrid Hughes. 

Ray was spotted at an underground boxing match in a dressed down look without his glasses, and his arm around some done up brunette who ‘looked remarkably a lot like the boss’ wife’ but she was ‘definitely not Ray’s wife’.

It looked bad, and Astrid’s anger took no survivors as she yelled at Ray who tried to explain himself, but Astrid was hearing none of it.

[cardierreh15]

Bitch The Gentlemen is back on Netflix yall won’t hear from me in a few days

IFYKYK 🦁

[houseofmouselove100]

It was discovered that Pete was the one who had stolen the cartoons so Mickey, Donald and Goofy started chasing him.

Pete tried to hide and disguise himself so that no one would discover him.

The Queen of Hearts doesn't seem to like anyone looking under her dress because that's what perverts do

Pete was kicked out of the club by tantor the elephant from tarzan

Pepper Ann and her mother made a cameo in house of mouse

[beasanfi1997]

Kevin Pearson: Listen, folks! Do you like the innocence backstory of Darth Vader in Star Wars the clone Wars, Bad Batch, that he takes care of Ezra Bridger when he was a baby, and his grandson Kylo Ren in the Mandalorian when Ezra was talking care of him when he was four? You will finish to like it when they will becomed a horribles villains and then they will becomed enemies when your favorite shows ended brutally

Copper the Dog:(Barking Angry) GET OFF FROM OUR PROPERTY![And he grabs Kevin for his leg to drag him out while he was growling] OUT! OUT! OUT! OUT![And then Copper started to Attack Kevin biting in his neck Angry] DO YOU WANT THE GOOD OF CHILDREN?! I'ILL GIVE YOU YOUR GOOD!

Todd the Fox: Give it to him! Give it to him, Copper!

[yes-ihavealwaysbeengreen]

"Keep your hands where they are or I'll tie them up." 😉- honestly any Charlie character that inspires you (Please &Thank you💞)

Thank you, love for sending a request! I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Raymond Smith x Female Reader

Warnings: 18 + only for language, explicit smut, bondage.

"Keep your hands where they are, or I'll tie them up," you freeze, your hand resting on the butt of your gun.

Michael Pearson looks between the two of you and chuckles giving you a wink, "I'd listen to him sweetheart, unless you're into that kind of thing."

You hold eyes with Raymond Smith as the two kingpins argue over pennies before reaching out for a handshake. "I look forward to working with you Pearson," your boss tugs on his coat, "we're both going to get incredibly rich."

He makes for the door and you go to follow when he stops turning and raising a hand, "not you sweetheart."

"What?" you ask, dumbfounded.

"Weren't you listening to the deal?" he laughs, breathing a cloud of smoke into your face. "You're staying to join Pearson's crew, under his second," he points a fat finger to the figure behind you.

You turn, reaching for your gun on instinct when Raymond Smith grabs your wrist and tuts, "now, now, what did I say would happen if you tried to pull a gun on me?"

"Let go of me," you growl, hearing the door click behind you. He releases your wrist and you hold it to your chest, "what are you going to do to me?"

“Whatever you’d like me too,” his smile is dark and you feel your panties dampen.

“What if I don’t want you to do anything?”

He smiles, “then I’ll leave you be.” He hesitates, “but we both know that’s not true is it darling?” He steps closer, invading your space, he smells like leather and expensive whiskey, and you feel a little drunk sharing the same air with him.

"What do you want with me?" He cocks a brow and presses you completely into the wall, caging his body with yours. You can feel every part of him, every part. "Oh," you whisper, feeling him hard against your belly.

"I've been watching your work for some time," he gestures to the door behind you with a flick of his head, "that fuckhead didn't deserve you. Didn't even realize what he had."

"And you do?" you challenge pressing so close to him, space ceases to exist. His smile is the only answer as he leans closer, pressing his lips to your own, instantly opening his mouth to tangle with your own. The smoke lingers on his tongue and you moan, collapsing back against the wall and pulling on the lapels of his coat. He follows, leaning into you and kissing you with a passionate combination of tongue and teeth. It's animalistic and you want more.

"If you're going to fuck my new employee could you wait for me to get out of the room?" Mickey Pearson interrupts, taking a final sip from his glass of brandy.

"Sure thing boss," Ray pants, "we were just leaving."

"We were?" you ask, breathless.

