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Serene Sunday is interrupted to report from sunny, hot Chicago.  The NATO summit meeting is starting today at McCormick Place, just 9 blocks south from me.  Meanwhile, in Grant Park, the protesters are expected to hold a rally and then march south on Michigan Avenue a block away, to the site of the summit.  Needless to say, the area is a bit anxious.

So far, demonstration have been pretty peaceful with a few scrums with police.  But nobody knows what could happen if more violent elements join.  Downtown and the South Loop has been preparing for this like the coming of WWIII.  Police and private security are crawling all over the place.  My building is on semi-lockdown.  If we aren’t instantly recognized, we need ID to get in and out, pedestrians and motorists. Anything that can used to throw or smash have been removed.  All the streets around me are now blocked off.  Lake Shore Drive is closed which is almost unheard of.  Many of the businesses have boarded over their windows. Choppers are flying back and forth.   I’ve not seen anything like this.

Right now it seems like everybody is out walking the dogs and milling around in pockets.  Nobody knows what will happen.  Hopefully it will be a non-event.

In the meantime, enjoy Peace Train by Cat Stevens.

 

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[I can't seem to blog lately unless I'm perving, so I'm going to go with it, okay dear reader?]

Trying to get inspiration for today’s post for your objectifying needs, I’ve been perusing the world of Tumblr where anybody born between 1975 and 1995 is deemed old.  I can’t imagine what I’m considered. Anyway, it’s an addictive medium where a lovely picture leads to another lovely picture and another until you’ve waded through hundreds of pics over tens of tumblrlogs.   My Methuselah self was quite impressed how these young’uns don’t mince words, simply telling it like it is when I came across an entry by our own thefrencharmitagearmy who not only has a blog but a tumblrlog. (She’s new to ArmitageWorld so give her your love.)  She made a confession that stopped even jaded me in my tracks.

What did she say???

“I’ve recently developed a certain fetish for his nipples.”   Do I seriously need to tell you whose?

I laughed before it quickly dawned on me, “OMG, ME TOO!”

Let’s take a look, shall we?

Nipples galore!

Guy and Lucas nipple porn

You may want to go here, and click on the photos, arranged in loving detail, to view the deliciously large HD screencaps for closer analysis.  In the interest of science, I urge you to do that now.  Observe the round perfection of each round areola, not too big, not too small.  Note the exact centering of each perk tip. They accentuate the already lovely symmetry of the pecs.  Truly, they are like perfect little Hershey’s kisses.

More nipples galore!

Porter nipple porn

Click here for those large HD pics.  These screencaps showcase them ever better.  Buffer body equals buffer nipples?  You be the judge.  So, just like thearmitagearmy, I humbly confess my secret adoration for RA’s nipples. If I had to pick his most sublime feature, this would be it.

Ahhhhhh.  Thanks, thearmitagearmy, for putting me back in touch with my objectifying fangurl.  I missed her.

 

 

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Today, while looking at the screen cap below for medicinal purposes, I started musing about Marian and trying to understand the story line through her point of view. To my surprise, it wasn’t that hard to do.

 

Here Marian bravely sallies forth to discuss a detente with the ex-fiance/evil henchman, only to find him trying on armor and half naked by firelight. It’s bad enough that a maiden must swallow her pride and venture out alone clandestinely to a single man’s house at night, but to be faced with this too?  Has he no SHAME?

Here the black-hearted villain is hardly the chivalrous knight, nevermind that he was punched and literally left lying at the altar with a scar on his face to remind him for the rest of his life.  Principle is principle and chivalry is chivalry!

Here the rotten blackguard stands imperiously, muscles rippling, nipples perking, lips slightly pouting, clearly the image of brute force and intimidation.  No wonder poor Marian stammers.  With somebody like this standing over me, my mouth would go dry too.

Here Marian courageously presents the Fingers of Friendship, made even more sincere by being especially reachy.

