Technical expertise and the history of photography combine beautifully with pure appreciation of our lovely Richard in your posts, dear Guylty,making them pressies we can anticipate each week throughout the year. Because you, my friend, also love my creative endeavors in fan fic, especially that wild slashy NC-17 ride known as “Guy and Rebecca: The Adventures Continue” (which *ahem* can be found at Dreamer Fiction and Live Journal under fedoralady) I made these little photo edits with you in mind. Ho, ho, ho!!! 😉 I hope you will all enjoy these images . . .
Source: Getty Images~ Photographer Leslie Hassler
Ladywriter stretched, wincing as the Shoulder/Neck/Jaw Thingy flared. A night of erratic sleep and too little of it, with rain on the way. It was going to be a long day. Still, she had a smile on her face.
That was a nice dream about Richard Armitage . . .
“Oh, really . . .” A familiar chocolate-laced baritone rumbled from the corner.
LW slid her glasses into place, Sir Guy’s knowing smirk coming into focus. He was a sight for sleep-deprived eyes–kohl-rimmed peepers, artfully tousled mane, snug Marvel of Engineering trousers and all.
Source: Richard Armitage Net
“There you go, Sir Guy, reading my thoughts again.” She raised one brow, her mouth twisting wryly, and firmly shook her disheveled head. “However . . . it was not a naughty dream, for your information.”
He gave a sniff of his handsome aquiline proboscis and shrugged. “Well, my lady, my powers are not perfect . . .”
But lots of other things about you are.
This time he got his reading right. “You are feeling frisky this morning in spite of your pain, my lady,” he purred, tilting his head and flashing those excellent white teeth.
My edit of a screencap via RA Net
“Sooooo—tell me about your–chaste–dream, my lady.”
She sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees, gingerly resting her chin on top. “In the dream, I am acting with the CReAtor . . . me. With Richard Armitage. In some sort of film.” LW gave a small satisfied squee.
“I am playing someone who’d been kidnapped for ransom and it turns out RA is the person who is trying to get me back safely . . .” LW laughed and shrugged.
“Only, what with it being a dream, I do not know the actor will be RA until just before we are to play this scene together in which we are reunited! I look through the glass doors as the wardrobe and makeup people are checking me over and, well–there he is, looking all intense and angsty and, of course, gorgeous in this long navy coat and nape curls and stubble . . . fully in character to shoot this dramatic scene.”
Photography by Leslie Hassler
Sir Guy folded his arms across his broad chest. “And what do you do when you see it is the CReAtor?”
“I have two immediate thoughts, my dearest dark knight. First–‘OMG, it’s Richard Freakin’ Armitage as my screen partner!’ And second–and this sort of surprises me–I think, ‘Wow, I am SOOO going to act my socks off and impress the heck out of him, oh yes I AM.” And so I go out there–and I ACT!”
She gave a smile of girlish delight, her eyes sparkling behind her specs. “And you know what? I am good. I really am good. I can tell he thinks so, too.”
LW sighed again, her brow creasing. “I can only hope it’s a good omen for next Thursday–when Emma the tipsy widow and murder victim-to-be makes her debut.”
Ladywriter rubbed her tender jaw. “Things were a bit rocky last night at the rehearsals. I actually did OK–but my cast mates were struggling in the second act. Went through it four times. Made me glad I–uhm, ‘Emma’– was ‘dead’ by then.”
“Your band of players, you all must believe in yourselves, my lady.” Sir Guy smiled at her. “Not unlike the way you believe–in me.” He gave a courtly bow. “And, of course, in the CReAtor.”
“Sir Guy–I’d like for you to be there next week. You and Mr. Ladywriter.”
He raised his dark brows. “I do not possess a ticket, and is not the event sold out?”
“Yes–but that’s OK.” She grinned. “I am, after all, the only one who will see you.”
LW leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “It will be our little secret.”
Sir Guy chuckled. “Excellent . . .”
Dreams are like boxes of chocolates. You just never know what you are gonna get . . . Happy Guyday Friday!
I wouldn’t mind dreaming about THIS either . . .
- A soldier, a dwarf king & a henchman walked into a room . . . (thearmitageeffect.wordpress.com)
- GuyDay Friday: Gisborne, larger than life . . . (thearmitageeffect.wordpress.com)
- GuyDay Friday: Let’s hear it for the Guy! (thearmitageeffect.wordpress.com)
“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!! 😉