Tag Archives: LadyWriter

The Accountant, the Kitten and the Sassy Ladywriter: Spring is Coming!


Scarlett Kitten was sitting in the open kitchen window at Ladywriter’s house, enjoying the balmy breeze periodically ruffling her silky fur. Something Mama called “Spring” was apparently in the air, and Scarlett had decided she liked it. The fresh air was wonderful after the long, cold, dreary winter.


“Scarlett Kitten! How are you this mild February afternoon?” A cheery male voice exclaimed. With a chirrup of clear delight, Scarlett bounded over the sink and straight into Harry Kennedy’s jumper-clad arms,  where she quickly wrapped her little body around his sleeve to do a bit of grappling. Scarlett loved to sleeve-wrestle with her favorite menfolk, the taller and looser-limbed, the better.

In spite of the warmth of the day, Harry was not overheated in his cozy knitwear; such was one of the benefits of being a ChaRActer.  He looked as boyishly appealing and infinitely cuddly as ever, irresistible to cat or cat mother.


“Harry! So good to see you again!” Ladywriter’s face was wreathed in a smile at the sight of the Handsome Not-Really-Stranger. “I see Scarlett has already made herself at home on your arm . . . ”

and she’s feeling quite frisky, it would seem.” Rubbing the purring kitten, he tilted his head, his brow furrowing just a little as he studied Ladywriter. She’d apparently been to Town. She was wearing her red lippie and her favorite teal blouse, the one that made her eyes look almost-green.


“I do believe you are sporting a new hairstyle, LW. A change for Spring?”

Yep.” She gave a sassy toss to her head. “A little shorter, a different shade for the new season. Spring is coming–can’t you feel it?–and I am feeling, I don’t know—hopeful again.”

LW shrugged her shoulders and gave Harry a wry smile. “It’s weird. I’m still poor, I still hurt, I still have a heck of a time getting up and down stairs. But that awful sense of complete despair has left me, for now, at least. I am reading more, writing more, taking more photos and doing edits . . . having fun being creative. Getting to know some of the folks commenting on my FB page for the CReAtor. Getting outside and playing with the dogs and getting some fresh air.”

She paused and gave him a flirtatious sidelong glance.

“Laughing a lot with my sweet, loveable Harry-like Benny.”


Harry, cheeks flushing at the compliment, gave LW one of those dazzling grins that simply melted a girl of any age’s heart.

“That’s wonderful. Sounds like you have a bit of Spring Fever, Ladywriter.”

She nodded. “I think you’re right.  Let’s hope it lasts for a while, darling Harry. Like my addiction to your CReAtor and his ChaRActers, this ‘illness’ seems to do me good.”  LW sighed. “If only dear Richard knew just how much he has positively impacted me . . .”


And here’s to the imminent arrival of a new season . . .

All photos taken and edited by yours truly. Vicar of Dibley screencap from Richard Armitage Net; my edit.

It’s (Back in) Black Guyday Friday! Ladywriter stays at HOME. With Guy.


‘Twas the day after Thanksgiving in the land of Ladywriter. For some of her friends and neighbors, that meant–shopping. Actually, for some of her friends and neighbors, Thanksgiving itself became a shopping excursion, with those infamous doorbusters–super-cheap TVs! Video consoles for a STEAL!–being offered Thanksgiving night. Some folks lined up two to three hours before the doors opened, huddled in the unseasonable cold awaiting their bargains. In the bigger cities, some folks lived in tents for days . . .



andyblackfridayAccording to a friend’s husband who braved Wal-Mart with that friend last night, poor hubby kept feeling like he was trapped in an episode of The Walking Dead and considered grabbing a shovel and whacking some zombified heads . . . Ladywriter is not sure it that was before or after a fight broke out nearby over TVS. And towels.  (Yes. TOWELS.)

“So—you are managing to resist this orgy of consumer excess?” A deep chocolate voice rumbled in her ear.

Ladywriter looked up into Sir Guy’s rather amused azure gaze. As always, his amazing peepers were lined perfectly. *sigh*


“Do I look like I’m going anywhere? I mean–I am dressed, but that is about it.” LW ran her hand through her untidy fair hair  (which was sorely in need of a good brushing) and shoved her glasses up her nose. “Besides, even if I didn’t have a pauper’s purse versus a lord’s, I wouldn’t be caught dead doing Black Thursday/Friday.”

Sir Guy furrowed his brow.  “I thought all women–loved shopping.”


