He was Aragorn. Now, I’ve always been a Legolas groupie, even since I was a young girl, but as I mature I start to truly appreciate the strength and alacrity it took to be the Heir to Isildur’s throne, and to play that heir with such conviction is wonderfully sexy to a Tolkein fangirl like myself. Plus, he was all sweaty and dirty for most of the film. And you? You just wanted one measly fucking bathing scene but nooo Peter Jackson couldn’t give you that because he was too busy making a great film and shit. Bastard. At least we can thank David Cronenburg for righting that wrong.
He’s a man. From The Scruff to the muscles to the scar on his lip and the cleft in his chin - he’s an Alpha dude and you love it. You want to experience it… inside of you. Literally.
Those opalescent blue eyes that seem to look right through you and make you feel all violated in the best way possible. Wouldn’t you love to see those first thing in the morning after one helluva night? Yup.
He looks all rough around the edges but he’s a painter and photographer. He’s even a fucking poet. Basically he’s the perfect man - soft and nougatty at the core under that hard shell: all of him completely delicious. So delicious that I’m making up words and shit. Nougatty.
This. Something about that is just… You’re welcome.