Vinland Saga S2 Episode 20 Take...
Spoilers below:
God...bro...stop.
First of all the battle:
It is so interesting to see both sides of a 'warrior': The one who revels in the killing and loses himself in the blood and the one scared for their lives. Each of them experiences both sides and its just *mwah* to see FOX being the one TERRIFIED. The one who first suggested to Olmar to kill to truly "become a man". The one who was glorifying the act, telling him so sadistically how easy it is once you realize how soft and fragile a human's body is.
And now it is the Joms vikings who feel the same glee as they strike down each slave as if they are toothpicks.
It shows the humanity and hypocrisy. How each loses - either to the bloodlust or straight up their lives.
It also shows the difference between mere mercenaries i.e. the 'guests' and actual, trained vikings who work under the king. It's *Chef kiss*.
The look in the vikings eyes are the same as the guests and Askeladd's band.
Bro Thorgil is insane???
You know that the moment you meet him but he keeps doing mad things to keep reminding you. Like, dude swam around the island with a sword on his back, no armor to defend himself and was ready to decapitate the king who he worked for just months ago???? Cuz his family got insulted thats why.
Bro is on the same level as Thorkell.
And Canute actually fighting back??? AND ATTEMPTING TO KILL THORGIL TOO? My man got guts and its so surprising.
There is no way Thorgil thought he might do that. Plus, he was too confident to even think he might lose.
Ketil u son of a bitch he survived. There is just something infuriating and tragic knowing a phony like him could fall this deep and low in his own arrogance, pride, weakness and delusion.
Man shouldve died. Stop saving him, Snake.
And now to the tearjerker
Bro
Bro bro bro. Arnheid just...seeing her family waiting for her? Hinting even an episode before that her unborn child is already dead. Gardar took care of it like its own kid in the sequence.
And she woke up just to say her thanks and bid goodbye. Thorfinn and Einar keep trying to give her hope and not to die...
But she keeps on asking; Where will we go and is there war? Is there slave trade? If so, then I don't want it.
She'd rather die. All of these things are just another prolonging nightmare for her.
I was a bit sceptical of Arnheid as a character but it all makes so much sense.
She's just supposed to be a normal woman in the world of the nordics. The world of vikings, war and slaves. Not the daughter or wife of a warrior or anything but just a woman.
She had everything that was part of a normal life. A village, a home, a husband and a child and it's all just taken from her.
She did absolutly nothing wrong. Her only crime being her existence.
When there are no men to defend you in times like these, you are taken away as a slave, your toddler child seen as useless and killed. You are taken to a master and work as his servant, maid and bedwarmer. She becomes pregnant without asking for it but decides and has the strength to protect her second child.
And then...one thing goes wrong and it all comes tumbling down. The master who "adores" her beats her to death and the one person she wanted to protect dies.
"Everyone I loved died. Why should I live?" She has no reason to live anymore.
This isn't just tragedy falling upon you. It's a young woman's will being completely destroyed by the cruelty of this world - of the men who wage war and those who enslave her.
Why should women live in a world like this? Anything peaceful can be taken from them in an blink of an eye and they are collected either as a "prize" for the vikings or sold off as slaves. They are especially vulnerable compared to men. They are straight up SOUGHT by raiders. It's insanity.
The war takes away their fathers, husbands, Brothers and sons. Slavery takes away their mothers, sisters and daughters.
And her speech of asking why she should live mirrors Thorfinn's speech of "Nothing good has ever happend to me" - That's what I think at least.
It's the reason why he looks so pained at that part especially I believe.
Man lets all say thank you to Thorfinn's convenient elephant-like memory. Guy remembers when you sneezed and why like 7 years ago.
Just seeing him try to bring her back to life like his father did, which he saw when HE WAS SIX AND SO CONFUSED ON WHAT HIS DAD WAS DOING AND IT WAS FOR ANOTHER SLAVE NO LESS
And Einar keeps on trying to give her hope 😢 he confesses how much he likes her, even now...
And oooooooooouuuugh here comes Ketil and my blood boils
SNAKE STOP SAVING HIS ASS
Einar trying to kill him and PUNCHING THORFINN when he tried to stop him hurts. My man would never raise a hand against Thorfinn but here he did nooo.
