#Mikhail Astrov

[louk419]

Today is National Drink Wine Day, so unwind with a glass or two of your favorite vintage, just like these chaRActers. 🍷

[moviesandseriesscreenshots]

UNCLE VANYA

[linasofia]

@lathalea 💙

Thornton at 33 years of age, Astrov at 49 - getting older certainly hasn’t diminished Richard’s ability to make me weak at the knees with that look in his eyes.

My gifs.

[ansonmountdaily]

Anson Mount on theatre roles he'd like to play

When Anson was at Dragon Con in September 2022 promoting Star Trek: Stange New Worlds, a fan in the audience asked him what theatre roles he's always wanted to play.

Anson mentioned Hamlet by William Shakespeare, Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov (the role of Mikhail Lvovich Astrov, a country doctor), and The Changeling by Thomas Middleton and William Rowley (the role of De Flores, servant to Vermandero). The fan also brought up Shakespeare's Macbeth and Anson said he's played the role of Malcolm (Elder son of Duncan, king of Scotland) before.

In 2020 Anson played Uncle Vanya's Dr. Astrov in a virtual theatre production of the play (gifs here and here).

Uncle Vanya portrays the visit of an elderly professor and his glamorous, much younger second wife, Yelena, to the rural estate that supports their urban lifestyle. Two friends - Vanya, brother of the professor’s late first wife, who has long managed the estate, and Astrov, the local doctor - both fall under Yelena’s spell, while bemoaning the ennui of their provincial existence.

The Changeling is about young Beatrice who is in love with a visiting nobleman, Alsemero. However, her father has already arranged her marriage to Alonzo, another nobleman. Desperate to be with her love, Beatrice enlists the help of De Flores, a cunning but ugly servant, a deceptive man obsessed with her and determined to claim her virtue. While she initially resists him, Beatrice is drawn into lustful complicity with De Flores, and together they set in motion a chain of love, lust, madness, and death.

Source: Dragon Con panel footage (via Clayton Courtney)

[qveenbervthiel]

Richard Armitage as Dr. Astrov in Uncle Vanya (2020)

[breadcrumbonbed]

I think stranger things s5 should come out a little faster because I am unsure of what levels of madness shippers or Eddie lovers can reach . And i am really scared.

[lathalea]

I finally had a moment to sit down and read it and this chapter did not disappoint! The story flows like a dream we don't want to wake up from, full of summer, nature, love, and tenderness and it's a pleasure to read it on a gloomy day.

And this part made me melt in a blink of an eye:

”I never thought I could be with someone like you.” Misha lifts his hand to gently caress my cheek. ”I still wait for that moment when I wake up lonely in my bed and realize that this is just a beautiful, vivid dream.”

Thank you for sharing it with us and I'm looking forward to reading the next part! 💙💙💙

Into The Woods

Part 3

Fandom: Uncle Vanya (2020)

Relationship: Dr Mikhail ”Misha” Astrov x OC

Words: 3K

Warnings: 18+

A/N: This is the third part of this fic. You can read the previous parts here.

@legolasbadass & @lathalea thanks again for your help. 💚💚💚

With a longing look in his expressive eyes, Misha asked me to stay another night. When all other guests left, and while my dear brother kissed my cheek and wished me a pleasant day, I blushed at the indecent insinuation in his words. I have no doubt in my heart when it comes to Nikolay’s approval of my choice, for he has always been honest with me. He wants me to be happy and as we left childhood behind, he slowly learned that I am fully capable of taking care of myself and that my judgment when it comes to people’s characters often is even better than his. While he always takes time to calculate situations by facts, I rely more on my gut feeling. Maybe it was my imagination but his hug felt even warmer than usual and I silently blessed our mother for raising my brother and me alike, so we both know the value of showing feelings instead of hiding them on the inside.

Mikhail Astrov, the man who makes my heart beat faster than anything or anyone else, is walking beside me with his long fingers intertwined with mine and he squeezes my hand gently as we walk deeper into the forest. I love being in the forest on a warm summer day. Not on a humid, sticky day, but a comfortable warm day when the soil gives away that special scent and the tall pines provide shelter from the blinding light of the sun. When the air is filled with all of the forest’s smallest winged inhabitants, but they are too busy to bother you. Misha carries a large basket in his other hand and a blanket is thrown over his shoulder. I have already tried to convince him that I can carry the blanket but he refuses to let me take it and keeps telling me it is no burden.

