Category Archives: fanfic

Guyday Friday! Ladywriter talks–Politics??–with Sir Guy.


“I hate politics.”

Sir Guy stretched out his long, long denim-clad legs (he was slumming it. Casual Friday, you know.) and lazily crossed one boot-clad ankle over the other. Folding his arms across his snug-fitting black cashmere sweater (its V-neck giving a tantalizing glimpse of that sculpted chest), Ladywriter’s favorite dark knight threw a smirk her way as he tossed back that lustrous inky black mane of his.


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“Did you decide this suddenly, my dear LW, or has your loathing been long standing?” Guy drawled.
She sighed and raked her fingers through her already disheveled hair.

“Oh, it’s been growing. My disillusionment really kicked in when I was working for the newspaper full-time and saw a lot of local and state politicians up close. Reporting tends to breed a certain–cynicism–methinks.”

Guy nodded in commiseration as LW continued.

“And I am already thoroughly sick of all the yadayadayada going on between Democrats and Republicans in social media, the canned political endorsements being dialed to my phone, the ridiculous knee-jerk reactionary posts on Facebook and—”

LW shot Guy her own lop-sided smile, a rather wicked gleam in her eyes behind the spectacles. “If I never saw or heard from Donald Trump again, it would be too soon, my dear Guy!”

He raised a quizzical black brow as he tilted his head.

“You are not an ardent fan of The Donald?” His lips twitched as he spoke.

(Having surfed the net to keep up with current events, Sir Guy was already well aware of Mr. Trump and LadyWriter’s likely opinion of the presidential hopeful. Still, it was great fun to tease her . . .)

LW gave a large and distinctly unladylike snort.

“I’d rather have the sheriff teach me the poetry of pain before I voted that man—-dogcatcher, much less president. As far as I am concerned, he’s a narcissistic blowhard jerkwad who, in the end, is only interested in blatant self-promotion, not what is best for our country.”

“So . . . if he gets this nomination, you will vote for Hilary?”

Ladywriter gave a weary shrug of her shoulders. “I confess I have certain reservations about Hilary, none of which having to do with her being a woman, by the way, but–it may be a case of the lesser of the two evils.” She pressed her hands to her head and shook it. “To think we have months and months of this to go.”

Guy’s kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed in thought. “Perhaps . . . the Ultimate RA Force should reassemble, my lady. And stage an–intervention of sorts with Mr. Trump?”

LW’s eyes widened as she leaned forward. “Oh, could you? WOULD you?”

Guy dipped his head. “For you, my lady, our band of ChaRActer brothers will happily reunite to take on this cursed blight.” As he raised his head, a calculating smile formed on his lips. The gleam in HIS eyes was downright wicked now.

“I think I would rather enjoy, as you would say nowadays, kicking this fellow’s arse from here to next year,” he said in those dark chocolate tones she so loved.

be afraid mr trump


(To Be Continued)

Storm clouds at Ladywriter’s: Thorin vs. Guy


Forget Black Sky. There were storm clouds a-plenty at Ladywriter’s house. Thorin Thursday had a collision with Guyday Friday, as it were.

“Thorin, Thorin, Thorin. Is that all the fangurlz want to talk about?” Guy was grumbling beneath his breath, a long-haired pussycat tucked beneath his arm as he absently stroked her soft brown and cream fur.

“When will we get to see Thorin? Is it December yet? OMG, he’s so HOT.”

The Dark Knight tossed back his dark locks as he mimicked those annoying Thorin fans in a high-pitched, breathless tone.

Since he was his CReAtor’s er—CreAtion, Sir Guy managed the imitation of a female’s voice extremely well. It just looked rather ridiculous coming out of the mouth of a strapping fellow with an excess of stubble on his jaw.

Guy rolled his kohl-rimmed eyes and gave a distinctly disdainful (but nonetheless manly) sniff.

Now this damned book is out. Did I ever get an—an annual?  No.”

“I know, Gizzy. It’s most distressing,” said the kitty, who was, as you might have guessed, the So Not Dead Puddie.

“After all, you were here first.” She gave her own disdainful sniff with her dainty pink nose. “I know how I felt when Mother and Father started bringing in those other cats . . . why did they need anyone other than ME?”

Guy gave another stallion-like toss of his dark mane. “Exactly.” He sighed. “You and I understand one another so well, Puddiekins . . .”

“You should not forget that today is, actually, my day at the blog,” a deep, booming, authoritative voice said.

Guy stiffened. Puddie gasped. Could it be—

It was. A bearded figure, short and stocky but nonetheless regal, entered the room, clasping an extremely large and shiny sword at his side. Flicking back his long, lustrous locks—yes, even longer and more abundant than Sir Guy’s—he fixed his piercing gaze upon the knight and cat.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” he announced with a small bow to the cat. “I do not believe we have met before, my lady. You have recently joined this company?” (He had briefly met Sir Guy, Dear Reader, on an earlier visit.)