Here the dirty rascal grasps Marian’s Fingers of Friendship a little too long, riveting Marian to the spot, and thereby constituting false imprisonment.  She’s forced against her will to inhale the aroma of leather, horse and 100% man.  Will this devil stop at nothing?

Luckily for our intrepid heroine, the proximity of Robin Hood’s goodness breaks the bond, thus releasing her from her unwitting entrapment.  The dirty, rotten scoundrel is foiled again, and lives to scheme another day.  (No, there is no screen cap of Robin Hood because HaHAHAHAhaha this isn’t about him.)

So, you’re right Fitzg, I really get a better feel for Marian now.  I ought to rewatch the series; clearly I’ve completely misjudged her.

All screen caps courtesy of RichardArmitageNet.com

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There was a lot of chatter last night in chat.  At the end of the evening, the following song popped up which I think is appropriate for today.  So in instead of the Hallelujah Chorus, I present something a bit groovier.  Here is Reach Out, by the Four Tops from 1967.

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Again, there’s nothing surreal here except my state of mind.  I’ve been mulling the past few hours how my friends never fail to amaze me.

My family was too dysfunctional to be examples of healthy relationships.  They were too consumed by their own issues to consider any effects on me.   I grew up with a sense that love was conditional; if I put a foot wrong, it would be withheld. Dissenting opinion wasn’t acceptable.  I felt mostly inconsequential, when I wasn’t literally and figuratively preventing them from going off the deep end.  When I left that environment, I didn’t leave these examples behind, so I attracted more of the same people because that’s all I knew.  You can imagine how those relationships turned out.  You can also imagine it all left me chronically depressed.

Naturally I assumed there it was all my fault to be treated to poorly.  I recall sobbing to my first therapist for the umpteenth time, “what’s wrong with me?”  Finally her professional mask dropped and she leaned forward, clearly angry.  ”There’s nothing wrong with you.  You need better friends!”   Of course, needing to pay out $75 a hour then for therapy didn’t convince me that I was poster girl for mental health.  It took a long a time to separate me as a person from the disorder.  Then I worried how people accept me and my depression.  How do keep friends with this?

Some of the therapy must have sunk in because I did find a different kind of friend.  My worries are not an issue for two best friends I’ve known since 1996.  Over the years, they’ve seen me sad, reclusive, grumpy, and simply not functioning.  They’ve listened to my silences.  For the last eight months, they’ve been quietly supportive through this latest struggle.  They descended on my place this past weekend from out of state.  For my birthday they expensively stocked my refrigerator with home cooked meals, sorted through my piles of clutter, ran errands, got me out of the house, talked to me, and listened.  I see evidence of what real love and caring means every time I open the fridge, eat the candy, walk down the neat hall, look into the clean closet, open my checkbook, and I’m in awe.  Once I asked why they bothered all these years.  ”We like the not-depressed Judi much, it’s worth it, ” they said.  I was so stunned, I didn’t know what to say.  They chattered about what we will do during the summer when I’m hopefully okay, as if I were back after a hiatus.

I just finished a call with another friend.  He and his wife called to take my pulse, as it were.  He’d already phoned earlier in the week to wish me a happy birthday, but wanted to double check I would be able to attend Easter dinner with them.  He’d bought my favorite wine; they wanted me to come.  He chatted as if there has been only short pause in socializing, instead of months.  I didn’t have to search for my place in their lives again; our friendship was still there, waiting for me to return.

I’m amazed by online friends who have sent me supportive private emails and humored me on blog,  in chat, on Twitter and Facebook, gently nudging, letting know they care.  I laughed when Sally Field gushed “you like me, you really like me!” but I understand the shock and surprise at feeling validated.

After all these years, I still haven’t gotten used to this yet.  Part of me is still that child fearing rejection while wanted to be accepted.  Maybe it’s good I’m amazed by my friends every single time.  Then I won’t fail to be appreciative or take any of them for granted.

The following songs have been floating through my head.  I think they say it all.