"Yes," he grabs your hand almost dragging you from the room and towards his SUV. He opens the passenger door, putting you into the seat, and buckling you in, making sure to touch every inch of you he can reach.

"Don't forget we have that meeting in forty minutes," Michael shouts from the doorway leaning against it and watching you with a smile. "Welcome to the team, sweetheart."

Ray frowns mumbling to himself before taking off, his hand on your thigh, rubbing your clit through the fabric of your pants. "We don't have a lot of time," he mumbles, turning off the main road towards the woods on the property.

"Where are we going?" You unbuckle your pants, desperate to have his skin on yours. You shimmy them down your legs, smiling when he curses and frantically looks between your exposed cunt and the road.

"Somewhere with a little more privacy," he pulls into an alcove of trees and gets out, slamming the door behind him. He opens the trunk, tugging something out and your mouth goes dry when you see the rope. He glances up to see your blank expression and winks, "what did I tell you, darling?" He lifts one finger and gestures for you to come, and with shaky hands you open the door, shoving your pants further down your legs until they pool on the floor, your shoes following.

He comes around the side of the SUV and stops, eyeing you from top to bottom. Holding your gaze he unbuckles his belt, licking his lips as you shove off your top and stand before him naked. He pushes down his pants, freeing his cock and pumping it. "In the back," he orders, reaching a hand out for you to follow.

You grasp his hand, gasping when he tugs you to stand beside him, his hand moving down to grasp your ass and giving it a sharp slap. "Sit," he orders, and you do, "arms behind your back." In seconds he's got your hands tied behind your back and your feet tied together in the back of the SUV, standing back and admiring his work as he continues to pump his cock.

"That's a site," he groans, reaching for you and pulling you to the edge of the SUV, your whole ass out for anyone to see. "I'm going to fuck this pretty pussy," he tells you, running his finger along your slit, "and from how wet you are, I think you like that idea. Tell me," he leans closer, "tell me you want me to fuck this pretty pussy."

"Please," you clench tightly when he slides a finger inside, slowly pulling it back before inserting it again, "please," you rock your hips but he puts a hand on your hip stilling you. He looks at you expectantly, "please fuck me," the word ends on a gasp as he slides his cock inside you.

Each thrust is sharp and calculated like all the things in his life, and you are gasping, twisting against the restraints for more. "Desperate little thing, aren't you?" he taunts, "you want me to fuck you harder? Is that what you need?"

"Please," drool dribbles down your chin when he grabs both your arms and tugs them back, pounding into you. You scream with each precise piston of his hips, feeling his cock in your cervix with how deep he is. Deep and thick he fills you so fucking good, and when he releases on arm to rub quick circles on clit, you're a fucking goner.

"Ray," you moan brokenly, knowing this is it, no one on the planet could fuck you as good as Raymond Smith. He doesn't stop, allowing the tension and pressure to swell again and again until you're cumming again so hard, you swear you blacked out for a minute.

"Shit," he groans, pulling out at the last second and turning you over, arm still tied behind your back, it pushes your torso up and your tits bounce with the force as he spills himself all over you. He's breathing loudly, running his fingers through his cum and smearing it all over you. "Mine," he growls, pushing his glasses up with his middle finger.

He writes his name in the cum, smiling down and leaning forward to leave a soft kiss on your lips. "Are you okay?" he asks quietly, grabbing a hunting knife strapped to the wall and turning you gently to cut through the ropes. You're shivering, and you pull your hands to your chest to rub where the ropes burned. "Love?" he asks, taking your wrist and rubbing over them.

"I'm okay," you clear your throat, "more than okay. That was fucking fantastic." A smile splits across his face and he chuckles, running his cum stained finger over your cheek.

"Welcome to the crew."

"Do all of you, give such a warm welcome?" you chuckle, seeing his brow furrow and tighten a little line appearing between his eyes.

"No," he shakes his head firmly, "that is saved specifically for me."

"You tie up and fuck all the new recruits?" you tease, "that big bloke from back at the house, Bunny I think...he must have really fucking hurt your asshole."

"You're a little shit," he smiles, laughing and tickling your sides. Until you're both in a fit of laughter. "Just for the record, I don't usually fuck any of the crew, or anyone period."

He sits up, grabbing his clothes from the neatly folded pile beside you and gets dressed. "Ray," you ask, holding his jacket around your bare arms, and he pauses to look at you, "why me?"