LW chuckled and shook her head. She still had a few things to teach him . . .

“No, in fact, some really don’t. Now, I do–or at least, I used to, before Fibromyalgia took a lot of the fun out of it for me. I loved looking for good value for my money and for something that person would really enjoy and likely not buy for him or herself. BUT–”

Ladywriter, her brow creasing, raised a hand. Sir Guy knew what that meant. LW was about to step on what she referred to as her “soapbox.” He took a very small step back.

“I hate crowds, standing in line for any length of time is painful,  I detest shoving and pushing, and I hate that depressing feeling the meaning of Thanksgiving is being trampled to death by the big box retailers in their rush to sell, sell, SELL.”  She heaved a sigh, then straightened her shoulders and thrust out her chin.

“Anyway, I’d rather celebrate–Back in Black Friday.”

Sir Guy looked puzzled. “Back in Black Friday?”


She grinned. “Back in Black GUYDAY Friday.” She pretended to drum as she tossed her head to and fro. “DUNH-dunh-nuh-dunh-dunh-uh-duh . . .”

Sir Guy returned her smile. “Ah . . . now I get it! It’s my day–Friday–and I do look most presentable in black,” he purred.

“And AC/DC really does suit you, dearest Sir Guy . . .”

(Ladywriter requests that you overlook the typo in the image below. Realizing that, of course, you may not notice there are words on the image below . . .)




Happy (Back in) Black Guyday Friday! 😉

Guyday Friday: Ladywriter unleashes her inner scream–it’s FUN!


“It’s been quite a week for you, hasn’t it, Ladywriter,” Sir Guy said, before popping another Danish Christmas cookie into his mouth and chewing with evident satisfaction (two tins for $5 at Walgreen’s. Ladywriter could not resist).

“Yep. And it’s all caught up with me today.” Still wearing her Gerri-like rose print PJs at 6 p.m., LW winced as she flexed her right hand and stretched her lower back. Both body parts were being downright stroppy. Weather changes were on the way, big ones, and WB (Weather Body) didn’t like them much.

She managed a smile for the Hot Velveteen Henchman. “Of course, having you in the audience last night for our mystery dinner theatre was a treat. You and Benny–my two favorite tall, dark and handsome knights. Gave me that extra boost of confidence I needed.”BeFunky_Grunge_1cc

“And it all went splendidly, my dearest LW. You proved a most convincing drunk–and that scream? That young wench up front jumped–literally–in her seat. Most blood curdling.”

LW flashed him a grin. “I did my best to channel those scream queens from the slasher movies. And what do you know? Turned out the killer actually had done away with me earlier and that scream was a recording from–a horror movie!” Ladywriter looked downright gleeful. “So I got it right and didn’t even know that’s how it was going to turn out!!”


“And I have to say, Sir Guy, I enjoyed letting it all out. Does that make sense?”

Sir Guy gave her a wry lop-sided smile. “The need to scream? Oh, my lady, no one understands more.”

Ladywriter thought of Sir Guy’s dealings with the Treacherous Troll, Arrow Boy and She Who Must Not Be Named.

“Too true, my dear Sir Guy.” She held out the cookie tin. “Have another . . .”

“Don’t mind if I do, dear LW.”


Oh, it was always such a pleasure watching that ChaRActer eat . . . *sigh*


And apparently, it’s quite entertaining to watch me get schnockered. 😉

Guyday Friday: Has the big cat met his match?


“Gosh, I am chilly!” Ladywriter buttoned the cheery red velour bed jacket she was wearing over her equally cheery rose print pajamas. She’d tried to get her hair dry. ‘Twas not an evening to go to bed with a damp mop of hair.

“Feels like winter has arrived tonight . . .” Scarlett Kitten, who was cuddled up on the soft fleece throw across her hooman mama’s lap, apparently agreed.

“Ah . . . wearing your Harry and Gerri-esque night attire, I see,” came a certain delicious dark chocolate rumble.

Must be checking in to make sure those Esquire pics haven’t made me forget what day of the week it is.

“Well, hullo, Sir Guy . . . Happy Guyday Friday!” LW said.  A sleepy-eyed Scarlett stretched, gave a “chirrup” and hurried to greet her favorite Hot Velveteen Henchman. Sir Guy scooped her up and soon had the fuzzy creature clasped firmly around his wrist in a vigorous wrestling match.

