#how do you keep the soup from escaping the dumpy?

[cheerfullycatholic]

Oh oh oh at Costco I found a big bag of soup dumplings (not gluten free unfortunately) and I really like them but I'm used to Trader Joe's which have a lot of ginger in them so I'm kind of missing that but that's okay because they'll still make a yummylicious after pool snackie

[insomniamamma]

Stubborn: Din Djarin x Gn!Reader

A/n: oh no! They have to snuggle to keep warm.

Warnings: Fluff. Mentions of injury. Oh no! it’s very cold. Abuse of Mando’a.

           The Razor Crest would choose to crap out here, on this nameless little worldlet drifting around a gas giant that hangs bloated in the sky, bright turbulent bands of storms that could eat this little chunk of rock and ice whole. A star that couldn't quite get its shit together. You had just finished feeding the Kid his evening meal, wiping a bit of soup from his mouth with your sleeve, when the lights went out. It went dead silent. The 'Crest was never silent. There was always the low hum of the reactor, subtle hiss of the coolant systems, steady whir of the air-exchangers. The Kid's little clawed hand grips your finger.           "mwah?"           "I don't--" The back up power comes on, the ancient control and nav systems booting back up in a series of low whirs and clicks, emergency lighting low and ruddy. The environmentals do not come back on-line. Those little claws poke at your skin, big shining eyes find yours in the dim light.           "It's okay little guy," you say, drawing your finger along one of the Kid's velvety ears, "I'm gonna put you in your pram so you don't get cold, okay? Then I'm going to sort this mess out."           You think about calling Mando on the comms, but you don't. Could be something as simple as some wiring turned brittle in the cold. He's tracking information instead of a bounty. You know this one is important to him, important to the Kid. You'll give it a go yourself, you've gotten to know the Razor Crest pretty well in your short time as crew. How bad can it really be?

          Mando almost shot you the first time you talked to him. You were doing your usual, rambling around the shipyards of Gythal-9, a dusty little fly-speck of a world that you've been rotting on, looking for work, looking for excitement, hell, looking for anyone who wasn't the same dozen or so people you interacted with each day. Since the Empire fell, traffic had dwindled to near nothing, so any unfamiliar ship was worth eyeing as a potential way off. If you could get back to a planet with a decent spaceport you'd be rolling in credits. Here, you'd been scraping by fixing speeders and haulers and farm equipment, enough to keep you fed and clothed and shaded but precious little else. So when you saw a pre-Imperial Razor Crest parked in the dumpy little shipyard that Ississk ran, your heart swelled and not just with the anticipation of a possible escape. The 'Crest was and older model, probably second generation of it's kind, artillery turrets instead of laser cannons. Old school. Undeniably badass. There's signs of carbon scoring, panels crudely but efficiently replaced, but her inherent beauty is undeniable.            "Har-chaak!" A modulated voice snarled from beneath the Razor Crest's belly. You hunkered down and peered into the shadow beneath the ship. You found a Mandalorian in full armor struggling to install a pressure regulator into the starboard engine's fuel line.           "That's the wrong part," you said, and in a blink he had his blaster trained on you.           "Who do you work for? Who sent you?" You hold your hands palms out, at shoulder level.           "Easy, big guy. I was just admiring your ship. She's a classic. Pre-Empire right? She's gorgeous." The blaster lowers a fraction. You point to the pressure regulator and the coolant that's leaked into the dust. "That's the wrong size. You might limp it along for a bit, but you're just going to be paying for it again two systems over when the hoses blow. Who sold it to you? Was it Ississk?"           "You mean the big orange Trandoshan?"           "She ripped you off," you said and turned back towards the grimy office where Ississk held court, "Come on then." You jerk your head, meaning for the Mandalorian to follow you, and he does.           "Oh no you don't," says Ississk '<you're costing me hard earned credits, human>"           "Damn it, Izzy how we gonna get non-local business if you keep ripping off every non-local who drops by?"           "<yes yes, I know, you play the hero and hope this one takes you off-world as reward>" she waves a clawed hand at the Mandalorian, "Show me the regulator, Mandalorian, your ship. She is a Mark 2 pre-Empire make. Out of Corellia, yes?"           "Mark 3."           "Ahh, yes. Pardon me." Ississk disappears behind a tattered curtain and rustles around.           "You're in on the rip-off," says the Mandalorian.           "You understand Dosh,"           "Yes. Can't speak it though." He says, "I'm impressed."           "Don't hurt Izzy, ok? This was my dumbass idea--"           "Here we are!," says Ississk, parting the curtain with a different, slightly larger pressure regulator curled in her scaly arm like a baby, "So sorry for your trouble, friend."           "The difference, what do I owe--?" Ississk waves a clawed hand.           "Nevermind the difference," she says, "Just mind you use the proper seal-bands. Mark-3's have quite a bit more flow-through." She hands the Mandalorian his parts and you mean to slink away when he grabs your wrist. You freeze. Your eyes flick up to his dark, t-visor.           "You've cost me time," he says, "Help me install this thing and you might still get some credits."