Puddie gave a small nod of acknowledgement. “Indeed—having joined the ranks of the So Not Dead.”

“Ah.” Thorin said. “I cannot yet claim membership in that particular group.”

Guy, whose eyes had been transfixed by the sight of Thorin’s very large, gleaming, lethal-looking sword, lifted his chin and looked down his handsome aquiline nose at the dwarf king.

“It is a very exclusive club. Membership is earned—the hard way.”  Guy and Puddie looked at each other and gave a wistful joint sigh.

Thorin drew himself to his full height of (roughly) five feet, two inches, give or take a half-inch, and cleared his throat.

“I have no difficulty dealing with that which is hard, painful or dangerous, of taking on the most harrowing of challenges.  I am of the finest dwarven stock, after all.  The heir of Durin, uncrowned king under–”

Guy’s eyes quickly began to glaze over. “Yeah, yeah—I’ve heard it all, Oakenshield.”  He eyed Thorin’s blade once more.

“Nice weapon,” the Dark Knight said.  “Looks as if you spend a lot of time polishing it,” he added with a smirk.

Thorin’s mouth curled into what might have been deemed a smug smile.

“It looks as if your weapon is—non-existent?”

Guy’s face took on a thunderous appearance. “It just so happens I have an extremely large and shiny sword with a magnificent jeweled hilt.”

Thorin tilted his head, blinking slowly. “Oh, really? Where is it?”

Ah. The very question Guy did not wish to answer. Because, of course, Ladywriter had removed it once again just in case Guy got a bit—carried away. Which was horribly unfair.  What was a self-respecting dark knight to do?

“It is out—being sharpened. And—polished.”  Puddie suddenly piped up in her breathy southern accent.

Guy flashed his gleaming white teeth at Thorin as he gave the cat a small squeeze of thanks. “Yes. Exactly so.” He expelled a breath and raised a single dark brow. “We shall have to compare our weapons—later.”

Thorin gave a conciliatory nod. “Agreed. I must take leave now as it is, after all, Thorin Thursday and I do believe Ladywriter has more fanart of me to post? And I must see more of this annual . . . I bid you both farewell.”

And with a majestic air, Thorin turned on his booted heel and strode away, every inch the uncrowned king.

Puddie gave a small sigh. “He really does have the most amazing hair. I wonder how much time he requires for grooming every day?”

Guy sneered. “Pretty boy. Dwarfy pretty boy.”

Puddie glanced up at him. “But—you are the one wearing eyeliner, Gizzy. And—if I am not mistaken—a touch of eyeshadow, too?”

He sniffed. “But it just makes me look more magnificently virile and sexy.” His brow furrowed slightly. “Doesn’t it?”

Puddie smiled and butted her head against the Medieval Menace’s side.

“Of course it does, Gizzy. And now—some Blue Bell ice cream?”

Guy nodded. “Excellent idea. I could murder a bowl. It’s been, what?—two hours since I last ate . . .”

He flicked back his mane, his head held high. After all, he’d had the lustrous mane first. And the total glamour look. AND the big, shiny sword–

Somehow, Puddie suspected this wouldn’t be the last near-skirmish between her beloved Gizzy and the new Alpha male in town.

That little braid of Thorin’s really was most fetching . . .

Great Moments in Hair Acting


Just when Richard was hoping to rid himself of the “medieval mullet,” what did TPTB do? They gave Sir Guy even more hair courtesy of extensions. But we all know Our Richard is not one to back down from a challenge. And so his brand new mane was incorporated into the story arc for the troubled Sir Guy in S3.  

From the wild-eyed, boozy, half-mad, near-suicidal mess of early S3, to the sleek and newly confident Sir (Glamour) Guy post his visit to PJ’s Red Door Salon and Spa, Richard worked that hair, baby. Whether as a tangled, greasy curtain to hide Guy’s shame and self-loathing, or a lustrous mane to be tossed back in a fit of anger or flicked back with great disdain like some proud, defiant stallion, I cannot imagine S3 Guy without that mane. And all that excellent hair acting by Richard.

                                                                                                             “Dangerous Talk!!”


Thwarted by Isabella

“Hi there!” *grumble grumble grumble*

And here’s a reprise of the poem I wrote a while back celebrating Sir Guy’s hair and more pretty piccies of Guy and his gorgeous mane.

Sir Guy: The Rightful Hair


A lighthearted little homage to Sir Guy’s tresses . . .


Sir Guy, dear Guy, I love your hair;

Sometimes it seems to be unfair

For the villain of the piece to be so blessed

While the hero is rather—scantily–tressed.