“OWWWW.” Sir Guy made a face. “Erm–my, what–sharp–teeth and claws you have for un petit chat.” He shot LW a look from beneath those arched brows as his mouth twisted in a wry smirk. “You would envision me in this Floppy Black Pirate Shirt instead of my leathers. They gave me some degree of protection.”


Ladywriter smiled. “Surely ’tis but a flesh wound for such as you, my darling Sir Guy?” Her smile broadened, a definite glimmer of mischief in her bespectacled blue eyes. “Not going to let a fellow feline, and such a small one, get the best of you . . .”


A disdainful sniff. “Certainly NOT.” He managed, and not without some effort, to detach the boisterous Scarlett from his wrist–only to have her spring onto his shoulder. Scarlett proceeded to rub her face against his stubbled check as she purred extravagantly, then settled down to make herself comfortable. She loved being up so high . . .


Sir Guy rolled his eyes heavenward and sighed.  “Females. Always trying to wrap me around their little finger–or paw, as it were.”


“As if you weren’t doing the same thing to all of us poor, susceptible females who cannot resist your smouldering charms?”

~~~ A deep, dark chuckle. “Welllllll . . .”







Happy Guyday Friday!! 😉

A soldier, a dwarf king & a henchman walked into a room . . .


“Soooo . . . I see you two showed up on my day. ” The tall, dark and toothsome knight gave a disdainful sniff of his rather magnificent aquiline nose and folded his arms across his chest as he smirked at his companions.  (He was as magnificent a Smirker as he was a first-class Sniffer and Smoulderer.)


The soldier, who was rocking a scarf like nobody’s business, shot him a cool, measured glance and folded HIS arms, their very impressive biceps rippling beneath his desert gear.  “Yeah . . . seems the Yanks are finally going to get to meet me . . .”


“Although audiences around the world are eagerly anticipating MY arrival–and some have already seen me via this digital download apparatus,” rumbled the dwarf in a majestic manner, somehow making himself look taller–even if he was a foot shorter than the other two blokes. He slipped off his kingly coat, and showed off his own impressive biceps. The three men eyed each other. Was it her imagination, or was that the distinctive odor of testosterone in the air?


The blonde woman sighed. “Now, lads, there’s room for all of you. You are all much loved, adored AND lusted after.  Happy Guyday Friday, Happy premiere of Strike Back: Origins tonight and hooray for the Extended Edition of The Hobbit! There are chocolate chip fudge brownies and a big bag of cheese curls in the kitchen and a gallon of Blue Bell in the freezer.”

“I’ve got first dibs on the brownies . . .” Guy said in his chocolate-laden baritone.

“All yours, milord. I’ll take the cheese curls,” Porter drawled, his crystalline green eyes glinting.

Thorin flicked back his luxurious mane. “Blue Bell being the king of ice creams makes it the perfect choice for me . . .”

Ladywriter wondered how long it would take before they got into a squabble over the satellite remote control.

Never a dull moment when the ChaRActers took over the house . . .

And she wouldn’t have changed a thing!

Guyday Friday: Ladywriter, Uncle Guy & Scarlett


“Shhhhhhhhhh . . . .” Ladywriter pressed a finger to her mouth. “I think I’ve finally worn her down for a little while.”

Sir Guy gave a small nod and crept into the room–not an easy feat for a fellow with feet the size of our Dark Knight’s. Still, as LW knew, Sir Guy had a very soft and gentle side to him. And Lady Scarlett, the fabulous patchwork kitten newly adopted by LW and her mister, had managed to charm everyone (with the possible exception of Callie, who was still Not Amused).

Sir Guy peeped at the sleeping kitten, who was stretched out on the bed next to the small box she’d been playing in. He smiled and whispered. “She’s dreaming now. Look at those whiskers and toes twitching . . . have you thoroughly spoilt her yet, my lady?”

LW raised her fair brows. “Oh, Sir Guy, why do you assume I will spoil the cat?”


He gave her a sidelong glance, the corner of his mouth threatening to curl upwards, a mocking gleam in those eyes. “Do you not spoil every one of these furry creatures?”

LW shrugged sheepishly, and threw an indulgent smile in the kitten’s direction. “It’s difficult not to when they are as sweet and cute and lovable as Scarlett–and she’s so very happy to have a home, I think. She has so much love and affection to give.”