          And that's how you ended up being crew. You had installed his new regulator while berating him for the lackadaisical maintenance he's performed on his ship. Why are the settings like this? How has this not shit the bed? Do you ever degrease and clean any of this? When's the last time you even checked the hyperdrive calibration? And he only had a single question.  Will you come with us?           That was the deal. No contract. Nothing binding. Keep the Crest running as best as you were able, and in exchange you travel. We find a port that suits you and you take your pay and and go. That was the deal.

          Mando finds you much like you found him, nuzzled up into the Razor Crest's belly.           "What happened?"           "Dunno," you reach up into the dark beyond the circle of the penlight you hold clamped between your teeth, "We lost the mains. Back-ups are still going, but the environmentals are offline." Your jaws chatter against the penlight, strobing the light and you lose track of the join your looking for.           "Kriff-"           "We need to go inside," says Mando, "It's too cold out here. We'll figure it out in the morning."           "I've almost got it," you say, "Go in and get ready to boot the environmentals when I comm you."           "Atin'ika," he sighs.

          Atin'ika. That's his word for you. It's not Basic or Dosh or Huttese, but from the context you're guessing it means idiot. Atin'ika, usually accompanied by a gentle side to side shake of his head. The time you took a blaster shot to the arm at Auursuk. I'm fine. Atin'ika, let me see. The time he stopped you haggling with a corpulent junk dealer on Jakku who had the gall to charge you nearly twice the going rate for a pair of power-converters. We'll take them. He'd shouldered past you and pressed some battered Mon Calmari currency into the junk dealer's hand. He ripped you off. We need those parts, Atin'ika.           "Alright," You say pressing the wires home into the boards, rope of cables coiled in your fist, "Open panel 2a, Flip the second from the bottom breaker."           "Got it." There's a shower of sparks and everything goes dark around your save for the utility lights strung under the belly of the crest.           "Mother FUCKER, stinking ass licking son of Imperial cunt-fuckers--"           "It's too cold," says Mando, "You need to come inside."           "We can't boost if we don't fix this--"           "Inside." He says, in that tone that offers no room for second opinions, "Now."           You climb the ramp and close it behind you. It's less raw inside but still kriffing cold. You unzip your parka and tuck your hands into your armpits in a vain attempt to warm them.           "You okay?" Asks Mando.           "Yeah," you say, it's already cold enough in the Crest that you breath plumes, "How's the little guy?"           "Fast asleep," says Mando, "Snug as a flea in a Bantha's ear."           "We gotta shut the external vents," you say, but it comes out clipped and stuttered, "We can run the scrubbers off the back-up batts. We don't wanna pull more cold air in here."           "Heaters?" You notice that his beskar armor is laced in frost. He's got to be at least as cold as you.           "No go," you say, "Not enough juice. How long is local night? What are we looking at here, Mando?"           "15 hours."           "Kriff." Your mind turns over and over, while Mando looks at you expectantly. He knows not to interrupt while you are like this. The back-up batteries are a passive system, a sealed box of radioactive material fitted with thermocouples. These back-up batts are purposefully isolated from the rest of the 'Crest's systems, low in the walls of the hold where their waste heat can't screw up anything vital.           "Okay, we yank the cycler conduits loose and lay them against the back-up batt housing. The water will absorb the waste heat and then cycle through the hull. It won't be nice but it'll keep us from freezing solid."           "What do I need to do?"