Oh, some may jest at your mullet medieval

with its cluster of lush raven curls;

Or at your floppy Guy locks

their derisive, dismissive howls, hurl . . .


But surely none can deny the power of the Angsty Guy Mane

Those long, unkempt jetty locks, so wild and untamed,

Never have lank and greasy been quite so—fetching,

And the glory of Glamour Guy—aah, makes our hearts sing!


Oh, yes, you work it, that amazing mane,

First as a curtain to hide your deep shame,

Then as an arrogant, proud dark stallion stamping its feet;

Is it any wonder watching you, I always feel such—heat?


And meanwhile, your nemesis, what of he?

His receding hairline, we now clearly see.

Sweaty combat reveals his balding pate,

Makes us understand why you he hates.


For you have the hair, the teeth, the physique;

“But I am the HERO!” he cries in a fit of pique–

And clutched his locks in full-blown despair,

Oops—watch out! More comb-over needed there.

Reflections on a diva named Puddie


Some of you who have read my fanfics Dangerous to Know and Lost & Found are familiar with my cat, Puddin’ aka Puddie. She became a very important supporting character in those stories–a long-haired tabby of ample proportions and a lot of  “catittude.”  She gained her own little fan club, and she adored every minute of it.  A diva in fur, indeed.

Puddie’s health has been in decline in recent months.  She’s been losing weight steadily.  The cats all tend to lose a little weight in the hot weather, especially since our central air went out,  but nothing like this.

We’ve given her special nutritional supplements and bought the “good” cat food in hopes of tempting her. She still enjoys her canned food, but seems interested in little else anymore.  Slowly but surely she seems to be fading away before our eyes.

Tonight I picked her up and she felt like little more than fur, skin and bones.

And tonight, I finally asked what I just could not put into words before now. “She’s dying, isn’t she, Benny?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said softly, with kindness in his dear blue eyes, and gave me a hug. I commenced crying all over the poor cat, which hardly made her feel better.  Sometimes, you just can’t help it.

She proceeded to go over and eat a little canned food when I put her down, as if to say, “Hmmmmph. I am NOT done yet.”

We can’t remember just how old Puddie is.  She was a mostly wild kitten when we first encountered her on the back porch of my parents’ farmhouse–I don’t know, 15 or 16 years ago?  Slowly, we gained the orphaned kitten’s trust and ultimately her love.

She was a bit funny-looking early on. For a long time one eye was slightly larger than the other and her ears were so big we called her “Bat Cat.” She grew into her looks, however, and become a beautiful cat with the most delicious purr. Like that of a big V-8 engine–smoooooth.  Dare I say, a Richard Armitage sort of purr, were he a cat.

None of us can live forever, and our pets have far less time on earth than we do.  Goodness knows I have loved and lost so many animals in my lifetime, from accident and injury, illness, old age and even through the malice of others. Still, I don’t regret a moment of it.

I don’t know how much longer we will have her with us. Puddie isn’t in pain and this give me some comfort.  And I know she has already gained a sort of immortality.  In her own way, my big, beautiful, grumpy, funny, proud cat will be SND, too. And live on with the lads and Ladywriter in Sloth Fiction Land . . .

Puddie, in better days

In case you need a wake-up: Technicolor Armitage re BeFunky


Technicolor Armitage . . .  most of these were done with another site I discovered called BeFunky. BeFunky actually allows you to order custom products with the artwork you create–mugs, tees, bags, keychains, magnets and more. I admit I am sorely tempted, once I am not so poor, to create myself an RA mug . . . looks like they do a very high-quality job.   In the meantime, have a flashback to the psychedelic ’60s without having a “bad trip.” 😉


Dawn’s lovely winged heart necklaces are garnering rave reviews from the ladies who have so far received them.  Here’s her description from the jewelry website:

A heart with wings represents a joyful, optimistic, and free spirit. Often, love is said to make the heart take wing. This petite charm has a lot of detail in a small package. It makes a great gift for the free spirit in your life.  Sterling silver winged heart pendant is just half an inch tall and less than 1.2 inches wide (30x15mm).  Fine cable chain is wire-wrapped to the springring clasp for greater security. Sized at 16 inches (41cm). If you would like another length, either shorter or longer, just send a convo with your request.   

Dawn generously offered to use these delicate necklaces as a fundraising tool for me and my trip fund for Comic-Con International in San Diego.  They can be paid for via the donate button here on the blog. The cost is $35 including the cost of shipping and Dawn will make them to the specified length. Shipping addresses and requested lengths should be sent to my e-mail addy.  Once again, thanks so much for all your support, financial, moral, spiritual and otherwise.