Bro but Thorfinn finally snapping him out of this oh so familiar rage and telling him "don't become like me. Don't drown in that nightmare I've had" *sobs*
*BIG SOB*
They make her a grave...and Thorfinn, once again, just conveniently remembers what Canute once said about his view on God and Love.
And now he just...wants to stop him???? Bro how????
He SAID THERE WOULD BE AT LEAST 50 MEN AND THE WORST CASE SCENARIO IS THAT HE'LL GET AWAY WITH HIS LIFE AT LEAST
STOP SAYING THAT UR SCARING ME
LEIF ALREADY LOST U LIKE 2X PLS DONT DO SOMETHING RECKLESS
IM LEGIT SCARED. WHATS HE GONNA DO? TALK????
Ugh...I'm so feelings it makes me sick
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cw: pro-hero bakugo, reader has boobs, kind of explicit/nsfw? idk i describe boobs, reader is smaller and shorter than bakugo, unedited sawry
bakugo's muscle tee looks as ill-fitting as it'll ever be draped over you.
there are reasons for this, perfectly founded and logical reasons for why that is—the main one being that, it's, well, his; two, maybe even three sizes larger than what it should be to fit you properly.
but, he can't stop staring, and there are reasons for that too—the main one being that, it's his, and yet, the only way he can ever imagine it now is when it's being worn by you.
your hips sway to the song you've been humming for the past five minutes. it's the same one, the chorus on a perpetual loop. he's sure it's the only part you know; you do this often enough that it's the only part he knows now, too.
the hem of his tee hits right at the top of your thighs, concealing just enough to tease, but he’s confident that if you reach up even the slightest bit for the cupboard overhead, there'll be nothing to hide.
he feels a little bit like a creep like this, watching as he stands in the middle of your shared living room, but it's impossible too look away—you've got to be doing this on purpose, right?
heat flares inside of him when you turn your body ever so slightly, the armhole of his muscle tee large enough to give him the clearest view of skin—
he gulps.
it's smooth, sloping just right; the side view of your under boob curves into its perfect shape and he can imagine it, feel—
(is this considered perving if he's been with you for years?)
the pan in front of you sizzles as you plop in god knows what. you pour in something from the side and wait, one hand propped on the hip you pop out. then, you pick up the pan, attempting to flip what's inside (probably a pancake, now that he thinks about it).
it’s hard to focus on what you’re cooking though, especially when all he sees is plump flesh jiggling, bouncing as you further agitate the pan.
he just got the pants of this suit readjusted, and now they're fucking tight.
bakugo normally runs hot; it’s kind of part of his dna. but this warmth is different, flushing him from head to toe. it creeps up the side of his neck, painting the tips of his ears a blooming red.
you turn around then, plopping the pancake on the plate atop the counter behind you.
"oh! you're done," you greet him with a smile. so. fucking. casually.
as if your tits aren't fucking peaking against the gray fabric of his tee.
as if you think he buys the fake innocence poorly concealing that sly, conniving look in your pretty eyes.
as if you aren't standing in front of him in his muscle tee, wearing nothing underneath it like you didn’t do this on purpose. like you don’t know what it fucking does to him.
his eyes squint suspiciously, deep vermillion staring straight into yours.
you tilt your head, the tips of your lashes kissing the top of your cheekbones as you blink. you reach for a bottle of honey.
“everything okay?” you ask, voice syrupy, sickeningly sweet.
your movements play in front of him languidly, the corner of your lips curling up slightly as you smirk. honey catches on your finger as you pop open the bottle cap.
he’s supposed to be out the door in five minutes if he wants to make it in time for a meeting at the agency. technically, he should already be there if he wants to keep up his track record of consistently being fifteen minutes too early.
but you start to approach him, rounding the kitchen island. there’s a narrow space between him and the slab of marble, but you slide into it like it was made for you.
he’s certain it was, from the way the tip of your nose brushes against his as you tiptoe. your tits are right fucking there, brushing against the skintight material of his suit.
there’s too much fucking fabric if you ask him, between cotton and spandex.
your grin widens, and he feels hot, the heat from his cheeks radiating.
then you whisper, still saccharine, “breakfast is ready,” before kissing him on the lips lightly. a short peck, soft in the way that promises more before you slip away, giggling in your retreat.
he huffs, watching you leave. his feet shift as he thinks.
five minutes, huh?
like hell he’s going to eat these damn pancakes for breakfast today.
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