Man, those lashes . . . amazing how Guyliner, Medieval Mascara and a bit of shadow and eyebrow powder only increase our hot velvet henchman’s masculine beauty. Frequently Richard as Sir Guy seemed to be wearing more makeup than Maid Marian and yet never looked effeminate or silly. Just sexy as hell with a rock n’ roll vibe that worked with the hair and the leather.
“Oh, good grief, Sir Guy, I think my insides have been turned out,” Ladywriter groaned as she fell back against the pillows, gingerly stroking her tummy.
“Ahhhh, and not in a good way, I fear,” the Dark Knight murmured. He raised one quizzical brow and proceeded to prop his glossy black boots on the bed railing as he leaned back in the chair, arms characteristically folded across his broad chest.
“When is it ever?” LW groaned. She’d woken up in the wee hours hungry after missing a couple of meals the day before, and now had paid the price for that peanut butter and banana sandwich, followed by a fun size Twix bar. So much for fun.
It had tasted good at the time . . . cursed Irritable Bowel Syndrome!
“Well . . . I have been known to do unusual things to ladies’ insides,” Sir Guy drawled, that devilish gleam in his kohl-rimmed blue eyes teasing her.
A gimlet-eyed Ladywriter snorted and threw a pillow at him, which he nimbly caught and then tossed aside. His eyes softened and, setting his boots on the carpet, he leaned forward to take LW’s hand and give it a gentle squeeze.
“Forgive me, dearest LW. I cannot resist being playful with my favorite queen of her own alternate universe . . . truly, shall I bring you something to give you comfort?”
“A Coke on ice–lots of ice. And–we could just sit and talk for a while . . . it’s been a difficult week, Sir Guy.” LW gave a little sigh and smiled up into those beautiful azure eyes. “I’ve missed you, my favorite hot velveteen henchman.”
He returned her smile, and she did feel a curious sensation–butterflies in her stomach?–that was a definite improvement on her earlier condition.
Oh, the effect you do have on us, my beautiful Gisborne.
“Of course you’ve missed me, and I, you.” Sir Guy pressed a kiss to the palm and then the back of her hand. “I am forever yours.”
And forever, Friday will be—Guyday in the kingdom of Lady Writer.
It’s Guyday Friday!!
“Hope” is the thing with feathers— That perches in the soul— And sings the tune without the words— And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard— And sore must be the storm— That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm—
I’ve heard it in the chillest land— And on the strangest Sea— Yet, never, in Extremity, It asked a crumb—of Me.
“ I try to make the readers feel they’ve lived the events of the book. Just as you grieve if a friend is killed, you should grieve if a fictional character is killed. You should care. If somebody dies and you just go get more popcorn, it’s a superficial experience isn’t it?”
I remember as a child reading the classic novel ”Little Women” which is still one of my favorites. I always got choked up when dear, quiet, loving little Beth dies. Beth, with her gentle nature and love for playing the piano, reminded me of one of my older sisters, so it was doubly painful. Why, I asked myself, did favorite characters–especially characters as nice and good as Beth–have to die??
Of course, I later realized if nothing dramatic happened in stories–no unexpected plot twists, no angst-filled characters, no opportunities for the surviving people within the stories to grieve, rage, seek revenge, to grow from their tragic experiences–we’d find such books and films and television shows considerably less compelling, wouldn’t we?
Still. It hurts. Especially if and when we feel the writers do not play fair with the characters.
I am not here to discuss the perceived bad choices and rather preposterous storylines given us by some of the writers for RA’s projects–I believe most of you know where I stand on that subject and that’s really for another post.
This post is to say that it’s perfectly OK to feel shock, horror, anger, grief over the death of a character you have come to love and feel a distinct connection to, be it in a novel or film or television show.