Oh, and my husband’s oldest brother is VERY jealous of his sister-in-law getting to go to Comic-Con. 😉


What time is it (almost)? YOU know . . .


“Lady Writer . . .” came the familiar chocolate rumble.

“Yes, Guy?”

“You know what tomorrow is, don’t you?” He was practically purring, the neckline of his Floppy Black Pirate Shirt untied, allowing a generous glimpse of that enticing smooth, pale flesh. It was enough to distract a girl . . .

“Uhmmmm. Oh, yes– tomorrow . . . is the start of a long Memorial Day weekend and it’s—the unofficial start of summer!”
She gave Guy a sunny grin as she clapped her hands together.

Guy paired a flick of a lustrous lock of raven hair with a disdainful manly sniff. He lifted a supercilious brow.

“Well, yes. But–there’s something else.”

Lady Writer furrowed her brow as if in deep thought. “Let me think . . .”

Guy folded his arms with marked impatience. “It’s Friday? It’s . . . you know what happens on Fridays.” His own brow crinkled, Sir Guy looked a bit distressed.

Lady Writer bit her lip. “Yes. I know. Of course I know. It’s–Guyday Friday time, it’s Guyday Friday time!!” She sang, waving jazz hands at Guy.

Guy gave another, happier sniff and lifted his chin. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten!”

Lady Writer gave a rather Guy-like smirk. “As if!”

Guy’s azure eyes narrowed as he rubbed the bridge of his rather magnificent nose. He had something else on his mind.

“Is there still any of that Tres Leches cake that Mr. Lady Writer baked?”

“You mean that ultra-moist and decadent dish to be eaten with fresh sweet blueberries from our own bushes, juicy strawberries and whipped cream?”

As she spoke, the tip of Guy’s pink tongue darted out to lick his Cupid’s-bow as those kohl-rimmed eyes widened again. Lady Writer was a bit sorry she had ended her description.

Sir Guy was soexpressive.“Yeah. That one.” Guy’s voice was definitely a deep, purring, delicious purr.

Lady Writer gave a sassy head nod in the direction of the kitchen. “Waiting for you on the bottom shelf of the fridge. Bring me a piece too, won’t you?”

Sir Guy gave her a courtly little nod. “As you wish, my lady,” and turning, strode out of the room.

Lady Writer could not fail to take notice of how well the Dark Knight’s Marvel of Engineering Trousers suited his own distinctive physique.

“Looks great coming–and going,” she said with a happy little sigh. “Ya gotta love him.”

Sir Guy, cereal and a rainy day


“So—Lady Writer.”

“Yes, Sir Guy?”

He peered over the notebook computer open on Lady Writer’s lap, his beautiful hands clasped behind his broad back as he tried to see the screen. In spite of the numerous thunderstorms and torrential rains of the afternoon pushing the humidity right up there, his raven locks were as smooth and silky as ever. How did he do it?

“How are you, dear LW?”

She looked up from the screen into those azure eyes, rimmed in the midnight blue kohn pencil from Sephora she had given him as a gift–gosh, she never, ever tired of looking into those spectacular peepers!–and gave him a wry smile.

“Well, I can now understand why my knee was doing the Rice Krispies yesterday–snap, crackle and pop. The bad weather was preparing to cometh.”

Sir Guy folded his arms and nodded. “I would think it is much more pleasant to eat this cereal than to feel the–erm–sound effects?”

His eyes brightened as his lips curved into a delighted smile at the thought of food.  LW’s heart gave a little flip-flop. She never tired of Sir Guy’s sweet, disarming smiles. Now that he was SND, he didn’t go around with a face like thunder nearly as often.

He just ate her out of house and home and bickered with Porter, but even those two managed to bury the hatchet (and not in each other’s skulls) more often than not.

Sir Guy was still waxing rhapsodic about noisy breakfast food.

“I really like the Cocoa Krispies. With sliced banana. My Creator is very fond of choccie and bananas, you know.” He paused, gave a wistful little sigh, and tossed back an errant lock of raven hair.  “It’s a little early for our next repast, I suppose?”

Lady Writer bit her lip to refrain from chuckling. Sir Guy was a little sensitive about his extraordinary appetite.  He could be touchy at times, which is why she had given him the magic sword that only worked when she said so. After all, when you are the queen of your fanfic universe, you can do such things.

” Oh, an hour and a half, or so. There’s a bag of Gala apples in the crisper drawer of the refrigerator if you need something to tide you over, Sir Guy.”

He gave her a courtly little bow but did not seem in a hurry to exit. Arms still folded, Sir Guy cleared his throat and glanced down at his boots.

“Might I ask–am I still the most popular ChaRActer on your blog?” In spite of his studied nonchalance, the Dark Knight clearly was hoping to hear good news. It showed so clearly in those ever-expressive eyes as they met Lady Writer’s.