“Everyone wants a home, some place where they belong–and are wanted.” There was a wistful tone in Guy’s murmur. LW reached out and took his hand and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of it. “And you know you always have a home here–and in the hearts of all those who love you, Sir Guy .  . .”

His blue eyes softened. Sir Guy bent over and pressed a kiss to the top of LW’s tousled blonde head. “Thank you, my lady.”

A faint “meep” sounded and Scarlett, stretching her fuzzy paws, headed over to climb on her mama’s chest, kiss her nose, and knead her shoulder, purring all the while.  It is very hard to use a laptop with Scarlett on board, too.  Nigh to impossible.

LW laughed and lifted the soft, snuggly kitten up in her arms, giving her a little shake before passing her to the Dark Knight. “Why don’t you pester Uncle Guy for a while, you little charmer, and let me finish my work!”

The kitten fit easily into one of Sir Guy’s broad palms. “And what do you think you are doing, my lady Scarlett?” He waved an admonishing finger at her, his tone would-be stern.

“Meep!”  Scarlett blinked, then launched herself forward to kiss Sir Guy’s large and handsome aquiline nose with great enthusiasm.

Sir Guy was soon laughing, too. It was always such a lovely sound . . .


Sorry for a belated Guyday post. Scarlett has taken rather a lot of her mama’s time and Mama finally had to get some sleep, too!

Guyday Friday: Guy celebrates National Relaxation Day . . .


LW awoke to the sound of–singing. A booming baritone was infiltrating her foggy brain.  Singing . . . “I’m Too Sexy?”

She sat up in bed and shook back her tousled waves, rubbing her sleep-sticky eyes. OK, yes I AM awake.

The clock told her it was past time for Mr. LW to be at work. And while her beloved hubby’s voice was deep, he didn’t sing, except in monotone.

It HAD to be—

She put on her glasses and headed to the other end of the house, the lusty tones ringing in her ears, along with the sounds of–splashing?

“Poor pussy–poor pussycat . . .”

LW eased the door to the big bathroom open. There, in the oversized tub, brimming over with bubbles, was her favorite dark knight, wielding LW’s back brush and scrubbing in time to his singing.

“Sir Guy . . .”

He looked up and flashed the most dazzling grin at her.  “Good morning, my lady! Hope you don’t mind . . . I’ve been romping with those lovely dogs of yours and got quite hot and sticky and filthy. Considering what day it is, I thought t’would be pleasant to enjoy a proper soak in this rather grand bath of yours.”

The image of Sir Guy getting all “hot and sticky and filthy” whilst playing with her favorite canines was both endearing and—stirring—for Ladywriter.

She got rather lost in it for a moment, before returning to the present. Drinking in the sight of her dark knight’s soapy raven tresses threatening to tumble into those azure eyes, a rivulet of water cascading down the bare chest visible above the bubbles, she gave a soft sigh.


“Erhm, oh yes, today IS Guyday Friday, isn’t it?”

Sir Guy tossed back his wet mane and shook it, before flashing her another lopsided grin. LW gave an inward squee.

“Well, yes—of course, there is THAT.” Sir Guy lifted a brow and raised one long, elegant (if soapy) finger, wagging it playfully in her direction. “And don’t you ever forget it, my dear LW.”

“Worry not, my dear dark knight, I never shall.”

His eyes sparkled. “I know you never shall. However, it is also National Relaxation Day.”

LW’s brows elevated this time.

“You can learn a lot on Facebook, you know,” Sir Guy added with a distinct degree of smugness. “And so I am relaxing by playing with our pets and–taking a bubble bath.”

His grin took on a devilish air, the gleam in his eye positively wicked. “It’s a very commodious bath you have here. Care to join me?”

Oh, Sir Guy, DON’T tempt me.

Happy Guyday Friday and Happy Relaxation Day!


Guyday Friday: brunch with LW


It was a first for Sir Guy. His first reduced-sodium hot Spam sandwich with two thick slices of juicy home-grown tomato, accompanied by a glass of Coke and a dish of chilled (and equally juicy) watermelon. Ladywriter had to indulge her brunch cravings, and Sir Guy shared it with her.



(actual sandwiches looked better than this, but LW failed to take photos)


Even with the paper towel he’d tucked into the front of his Floppy Black Pirate Shirt, the juices were rolling down that handsome stubbled chin of his. Ladywriter’s favorite Dark Knight raised a brow, that pink tongue darting out to capture the flow as he reached for his towel. “God’s tears, these are good and ripe, LW!”


Ladywriter gave a longing inward sigh. She’d have been glad to lick that pesky juice away for him . . .