 

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Doggy Love

A big city 7 weeks ago

8:20AM

I’m wide awake and groggy at the same time.  My personality’s id, superego and ego, Jodi, Jada and Quiet One are still asleep, leaving me to mindlessly buy coffee across the street and pick up the morning mail.  There’s a big stack reminding me that once a month collection is probably not a good thing.  I trudge back to my place, handing the Psychology Today magazine to Winston, my black dog of depression.  He curls up on the sofa, happily drooling over an article on the potential for involuntary hypnosis.  Hmm.  When did I get him a subscription?  Oh well, it keeps him occupied.  I give the current Doggy Fancy mag to my pomeranian, Patty.   We sit at the dining table companionably;  I mutter about therapist bills and fantasy figures while Patty crunches on organic doggy shredded wheat.

I’m in the midst of a 32 page insurance invoice when the crunching suddenly stops.

Patty stares riveted at a glossy Dog of the Month centerfold while emitting curious noises sounding suspiciously like squees.  I’m curious to see what she’s on about.  After a brief tug of war, I peruse the article:

“ANCHORAGE, ALASKA.   A tall, lean, fit malamute is reclining on a pillow, resting from the morning’s filming.  He is called Rex Ames and he is the new rising talent in the canine world.  Formerly an actor in British TV shows and Disney films, Rex is now poised on the edge of stardom.  He has been cast in the big budget film, Iditarod: The Beginning, as a miniature Siberian Husky, the lead dog of an undersized sled team competing in the famous annual race.  This film premieres in December.  The sequel, Iditarod: The End, debuts the next year.

Rex photo from Iditarod: The Beginning, courtesy of TailChase Worldwide

How does he feel to be taking part?  Rex turns his startling blue eyes towards me and reveals a gleaming white smile. It’s easy to see why he’s become such a heartthrob.  “It’s been the most amazing experience,” says Rex.  “The things I’ve marked, the places I’ve howled … this will stay with me always.”  He pauses to re-settle his tail. ” I’ve done well in the UK, but an actor always hopes to go to Hollywood.  It turns out that the producers were not really familiar with my work, but hired me based on my audition.  I’m rrrreally chuffed about that.”

Rex, 7, originally hails from northern England but now resides in London with his human companion.  He refuses to name his human, saying that he’s shy and very private. (Insider sources say the human is a celebrity.)   Rex has come a long way to play this dream part.   “I knew I wanted to be in the arts.  My first job was working as ball holder for a circus act.  One day I realized that wasn’t for me and enrolled in advanced obedience school.  There I was discovered and that led to work in television.”

Rex is bashful when asked about his new stud status.  He barks with laughter. “I was a gangly puppy, all big paws and a long nose.  It seems so strange to hear that now.  I’ve never felt like an alpha.”  Rex’s fan club, the Ames Alliance,  feels differently. Rex smiles. “They have been a great boost to my career.  They are a lovely group of older, educated, supportive bitches.” –

I look down as ecstatic Patty grabs her doggy laptop, probably to Google Rex and the AA.  I wonder for a second if I’m spoiling her.   “Hold on Patty, there’s more.”

—”Has his success affected his love life?  Rex dips his head shyly.  “I’m not sniffing anybody right now. I’ve been so focused on my career, there’s been no time for a relationship.”  But what about the future? “Sure, I’d like to find a mate and have puppies.  My friends are having litters every year. I’m envious.” –

Patty yips and squees.  Oh no, she’s composing a fan letter.  Why again did I teach her to type?

—”Rex’s future promises to be busier.  He’s been cast as the lead in the live action remake of Lady and the Tramp, a light role Rex welcomes after starring in a series of broody roles. “I just don’t have one of those cute cuddly faces,” he laments.  Rumors are circulating that he’s on tap to star in Rin Tin Tin.  It appears that Rex’s star is truly on the rise.”

I frown to the sound of little paws furiously clacking away.  All of this feels so familiar,  like deja vu.  They say dogs are a lot like their owners.  Could it be –?    Naaaaah.   Just one more odd musing to discuss with Dr. G.