Lady Writer smiled up at him.

“Sir Guy, I think the ladies live for Guyday Friday. You are very much loved at The Armitage Effect. As are, of course, the other lads. And the Creator himself, of course.”

“Oh, of course, I know the others have their devoted admirers, too,” he replied graciously. Still, Sir Guy was unable to keep a rather smug little smirk from crossing his face.  Really, he wouldn’t be Sir Guy without one of those trademark smirks every now and again.

He turned on his booted heel to stride out the door, then paused.

“Is there anything else, Sir Guy?”

“Y-e-e-s . . . am I also still the most common ChaRActer featured in your new fanart?” He rumbled.

“Closing in on 250, Sir Guy. No one else really comes close . . .”

A naughty gleam appeared in those smoky eyes as he gave her a lop-sided grin. “Oh, that I know very well . . .”

He was rather incorrigible. And very much loved.

And not exactly hard on the eyes . . .

This one’s for Nietzsche . . . belated best wishes!


Nietzsche is one of Sgt. Porter’s most devoted fans and she always left me such wonderful comments when I was writing Truce. Knowing that your writing efforts are read and appreciated and enjoyed means a tremendous amount.  It seems only fitting that Porter and Layla extend belated birthday greetings to Nietzsche!!

More Portah Pleasah . . .


Happy Saturday to you all!  More Portah for your perusing pleasah, ladies.  (Pleasure sounds so much more–pleasurable said with a British accent, I think. Just as “leyshur” sounds sexier and more decadent then “lee-shur” somehow.  😉  ) And speaking of Portah and pleasah . . .

Our favorite fantasy sequence . . . hot, hot, HOT.

Loved the little addition of Porter giving Layla the once-over at the prison. Wonder if that look was scripted or simply an inspired addition by our clever, detail-loving lad?

And he’s a very good boy, too. Especially when he’s being bad.

I got a hankering for Porter last night and re-read several chapters of Truce, so I am feeling quite nostalgic  . . . what can I say?

I think you will all agree with the above sentiment.

50 Shades of Grey Trilogy *SPOILERS* Why I can’t recommend it.




I have noticed a lot of traffic on this site related to searches for information about EL Jame’s runaway bestseller and so-called “mommy porn” Fifty Shades of Grey,which is turn has led to many views of the two posts I have already devoted to the subject. This is an expanded version of an email response to a fellow blogger who had questions for me concerning the controversial trilogy.  It does contain spoilers for the plot, so be forewarned. And considering the subject matter of the books–a BDSM relationship–it naturally contains mature content.

Fifty Shades of Grey at SeaTac newsstand

Fifty Shades of Grey at SeaTac newsstand (Photo credit:

OK, 50 Shades . . . I seriously wondered if I wanted to read the third book after reading the first two and not exactly being enthralled—frustrated and at times, very troubled, is more like it—but I felt I needed to complete what I started.

I decided to consider what I invested in time and money to read them “taking one for the team” in hopes of helping others know whether or not they would be interested. And as a writer as well as a reader, I needed to see what James did with these characters.

She has clearly intended for this to be the first three in a series of books on these characters. She includes a chapter at the end telling of their meeting from Christian’s POV, which frankly creeped me out with its predatory qualities.

I know that BDSM is not considered sexual deviancy by psychiatry today.  I have no problem with a bit of consensual light bondage, light-hearted spanking and that sort of thing between two well-adjusted adults. I’ve included it in my own erotic romances. It adds a nice bit of spice to the sex.  Writing and reading about sex is fun, indeed. Nothing wrong with some steamy escapist fantasies.  And there is no doubt some of the sex scenes in 50 Shades are hot.

However, I believe someone who has an overwhelming urge to beat a series of young dark-haired women black and blue because they resemble his dead crack whore mother who neglected him and allowed her various boyfriends to abuse her little boy, who ended up living with his mother’s corpse for several days . . . is someone carrying a lot of emotional baggage.

He was also seduced by an older woman who made him her submissive for seven years beginning when he was 15. Before that twisted relationship, he was acting out and getting into fights at school, so supposedly she “saved” him by teaching him to be her sub. But I can’t approve of an older woman manipulating a child in such a manner. Little wonder he was so f***ed up.

He thinks Ana will be the perfect submissive, and of course, she isn’t. She keeps resisting his rules. Perhaps that is part of her appeal for him—the challenge. He thinks he can tame her . . . I find myself asking what intelligent and well-grounded young woman (as she is presented to us) would even consider getting involved with a man like Christian once he had presented her with her “contract” and all its clauses. It is clearly evident at that point he is a major league control freak and a kinky one.