          A couple hours and it's done. Mando retreated with the Kid to his berth, leaving you to the nest you've made yourself near the weapons locker. Will you be warm enough? I'll be fine. You rest on your thin mattress with every spare blanket you could find piled over you, but it's not enough. The cold seems to radiate up from the floor and settle in your bones. Eventually you give up sleeping and pace. If you could just get the blood flowing enough, if you could just get your hands and your feet to warm up enough that they don't distract you, then maybe--           You collide with Mando. He grips your upper arms, the dark of his visor unreadable as ever. His armor is gone save for his helmet which still bears ferns and whorls of frost.           "I heard you moving around," he says, "Are you okay?"           "Can't sleep," you say.           "It's too cold down here," he says, shakes his head, "Come on, Atin'ika." And he folds his hand around yours. Mando leads you to his quarters. Despite the cold your face feels hot. You've kept the 'Crest in reasonable repair, you've fixed this junker of a ship with bailing wire and strip tape. You repairs are ugly but they work. You've cared for the Kid while he was off doing whatever the hell it is he does. Why does he have to be so mean? He propels you into the little compartment and seals the door behind you. Everything is red lit, the emergency lighting glinting off the curves of his helmet.           "Take off your parka,"           "What?" He unzips his flight suit revealing a threadbare undershirt and the soft swell of his belly. You fingers fumble at the fasteners, your hands are so cold they don't want to do what you tell them.           "When babies were born in the covert we'd lay them on their buir's chest to make them warm," he says, peeling you out of your parka and pulling you close. His hands circle your wrists and tuck them inside his flight-suit. Stars. He is warm. You grip around his middle and press yourself to him reflexively.           "Dank farrik," he hisses, "You're freezing," He rubs his hands briskly up and down your back, trying to get some warmth into you, "Why didn't you say something?" You burrow your face, your cold nose into the warm juncture of his shoulder and neck.           "I just thought you'd call me stupid again." He freezes. His broad hands cupping your shoulder blades.           "When did I call you stupid?" You pull back from him, and he's peering at you like he so often does, his t-visor canted at an angle. And suddenly you are infuriated. You are too damn cold and you have worked too damn hard for what little bit of warmth you've managed to get this gods-be-cursed sieve of a ship to hold.           "What? Five minutes ago? Maybe six? Kriff. I don't even know why you keep me around! Ahteeneeka this! Ahteeneeka that! I don't care where we go next! It could be the arm-pit of absolutely nowhere! As long as I can breathe the air without dying I'm done!" You try to yank yourself away but he holds you fast, pulls you tight against him, arms crossing like durasteel bands around your back.           "Atin is stubborn," he says, begins to gently sway to the two of you back and forth. "And you are. Stubborn as an Eopie."           "Eeka?" Silence. Just the faint rasp of his breath through his vocoder.           "It means I don't want you to be cold."

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream SMP Recap (April 25/2021) - The Red Banquet

The day has finally come.

All the preparations have been completed. The invitations have been sent out. Everything has been leading up to this moment, and the Eggpire is ready to make their move.

It’s time for the Red Banquet.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Captain Puffy

Badboyhalo

Antfrost

Eret

Skeppy

Ranboo

---

- Puffy walks around on the surface. Everything is prepared, the armor is where it should be. She hopes everything will go well.

- Everyone is dressed up for the occasion (except George). Hannah, Niki, Fundy, Eret, George and HBomb are all there.

- Bad says hello to Ponk in the Egg Room. Ponk tells him that no one has arrived yet. Antfrost greets them by the entrance and they go up the stairs to find Niki waiting. 

- Puffy and the other guests soon enter the room as well. Antfrost points them towards a coat room where they can put all their items. Foolish arrives with the Rolexes. They drink some cider, head to the dance floor and play some tunes.

- Bad comes over and greets Puffy. Foolish informs Bad that he peed on the Egg. Sam also has a dumpy and HBomb has two of Fundy’s cocks. 

- Antfrost goes off to speak with Ponk alone and check for some last guests. They watch as George arrives.

Ant: “He looks sort of lost, but that’s okay -- we welcome everybody here.”

Ponk: “Hold up...I don’t know...hmm. Hmm...”

Ant: “I mean, he looks harmless enough.”

Ponk: “We need to get a real good look at him first. Quickly.”

Ponk: “I don’t know what that’s about.”

Ant: “I don’t know. Well, we’ll just keep an eye on him.”

Ponk: “Yeah...”

- They then go speak to HBomb and Niki. H hasn’t stopped dancing

HBomb: “I’m doing my best impersonation of a white dad.”

...

Ant: “Did you guys notice that the guy over there -- George -- just sort of wandered in? He seems sort of lost.”

Ponk: “I feel like he’s hiding something.”

- From the walls, Ranboo in a shadowy outfit can be seen watching. 

- HBomb is the DJ.