We take another path today and as soon as the cottage is out of sight, the calming feeling of being one with nature surrounds me again. All the birds seem awake and their different singing and drilling create the forest’s own symphonic orchestra. As we walk further away, the forest changes from dark pine to mixed woods, with trees spreading their long leaf-covered branches like a green ceiling over us. Eventually we reach a beautiful meadow, covered in grass and tiny islands of white and yellow flowers. A small, glittering brook runs along the meadow and its sandy banks are full of traces of animals. We have clearly entered one of the forest’s most popular places for refreshment. I do not see any of the animals Misha talks about, but he assures me that even the shyest of them can be seen on some days, if you are lucky enough. When he speaks about the forest, his passion for nature shines through. Something about Misha feels so genuine, as if he is not a man, but a creature of the wood, aiming to seduce me to stay in his green kingdom.

Misha selects a spot under a tree with a huge crown of leaves and spreads the large blanket over the grass. When I sit down, the fabric feels soft and cool, almost like bed sheets, and far from the usual thick old wool picnic blankets I am used to. I take off my sandals and bury my feet in the grass, enjoying the way it tickles against my skin. Misha sits down beside me and runs his hand through his hair, making it even more unruly than it was. If he only knew what that slightly rougher look does to me. But his hair is not the only thing catching my attention. His linen shirt has three buttons open and when he sits down it allows me to glance at the dark hair on his chest, which he generously exposes. A pair of grey shorts hug his hips and his tanned legs come to rest next to mine. As he pulls off his shoes and socks, I giggle to myself; It is true what they say about men with big feet… And Misha's feet look enormous next to mine. Thankfully he is, as I learned the previous night, well-proportioned.

”Are you hungry?” His deep voice pulls my attention back to his face.

”A little,” I tell him honestly. ”But you only had coffee for breakfast so I can imagine you must be starving.”

”Keeping an eye on me already? I like that.” He winks at me and it makes his eyes sparkle brighter than the brook. It was not so much that I kept an eye on him, but it was hard to miss that he made an effort for me and everybody else. And after the guests had left, he prepared the food for the basket with great enthusiasm and we left for our picnic shortly after. There was no time for him to eat. Misha leans in and kisses me tenderly. His lips are warm against mine and I lift my hand to caress his bearded cheek. When he breaks the kiss I let out a displeased sigh and he gives me a teasing smile.

”We have all day,” he murmurs with his gaze on my lips. ”And all night if we want.”

The thought of sleeping together in the cabin is beyond exciting but I save that thought for later as Misha turns his attention to the large basket. Small packages with different sandwiches and biscuits soon appear on the blanket and I pick one of them and start unwrapping it while Misha pulls out a bottle of wine. ”Is it too soon for more wine? Or would you like some water?” He looks at me and tilts his head to the side while I consider his offer, and when I nod at the wine bottle in his hand, he smiles. ”You can have both, you know.”

The cork leaves the bottle with a characteristic pop, and while Misha fills our glasses my gaze falls on his capable hands and strong wrists. He wears his shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his toned forearms, and again I wonder how it is possible to feel so much attraction as I do just by watching his arms move in the warm light. When he hands me a glass, I take a sip, only to find that the wine is light and a perfect match together for the food he brought. Not that I am surprised, for as far as I remember it was the same result at my brother's party, and Nikolay told me that Misha was very involved in combining the food and wine.

We eat and talk about both the small and larger things in life as if we have known each other far longer than we have. I feel incredibly relaxed and comfortable in his company, but every time his gaze falls on my lips, my heart beats faster. When the food is eaten and only a little wine remains in the bottle, Misha lays down on his back and stretches his tall body with his arms over his head. His shirt glides up a little and exposes some skin and the alluring dark trail of hair disappearing under the waistline of his shorts. I want to kiss his skin but Misha holds out his arm and offers it as if it was a pillow. ”Come and rest with me.” A radiant smile spreads on his face when I lay down beside him and when I look up into the green ceiling of leaves, the rays of sunlight find a way to shine through when the wind rustles the tree. For a long time words are not needed and I feel how my body becomes heavy and relaxed.

”I used to come here when I was a boy.” Misha breaks the silence. ”Always alone. And I could stay until the shadows grew long, and with no perception oftime, I often missed dinner. My mother was never mad, but she thought I was a dreamer and I used to sneak into the kitchen to take leftovers or a sandwich after everybody went to bed. She must have noticed of course, but she never said anything. But even back then I dreamed about sharing this place with someone special.”