“Uhmmmm . . .  oh, yes. I do love a proper tomato and the watermelons have been just lovely this year . . . I will miss the fresh fruit and veggies.”

Sir Guy took another bite of his sandwich, chewing with his customary gusto before giving a great swallow, followed by a mouthful of Coke.  What a pleasure it is to watch that man eat . . .


“This–spam?–is rather tasty. What an amazing assortment of foodstuffs you have in the 21st century . . . ”

LW smiled. There was an endearingly boyish side to her favorite SO Not Dead Character, that part of him that delighted and took wonder in so many things she took for granted.

“It’s not exactly banquet fare a la Nottingham Castle, Sir Guy.”

He gave her a lop-sided smile, just a hint of sadness in those kohl-rimmed blue eyes. “Better a spam sandwich with a true friend than a feast with the Treacherous Troll and a fickle, foolish, foppish prince, my lady.”

Ladywriter returned his smile, lifting her Alabama Crimson Tide thermal glass. “I shall drink to that, my dear Dark Knight. And what do you say to a walk with a ‘leper’ and her plebian canines a little later while this glorious sunshine holds?”

Sir Guy’s eyes positively twinkled as he gave her a courtly bow. “I would be honored to accompany you, my lady, along with the beauteous Lady Seabee, Sir Rascal and the young petit couchon-chien.”

Oh, how the French rolled off his tongue!

“The little pig-dog will be thrilled. He’s really taken to you, Sir Guy . . .”

A dark chocolate chuckle. “He’s a friendly little fellow. And one knows where one is with a dog . . .very loyal, they are  . . . ”

Happy (if slightly belated) Guyday Friday to all!


Little Guy is feeling a bit superior on Guyday Friday



Ladywriter has added to her group of ChaRActer action figures. Yes, now she has the smaller version of Little Thorin. She calls him Littler Thorin and he’s adorable. But fiercely adorable, she assures you.

Little Guy is thrilled.  Bet you can guess why . . .

Little Guy: *smirks* Well, now. No more feeling as if I need to put those silly lift thingies in my boots the way the CReAtor had to do for his Hobbity film anymore.” *sniffs* “Ridiculous that they made that first dwarf taller than–ME!

Ladywriter: Little Thorin was only a tiny bit taller than you, dear LG.

Little Guy: *shakes head* He’s supposed to be a dwarf.  Whereas I am–well, you know.

Ladywriter: I know. The Great I Am. In a portable version.

Little Guy *smirks* Damn straight! So, are you going to take me to Comic-Con?

Ladywriter: Are you boys all going to get along together?

Little Guy: Oh, I–suppose . . . *manly sniff* If I absolutely MUST.

Ladywriter: You absolutely do if you have any hopes of traveling to sunny SoCal . . .

Little Guy: *grumbling slightly* Uhmmmm. Very well. I shall be a very good boy.

Ladywriter: *thinking* Well, miracles can happen.

Sir Guy and LW discuss the Creator


“You really do love my Creator, don’t you, LW?”

“Oh, yes, Sir Guy. I think he is an altogether lovely person, your Creator.”

“And–do you think there’s a bit of him in me?”

“Hmmm. Let’s see. He’s very handsome, of course. And very appealing to the opposite sex.”  Sir Guy could not resist smirking at these words as he flicked back a silky lock of raven hair. “And–what else?”

“He’s tenacious–not one to give up easily. He takes his profession very seriously and works hard at it. And–sometimes–‘ Ladywriter shot him a look from beneath her lashes. “Sometimes he has a filthy temper. Or–so he says.”

Sir Guy’s brow creased as he heaved a small sigh. “I have tried to keep my–temper in check, you know.” He said in a faintly wistful tone.

“Indeed you have and I truly appreciate it.”

She patted the bed for him to sit down beside her. “And there’s one other thing that strikes me.”

Guy stretched out his long legs, folding his arms across his chest. “And what’s that?” The dark knight rumbled, a quizzical brow raised.

She smiled and tenderly kissed him on his stubbled cheek. “He’s a real sweetheart,too.”

Guy gave her a lop-sided smile as his cheeks grew pink beneath the dark stubble.

Taking LW’s hand in his own, Sir Guy gently squeezed it before giving a manly sniff, thrusting out his chin. “Thank you, Ladywriter,” he said with a gracious nod of his dark head.

It was good to be part of the Creator’s little community. To be loved and fancied. To have all the 21st century junk food he could eat. And a magic sword.

Life as one of the So Not Dead was good.  And you had to give credit to the Creator for making it all possible.  He really is a pretty swell guy.

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.