He finishes tying his tie, checking the time on his watch and pulling the jacket further around your shoulders, "because, I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Because when I threatened you, you didn't back down. You're strong, confident, and after this meeting with Michael, I'd really like to take you out for dinner."

You pretend to contemplate his offer for just a moment before nodding, "Dinner sounds nice," you smirk, "as long as it's followed up by some dessert."

"Oh love," he sticks his fingers in your mouth, his cum salty on your tongue, "dessert is always the best course."

[watchtowerindistress]

Charlie Hunnam-verse

Raymond Smith (The Gentlemen)

One-shots

overcome that little challenge 💦

Reader works for Roderick ‘The Spider’ Dollison, one of Mickey Pearson’s partners, while being in a secret relationship with Raymond. How will Raymond react once he sees someone flirting with you?

Arthur Pendragon (King Arthur: Legend of the Sword)

Mini-series

are you falling for me…? 💉

Imagine meeting Arthur for the first time who is claiming you already as the love of his life aka his future wife. Arthur Pendragon - the most infuriating man in all of Camelot who knew of his effect on women. As if you didn’t already knew how his abdominal muscles looked. The destined King tended to take his shirt off in your presence any chance he could get after all.

💦 ~ smut

💉 ~ violence

[stherix]

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished - Raymond Smith/Original Female Character(s) Fanfic

Teaser:

Slowly, as instructed, he turned to face her.

Now she understood why those two girls had probably blushed.

They maintained eye contact, neither yielding a fraction. He stood tall with both hands clasped in front of him, accentuating his broad back in that posture. Then, he directed his eyes to the ruler Caterina held in her hand. His eyes gleamed as he realized that was her weapon.

“Now, who are you?” Caterina asked.

His eyes returned to her face. A slight friendly smile appeared on his face, completely calculated. “My name is Raymond Smith. I work for Rosalind’s husband.”

Mickey Pearson. Fuck.

Raymond kept pretending to be extremely polite. He didn’t want to be perceived as a threat. He started sauntering, checking the book stacks. Caterina played along, staying close to him. Pretending as well. “Are you here because of what happened in the office?”

“No. I’m here because there is something that you don’t know about your new situation. A little secret.” Caterina pondered about his voice. He had a deep and smooth voice. As well it had a raw edge to it. And those eyes, they analyzed everything, paying attention to the smallest details. They were constantly scanning their surroundings, as well as her. She had to be careful with him. “Your father used to have business with us.”

Caterina nearly choked with laughter. Then, she whispered. “My father? A drug dealer?”

If he was surprised that she was aware of Rosalind's husband's type of business, he didn't show it. “I never said he was a dealer. I said he had business.”

“If you don't clarify what you're suggesting, I'll start to think of crazier theories.”

Raymond put on his best innocent face, with that little smile that screamed "I don't bite" and went on. “It’s better if I show it to you.”

“Like hell, I’m coming with you—.”

“I know this might seem suspicious, but if we had any real intentions of harming you, we would have done so already. We've had plenty of opportunities in the past few days. My only intention is to inform you, and then we'll leave you be.” Raymond assured her.

How the hell could this guy change his demeanour like that? His eyes had darkened as they locked onto hers, and he had lowered his voice as if he were sharing a secret with her. He definitely didn't seem like your typical gangster thug.

He remained facing her at a prudent distance, waiting for her response, his expression expectant. At no point did he appear to be anything other than sincere, kind, and polite. No threats or promises of having to deal with him the hard way. He was either confident in his charms to persuade her or very certain of his ability to overpower her in a physical confrontation.

“Fine, but just you,” she angled her head to the outside, where the car would still be parked. She reached for the ruler she had stashed in one of her pockets and approached him cautiously. She placed the ruler on his chest. “Leave your mate at home, or next time… I will not bring a ruler.”

Raymond's expression changed almost imperceptibly to a grimace of warning. As quickly, he regained his composure and relaxed, but the wolf had already shown its ears. Caterina saw it reflected in that beautiful face. Raymond didn't make a move to back away; he remained standing with his hands clasped in front of him. His eyes shifted to the ruler and then back to Caterina's eyes.

Don’t fuck with me, they seem to say.