- Bad comes over to say that dinner is ready. Bad tells Puffy that they have shrimp cocktails and they all go to sit at the table. Some people are in jail and weren’t able to attend. Ponk cooked all the food.

- Bad welcomes the guests to give toasts to the meal.

First up is Foolish, who says that he hopes that after today, nobody has to say “turn a new leaf” or “let bygones be bygones” ever again. Everyone has come here in agreement in the hope of something new.

Next is Eret. 

Eret: “As the monarch of the SMP, it’s awesome to be able to maybe see the SMP going back to being reunified again, and seeing all of us not have to worry about fighting each other on different sides. I hope this is a new chapter of the entire community as a whole. Cheers to that.”

Then Ponk steps up. Long ago, an old, wise man told him “People change like the tides in the ocean.” Now he truly knows they do.

Puffy steps forward. Bad and Antfrost, she considers as friends, and the Egg has separated them. She hopes this brings them all together and makes the server more peaceful. 

George was asleep twenty minutes ago. He asks about the soup. Ponk says it’s made from organic, free-range beets.

Finally, Bad says he appreciates everyone coming. This is the perfect opportunity for everyone to come together and let bygones be bygones. To set aside past issues to grow and advance forward, even with the wrongs that have been done. 

- He nods to Antfrost, who breaks a block behind them, revealing a button. Antfrost presses it.

Bad: “I was very, very happy that we were able to gather everybody here together for what is, I’m sure, going to be a banquet that none of us are ever going...to...forget.”

- Lava starts pouring down from the ceiling, walling them in.

Bad: “Yep. Prepare to die.”

- Everyone panics. 

- Puffy tells Bad that she didn’t trust the Eggpire anyway, and planned for this. She removes the cover from the table and looks into the chest -- it’s empty.

- They watch as the Eggpire members all don the diamond armor that Puffy and Sam had prepared. Hannah says she had to do it, had to tell them. For the Egg.

- Sam says that he had another plan, because he didn’t trust the Eggpire. He’s tired of all this fighting, and it’s about time that they blow up the Egg for good this time.

- Sam flicks the TNT lever and the explosives rain down on the Egg. When they explode, though, the Egg turns into crying obsidian instead of getting destroyed, reverting back to normal Egg blocks after a few seconds.

- After Quackity’s attack, Bad and the others took preparations to make sure that the Egg wouldn’t be vulnerable to TNT anymore. Now, it’s time for the executions.

Bad: “You see, the Egg needs something, and it’s gonna get it from each of you. See, in order for the Egg to hatch, it needs energy. And it gets that energy by people dying near it. And that’s the role that you guys are gonna fill! We’re gonna kill you, one by one--”

Eret: “You’re a monster.”

Bad: “What’d you say, Eret?”

Eret: “You’re an absolute monster. How could you. We all trusted you, Bad!”

Ponk: “Trust! Okay, Eret. Keep talking. Keep talking about trust.”

Eret: “...That was a long time ago.”

- Bad says that Eret is the perfect person to sacrifice first! He leads Eret to a spot in front of the Egg lined with Netherite blocks.

- Foolish steps forward, saying he’s had enough. The Egg can shield itself against TNT, but can it withstand lightning?

- Nothing happens. Bad laughs.

Bad: “You really thought, Foolish? You thought you could enter the Egg’s domain and beat it in a battle of power? Come on...you’re in the Egg’s territory, Foolish.”

- The Egg is suppressing Foolish. Ant suggests they start with Foolish instead and take Eret’s life later.

- Puffy steps forward. She and Antfrost shout at each other. Puffy says she gave them chance after chance. Antfrost says that Puffy betrayed them first.

Ant: “Foolish, your own son, is about to be slaughtered because of you!”

Puffy: “I’m only one person!”

Foolish: “Puffy, Puffy, it’s okay, it’s not your fault--”

Puffy: “NO! It’s not alright!”

Ant: “Puffy, you could have stopped this if you had stayed with the Eggpire. But this is your fault.”

- Antfrost kills Foolish with a sword.

---

CANON DEATH: FOOLISH

Cause: Sacrificed by Antfrost to the Egg

---

- Everyone screams in horror. The Eggpire wonders who to kill next.

- Suddenly, Quackity shouts at them to stop and drops into the room. He tells Bad to calm down. He puts on diamond armor.

- Quackity tells them they’ve just killed a man, asking if this is what they wanted. Bad tells him that he’s doing all this for the Egg, for what the Egg can give them.