I turn my head to look at Misha, who rests with his eyes closed. ”I am glad you decided to show it to me.” Suddenly, I feel almost shy. I did not realize the significance of this little hidden meadow when we entered and I certainly was not prepared for the feelings of love that overwhelm me when I think of Misha as a young boy, running away from the cabin and hiding in his secret place in the forest, to be alone with his thoughts and dreams. Misha turns to me and his sapphire eyes are warm as the sun when I meet his gaze. ”So am I.”

I roll over to the side so I can be even closer to him and he welcomes me by folding his arm around me. He holds me tight and I listen to all the sounds of the forest as I move my hand over his shirt. The rippling brook, the birds and the wind blend together with his breathing and the sound of my own pulse. My fingers wander to the opening in his shirt and I trace the hem of the fabric, feeling his skin under my fingertips. When I reach the first button I pause at first, unsure if I should continue. But his small approving hum makes me unbutton it and move on to the next. Button by button I reveal his well-defined chest and once again I marvel at the natural strength his body possesses. I pull his shirt open as much I can, only limited by the fact that he is laying on his back. Satisfied with the exposed skin, I caress him gently, run my hand over his firm muscles and play with the dark curls under my fingertips. A pleased smile rests on his lips and when I meet his gaze, he reaches for my chin and urges me closer.

“I love the way your hands feel on my body,” he murmurs huskily before he presses his lips against mine. With a soft moan I kiss him back and he slips his tongue between my lips in the most sensual way. Lost in the feeling of our kiss, I vaguely feel him shift so he rests on his side, allowing his free hand to explore my body. As he intensifies the kiss, his hand gently squeezes my waist and then moves to caress my hip. When his large hand slowly travels down the outer side of my thigh to the hem of my dress, I let out a pleading moan. His hand finds its way under the fabric and he strokes my thigh all the way up to my hip, leaving the dress pulled up to my waist. Then he gently grabs my leg at the back of my knee and pulls it up so I rest my leg on his. His breathing changes and I can hear that he is just as affected as I am.

”I want to touch you. Feel your warmth and give you pleasure. Will you let me?” he rasps as he moves his hand closer to my undergarment.

”Please,” I breathe, unable to think of anything but his hand which moves agonizingly slowly closer to where I want him the most. When he reaches the fabric covering my heated skin, he slips his fingers underneath without the slightest hesitation and I whimper against his lips. I can feel how our intense kissing has woken my body, and when Misha feels it, too, he gives me praise that fuels my needs endlessly. The way his voice thickens as he moans my name sets my body on fire and his efficient experiments with his skilled fingers give me the sweetest sensation I long for much sooner than I ever thought possible. Afraid to embarrass all living things in the forest, I hold back my cry as I clench around his fingers.

When my body starts to relax again, Misha kisses me deeply. The language he speaks is the one of passion and I am overwhelmed by the feelings he showers me in. Never could I have guessed that the brooding doctor was such a passionate man.

”I adore the way you look when you let go like that. If your blissful face is the last thing I see before I leave this earth, I will go as a lucky man.”

I would probably blush if he had uttered those words under other circumstances, but now, as I bask in the heat of his gaze, I just smile back at him and run my hand over his hair to bring him even closer. Then I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel more of his skin against mine and he lets out a few grunts when I pull the shirt off his body. Growing impatient, I turn my attention to his shorts, take full advantage of his horizontal position, and let his underwear follow his shorts as I pull them both down his thighs. His thick shaft rises with glitter at its top, as if it had already been dipped in my hot spring.

Eager to return the favor, he pulls my dress over my head and slips my underwear down my thighs. When we are both equally naked under the protecting branches, he gives me another warm smile and my body kindly reminds me that there is more to receive from the wonderful creature beside me. I return his smile and allow him to grab my leg again, but this time I gently lift it over him and push myself up. My knees land on each side of him and he murmurs something I cannot really discern as I adjust myself to sit right over his throbbing hardness. When I lean down to kiss him he lets out a longing moan and buries his hands in my locks.

His kiss is filled with steaming passion and when I repeatedly grind against him, he lets out the most incredible raw noises. My breasts press against his warm chest and without feeling careless, he seems to cover all of my body with his hands at once. I cannot deny that the growing desperation shown in his face triggers my own desire but I try not to give in and sink down on him too soon.

”Woman, are you aiming to drive me crazy?” His hands land on my waist, gripping me tightly and the way he looks at me, with his mouth half open and lust dripping from his words, makes it impossible to resist doing what we both need more than anything in this moment. I glide down on him, and I have to steady myself when I feel him reaching the bottom deep within me. He lets out a ragged moan but does not move, allowing my body to adjust to his size and I feel my whole core pulsate around him. Misha wraps his arms around me and holds me still.