No matter how handsome and sexy and rich he was—I would ask myself, would it be worth denigrating myself and potentially putting myself in real harm’s way? I guess part of my problem is I have never desired to be tied up and gagged or shackled wrists to ankles, spanked or beaten with a belt. I enjoy fantasizing as much as the next girl, but those acts haven’t been part of my imaginings.

Their relationship is based on a strong sexual attraction. She is “different” from the others because, number 1, she is a virgin and so he performs “vanilla” sex with her to get that pesky virginity stuff out of the way; number 2, he ends up actually sleeping with her (as opposed to having sex and then returning to his own bedroom). He becomes obsessed with her very quickly and she with him. Before you know it, they get married and then in a rather ludicrous plot twist, she ends up pregnant.

An epilogue at the end shows them having an idyllic picnic with their little boy, with Ana pregnant with a second child. And Christian is now the loving and doting daddy. Happy families with a mum and dad who still enjoy kinky f**kery on a regular basis in the playroom.

As Servetus says, I think we are supposed to see it as that romantic all-consuming love–not unlike Bella’s and Edward’s relationship in Twilight and remember, this started off as a Twilight fanfic– but it doesn’t work for me on an intellectual or emotional level.

These two fight squabble, bicker and scream at each other at every turn throughout the trilogy. The only way in which they seem to be able to communicate and really find common ground is through sex. They don’t talk to each other; they yell at each other. And I find myself wanting to yell at them to grow up. I don’t think it’s a healthy relationship.

There are constant misunderstandings and false assumptions made on each side. This is her first sexual relationship and it’s his first normal (or semi-normal?) one and you feel as if these two are rushing headlong into something they aren’t ready for. There’s a level of immaturity here that makes it difficult for me to see them being able to so quickly establish a successful marriage and family life. I mean, I can’t buy it that this volatile and mercurial and emotionally immature man who gets upset over the smallest things could have become a captain of industry by 27.  He’s all over the place with his emotions, and so is Ana, albeit to a lesser degree.

Are they equals? Well—at one point when he thinks she is going to leave him he falls in his knees in a submissive pose and acts the role . . . as if he is reliving being Elena’s sub. She agrees to continue to do these kinky things with him, after discovering she has more intense orgasms through it.

But I just don’t buy it all. James describes this story as a fantasy, but she seems to be trying to couch it in reality and it doesn’t gel in a satisfactory or acceptable manner for me.

And I think it sends out a message young girls—who will inevitably get their hands on the “forbidden fruit” and read it—don’t need reinforced: that the love of a good woman conquers all.  How many young women have fallen under the spell of a man who proved to be obsessive and abusive, a stalker, jealous of anyone and anything that takes their attention from the guy?

We hear with heartbreaking frequency about cases of women who have been terrorized, assaulted and murdered by men who supposedly loved them.  Men with anger issues and violent streaks who took it out on the women.

The eternal appeal of the bad boy.  Only, in real life—it doesn’t generally end up happily ever after. That’s why I think there’s a potentially dangerous message here. I don’t believe in censorship and Lord knows, my readers will tell you I am not a prude.  But mommies, your daughters don’t need to be reading this stuff.

Actually, I would like to hear what a trained psychiatric pro who has read them thinks of these books and the behavior of Christian’s therapist, which, if not unethical, is certainly questionable at times.

As far as the quality of writing goes, yes, there is definitely better crafted stuff in the arena of fan fiction you can find online and for free that offers plenty of steam without making one squirm uncomfortably as you read about an innocent young woman being savagely beaten with a belt to give a man “pleasure” (that scene still makes me cringe)  . . .    this is still fanfiction with a questionable message masquerading as a mainstream novel.            I love both; but they are two separate entities.  And one more reason I cannot in good conscience recommend these books.

Guyday Friday: A versatile subject


One of the many things I appreciate about Sir Guy is the broad array of options I have when writing, vidding, or creating art about this character and Robin Hood. I can be angsty, I can wax poetic, I can get very, very steamy and I can be splendidly silly (come to think of it, I believe I was all of the above when I wrote Dangerous to Know . . . 😉 you’ve seen a little bit of everything in my Guyart today and I hope you have enjoyed it. Really, he’s such a wonderful subject with which to work.

Celebrating the SNDs we love


For anyone unfamiliar with this particular acronym, SND stands for So Not Dead. All these RA chaRActers has been Loved Into Being by the fans just as a toy bunny became a real live rabbit in the children’s classic, The Velveteen Rabbit. No matter what the scriptwriters may do, we know they are in reality safe and sound and continuing their great adventures in fanfic, fanvids and more.

