#it's a cinderella style story it doesn't have to be realistic

[lastoneout]

ngl I understand a lot of the critique around Love, Simon but I really have never felt like it was an inauthentic representation of the queer experience? like the scene where Simon breaks down after being outed to his entire school against his will legit brought me to tears, that was such a brutal and honest portrayal of how horrible it is to have the choice of when and how to come out taken away from you, idk how anyone could watch that and be like "yeah obviously no one working on this had any idea what it's like to be queer"

[merp-blerp]

EVEN FREAKING MORE Things about Cinderella's Castle I'm excited about already as a big Cinderella fan

Part One, Part Two, Part Three (This)

I could not watch the whole 12-hour stream, so forgive me for forgetting or excluding anything.

I had no clue this show was leaked. I'm glad I didn't see it. This fandom’s seemingly on the smaller size, but we're pretty respectful to the creators from what I've seen and I think that's great. Funny that Jeff leaked it. 😆

YEAH LET’S GO FOURTEEN LIMBED FAIRY QUEEN!!! Maybe. Of course, no pressure. Praying Mantises scare me, to the point where I'm not going to look it up to see if I spelled that right, so it's a pretty perfect inspiration for a pretty-but-terrifying fairy queen. At least for me. I didn't know they came in purple, I'm too busy running away from them.

The “great grey days” I believe it was called. An event with the trolls where the sun was blocked out. Wonder what that has to do with anything coming forth in the Lands That Are stories. Kinda reminds me of the death of the dinosaurs.

"Starlight" has been mentioned in some of the lyrics released so far and I wonder what that is. I suspect a type of magic. Probably "good" or "light" magic, just based on the good associations I have with the word starlight, but maybe that will be subversive. Or maybe it'll be good, but misinterpreted as bad magic. Who knows. All we can do is wait.

I was thinking about the Fairy Queen and how she might be treated in the story. Ella's mother was killed for witchcraft, so I wonder if Fairy Queen will also be sought out for witchcraft, hence why she sings about Ella's mother in "Ash to Ash" like she knew her or of her struggle. Or maybe the town will see her differently than whoever they think are witches. The name "Fairy Queen of Sweet Dreams" doesn't sound like she's considered a witch, but things can be subverted in stories. I wonder exactly what in the town's minds makes up the difference between good and bad magic users if there is one to them.

I know it's probably just my knee-jerk reaction to think bad characters can have more to them, but I mildly feel bad about the trolls getting hunted. I know they're supposed to all be bad human killers, but I can't wrap my head around them all being bad and deserving of their entire species being wiped out at this point in time. I don't know… THINK ABOUT THE IMPLICATIONS!

I wonder if characters from potential upcoming Lands That Are shows will meet ones from this show in the future and so on, like the Hatchetverse. Btw, what are we calling this world exactly? The Landsverse? The Castleverse? The latter seems like the best option to me as the Langs have been calling them “castle stories”.

I’m so curious about what other fairytales might be adapted for the Lands That Are. I feel like lesser-known fairytales, like Donkeyskin or Bluebeard for example, would be interesting, and the base versions of those stories in particular seem to fit the darker tones of Lands That Are. More well-known stories would be great too of course, and are a bit more likely to happen if I'm being realistic. But maybe they could combine lesser-known stories with more-known ones, either combining the plotlines to make one story or in a style like Into The Woods; for example: Beauty and the Beast + Bluebeard. Lowkey wanna write that myself if they don't.

I'm so glad Starkid decided to do a series of fairytales! I feel like the world is starved of genuine fairytale stories these days.

I'm excited to learn more about Ella’s two un-named friends. Nick and Matt seemed to love writing them, so I can't wait to see what they're about. I also can’t wait to see Crumb and Sir Hop’s relationship, it sounds really cute.

Ella’s oak tree reminds me of Into The Wood so much (and whichever version of Cinderella Into The Woods pulled that from). If they do little subtle tributes to other versions of Cinderella that would make me really happy. I admit, when I hear of any new "reimagining" of Cinderella I get nervous that it'll go the girlboss route in a way that isn't actually inspired, almost seeming ashamed to be a fairytale story and teasing past versions or it's source material for not being girlboss or "sensical" enough. Happened with Amazon's Cinderella. But I trust Starkid a hell of a lot more with reimagining in an actually meaningful way that isn't embedded with internalized sexism or whatever some reimagined fairytales have going on.

The mockup of the set!!! It looks so beautiful. Everyone who has the opportunity to see this show live is going to be so lucky I bet! I'm not jealous at all. Unrelated, but it vaguely reminds me of the Max Reinhardt Spring Awakening set.