”You feel so wonderful, I—” his words turn to moans when I start to slowly move my hips. I free myself from his embrace, allowing me to move more and as I find the right rhythm Misha lovingly caresses my thighs and waist. In his sapphire eyes, I read more than just lust; tenderness and amazement. The need to belong with me beyond our carnal needs.

The green heaven around us soon disappears from my field of view and only the man beneath me remains. His fingers dig into the softness of my hips as he supports my movements, and when I increase the pace, he grabs me tighter to press me harder down on him. My breathing becomes uneven and the heat that threatens to consume me ignites under my skin. Misha senses how close I am and finds a way to let his thumb aid me in my desperate state. My sensitive bud bursts into bloom, my moans blend with his praise, and this time I do not care if the mythical spirit of the forest itself can hear me. With a low groan Misha follows me, and the way he buckles his hips as he does only adds to my own pleasure.

I collapse on top of him and once again he wraps his strong arms around me. His breathing is almost as heavy as mine and I wonder if he can feel my racing heart beating against his chest. His chest heaves with every breath, and since none of us are keen on letting go, I rest on him. Eventually I feel how we both relax and our bodies start to regain their usual strength. Around us, the birds begin to sing again, or maybe they never stopped.

”I never thought I could be with someone like you.” Misha lifts his hand to gently caress my cheek. ”I still wait for that moment when I wake up lonely in my bed and realize that this is just a beautiful, vivid dream.”

An insecure smile graces his lips but his gaze is steady. The soft lines around his eyes are very telling, like annual rings on an old oak, and when he lets me see his vulnerability, my heart swells.

”If this is a dream, then we are both dreaming.”

I seal my words with a reassuring kiss. It is true. He is like a dream. And I never want to wake up.

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knitastically @jaskierthelover @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @immortal-dreams

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[sorisooyaa]

Proposal - June 26th

Pairing: Dr. Mikhail Astrov x Fem!OC

Taglist: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea​

Theatre: Uncle Vanya

A/N: Idk how I feel about this one tbh! A part of me hates it and another part of me likes it. Idk you guys, I’m head is really bad rn and hard to keep looking at the screens, the more I add I keep messing it up so I left it as it is. Someone plz shed some light on this, cuz Idk how feel about ot... Also, apologies the bottom text is hard to read, it says ‘Shall we get married then?’

[fgadfanpage]

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoh!!!

Best Friend: Adam Price (The Stranger, 2020).

First Kiss: John Porter (Strike Back, 2010-2011).

Drinking Buddy: Adam Price (The Stranger, 2020).

First Boyfriend: Harry Kennedy (The Vicar of Dibley, 2006-2007).

Lost Virginity to John Proctor (The Crucible, 2014).

Enemy: Daniel Miller (Berlin Station, 2016-2019).

Married to William Farrow (Obsession, 2023).

Sleeping with Ray Levine (Stay Close, 2021).

Cheated on me: Mikhail Astrov (Uncle Vanya, 2020).

Richard Armitage chaRActers

Click & drag screencap game

[louk419]

Earth Day 2024 🌳 While researching his role as the conservation-minded Dr Astrov in Uncle Vanya, Richard went to Tring Park in Hertfordshire to help with a Woodland Trust project to plant one million trees in a day. “Sometimes people think these exercises are irrelevant or pretentious," he told the Radio Times in June 2021, "but as well as being a fun day out, I found it really useful.”

[mezzmerizedbyrichard]

Astrov spam 1/?

My screencaps and edits.

[linasofia]

Masterlist - Armitage Summer Splash

Armitage Summer Splash 2022

#1 The Assignment - Lucas North

#2 Moodboard - Daniel Miller

#3 In My Head - Dr Scott White

#4 Revenge - Claude Becker

#5 Into The Woods - Dr Mikhail Astrov

#6 Never Together part 1 - John Porter

#7 Moodboard - Guy of Gisborne

#8 Our Secret - Father Quart

#9 Moodboard - Ricky Deeming

#10 Moodboard - Raymond de Merville

#11 Among The Stars - Thorin Oakenshield

#12 Bunnelê - Thorin Oakenshield, Raymond de Merville

#13 Moodboard - John Thornton

#14 Moodboard - Thorin Oakenshield

#15 Little Moon - Raymond de Merville

#16 Moodboard - Guy of Gisborne

#17 Moodboard - Dr Mikhail Astrov

#18 Moodboard - Francis Dolarhyde

#19 Never Together part 2 - John Porter

#20 Moodboard - John Thornton

#21 Moodboard - Thorin Oakenshield

#22 Moodboard - Thorin Oakenshield

#23 Moodboard - Father Quart

#24 Moodboard - John Proctor

#25 The Call - John Porter

#26 Moodboard - John Proctor

#27 Moodboard - Ray Levine

#28 Sacrifice part 2 - Father Quart

#29 The Night Train - Daniel Miller

#30 Little Pirate - Father Quart

[astrovian]