Quackity: “I’m telling you, Bad, you’re a pawn to power. You’re nobody, Bad. You’re working for something that, quite frankly, doesn’t even care about you. I mean look at the Egg, look at the Egg! Look at what it means! It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything, Bad. So how about...how about we just stop playing games.”

- As Quackity monologues, he subtly slips Puffy a Netherite axe, potion of strength and a golden apple.

- Bad can’t stop, or else he can’t get what he needs. 

Bad: “Guess what, Quackity. If you wanted to stop us, you should’ve brought more than just yourself. You should’ve brought an army.”

Quackity: “Guess what, Bad? I did! I did. In fact, I brought the next best thing...I brought my biggest enemy!”

- Technoblade logs on and drops into the room, his hoard of dogs following.

- Not only that...Quackity also went looking across the lands for the best mercenary he could find. Purpled drops into the room as well.

Bad: “We HIRED you to take out Puffy, and you join the enemy’s side?!”

Purpled: “Bad, to be frank with you, Quackity just had the better price.”

- Techno explains that he didn’t want to work with Quackity, but the Egg is too great a danger to the server and it’s against everything he stands for.

- Suddenly, Puffy jumps forward with her axe, attacking Ant. The Eggpire is shocked that she has a weapon.

Puffy: “You’ve taken my kindness for weakness, Antfrost!”

---

CANON DEATH: ANTFROST

Cause: Killed by Puffy with an axe

---

- A fight breaks out. Bad shouts for the remaining Eggpire members to retreat. They run out. Quackity orders Purpled to go track them down.

- Bad leads the Eggpire out. They can regroup later. For now, they have to run. They have to split up. They can’t get caught, they have to stay safe and go as fast as they can.

- Alone, Bad thinks to himself.

Bad: “This is such a trainwreck. This whole plan...everything was for this moment! And it’s gone! They -- they have the Egg now...they have it. What can I do? I can’t do anything! I need to get out of here. I need resources...”

“Wait, I know where I can go. I know who I can see...but the Egg, the Egg is -- it’s in their possession right now. What can I do? What can I do against it? I can’t do anything, they have it! I needed the Egg, I needed...I needed what it was gonna give. It was gonna help me get what I wanted, but now they have it...they have it...I just...I just wanted what...I just wanted what it could give me.”

“I didn’t really -- I didn’t really want to hurt anybody. I just wanted what it could give me, but...I don’t know. Did I screw up? Am I in the wrong here? I don’t know...I just need to go. I need to get out of here.”

- Bad starts rowing away into the ocean.

- Quackity asks Sam what to do next. The Egg is invincible.

- Purpled lost them in the labyrinth. Sam says he’ll build a prison for the Egg if he has to. He wants to find a way to destroy it, but for now they need to lock it away where it can’t be accessed.

- Quackity makes sure everyone is alright. They then exit the room through the whole in the wall. Quackity tells Techno to come with him and Sam to talk. They leave the others to escape the rest of the way.

- They make it to the surface, relieved. HBomb hands them all soup to remember the event by.

- Puffy goes off on her own down the Prime Path. While she talks to herself, Ranboo walks down the path with potion particles coming off of him.

Puffy: “What did I do? What -- I...My son died! And I killed my best friend! I...I need to find Foolish. I...I don’t even know who I am anymore. The life I swore to protect, I didn’t at all, and then I took one myself! I don’t even...I...I can’t do this anymore. I just...can’t.”

- Eret mourns Foolish after the events of the Banquet. Foolish sacrificed his life for Eret, so at the very least he should be commemorated.

Eret: “I don’t even feel like I knew him that well...which makes things even harder. He’s helped me out with so many things, just from the kindness of his heart. He claimed to know me. He claimed to know a me which I don’t even remember... And he sacrificed himself for me.”

“At the very least, I need to commemorate his sacrifice, I...I should’ve been the one to die, not him.”

- Eret builds a Totem statue in his fortress. 

RIP Foolish I’ll miss you, old friend.

- Eret builds a replica of the Egg in their museum.

- Ranboo logs on in his house. He decides to go around the main area today and fix some stuff. His inventory is quite empty, so he grabs stacks of grass blocks from a chest and heads out.

- He heads over to the main area and remarks that the server is beginning to look okay now that the Blood Vines are gone.

- He notices some posters for the Red Banquet.

Ranboo: “Oh, that was today! ...Cool!”