I need more coffee.

 

 

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Publicity photo, courtesy of RichardArmitageNet.com

Remember when you were in school and you had a close friend who was into a certain guy?  She would do special things for him, fret over his slightest woe, talk and think about him incessantly and think the sun rose and set on his head.  But she would tell you confidentially that nor matter how much she adored him, he never wrote, rarely called and seemed so well… inattentive and busy with his own life.  Remember when you had to pull her aside and tell her the brutal truth: “He’s just not that into you.”

There has been much debate over on Servetus‘ blog about discussing sexual fantasies and Richard Armitage. (Frenz makes a statement about fans who don’t fantasize about him here.)  Discussion has been thought provoking.  Some commentators gave me pause with their noteworthy points.  However, on the way to sorting out my own thoughts, I noticed a pattern in the replies of some of the more skittish fans, that in some way, some how, no matter how remote, RA will be hurt and therefore it’s best not to do X, Y and Z.  Attached is a corollary that somehow one can control what other people think, say and do.

Is that really true?  I mean, seriously?  Let’s take the corollary first.  Richard Armitage is an actor, a public figure who is aware he has a fandom and status as a heartthrob.  Given some of his roles, he must also be aware that some fans sexually fantasize about him.  Fans talk amongst themselves privately and publicly.  Would he actively solicit it? I don’t think he’ll ask whether we fantasized about him last night, but he knows his heartthrob status is integral to his image as a leading man, which is how he’s currently being marketed.  So, yes, he is indirectly acquiescing.  I’m sure he’s savvy enough to realize there is no way he can control what his fans think, say or do.  The reality is that he can’t really give a damn what fans say about their fantasies as long as we keep them away from him; anything else is crazy-making.  We must stay in our world, and he stays in his.

What about the possibility of harm by what fans say?  As one of his much less ardent fans listening to more ardent ones fret over this question, I have to suggest that any “harm” sounds interesting on paper but doesn’t work that way in real life.  When RA first garnered attention, he was thrilled to have fans.  In the flush of newness, he became quite involved by sending relatively frequent chatty messages.  It was all quite naive and sweet but he quickly learned that such closeness brought expectations from fans, and so he distanced himself.  He realized he had to stay in his world.  He stopped visiting forums and reading about himself.  He stated this. He’s kept his word.  He’s now a very busy actor, totally immersed in his roles and career.  He’s disinclined and has no time to sit in front of his computer googling himself, fretting about what fans think.  As a friend recently pointed out, he’s happy not to think about his fans now, aside from feeling very appreciative and knowing he is beholden.  Hence, he doesn’t call and he rarely writes, as it were.

I’ve noticed, especially during this drought, that fans have taken on the role of the adoring girlfriend who thinks her beloved is as obsessed about her and she is about him. From what I’ve observed about RA, that’s just not so.  Also, the uber-protectiveness advocated by some fans is misplaced.  He knows where he wants to stand in relation to his fans; he can protect himself.   That’s not to say he doesn’t care; it just means he’s busy with his own life, and it’s not his fandom.

It’s simply he’s just not that into you.

 

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BUSTED!

Well, I tried to hold out as long as I could but the secret is out now, and on my birthday too!  The following should help explain everything:

 

EDIT:  I deny any recollection of this.

EDIT: I deny recollecting any recollection of this.

EDIT:  No comment.  Patty also has no comment.

 

Last, but definitely not least! Freeform: Agzy shares with us her favorite Armitage paper doll Ana Cris examines Lucas North’s tattoos through Maori tattoo culture Jas Rangoon premieres her new John Bateman fanvid In fandom, jazzbaby1 thinks RA fandom is just groovy! C.S. Winchester asks “naughty or nice?” in a picspam Mrs. E.B. Darcy thinks about Armitage’s future after TH to wrap up the Hobbit chain  Jo Ann offers the last King Richard Armitage post, on Richard III and the Tudors In fanfic, Maria Grazia reviews and compares works by the authors she’s interviewed Gratiana Lovelace wraps up the event with a guest post by Melissa the Mouse! Links to all FanstRA 3 posts appear here at the end of each day.

