Jesus fucking Christ

[snowgrouse]

There's been talk of sword fetishes on my flist lately and, um. Since I'm a terrible masowhore and totally failing at writing today, I decided to start rewatching the dreadful Under The Red Robe and... yeah. Now, okay, I am the first to admit I have an unhealthy sexual fetish for swept-hilt rapiers. They are the sexiest fucking swords ever made, as

Comments

[atalantapendrag]

Holy balls.

What is the word for what he is doing to that sword hilt? "Fondle" or "caress" isn't sensual enough. And his thumb sticking out like that and hhnnnnggggh

[snowgrouse]

Ravishment. Which would describe this guy's eyes and body language and very fucking existence in general, TBH.

[cavefelem]

I think the sword just came.

[snowgrouse]

I can't remember if there's a scene in which he oils the sword or something but if something like that happens, I may pass out. It's a terrible movie, but he is just impossibly porny and gorgeous as usual. *sigh* I'm up to a bit where he tries to infiltrate himself into this rebel castle and tries to swim there and they've just fished him out of the moat. And the beautiful lady of the castle offers him a sip of brandy and she looks like an angel to his half-drowned mind and the look he does at her is just so worshipful it's insane. It's like that glass of brandy is absolution itself and it's as if he is staring in this mystical fervour at a goddess or something. In so many ways, I do adore the days when you could do stuff like this with drama and truly act crazy like that because the impact is still breathtaking. If anyone looked at me with that sort of intensity I'm not sure if I wouldn't just look away because it was too much. I really am not exaggerating when I say this guy was the dying breath of Romanticism itself.