A little nice to put the sapphic Ella hopes to semi-rest. Any ships will be “up to interpretation” and maybe that's for the best for this show, as Ella escaping her abusive home will presumably be the main focus. And that's my favorite—and I think the most important aspect of any Cinderella story anyway. I've seen some hopes for aroace Ella and those are really important too. Let's try to not fight over which sexuality Ella (and maybe other characters) "is", as it doesn't seem like there will be a canon answer, so there's no point in arguing with the wall; many people could possibly see themselves in Ella once Cinderella's Castle is released and that's a beautiful thing. And at the end of the day, all non-cis—heterosexual people are lacking in representation one way or another, so let's try not to play oppression olympics.

[marciabrady]

I read your post about how Hollywood and media have lately dismissed classic romances for being "unrealistic" - like the ones of Snow White and Cinderella with their princes - and I feel that's consequence of the 'deconstructing everything' trend that many critics in Youtube and media in general started in the 2000s. It's not only the Disney movies, even movies like Titanic haven't been free of this, as I have read many people complaining that Jack and Rose fell in love in only four days and "they were very young" or that they can't believe that Jack was the love of her life and not the husband she later married for years - since it was Jack whom she met in the afterlife. There's so much cynicism and an excess of going "meta" in movies and I feel like that is affecting the industry right now, romances are measured like a scientific study of "for how much time they met or how mature they were to comprehend what love means" in order to approve what qualifies a "realistic romance" and I feel like this remove the magic and heart in the stories.

I completely agree and I think the key word to what you said was "scientific." This is not the purpose of film or any art- there are a variety of values to the medium of film, like escapism, representation, hope, creativity, but it isn't science. Aurora and Phillip meeting in the woods is the essence of romance to me and I don't care about the screentime being "limited." Cinderella finding love at the ball after being abused her entire life gives me a high that modern romances don't. Snow White finding someone who sings to her of his love being "constant and true" and being so driven to find her that he aimlessly wonders through the forest for seasons in search of his lost love is something that's leagues above modern Disney ships that, to me, don't have chemistry or are awkward around one another. And that's okay, because we're allowed to like different things! I think the fault of the contemporary critic is they ignore the nuance of art. So, let's view films as people. Let's say I don't like a certain comedian, for instance, but that doesn't mean said comedian has no merit by existing or their own fans. Instead of critics and modern audiences simply saying, "this comedian isn't for me" they want to omit every single one until there's literally one person left in the industry. Which is unnatural, because you can't be all things to all people and not everyone is going to like the same person! (which is why I think it's bizarre that LITERALLY every ranking I've seen of the princesses has the original three in the bottom of the ranking and, without fail, Rapunzel and Belle in the top three slot)

With films, it's like they want to omit everything about a genre or style for future generations until we only get one type of female character that's approved in their checklist, one type of generic plot that has to go through all the motions instead of being focused on capturing an actual bond/vibe, making sure it's palatable to as many people as possible- almost as a machine- and it's just so indicative of the extremely consumerist culture we're living in and it's okay to let people have different interpretations of the same thing! For instance, just because some people don't like Aurora and think she's passive doesn't mean that's the case, it just means that character is not for them and they'll gravitate to someone else. If they like another character better, that doesn't mean we have to do away with characters like Aurora forever and only ever create more versions of the popular character over and over again and that can be the only model we have moving forward. Likewise, I think they want to feed people everything about a character which is so annoying to me. If everyone has the same take on one character, where's the art??? Idk there's so much more to say on this, and I've spoken about it before but I very much agree with your ask and appreciate it being sent in!

[theraininthestars]

Review of Cinderella is dead

Cinderella is dead by Kalynn Bayron is a retelling of Cinderella with a diverse cast. 200 years after Cinderella's happy ending, Sophia along with the girls from her town must appear at the castle for the annual ball where they will find a husband. But Sophia doesn't want to participate, instead she wants to run away with her best friend Erin and have her happy ending with her. The night of the ball, she will discover the true story of Cinderella and disprove the happy ending.

The plot is captivating, and a great attraction is its diversity. Sophia has a great character base for her and she has great dialogue. But many times I wondered with this story, what is Sophia's arc? Sophia is a brave, stubborn person, with a noble heart and without losing the desire to change the world, and at the end of the story, Sophia is a brave, stubborn person, with a noble heart and without losing the desire to change the world. It's not bad that she maintains these traits, but it seems that she only goes through an external journey and not an internal one.