Don’t forget the core bloggers! And don’t forget the core blogggers!  Mulubinba- An RA Viewer’s Perspective, Frenz- RA Frenzy, Fanny-Distracted Musings of One ReAlity, Bccmee- Bccmee’s Fanvids & Graphics, CDoart- RA History & Spooks, Traxy- The Squee, Servetus- Me + Richard Armitage, Jonia- Jonia’s Cut 

*****

Fitzg concludes Fanstravaganza 3 with a special letter from a lady.

Click here for a bigger view.

*****

Last, but definitely not least! Freeform: Agzy shares with us her favorite Armitage paper doll  Ana Cris examines Lucas North’s tattoos through Maori tattoo culture  Jas Rangoon premieres her new John Bateman fanvid  In fandomjazzbaby1 thinks RA fandom is just groovy!  C.S. Winchester asks “naughty or nice?” in a picspam  Mrs. E.B. Darcy thinks about Armitage’s future after TH to wrap up the Hobbit chain   Jo Ann offers the last King Richard Armitage post, on Richard III and the Tudors  In fanficMaria Grazia reviews and compares works by the authors she’s interviewed  Gratiana Lovelace wraps up the event with a guest post by Melissa the Mouse!  Links to all FanstRA 3 posts appear here at the end of each day.

Don’t forget the core bloggers! And don’t forget the core blogggers!  Mulubinba- An RA Viewer’s Perspective, Frenz- RA Frenzy, Fanny-Distracted Musings of One ReAlity, Bccmee- Bccmee’s Fanvids & Graphics, CDoart- RA History & Spooks, Traxy- The Squee, Servetus- Me + Richard Armitage, Jonia- Jonia’s Cut 

 

 

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It’s almost over, oh noes! In fandom, Phylly3 celebrates her second blogiversary!   In the Hobbit chain, Antonia Romera compares trailers for An Unexpected Journey in three languages CDoart‘s the King Richard Armitage blogger, writing on the relevance of the character in times of questionable justice In fanfic, Jo Ann finishes her story fedoralady traces the evolution of her “sloth fic” series In freeform, Gratiana Lovelace rescreens her Armitage birthday vid Fabo casts Armitage in Hollywood musical remakes C.S. Winchester takes on Armitage in period costumes from N&S and Miss Marie Lloyd Links to all FanstRA 3 posts appear here at the end of each day.

And don’t forget the core blogggers!  Mulubinba- An RA Viewer’s Perspective, Frenz- RA Frenzy, Fanny-Distracted Musings of One ReAlity, Bccmee- Bccmee’s Fanvids & Graphics, CDoart- RA History & Spooks, Traxy- The Squee, Servetus- Me + Richard Armitage, Jonia- Jonia’s Cut 

 *****

 We last left off here and here with our intrepid heroine not getting her money’s worth in therapy.  But her fantasy figure certainly is.

A Big City

7:45PM

I gaze at my watch again.  Has it only been 45 minutes?  Have we slipped into a crack in the space/time continuum?  Surely it must be next week.  On the upside,  Guy has covered a lot of ground but the session ends in five minutes.  What could possibly go wrong?

Guy sits slumped in his chair, his fingers still caught in his long hair – correction, much longer hair.  It falls in waves to his shoulders, obscuring his perfect profile.  His black leather has changed for the designer Italianate variety.  He’s ready for the cover of Medieval GQ.   Oh dear.  I have a bad feeling about this.

Jada makes an observation. “Dr. G. seems to be putting him through changes.”

Jodi licks her lips. “I’ve always liked this version best.”

Quiet One … is quiet.

Winston and Patty paw through my copy of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, (Fourth Edition), chuffing and apparently arguing with each other.  Clever pooches.

I glance curiously at Dr. G. as she scribbles notes in earnest.   She has pulled books off the shelf behind her, including her own DSM manual.  Her eyes have a strange light, the kind I get when I think about “peaches.”