- He carries on and runs into Sam near the Community House. They exchange some steak. Sam says he’s collecting materials for the bank, as people need it now more than ever. 

- Sam suggests Ranboo invest money and charge cash for his hotel. Ranboo points out that they already have currency in the form of emeralds and diamonds. Sam explains his waiver idea for the bank.

- Also, Sam needs to build a vault. People can come and rent a spot to lock away important items. 

- Ranboo asks if you can lock away people in the vault. Sam says that’s what Pandora’s Vault is for already.

- Sam mentions that they’ll put the Egg in there. Ranboo asks what makes this different from regular storage. Sam says it’s more secure.

- Sam and his associates will be there day and night to actively defend everyone’s belongings. Ranboo asks how many guards Sam has under his command. Sam says quite a few.

- Why now? Sam says there’s no time like right now and quotes Oogway.

- Sam doesn’t plan on charging interest. He just wants to establish a better system of trade on the server.

- Ranboo explains to chat that he can use this system to make infinite money by trading emeralds and diamond armor.

- What if someone is, say, already quite rich on the server? Sam says the trade and the guard of supplies is most important. 

- Ranboo asks how fragile the system would be. What would it take to bring it down?

- Sam says a whole nuke. Ranboo replies that he was thinking systematically. He asks how the Great Depression happened and Sam explains inflation and the circumstances for economic crises. 

- Sam gives Ranboo a “prototype Sam dollar.” (One iron ingot)

- They go to Hannah’s house to steal and then find an anvil in the spider spawner to name the ingot “Smollar.” They go down the tunnel and Sam says that Ranboo shouldn’t go down to the Egg Room. It’s under quarantine.

- He’s planning on moving the Egg and asks if Ranboo heard what happened. Ranboo didn’t. Sam fills him in in the Egg Room. Ranboo is curious about the Egg turning into obsidian and picks up a piece of the Blood Vines, suggesting Sam do some experiments.

- They exit the Egg Room and find some strange llamas. Ranboo shoves a chest in Drip Llama.

- Ranboo, Sam, and Foolish breed a ton of llamas to begin the Industrial Revolution.

- Bad comes over and becomes one with the llamas to cope. Foolish turns into a L’manburg Llama and is promptly slaughtered by Ranboo.

- Ranboo, Bad and Foolish create a gigantic llama train.

Upcoming Events:

- Quackity’s business opening

- Tommy’s plan

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Dream’s lore video

- The Banquet aftermath

---

END OF WEEK RECAP:

4/19 - Nothing much happens.

4/20 - Nothing much happens.

4/21 - HBomb makes a diamond game, Jack plans to open a pub sidechain for his hotel business

4/22 - Tubbo shows Tommy how to make TNT cannons

4/23 - Puffy, Foolish, Hannah and Sam meet on Cloud Prime to discuss the Banquet, Ranboo’s Enderwalk Saga: “The Lessons”

4/24 - HBomb’s diamond game, George’s anniversary dream, Bad hands out invitations

4/25 - THE RED BANQUET.

[nukyster-blog]

Changing course, chapter 6) Till the bone

.-.-.

Piglet’s will to keep Ivar alive turned out to be relentless. Her guard was high up as she crossed her makeshift line, skittish as a deer; dark eyes large and breath shallow, lips slightly ajar. She nearly dropped the steaming content of her cup when Ivar was caught by another coughing fit. 

It would have earned her a mocking laugh from Ivar’s side, were it not for the lack of strength to lift his head up. Lucidity was an ability he no longer possessed. There was a Mara riding his chest; the demonic creature made his chest heavy; entangled his lungs and riddled his sleep with nightmares. Panic rose in waves between the moments of regaining consciousness and drifting back into the Mara’s realm of nightmares. 

“Mother?”Ivar muttered when hands tenderly lifted his head to rest on comforting thighs, “I’m sorry, I should have never abandoned you.” Ivar’s voice was nothing more than a whimper, “father’s death… I should have died too.” 

His quivering lips were pressed around a wooden rim and scalding hot water was forced down his throat. The smell and taste was ferocious, that of strong herbaceous. Ivar gagged and fought, but the fever had burned away all his strength. 

Feebly, he arched his head to the side, but those tender hands were ruthless; merging his head in between strong thighs and pinching his nose until Ivar nearly choked and gasped for air. 