[steakpieisnice]

Headlines & Heartstrings

Part 2!! Sorry it took so long, I may or may not have forgotten I posted this :/// Also, just a reminder that sex work is real work, and any negativity around that is purely fictional and does not reflect my real views! Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of sex work

The Princess Victoria was a lively pub. Beautifully decorated, highly renowned food and a lovely landlord made it a popular choice with the locals. Unfortunately, it was also popular with the criminal underground of London, which was sometimes very bad for business. But Mickey paid the bills, and the rent, and that was enough to keep Bobby happy. It’s not that the customers were scared off by the pubs criminal customer base, but rather that the Princess Victoria was to be closed whenever Mickey says, at the drop of a hat.

Like it is right now.

“Feel free to talk.” Spoke the man that Coach and Eleanor were here to meet.

Raymond Smith. Consigliere to Micheal Pearson, his right hand man, known for his cunning ruthlessness, calculated manner and commitment to getting the job done. Always immaculately dressed, ever the image of a gentleman. But with that image comes an aura of danger, that prickly feeling at the back of your neck that makes everyone feel just a little bit uncomfortable.

He was attractive, Eleanor couldn’t deny that.

“I gather that you’re the consigliere of the outfit that my boys were stupid enough to fuck around with.” Coach said, addressing Raymond. “On that note, I’d like to extend my apologies on their behalf. My boys, they’re naïve, they’ve had hard lives and they’re just starting to come good, but they’re my lads, my responsibility. So it’s me that should be accountable for their actions. Now I can return your goods, but I can’t return the inconvenience, the time-“

“The headache.” Eleanor butted in, nodding solemnly.

“The fucking headache.” Coach confirmed. “And so I offer you my loyalty, my word, my time, until that debt it settled. I’ll make amends, but just leave my lads alone.”

Raymond took a deep breath in, before speaking. “First of all, I’m gonna need to know how your lads got the information about where our farm was sited, ‘cause that’s not common knowledge. Once we’ve overcome that little challenge, then we can talk. Secondly, I do not want you bringing company like that,” he said raising a finger towards Eleanor and her revealing outfit, “around here again. We, and this pub, have an image to uphold.”

“Believe me, I do not want to be dressed like a hooker any more than you want to see me like this. But unfortunately, it comes part and parcel with a little present we have for you Raymundo.” Eleanor grinned. Raymond raised his eyebrows at the cheek but stayed silent, allowing his curiosity to get the better of him.

The three of them headed outside, Eleanor tossing Coach the keys to her beat up Toyota Carolla. Coach opened up the boot to reveal Phuc squirming in the boot of the car, wrists and ankles tied with duct tape covering his mouth.

“Ta-da!” Eleanor said sarcastically as all three looked down on Phuc.

“His names Phuc, but its spelt with a Ph so its sounds like fu-uck.” Explained Coach.

Ray looked at Coach with a slack jaw. “So its Phu-uc?” he asked.

“What? Yeah yeah, something like that. Anyway, he’s the kid that gave us the skunk farm job. D’you know him?” said Coach.

“Yeah we’ve met before haven’t we Phu-uc… Phuc?” Ray said leaning in.

“That’s the one.” Coach quipped.

“Phu-uc?”

“Phu-uc.” Eleanor confirmed. Ray gestured at Coach to remove the tape off the Chinese mans mouth.

Coach muttered, “Don’t do anything stupid now son, right?”

Phuc gasped as the tape was removed, trying to inhale as much air as he could.

“How did you know the location?” Ray asked.

“I need my inhaler.” Phuc gasped.

“Yeah in a minute.” Ray continued. “I need to tell you how knew the location of our farm.” Eleanor watched, impressed at Rays cool, calm manner -  a huge difference to the way these mobsters usually tried to get information out of people. It was refreshing, she thought, and hot. She mentally scolded herself as the second thought crossed her mind, reminding herself that Raymond Smith was not the sort of man you could have those thoughts about.

“I’ve been trailing you for months. Dry Eye was given the address. I can’t breathe! I need it, please.” Phuc panted.

“All right Phuc calm the fu-uck down.” Coach said as he grabbed Phuc and pulled him out of the boot. Eleanor snorted at that little joke which earned her a disappointed look from Raymond.

Phuc stood from the boot, stumbling around before a few sharp slaps to the face from Coach calmed him down. He fell forward again, and Ray caught him and righted him. “Sort him out.” He muttered.

Coach leant down and cut the tape off of Phuc’s ankles, before checking in him.