The novel is quick to read with the author's style. She knows how to wrap you in a scene with her descriptions and her dialogues, she also portrays a quite realistic world with touches of fantasy. Here I am going to add that this book presents violence towards women in a graphic way, although it is not intense. This is just to make you aware of these types of scenes, and not take you by surprise like it did me.

I am going to give this book 4 stars, it is not a book that disappointed me, but it had the potential to be a more complete product. I recommend this book, it was a good read, I like the love story, the adaptation that was made to Cinderella and Sophia's sarcastic comments.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Ivarello (Modern!Ivar x reader) Chapter 3

Moodboard by @quantumlocked310

Ivarello's masterpost here

A/N: This is my entry for @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie 500 Followers Fairy Tale Challenge. It's a retelling of Cinderella. Congrats again, darling 💖

A huge thank you to @mrsalwayswrite , who's a great beta reader and an even greater cheerleader 😂

A massive thank you to @quantumlocked310 , @vikingstrash and @serasvictoria . Thank you for agreeing to collaborate and for sharing your talent with me. Your moodboards are beyond amazing 🤩

In this story, Sigurd is alive. Ragnar and Aslaug are dead, but Lagertha didn't kill her. I took a lot of liberties with the show, I hope you won't mind.

Unlike the tale, there will be no magic involved. Not everything will be realistic, however. It's a fayritale, after all!

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Orphaned five years ago, Ivar and his brothers have been living with Lagertha ever since. Now 16 years old, he wants to attend Harald's traditional Midsummer party, but obstacles stand in his way.

Warnings: description of car crash; orphaned kids; Sigurd being Sigurd; OOC characters.

Words: 3497 (oops 🙈)

Additional note: what you’re going to read is not realistic.

Enjoy 🙂

🛡⚔️🛡

With his stomach in knots and a frown on his face, Ivar watches closely his godfather, who enters the living-room, wheeling a large trolley case behind him.

"Hello, Ivar." Floki looks around, an eyebrow raised questioningly, "Lagertha isn't here?", before flopping down on the corner sofa.

"No," Ivar shakes his head, wheeling up next to him, "She's out on a date with this English guy... Hammond, Halmund or whatever his name is."

Scratching his ear, Floki tilts his head, "but she knows you're going, right?" He pulls the trolley case closer and then snorts, mumbling under his breath, "don't think I can't see you rolling your eyes!"

"What do you think? Of course, she knows. She said, and I quote," Ivar raises his hands to make air quotes, his voice tinged with obvious annoyance, "'Of course you can go, sweetie, you know I don't want to be the one holding you back. Call me if anything goes wrong. And don't forget to take your meds.'"

"She cares, Ivar." Floki's tone is soft as he places a hand on his godson's shoulder.

Ivar lowers his gaze. "You should have taken me in." His words are barely audible and suddenly he feels like he's eleven again and he has to swallow against the sudden dryness in his throat.

"You do know that back then I wasn't in a good place." Floki's sad sigh almost gets Ivar in tears as memories of his parents and Helga flood his mind. The pain in his heart becomes nearly unbearable but he fights it off with all his might. He never wants to feel broken and lost again.

Ivar lifts his head up and Floki can see the stubbornness in his eyes. "I could live with you now."

"No, you could not, and you know it!" Floki smiles and taps Ivar on the cheek. "Ivar, I live between two flights, today in Norway, yesterday in Iceland and after-tomorrow in Canada. What kind of life would this be for you, huh? And besides, living with Lagertha is not that bad."

But living with Sigurd is! Ivar wants to shout. He keeps quiet, though, shrugging before eventually mumbling. "Guess not..."

"So," Floki starts, eager to change the subject, "where are your brothers, by the way?"

"Where do you think they are, huh, you knock-kneed fool? They're already there." Ivar glances at his watch, furrowing his brow. "Harald's party started twenty minutes ago."

"We better hurry up, then!" Crouching down, Floki slowly opens the suitcase under Ivar's scrutinizing gaze.

"Quick!" Ivar commands, barely able to contain his impatience, his nervous fingers tapping his push rims. "What do you have for me, old man, huh?" He even contemplates climbing out of his chair to open it himself, but the fear of breaking a bone at the worst possible time is stronger than his eagerness.

"You're going to calm down, young Padawan." Floki quips, slowly moving his hand in front of Ivar with eyes full of mischief. Ivar immediately slaps his godfather's hand away, mumbling under his breath, "I'd rather be a Sith Lord." That earns him a loud, hysterical laugh from his godfather.