You’re not crazy, actually. You are reacting to the writing and to how the actor has crafted his role. When someone like Louisa May Alcott writes so delightfully of four sisters with distinct personalities and their faults and foibles, characters to whom you find yourself relating on various levels, it would be very difficult not to care and to invest yourself emotionally in their wellbeing.
When an actor such as Richard Armitage puts his heart and soul, along with his keen intelligence, into creating a character, flawed and very much human, yet still someone we can love and admire and respect–how can we not feel moved at the very thought of losing them, never mind watching it unfold onscreen before us ? Yes, our hearts break a bit. We are sad. We cry. We’re human, too.
And while I admit I don’t even want to contemplate it, I know the screen death of yet another character is going to take place. And I really do dread it. Even thought it’s a year-and-a-half away, I dread it.
I know I will grieve, that my grief will be shared by many around the world. And I know that it’s OK, no matter what some might say.
As Martin says, “You should grieve. You should care.”
And if you’re like me, you know they really haven’t died. No, they’ve been Loved Into Being, just like that velveteen rabbit in the children’s story, gaining So Not Dead status and going on to further adventures and greater glories. Living on in our fanfiction, fanvids, fanart, on our forums, in our blogs–and most of all, in our hearts.
Even so, it’s still perfectly OK to shed a few tears–or a lot of them–to go through Kleenexes and curl up in bed and have a good old crying jag, if you must. In a way, it’s a true homage to the writers and actors who gave us these characters in the first place.
Long live the So Not Dead Present and Future–may they continue to bring joy and pleasure, beauty and laughter and heady adventure into our lives.
Sometimes, they even end up hanging out in your den eating brownies and getting milk mustaches. I swear . . .
So–to catch you all up!
Yeah, Benny is happy with my editing of the ”bonus feature” for the kindergarten vid. He’s also found an extended version of the song I am using that will be exactly the length I need so it won’t necessitate repeating part of the song during the six minute video. He said he will download the longer version for me tomorrow at work (takes FOREVER here . . .) Later, we may embed the vid on the Pecan Ridge website –not right away, but later. After battling a sinus/allergy malaise all week, Benny is finally doing a bit better. Still not resting really well at night.
There is an outside possibility we will be shooting another stage production this weekend in a neighboring county. A friend of mine is checking tomorrow about copyright issues. It’s not as if we don’t have a lot on our plate right now, but we don’t want to miss out on opportunities when they arise.
And now, without further ado–thank God it’s Guyday!!!!!!
Even if it IS the same old song . . . with Hoodie & the Tree House Gang once again getting away with the goods and making the Hot Velveteen Henchman, the Treacherous Troll and the castle guards all look like complete numbskulls.
It’s enough to drive a poor misunderstood baddie to the edge–or at least to Ye Olde Pub. Sir Guy may be knocked down by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune (not to mention Hoodie and the boyz) but he gets back up again . . .
Because, really, you can’t keep our good baddie down for too long!
You just know someone will be thwarting Guy once again. But dang, doesn’t he look good all angsty and angry and thwarted? *sigh*
And of course, when he turns from the Dark Side, he is still our gloriously sexy Gisborne with his tousled bedhead and energetic swordplay. And his magnificent bellowing. LOVE it when the man bellows.
And I leave you with this image. Which, oddly enough, remains one of my all-time favorite screencaps of Sir Guy. I just can’t quite point my finger on it . . .
Happy Guyday Friday!
Steak, a Julienned baked (jacket) potato, green salad with Ranch dressing and a thick slice of Texas toast washed down with iced tea. I could imagine Richard Armitage eating such a meal (although my steak might be cooked a little more than he prefers). This is what we had for supper, courtesy of my sweet spouse. I think the Marie Callender pie and ice cream is going to have to wait a bit . . . as well as the rest of that potato (like, tomorrow).
I didn’t feel great this afternoon so I took a nap and never did get anything posted here. Color me lazy.
I did finally get the video production business website and blog live today, hooray. Still work to be done there, but it’s coming along.