“You alright? Come on, where’s your inhaler?” Coach asked. “Look at me.” Another sharp slap to the face. “Where’s your inhaler?”

“There.” Phuc answered, looking down at his right jacket pocket.

“Right, here, take a blim.” Phuc took a deep breath on the inhaler, before pushing through Ray and Coach and making a break for it. He ran around the corner of the Princess Victoria, Ray, Coach and Eleanor following close after, Eleanor chasing as well as she should given the too tall heels strapped to her feet. Phuc jumped a wall, which, very unfortunately, was actually a bridge over train tracks. He fell to the floor, straight in front of an incoming train. Eleanor, Coach and Ray all leaned over the bridge as the train hit him.

And that was the end of poor Phuc.

Eleanor broke the stunned silence with a shake of the head, “They always do something stupid.”

“Yeah they do.” Ray agreed. “Right, shall we talk business?”

Coach and Eleanor followed Ray back towards the Princess Victoria – with Eleanor stopping to collect a duffel bag from her car, and locking the boot as she left. This was London after all.

“Bunny,” Ray spoke addressing the tall, quiet man that had been stood at the door, “There’s a little mess on the train tracks that you and Dave could do with sorting. I’ll give you the number for Network Rail and the Cleaners.”

Bunny nodded a “Yes Boss.” before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a phone.

Ray stopped Eleanor as she walked into the pub.

“I’m assuming you have a change of clothes.” He spoke lowly.

Eleanor gestured to the duffel bag on her shoulder, “Give me five minutes and a bathroom.” She smiled.

“Past the bar, first door on your left.” Ray said with a glance down at his watch.

“Coach, pint of Madri and a pack of salt and vinegar Walkers please.” She said with a wink, heading off towards the bathrooms.

------

Ray had to admit, when he had taken the meeting with the people who had stolen his boss’ bush, he was expecting it to get messy. He was expecting some young dumb boys, too proud to admit they did wrong, and too stubborn to come to any sort of agreement. He was expecting having to use a bit more persuasion, the violent kind.

What he wasn’t expecting was a small Irish man dressed head to toe in a plaid tracksuit and a hooker. He was not expecting them to practically beg him to not interfere with the dumb boys (he was right about one thing he supposes, it’s always dumb boys who do stuff like this). He was not expecting them to have bought the source of the leak, Phuc, directly to him. He was also not expecting Phuc to jump onto an active rail line and die, but that was somehow the least surprising thing to happen. It was bound to get a little bit messy after all.

What he certainly wasn’t expecting was to be drawn to the hooker who accompanied Coach. He wasn’t expecting to notice the way she limped slightly after rolling her ankle in those heels that were far to tall, proving that she was not in fact a real hooker. Why she was dressed like one Ray has no idea, but he supposes the answer to that question will come with time. He wasn’t expecting to be drawn to her quick wit and casual charm. He wasn’t expecting to come out of this meeting wanting to know everything about a woman whom he’d met for 10 minutes.

He certainly wasn’t expecting her to look that good when she left the bathroom. Gone was the over the top hair and makeup, gone was the top that barely covered her tits and the skirt that barely covered her arse. Gone were the too tall heels.

In it’s place was a simple, yet elegant makeup look and sleek pony tail. She wore a one shouldered black dress, with some heeled boots (in a heel height she could actually walk in) and she looked gorgeous. Unbelievably gorgeous.

Ray checked his watch, four and half minutes. Impressive.

[squash1]

a collection of ronan lynch coded characters:

[ roy kent, ted lasso / charlie dalton, dead poets society / mickey milkovich, shameless / rosa diaz, brooklyn 99 / roman roy, succession / klaus hargreeves, the umbrella academy / brian kinney, queer as folk / eleanor shellstrop, the good place / jj maybank, outer banks / mac, it’s always sunny in philadelphia / benji ovich, beartown / david rose, schitt’s creek / ricky baker, hunt for the wilderpeople / kevin pearson, this is us / constance contraire, the mysterious benedict society ]

[followthemadrabbit]

⸽⸽T⸽⸽h⸽⸽e⸽⸽ ⸽⸽G⸽⸽e⸽⸽n⸽⸽t⸽⸽l⸽⸽e⸽⸽m⸽⸽e⸽⸽n⸽⸽

ᴅɪʀ. ɢᴜy ʀɪᴛᴄʜɪᴇ

[justforbooks]