So, I finished reading the “50 Shades of Grey” trilogy on my Kindle . . . more to come


This is the sexy (and sometimes very kinky) fantasy set in Seattle that started out as Twilight fan fiction before morphing into a self-published ebook,  and now Vintage (with whom the author inked a seven-figure deal) has published the paperbacks, which are currently topping the  NYT‘s bestsellers list  EL James’s erotic novels are earning comments by readers who consider the books everything from execrable to engrossing.  Yep, the movie rights have already been sold for a cool $5 million with speculation on who will play the lead characters (I confess, I CANNOT envision Robert Pattinson in this role. Grey is described as beautiful and sex on legs . . .)

If I were EL James, I would be smiling, too--all the way to the bank.

I have lots of thoughts swirling in my head. If Christian Grey was any more complicated a character, I think my poor head would explode.  Take about mercurial!  And sometimes, downright scary.

I have to think about Grey and the complex dynamics of his relationship with Anastasia Steele. About domination and submission and control issues in relationships and how childhood abuse/depravation can damage a person. And other stuff, such as–is this well-written writing? Or does all the “kinky f***ery” as Ana dubs it get in the way?   Since I do write erotic romance,  I consider it possible for sexy and well-written to peacefully co-exist 😉

Plus there is the whole issue of what this means  in terms of fan fiction, its increasingly higher profile and the mainstream (which I touched upon with my F3 post, Fanstravaganza3 Fanfiction: Goin’ Mainstream).

So– there will be another blogpost to come on this trilogy.  I will be interested to hear from any of you who have read the Fifty Shades concerning your own impressions of the books.

What people are reading: top posts at TAE


The Handsome Stranger surrounded by stacks of books as he meets his new neighbors in the eccentric village of Dibley. A funny, sweet, sexy fellow who also loves a good read. My kind of man.  (VoD screencap courtesy of Richard Armitage Central)

I have mentioned in previous posts  the countries where the blog has the highest number of hits and those readers who most  frequently comment. I thought you might also be interested in knowing what the overall most read posts are, so here we go!

Not surprisingly, the home page comes in at number one. Number two is A glimpse at young Armitage, followed by the F3 post, Fanfiction goin’ mainstream; the Paul Andrews BTS post; my essay on my fascination with RA,  Why Richard Armitage?; Guy’s F3 interview with LadyWriter on Sloth Fiction; I’m Just Crazy about Thorin . . . More Pics. More Thoughts; Up close with Luscious Lucas and a shakin’ spy vid; Be Dionysian with the TDHBEW:TAE Word for the Day Pt.2, and Marian, you’re an idiot.

Thank goodness Sir Guy made it into the top ten, or I would have never heard the end of it, I fear.

As for lovely Lucas, ahhh–we certainly haven’t forgotten him. Like our other beloved chaRActers, Lucas was Loved Into Being and now has SND status.

The Paul Andrews post actually has the most comments, I believe, of any posts. Nothing like a little controversy to get folks talking. It will be interesting to see which stories come out on top when TAE celebrates its first anniversary in February 2013.

FanstRAvaganza 3: Day 6! (fanfic) The Hot Henchman interviews Lady Writer on Sloth Fiction

English: pg 1 of The Velveteen Rabbit.

Image via Wikipedia

For our final F3 post, Sir Guy conducts an interview with Lady Writer (aka fedoralady) on the evolution of Sloth Fiction.

Sir Guy: So, Lady Writer. You are my first—interviewee? (crinkling his brow, the Dark Knight rubs the bridge of his magnificent aquiline nose as he glances over his notes. Lady Writer has taught him how to read and write, in case you were wondering).

 Lady Writer: (gives him an encouraging smile) Don’t be nervous, Sir Guy. I promise I won’t bite.

Sir Guy: (smirks as he narrows his kohl-rimmed eyes) Oh, I don’t know—I might like it if you did–bite. In the right places . . .
Lady Writer: Now, Guy . . . Mr. Lady Writer is home, you know. (Gives him that school teacher look.)

English: pg 18 and 19 of The Velveteen Rabbit.

Sir Guy: (raises a brow and clears his throat) Sorry. So—for the uninitiated, could you tell us just what Sloth Fiction is?

LW: I’d be glad to. First of all, the name “Sloth Fiction” came about from some confusion over a comment made on Servetus’s blog, Me+Richard Armitage. It was a misunderstanding about sl**h fiction. Instead of “slash fiction,” it became sloth fiction.
And I thought wouldn’t be funny if you had these heroic, sexy, gorgeous ChaRActers just hanging out, being couch potatoes, eating junk food, arguing over who gets possession of the remote control, petting my cats and playing with my dogs, being more-or-less regular guys who happen to live in my den?
So I wrote a one-shot. And it was so well-received I ended up continuing the installments. There are 12 chapters now, I believe. I have another one dancing around in my head right now. It’s just a matter of getting it written.