Let’s see, I now have two blogs, a website, three FB pages, two Twitter accounts (one of which I really need to do something with) and a Tumblr account which is a rehash of this blog but is steadily climbing in number of followers. My FB followers have jumped up by more than 70 people this week, I think. And I used to be afraid to touch a computer.
I guess I have come a long way, baby! Although what I have accomplished seems a mere drop in a bucket compared to a certain actor I deeply admire.
(courtesy of FB and Thorin’s Arkenstone)
And Mr. A has come a long way, too! After all those early struggles and disappointments. After almost giving up. From winning so many hearts and starting his own army with his portrayal of the romantic hero, John Thornton . . .
To turning what could have been a bog-standard cardboard cut-out villain into a complex, charismatic, intensely erotic anti-hero we loved, Sir Guy of Gisborne . . .
To bringing us Lucas North, a mysterious and alluring spy fractured by his years in a Russian prison, trying to reclaim his place in the present . . . and totally fascinating us all . . .
To giving breadth and depth to role of a tough soldier with a tender side, John Porter, an alpha male seeking redemption and making us fall in love–and lust–all over again . . .
So many other roles, too, large and small, always making an impact. Always giving his best and making the most of the role.
Thank you, Richard. Little wonder you’ve wowed audiences all over the world with your amazing portrayal of the King Under the Mountain, Thorin Oakenshield.
It’s all added up, hasn’t it? The successes and the seeming failures from which you surely learned valuable lessons; the long hours of research and rehearsal and hard work you’ve put into your roles over the years, the commitment. The dedication. I sense you wouldn’t take anything for the journey, the experiences, the lessons learned along the way. You’ve grown as an actor and, I believe, as a human being. Which has only, in turn, made you a better actor–or so I would argue.
It’s been an amazing journey thus far. And I can’t wait to see where it takes you next, my wonderfully gifted, deeply dedicated, beautiful Richard Armitage.
Again, thank you.
Feelin’ kind of beat up this morning. Being in a hemmed-in situation (via the tethered tripod and knobby-kneed teenager poking me in the back) at Honors Program aggravated my shoulder, knee and back. I am not a woman made for sitting in the bleachers, alas, not even down front, it seems ;) Event took quite a bit longer than expected. Benny took a good look at me when Harry and I got back to dealership and said. “Take a muscle relaxer. We can do without you tonight.” I didn’t argue.
I’ve some other video production-related work to do, not to mention trying to catch up on all your comments, my lovelies, but for now let’s just concentrate on the ravishing creature we celebrate each Friday: the ever-so-thudworthy Sir Guy of Gisborne. The leather! The locks! The eyebrows! The smirk! The Guyliner! It’s all good . . . Sir Guy is fly!
Damn, he does clean up well.
That magnificent masculine ”hooter” sniffs out Eau de Forest Boy . . . poor Guy’s nose.
Ah, yes, Wild-Eyed Drunken Man with a Tangled Dirty Mane. My ovaries don’t work anymore and they still explode. Must. have. him. now.
And on the flip side, there’s that softer, sweeter Guy, with a vulnerability that just gets to me. *wibble*
And sometimes he’s just–scary. You don’t want to be on his bad side. And yet–he still thrills me even when his eyes go ice cold and his voice is edged in danger.
Mojo: (noun) magical power; charm
I have often thought I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out Richard Armitage has some sort of magical powers. The way he can completely captivate one’s attention. The way his eyes can absolutely mesmerize and his smile turn one’s legs positively wobbly.
The way he can make a heart beat faster, a mouth go dry, a strange fluttery sensation flow through one’s body–the healing properties, too, of the sound and sight of him.
For it’s definitely “white magic,” benign, benevolent, beneficent. When we ache and doubt and grieve and worry, there’s the wonderful manner in which he can somehow make it all better.
Richard Armitage–you and your chaRActers have got the mojo. Long may you all work it, my darling.