Nicholas Shakespeare’s elegant biography of the James Bond author Ian Fleming takes its subtitle from a journalist’s observation, quoted halfway through, that its subject was “for a moment of time, a complete man” while working for British naval intelligence in the second world war. Yet you can’t help read it as a promise to give the reader what was left out of previous biographies such as John Pearson’s crisp, more portable authorised life from 1966. And is there a claim, too, for the alpha male credentials of the man called “Flemingway” by his friend Noël Coward? Journalist, stockbroker, thriller writer and – like his famous creation – a playboy and 70-a-day smoker, who died of a heart attack in 1964 at the age of 56 after a plagiarism row over the origins of Thunderball, the ninth Bond novel.

After a dutiful account of how Fleming’s Scottish financier grandfather became a millionaire – later cutting Fleming and his brothers out of his will – Shakespeare gets going with his subject’s troubled boyhood in the shadow of his father’s death in the first world war. Family friends in Switzerland take his education in hand after hasty exits from Eton (hanky-panky with a woman) and Sandhurst (gonorrhoea). His exams aren’t good enough for the Foreign Office; an engagement to a Swiss lover ends amid maternal threats to cut off his allowance. He falls on his feet at Reuters – it was that kind of life – further honing his knack for a scoop at the Sunday Times, a handy source of contacts for his war work.

Testimony woven from diaries, papers and interviews gives the book a flavour of oral history. Shakespeare goes to great lengths – not least tracking down a 94-year-old veteran, the last surviving member of a covert commando unit that Fleming organised – to dispel the idea that Fleming’s service, occluded by state-sanctioned secrecy, was just “in-trays, out-trays and ashtrays”. The book’s first half puts the future author at the heart of military and journalistic history – a search for German weapons of mass destruction; the race to get an inside scoop on the Cambridge spies – as well as the bedroom shenanigans of the English well-to-do. (Shakespeare, who encourages us at one point to smile at the mention of a “germanely” named Nazi admiral, Assmann, shows his assumptions of his audience when he writes confidently of “that small, turn-of-the-century intellectual clique, the Souls”.)

Fleming may be “the man behind James Bond”, in the subtitle of Andrew Lycett’s 1995 biography, but Shakespeare’s project, you sense, is partly to say there’s more to him. Eager to prove Fleming’s interest beyond the reasons that will draw most of his readers to the book, he is almost comically insistent on the degree to which his subject was ahead of the curve. Not only might he have sparked the idea of creating the CIA – in a memo written when the US-UK special relationship was being forged – but he also came up with the idea of putting a Christmas tree from Oslo in Trafalgar Square.

As for the dozen Bond novels that poured out of Fleming after 1953’s Casino Royale – written in a month in his winter bolthole in Jamaica a year earlier – they were, in Shakespeare’s telling, essentially the literary expression of a midlife crisis accelerated by the encroachments of fatherhood and a faithless union as the third husband of Ann Charteris. They had got together with an affair that caused a high-society scandal during her previous marriage to the Daily Mail heir Esmond Harmsworth; she later cheated on Fleming with the Labour leader Hugh Gaitskell, who told him that the “sex, violence, alcohol” formula of the Bond novels was “to one who leads such a circumscribed life as I do, irresistible”.

Fleming, injecting the American dirt of Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer novels into the English thriller, launched 007 on what Shakespeare calls the “spam-munching gloom of Attlee’s Britain”, writing (Fleming told his publisher) in order to make “as much money... as possible” and to have “as much fun as I personally can”. Respectable sales rocketed when JFK took a shine to From Russia, with Love – and the movies were yet to come. While Fleming was self-deprecating – telling Raymond Chandler the Bond novels were “straight pillow fantasies of the bang-bang, kiss-kiss variety” – he was proud enough to greet the director of the first Bond movie, Dr No, by telling him: “So they’ve decided on you to fuck up my work.”

“Luck had to be accepted with a shrug or taken advantage of up to the hilt,” Bond thinks in Casino Royale; he sees luck “as a woman, to be softly wooed or brutally ravaged, never pandered to or pursued”. Squint enough and Fleming took some care to cast his main character in ironic light. Early in that novel, the reader gets a fly-on-the-wall thrill of watching fieldwork in action, with the scene of theatrical care Bond takes to ensure his hotel room isn’t being searched; but soon enough his French sidekick turns up to let Bond know his upstairs neighbours have been listening in to his every move.

