A continued Happy Guyday Friday to you all around the world (in some cases, I guess it’s Guyday Saturday, isn’t it?).
I went outside earlier and the sunshine was deceptive. It was cold–well, cold for here–and I got chilled. Got under the covers, have a heating pad and a cozy calico cat to warm me up. But thoughts of a certain TDHSBK also bring some heat–if you know what I mean. Sometimes he’s almost TOO sexy–not that I would ever change a thing!
Our word for the day is Don Juan (noun): an obsessed womanizer. See Lee Preston, lifeguard, (very) personal trainer and total flirty-girty in series 5 of Cold Feet. Lee has never met a woman he wouldn’t be happy to seduce, methinks. And he’s very good at it, with that deceptively angelic face, those puppy-dog eyes. engaging grins and the killer bod.
The original Don Juan was, of course, a legendary 14th century Spanish nobleman, who devoted his life to seducing women. His story has been portrayed by many authors and composers, amongst them Moliere, Mozart, Byron and Shaw. But did any of their incarnations of the legendary lover wear midnight blue Speedos and look like this?
I think not.
One of the things I find delicious about this character is that the actor behind it is so gorgeous, sexy and charismatic he could have been a very successful womanizer, a veritable Don Juan, like Lee, if he so chose that road. But he isn’t and he didn’t and I love him all the more for it.
As for Lee, I do think he could be a heck of a good time for a girl–as long as she took proper precautions and never expected more than a good time. Mr. Preston is not marriage or long-term partnership material.
But he is awfully pretty (even if I prefer the more mature beauty of Mr. Armitage these days).
Lucas, the cerebral, enigmatic, cool-as-a-cucumber spy and Portah, the tough-as-nails SAS soldier with the tender side. Dedicated heroes and alpha males who are also sexy as hell. And So Not Dead! What’s not to love here?
“I’m tired, Sir Guy,” Ladywriter said, smothering a yawn. “I am seriously thinking of reading a bit more of that Anne Perry book and then packing it in.”
“You do know you shall likely awake at 3 a.m. if you fall asleep before ten.” Sir Guy tilted his dark head and raised one skeptical brow.
She smothered another yawn. “Yep, I know. But it was a long day. The way that wind kept roaring–I thought we were back in South Dakota for a while–and if I wake up, well, I wake up.”
Ladywriter took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, which were watering like mad. “Don’t worry, dear Sir Guy. I will put up the first Guyday Friday post early.” Slipping her glasses back on, she glanced up at him with a smile. “After all, can’t disappoint your devoted admirers, can we?”
A flash of gleaming white teeth. “Oh, no. That would never do,” Sir Guy purred.
She loved it when he purred . . .
There are legends that tell of a flower, the amaranth, possessing a blossom that never fades. From that root we get the word amaranthine–an undying, unfading beauty.
I think there has always been beauty in Richard Armitage’s visage. A beauty hinted out, promised, not yet fully realized; beauty, nonetheless, of a coltish kind. Those eyes are so arresting and speak of an intelligence and sensitivity within. And that smile. Shy and so sweet.
It’s a rather unique beauty, not of the cookie cutter type. Nothing assembly line about Mr. A’s good looks. The strong, aquiline nose, thin, delicate lips, elfin ears, gazelline neck–features into which he had to grow.
As he has grown older, Richard has simply gotten better. Not only has his talent flourished, his good looks have, too. Just when you think the man couldn’t possibly become more attractive, he manages to do just that. The lines and crinkles, the flecks of grey in his hair, all come together to give that handsome face even more strength and character. It seems to speak of a man who knows how to live, learn and love well.
Amaranthine Armitage. Long may his unfading beauty continue to delight us.
He’s banquet-worthy, binge-worthy, the divine path to repleteness.
After all this scorching, smouldering and simmering, we need a little sweetness. Enter Harry.
Before there was Thorin and his magnificent mane, there was Sir Guy and those long, tousled locks in S3 of Robin Hood. Dirty and tangled, it served as a curtain a half-mad and booze-soaked Guy hid his shame, grief and self-loathing behind; later, t’was such a becoming, lustrous crown for his handsome-and-don’t-I-know-it! head. Sir Guy flicked and tossed and shook that amazing hair in a most unforgettable sort of way. Give Mr. A an A-plus for excellence in hair acting! (Well, acting all around, of course.)
How many people would love to see Richard play another role requiring S3 Guy hair?
Forget Grumpy, Sneezy and Dopey. We prefer Middle-earth’s fierce and gorgeous breed of vertically-challenged fellas. Give us that breathtaking Uncle Thorin, the King Under the Mountain, and his two adorable sister-sons, Kili and Fili.
Everyone seemed so happy to see our sexy sergeant earlier today, I thought I would whip up another post featuring our tough, take-no-prisoners, savvy-yet-sensitive John Porter of MI-6.
(Here I was, wondering why no one had commented on this particular post. Seems to be due to the fact it never actually published. What can I say, my brain hasn’t been optimum of late. Having trouble getting the art to load on my Porter post, so here’s some more Lucas to enjoy in the meantime.)
S7 remains my favorite series of Spooks: the Richard Armitage Years. I thought the writing was superior to what we got later in the show; I truly was on the edge of my seat during many an episode.
Of course, I was completely fascinated by the cool, enigmatic, keenly intelligent Lucas North, a spy who has returned to grid after a long, unwanted absence.
I fell in love from the first moment I saw him, stumbling out of the back of that car. Even underfed, disheveled and dressed in a tatty old jumper and track pants, I thought he was simply beautiful. That view never changed.
Lucas is haunted by the eight years of torture and deprivation he suffered at the hands of the Russians. He still carries a torch for his Russian ex-wife, who is remarried and has a family of her own now.
Nonetheless, he is determined to return to some semblance of normalcy in his life and his career. Otherwise, he won’t truly be back home; he’ll just be “back in England.”
(Original photo by cambear)
But it’s the sort of blue I truly hope you will like. Original photos courtesy of RANet & RA Central.