This cruel ritual became a routine of four times a day. Ivar was being force fed a variety of soups; broth with seasonal vegetables, soaked pieces of bread and herbs. Every waking moment was a struggle; his phlegm filled lungs were desperate for oxygen and the fever continued to scorch his body and ravaged his mind. At times he saw his mother’s morose eyes behind the dark lashes of Piglet. Every shadow seemed to be possessed by feathered creatures, their gurgling croaks keeping Ivar on edge and petrified. It took Ivar six days to fight off the Mara and regain enough strength to slap the wooden bowl away from his face.

Piglet took that statement of defiance as her cue to retreat back behind the line. Her care however did not lessen; for reasons unknown to Ivar she was dedicated to nurture him back to health. It was one of the things that occupied Ivar’s thoughts. Tit for tat, in life no-one does anything without getting something in return. Ivar’s sickly condition was not doing her any favours. The Giant would come by every day to inspect the coughing patient, to see if he was worth all the time and trouble. The Giant would not leave out any occasion to either bark or spit at Piglet; who’d obediently make herself as small as possible and simply take full blame for Ivar’s slow recovery. She wore the bruises of Ivar’s dreadful healing process and spent half her ration on him. She must be starving herself so Ivar could gain back little of his strength. “Stupid thrall, if you’d know what I’d do to you if I wasn’t shackled,” Ivar sneered at her as he picked on his bread; it tasted stale, but everything was better then a howling stomach. Piglet sat across from him against the wall, petting a lamb, it’s wool such a contrast to her dark arms. The lamb’s wobbly legs were still nascent and thin, but functioning well. As it’s mother bleated and the youngster squirmed to get free. Unbalanced, the lamb hobbled back to the motherly call. Ivar stared at the little legs, each one a spindle of bones and skin. Ivar channeled down to his own legs, the similarities were not to be missed. The only difference was that the legs of the lamb were able to carry its body weight with ease. 

Ivar’s legs were useless and deformed, twisted in odd angles due to erupting spasms and stiffness. He used to fracture them when he was a child, how could he not with so many older brothers, eager to fight and frolic, as all kids do. All kids, but Ivar, because his physical condition would not allow him to. He hated his lower body for it; the lack of muscles made his bones stick out, the skin of his shin bones translucent and delicate from being shielded off by his braces. Some of his toes were crooked and repulsive to look at. His lower body; everything from the waist down, was useless and ugly. And if he survived, he’d cut it all off. 

  Ivar noticed Piglet watching him stare at his own deformities. She did that a lot, ogling at him from the curtains of her headscarf. It pissed him off greatly. If looks could kill, Piglet would be halfway to Valhalla, or whatever afterlife her religion offered. His scowl formed a toothy smile on Piglet’s face. Cunningly, she redrew her makeshift line on the floor with the heel of her foot, regarding her safety. “Hamar,” she addressed him, while sitting down Indian-styled. From a hidden pocket, she retrieved a handful of dumpy bones. Ivar recognised them as knucklebones from a sheep as Piglet dropped the bones on the dusty floor. Unimpressed, Ivar stared at the bones and then back up at her. It did not lessen her enthusiasm; teeth glinting as her smile grew wider. Picking up one of the bones she let her thumb rub over the smooth upper side. 

“Wahid,” she spoke, holding up her index finger. She then pointed at three bones, all with their stubby sides up. 

“Arbe,” she held up four fingers. “Sitta,” she pointed at the remaining knucklebone, with it’s ear-shaped side up and showed Ivar six fingers. “Wahid, arbe, sitta,” Piglet held up her fingers with every word and drew tally marks with her other hand on the dusty floor. “Tiseat eashar.” She was teaching him a game, one quite familiar with the game he knew as tali; the difference was that her game added up all different sides, while tali’s rule was to throw and catch the bones in various manners.

Now that she got his undivided attention, Piglet hastily recollected the bones, but froze as her fingers crossed the makeshift line to pick up the last one. She held her breath and scanned over his on-edge demeanor. She left the knucklebone that had crossed the safety border and placed the recollected ones along the line. “You want me to play games with you?” Ivar scoffed, wondering if the savage lost her mind or will to live. Did she seriously think he’d consider participating in any way that might make them appear as equals? “Then why don’t you come a little closer?” Ivar purred innocently and motioned her with his index and middle finger to come closer, “c’mon, I’m not a threat,” the words escaped his lips sweet as honey.” Bowing forwards, Ivar lay his hand on his stiff legs, “I am but a cripple,” extracting his arms he held up his palms and nudged his chin towards the knucklebones. “If you want me to play, you need me to get the dices, c’mon now,” he cooed. Piglet remained marble, indecisive as a startled deer, her muscles grew tense, all set to flee if provoked. “Come closer, so I can gut you like the little piglet you are!” The last set of words turned into a low growl and Ivar launched his body forwards, hands trained to adjust to the unevenness of the ground. His legs however curled up due to the pain coming from his knees, they’d still had to get used to the inevitable scraping over the floor. 