In Shakespeare’s biography, the novels are mostly a source of supporting quotation – he doesn’t get bogged down in questions of what it means to read Bond now, confining himself to a remark on how his “cavalier treatment of women... carried the sexual climate of the Blitz into the austerity of the cold war, and was less modern perhaps than it was later cracked up to be”. And perhaps there’s no need for his defenders to overstate the case for Fleming’s novelistic subtlety. Bond has always been shaped by a collective amnesia that allows us to make him what we wish him to be at any given moment; when he parachuted into the Olympic opening ceremony with the queen, it was as the best of British, not as a connoisseur of (Fleming’s words) “the sweet tang of rape”.

The novels, in a way, are irrelevant to 007, but the course of history would surely have run otherwise had Fleming not had the foresight to change his protagonist’s name from the original “James Secretan” – Fleming’s typescript revision perhaps his most significant literary act.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[deathbecomesnerds]

“All His Stars” | Chapter 5 | Astrid x Raymond

A03 Link

Ray walked with Astrid up to the front door as she clutched the cake platter close to her body; he knew that she was so nervous about meeting Mickey’s wife, but Ray knew that Rosalind was absolutely delighted to finally be meeting her after a few months together.

“It’s alright, Astrid. Promise!” Ray assured her.

Astrid sighed heavily, “I know, but I want to make a good first impression.” she admitted.

“Oh, don’t worry–Michael’s already done it for you.” Ray said, quietly.

[dammit5ive]

Hi! How did your Five get to Abel? What’s her story?

Ok, I don't know if you meant to open this can of worms but you did and now you have to deal with the consequences. I will start with a tldr tho so you don't have to suffer through my Five's entire mary sue backstory, that is extremely loosely based off of Mickey Pearson from The Gentleman (2019). Just a warning, yes I'm aware it's chaotic and absurd but honestly so is ZR.

TLDR: Five made some very bad™ choices, cleaned up their act just in time for the end of the world, and then throws themselves into service to try and atone for what they did.

Long version: Five was born on a hippie commune deep in the rocky mountains of Colorado and coincidentally, their name was literally Five .. Their parents were super hippie dippie and they like "the number's vibrational energy" and they didn't want to choose a last name because they wanted them to choose because they didn't want to assume dad's last name because of the patriarchy or whatever. The commune was pretty much the stereotypical weed growing, Woodstock type and as a kid their chore was typically tending the gardens. Not that they minded. As they grew up, a cult infiltrated their commune and by the time they were a teenager the cult leader and everyone but them... drank the kool-aid so to speak. They ended up emancipating and getting themselves an education where they graduated early and were accepted into Oxford for their graduates.

Once they arrived in England and started attending Oxford the expenses began to become too much for Five and they took they knowledge they learned on the commune to grow and sell weed. One thing lead to another and they started crossing into others' territories. Before they knew it, they had one of the largest international marijuana ring.

Closer to their graduation, they decided that they wanted out of the business and to leave it behind for their original plan of becoming an archivist. They disappeared completely, erasing any evidence of who they were. After their graduation, they were hired as the lead archivist of the British Museum and began work to try and overturn the British Museum Act of 1963. Before anything can really come of it though, the zombie apocalypse happened.

Five left for their safe house that they've had just in case their past caught up with them. Along the way, Mullins picks them up, recognizing them from a list of prioritized survivors. (archivists would be important post-apocalypse right?) From that moment on, they swear to just put their head down and help when possible as penance for being a ruthless kingpin in their former life. Because of this they get chosen for Project Greenshoot and well, you know what happens after that.

Crazy, I know but I've been obsessing and building onto this for literal months lol. I'm so obsessed with my Five and will take any chance to talk about them. Also! here, have my ZR pinterest board!

[projazznet]

Donald Byrd – Kofi

Kofi is an album by the American trumpeter Donald Byrd, featuring performances by Byrd with Frank Foster, Lew Tabackin, Duke Pearson, Ron Carter, Bob Cranshaw, Airto Moreira, Wally Richardson, and Mickey Roker, recorded in 1969 and 1970 and released on the Blue Note label in 1995.

The AllMusic review by Rob Theakston stated: “The playing here is no less than stellar … The subtle relaxed tones of this album make it truly one of the essential releases in Byrd’s catalog”.