Guy: And you never have confusion with all of us tripping over one another? I mean, in the sense of taking over your house–and your brain.

LW:  Frankly, I’d rather have you all here at my house than being mangled by TPTB. Call it me being in Armitage Protective Mode. As far as you all inhabiting my brain–resistance, I have found, is futile.  And in fact, I see all of you as very separate and distinct individuals. Who happen to bear a physical resemblance to one another. Harry is the sunny-natured peacemaker, intervening when you and Porter get into a scrape. John is your fellow alpha male, ready to enter the fray, and also a true gallant at heart; you each have your own personalities. And I can find something to appreciate in every ChaRActer.

Guy: There were actually some earlier forms of this type of story, weren’t there, that you also posted at Live Journal as fedoralady? Featuring—one of your characters, primarily? (azure eyes glinting)

LW: Yes, as far back as 2009 I was periodically penning ficlets called “Lady Writer and . . .”  Little reflections on what was going on both in my real life and my fan fiction universe. Featuring—as you well know—you, Sir Guy. You were my first—chaRActer, that is.

Guy: (graciously bows his head before flicking back his glorious mane of hair) I thought everyone would like to know about that. And how you and other admirers of my Creator assured my So Not Dead status.

LW: Ah yes. When the Second Episode that Dare Not Speak Its Name on Robin Hood aired, I confess I was rather upset.

I believe you actually said (glancing at notes) “I cried buckets.”

LW: (graciously nods her head)  That is true. As did many others who shed tears that day. I thought of the children’s classic, The Velveteen Rabbit, and how one little boy’s love for his stuffed animal, a rabbit, allowed that toy to become a real, live rabbit. The Velveteen Rabbit was Loved into Being—and so were you, Sir Guy, by all your loyal and adoring fans.

Guy: And I was the first to officially achieve SND status.

LW: Oh, yes, the first. But, sadly, not the last. Lucas and Porter have also gone on to achieve it. As did Captain Mcalwain retroactively. The Creator’s ChaRActers touch our hearts in such a way, we simply cannot let go of you all. Call it wish fulfillment, but it makes me my readers happy. It’s good to know that in spite of the slings and arrows of outrageous showrunners and writers, our beloved Creator’s ChaRActers live on. (grins) And I enjoy being the Queen of my Fanfic Universe.

Guy: In Lucas’s case, we actually launched what Soldier Bo—I mean, Porter, called a “black ops,” using many of my fellow ChaRActers. Harry, Mulligan, Standring, Mcalwain, Thornton—my, but that mill master does know how to thrash a miscreant, doesn’t he?—joined forces in order to set things right.

LW: Oh, yes, that was the chapter of Sloth Fiction in which the ChaRActers Strike Back. I recall how you used your skills for– intimidation very well in avenging your brother ChaRActer.

Guy: (with a faintly wolfish display of gleaming white teeth) My pleasure, LW. I did learn a thing or two from the Treacherous Troll.

LW: (sighs) If only you’d learned how to make sure the Evil One really was dead. And your scheming psycho sister.

: (a manly sniff) Bloody writers. (imperious flip of his raven locks) So, what is in store for me—and my fellow ChaRActers, of course—in the next chapter of Sloth Fiction?

LW: Well, the core group of ChaRActers will certainly return—you, Harry, Porter and Lucas. And Monet, who is still giving Lucas painting lessons. And–Thorin will very likely make another appearance.

Guy: (frowns slightly) Oh, yes. Him. Will—he become a regular in the den, Lady Writer?

LW: I suppose you will simply have to wait and see, my darling Guy. (a distinctly mischievous grin)

(sighs, lips parted, and tips back his head. Lady Writer likes it when he does that.) Alright. You know—I am feeling a bit peckish, LW. Doing interviews whets one’s appetite. Any Cheez-its in the pantry?

LW: Limited Edition Monterey Jack. Just for you, my Dark Knight with the Hollow-but-Beautiful Leg.

Guy: (smirking) You know you love ME best . . .

(returning smirk) Well, you were my first.  Thank you, Sir Guy.

Guy: (takes her hand and presses a kiss to it. He’s quite the flirty-girty himself sometimes)  My pleasure, milady.

(screencaps courtesy of RANet)


Sloth Fiction and Lady Writer/fedoralady’s other flights of fancy over the past three-plus years can be found at (fedoralady60) Dreamer Fiction (fedoralady; requires membership) and as fedoralady.

Continue FanstRAvaganza 3 fun  in the fanfic thread with tagteamer Jo Ann at You can see yesterday’s posts in the thread with Jas Rangoon at and Maria Graza at http://flyhigh-by-learnonline, Tomorrow’s fanfic tagteamers will be Maria again along with Gratiana Lovelace at  Enjoy! 😀