Jada eyes the manual.  ”She’s probably thinking about how many diagnoses she can cram into her medical journal article,  plus her best seller and a slot on Oprah’s new network.”

Jodi ogles Guy as he turns his glamorous face to the therapist.  ”She’s probably thinking about the ethical question of treating and shagging a fantasy figure at the same time.”

Quiet One snerks.

Dr. G. stops scribbling.  ”Let me get this straight, Guy.  You craved the love of your mother, hated your father, and eschewed love and security for status and power.  Despite your childhood experience, you accidentally abandoned your baby in pursuit of that in the fear that your lady love would find out?”

Guy’s lovely brows furrow in confusion.  ”Aye, er… nay… er… aye?”

Jada interjects.  ”Well, it’s a little bit more complicated that…”

Jodi adds gleefully. “Yes, don’t forget about the love/hate relationship with Vasey.  Oh, the Freudian  implications there!”

Quiet One actually nods.

Winston and Patty rip pages out of the DSM manual.  They have an impressive pile.

Dr. G. sighs.  ”Vasey?”

Guy looks away grimly.  ”The Sheriff of Nottingham.  He was my liege lord since I was made a knight.  I was duty bound to carry out his orders.   He promised me return of my family lands, status and power that was taken from us when King Richard took the throne.  His ways … were not always well received.”

Jada nods.  ”Guy was the black knight.”

Jodi elucidates further.  ”Guy was the sadistic, lying, cheating, hand chopping, murdering black knight.”

Is Quiet One holding her breath?

Guy flicks his hair and snaps defensively.  ”I only chopped off one hand, killed a few.  My sins were middling as far as black knights go.”

Jada ponders this.  ”Yes, he does have a point.  He was fairly average.”

Jodi scoffs. “Average?  He couldn’t shoot an arrow straight, lost every fight with Robin Hood and was a lousy swordsman!”

Quiet One is … yes, that was sporfle.

I almost sporfle as well.  Jodi, as usual, makes a point;  Guy was not only pretty, he was a pretty bad black knight.  Who knew?

Guy jumps to his feet, shaking in impressive manly umbrage.  ”I did the best I could, you accursed… id! I did not wish to do it at all! I could not get away from Vasey.  At least Marian could see the best in me.”

Jada clears her throat uncomfortably.

Jodi harrumphs.  ”And look what happened there…”

Quiet One heaves a long sigh.

Winston and Patty pause in their page ripping.

I gaze anxiously at my watch.  ”It’s time, session is over!  Let’s go!”

Everybody ignores me.

Dr. G. can’t help herself.  ”So what happened with Marian?”

Guy’s lovely features scrunch heartbreakingly, sapphire eyes welling with tears.

Jada begins hesitantly.  ”Well… there was an unfortunate knifing…”

Jodi puts it out there. “He ran her through with his sword.”

Quiet One is … very quiet.

I hold my breath.

Guy erupts in a rage, hair flying gorgeously as he shakes his head.  ”It was an accident! I did not mean to do it.  I would never harm her!”

Dr. G. leaps to her feet cooing.  ”Of course, now calm yourself.”

Guy continues in his angst. “It was truly an accident!  But such words that came from her mouth … she said she would rather die than marry me, that she would marry Hood!  I wanted to stop those words.  I had my sword like thus -”  He whips out the broadsword.  ” – and reached for her like thus -… GOD’S BLOOD … !”

We all gasp, including surprised Dr. G. with the sword sticking out of her.

She stares up into Guy’s face.  ”I – I think … I know … what your problem is.”

We all lean in close.

She gasps out.  ” You – You … You’re a fuck-up.”  *THUD*

To say there is a long silence is an understatement.

Jada states the obvious.  ”This isn’t good.”

Jodi considers the remark. ” It sure isn’t!  Is “fuck-up” even in the DSM manual?”

Winston and Patty gape and shake their heads.