I couldn't pick between flowers or no flowers so have both 🌺

Digital painting of Richard Armitage as Dr. Mikhail Lvovich Astrov in Uncle Vanya

Both versions up on Redbubble:

Flowers here

No flowers here

[lilacerull0]

The Inevitable Art Of Being

Okay, so @the-girl-who-cried-wolf wanted me to elaborate on my Jo March = impressionist painting theory which goes hand in hand with my "Aren't we all impressionistic images, heart (considering common symbolism of the word), body and mind included?" theory, the second one being my decided topic of the day. Here, have this post beloved flowery humans 🌸🌻🌷🌺🌼🌷🌹💐🌸🌺🌻💐🌼🌹💐🌺🌻!

The most fitting way to begin the manifest of my sparkly soul, as I see it, is to honor the eternally present Mr. Wilde (which, judging from my lifelong legacy aka this silly little Tumblr disaster, is now my fulltime job) with the mention of the belief that had a tremendous influence, if not the most of it, on his art in its eternity and that is, you guessed it, anti-mimesis. As opposed to the Aristotelian mimesis, which teaches is us how "art imitates life", anti-mimesis tells the story about art as a primary source of inspiration for everything that is human. "Life imitating art" in translation. I started my geeky journey on this Earth believing that Aristotle was the one in the right here (which is by far my lowest point, not because of its inaccuracy but because of its limited nature, it is not about being "in the right"), but as I grow older, my mind can't help but gravitate towards the philosophy of the more "Dorianesque" nature. What if we all are an art form brought to life? What if we're each a Wilde novel, the portraits of our existence hanging above our heads, residing in the attics of our minds and brought to life, and by that inevitably modified by each step taken? What if?

Why Impressionism?

Here are the close ups of typical impressionist paintings:

Here are some of the paintings in full:

I'm not here to talk about Claude Monet (I could talk about his garden in Giverny though and the art that came from it, which is an anti-mimesis in itself, but I'm trying to work on the rambling issues so *Neil Perry voice*: no.❤) or tell you about the beginning of impressionism or stress your mind with fictional characters such as Mikhail Lvovich Astrov. (I'd like to, but I won't. Let's just say that Chekhov's take on impressionism deserves a post on its own.) But what I am going to talk about is the power of the human senses, the fundamental element of impressionism and the fundamental element of who we are as people and, even if we are museum's stolen children, is it all necessarily a positive thing? For the record, I find it rather neutral. Just a concept, a canvas waiting to be painted, decided for, filled with an uncountable amount of meaning. Anyhow, this experiment's purpose:

You look at an impressionist painting from up close. You see blurry symbols, a sea of shades, meaningless patterns (or attempts of such) staring right back at you. Telling you nothing.

You look at a person for the very first time. A glance. Shoulders brushing. A thousand blurry images, days of knowing nothing but the color of their hair, eyes. Their most evident interest. You make the blurry the defining in an attempt to understand, to rationalise.

You look at an impressionist painting in full for the very first time. You see a working concept, puzzle completed. The bigger picture. Telling you everything. You let yourself stare at it for a bit longer and you see layer. You get to witness the ways in which the colors overlap, maybe even fail to work as an asset to the piece. You look at that same painting every single day and every single day, you see a different thing.

You look at someone for the very first time. You let them play you a song they like to dance to, you learn their favorite color, you let yourself hear them. And sometimes, their favorite color changes and one day they're happy. One day they're sad.

But they're still the same person, even when their interests don't match and they grow tired of their favorite coffee place. And it's still the same painting. Same brushstrokes behind glass, same body drawing breaths.

I hope you all have a lovely time doing the rarest thing of all! Have fun existing! (and after you're done with *gestures vaguely* that, preferably give Mr. Wilde a call).

for anyone who might be interested, here's me putting my theory to good use: ❤ ❤ ❤

[qveenbervthiel]

Richard Armitage as Dr. Astrov in Uncle Vanya (2020)