Piglet yelped and faltered back, cowering away into the corner near the door. The whimpering response of his useless attack was pleasing Ivar, although his shackles had embedded themselves into the skin of his ankles, tearing open old cuts; he roared in victory. Piglet covered her mouth with her hands as Ivar puffed out his chest and screamed again. A wooden bowl, chunks of dirty, rocks, everything within arms reach was lifted and thrust into her direction. 

Piglet managed to use her wrists as a shield and shrank further away from him. The madness erupting within the barn startled the animals and Ivar’s raging sounds were joined with the panicked bleating of the cattle. The noises alerted the masters and once the keys were turned, Ivar’s outburst came to a sudden end. 

Two peasants overpowered him with ease, his upper body still weakened due to hunger and overcoming pneumonia. “Don’t you dare touch me, pathetic human beings! I am a prince!” Ivar yapped and tried to sink his teeth into the wrist of one of the men. He managed to tear open his opponent’s sleeve, but the small triumph came with a terrible price. The Giant merged in between the two peasants and stomped his foot down onto Ivar’s right bicep. The immense pressure on his upper limb casted out Ivar’s rage and brought him back exactly where he was; an insignificant slave, trampled down by it’s master. Powerless, utterly and completely powerless against the men who enslaved him.

An eel slithered from his stomach up to his lungs, it’s skin touched by ice and Ivar choked up. 

In slow motion, the Giant craned his axe up, all the way over his shoulders. The man’s dead grey eyes did not focus on the fear stricken eyes of his victim, but on Ivar’s right wrist. Ivar felt his jaw drop and the eel must have eaten his tongue; because no words came out to express his pleads. To please stop, to please I’ll do anything, because if he’d lose his right hand, his entire life from this moment on, would be useless. The eel’s tail clutched his chest and slithered itself around his heart, as the Giant’s axe struck down. A crack of splintering bones silenced all sounds within the shed and Ivar felt bile rising up his throat while his trousers soaked in his own piss. 

Ivar expected pain, reflectively he clenched his teeth and squeezed his tear-ridden eyes shut. Bracing himself for the upcoming smell of blood, the sight of his own right hands spasming detached from his body on the floor and for fire to merge through every never of his wrist. 

But none of that came and laughter filled up the room. When Ivar dared to peek through his lashes, he saw the three men tower over him, nudging one another towards Ivar’s pathetic squirming state and piss stained trousers. The Giant’s axe rested upon his shoulder, it’s blade still impeccably clean.  

Ivar’s head snapped to the right side of his body. His right hand was balled into a fist, but still very much attached to his wrist. Beside him, laid a wooden bowl, split perfectly into two. 

The Giant’s bouldering laugh stopped abruptly and he brought the tip of his axe down to Ivar’s throat, applying just enough pressure to tear his skin. Ivar did not need to learn Dietsc to understand the meaning behind the Giant’s words as the man started to speak. The message was clear: obey, or lose a limb. And Ivar did something uncharacteristic; he nodded and surrendered. It was not worth losing either his right hand or his life. Not like this, not with him and his opponent in a state like this. 

Ivar cradled his right hand tightly to his chest, curling up into a ball while his shoulders shrugged from grief. He’d given every bit of his willpower to remain strong, keep his head up as all Ragnarsons would. But this was simply too much. He was entirely alone in this godforsaken place, with only a wildling as a witness of his breakdown. 

.-.-.

A/N: A show of hands if you thought Ivar was going to lose his. I think this chapter was the beginning of the end. Sure, ever since being sold as a slave, Ivar grew hungry. And cold. And hurt. But I think in this chapter he realised quite brutally how absolutely powerless he is. How his life lost it’s value, completely.

Oh and the Mara, again I took a dive into Scandinavian folklore. The Mara is a demonic creature believed to be the bringer of nightmares. With Ivar’s fever and hallucinations it seemed like the perfect creature to summon up.  Please share your thoughts, I’d love to know what you think of the story. xoxoxo Nukyster 

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