I’m beyond words.  On the downside I have a dead therapist on my hands.  On the upside, I won’t have to worry about the bill.  It’s always best to think positive.

Guy stares in angst at his sword, probably wondering how it got there, too. His magnificent shoulders droop in resignation. “I am cursed! I have killed another innocent maid.  This cannot stand.  I must throw myself upon the mercy of your law.”

Jada is ever pragmatic. “Point that thing elsewhere, Guy.  Actually, you’re not real.  None of us are.  So only Judi can go to prison.”

Jodi grins saucily. “Exactly! So you’ll have to resort to getting blindingly drunk and indulging in wild forgetful sex every night again.”

Guy flinches.  ”I remember not.”

Jodi winks.  ”It hasn’t been written.  Yet.”

Jada finishes her assessment. “And Patty will be ripped from the bosum of her rescue forever home and thrown back into the clutches of foster care.”

Patty yelps and faints.  Winston whines at her.

I’m feeling a bit faint myself.  I could see it now: The new Twinkie defense! – woman says therapist killed by fantasy figure, only eyewitness is traumatized dog, news at 11.

Quiet One speaks, astounding us all.  ”Look, if Guy isn’t real, then neither is the sword.  See, there is no wound at all.  I think she’s just suffered something like a psychic shock.  It’s going to be okay!”

We gawp at Quiet One for a second as the realization sinks in.  Much relieved backslapping ensues.

I am exhausted.  ”Well, we’d better get out of here before she wakes up.  Hopefully she won’t remember a thing.”  Or I’ll need a new therapist.

Suddenly a male voice booms. “It looks like I have arrived just in time!”

We look around before finally looking down.  There stands a small, stocky, but very attractive fit figure with long flowing gray streaked locks and full beard, regal blue robes and a fur cloak. Blue eyes regard us imperiously.

Guy eyes the interloper, sensing competition.  ”Who is this?”

The figure pulls himself up to full height.  He barely reaches Guy’s elbow.  ”I am Thorin Oakenshield, King of Erebor, and King Under the Mountain.”  He turns to me and inclines his head.  ”I am at your service, madam.”

Jada smiles.  ”Ohhhh, it’s the Hobbit dwarf!  Are we moving on already, Judi?”

Jodi stoops, pinches Thorin’s cheek, and coos.  ”He is sooo cute!  Wait until we get him some sexy time with that elven model.”

Thorin blushes and sputters. “We don’t do such things with elves!”

Jodi winks and strokes his beard. “Oh, but you’ll like what this elf does.”

Quiet One laughs.

Guy turns charmingly red in the face.  ”You are forsaking me for a … a… a HOBBIT DWARF?”

I quickly try to smooth this over.  ”I’m not forsaking you -”

Thorin interrupts.  ”She promised to write me tales in which I regain my kingdom and riches.”

All eyes turn to me.

I shrug helplessly.  Oh dear.  I wonder if I’ll survive the next session.

*****

It’s almost over, oh noes! In fandomPhylly3 celebrates her second blogiversary!  In the Hobbit chain, Antonia Romera compares trailers for An Unexpected Journey in three languages  CDoart‘s the King Richard Armitage blogger, writing on the relevance of the character in times of questionable justice  In fanficJo Ann finishes her story  fedoralady traces the evolution of her “sloth fic” series  In freeformGratiana Lovelace rescreens her Armitage birthday vid  Fabo casts Armitage in Hollywood musical remakes  C.S. Winchester takes on Armitage in period costumes from N&S and Miss Marie Lloyd  Links to all FanstRA 3 posts appear here at the end of each day.

And don’t forget the core blogggers!  Mulubinba- An RA Viewer’s Perspective, Frenz- RA Frenzy, Fanny-Distracted Musings of One ReAlity, Bccmee- Bccmee’s Fanvids & Graphics, CDoart- RA History & Spooks, Traxy- The Squee, Servetus- Me + Richard Armitage, Jonia- Jonia’s Cut 

 

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