Ivar grunts, ready to protest, but all thoughts leave his mind as soon as he's able to see what is in the trolley case. The scowl on his face obvious, he doesn't even try to hide his disappointment as he utters, "you made me braces?"

He hates braces with a passion. Along with underarm crutches, he had some, as a child. They were bulky, stiff, painful and walking with them was tedious, agonizingly slow, and exhausting. Ragnar had been adamant that he wanted his youngest to walk, no matter the struggles, no matter the nearly unbearable pain. Ivar had settled his ass in a wheelchair the day of his father's funeral, getting rid of his braces shortly after, a decision he had never regretted. So no, such torture devices were not at all what he was hoping for.

"Have a little faith in me," Floki rolls his eyes. "These," he looks lovingly at the strange contraptions in his hands, "are not braces, Ivar. Have you and your crippled ass ever heard of exoskeleton?"

Ivar's eyes widen. "It's that thing used in rehab that allows paraplegics to walk, right?" As Floki nods, Ivar gives him a puzzled glance. "But, erm, you do know I don't have a spinal cord injury, don't you? Or are you suffering from memory loss? Maybe it's your age?"

Dismissing the remark with an exasperated wave of his hand, Floki hisses, "I'm well aware that you don't, godson dearest," before narrowing his eyes, his voice now serious, "you may have full sensation in both legs, yet they can't exactly support your weight and your lack of motor function can't be denied. Not really different from some paraplegic dudes, what do you think?"

Feeling a heavy lump in his throat, Ivar frowns, not pleased with the idea of him being like a paraplegic. Almost without thinking, he contracts his quads as best he can, as if he wants to make sure he's still able to do it.

Floki doesn't miss the barely-there movements in his thighs, though, and his voice softens. "Look Ivar, you're not a paraplegic, okay? But I used the exoskeleton technology. And since you're not paralyzed, I was able to make a smaller device that you can wear underneath your clothes, and you're going to walk. I mean, really walk, not just like those guys in rehab, between parallels bars and with a PT right behind them."

Ivar, his eyes bright, stares at his godfather, slack-jawed with amazement. "I'm..." He begins to sputter, voice filled with emotion, "I'm really going to walk?" Feeling like his heart is pounding out of his chest, he fails to contain his excitement, drumming the fingers of his right hand on his lap. He'd tap his feet if only he could.

"You are." Floki nods before taking out of the trolley case a pair of dress shoes. "I put dozens of sensors in the insole of these shoes, which will enable the exoskeleton to correct your stance practically every second. Therefore, you won't need crutches, although I would say it's safer for you to use this." Reaching down, he grabs a black derby-style cane, simple and sleek in design. "You know," he shrugs, "just for extra support. Better safe than sorry, hmh?"

Ivar, who doesn't even flinch when he sees the walking stick, just reaches out, his hand grazing the carbon fiber exoskeleton. "Is it really for me?" His eyes filled with wonder, his voice trembling, his lips stretch across his face as his godfather nods. "And you made this in what?... four, five days?"

Letting out his signature giggle, Floki waggles his fingers in front of his face. "Even I couldn't make this in such a short time. No, the truth is, I've been working on it for a while. Let's say your phone call just sped things up. Though I must say, this marvel of technology is not flawless... It has a really low battery life, like four hours of autonomy at best. If I had more time, I certainly could have done better, but for now, it is what it is and you'll have to make do with what you've got." Pursing his lips, he glances at his watch, "So, just so you know, if you put this on now, you'll have to come back around midnight if you don't want to have to crawl around. And if you hear a beep, you'd better hurry, okay?"

As Ivar just nods, his beaming smile never fading, Floki adds, tilting his head, "and now, go get ready, young Padawan, you have a party to attend!"

***

Sitting on a bench at the seaside, Ivar watches the party from afar, a feeling of uneasiness tightening his chest. It was a mistake. Attending to this party was a mistake. Despite the exoskeleton, despite the fact that he walks almost normally, it was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't be here. Anxiety surges like the swell of a wave, and he struggles to breathe. Sigurd was right: he doesn't belong here, doesn't belong to this life.

A part of him wants to leave. It would be better to run away, to go hide in his room. But he won't. He can't. Because just a moment ago he saw you. Because he's not ready to give up on you now that he is here, eventually close to you.

He recognized you the moment his eyes fell on you. Looking radiant in a polka dot dress, you're as pretty as he remembers. Pretty? Who's he kidding? The girl you were six years ago was pretty. You're a woman now, and one of the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Glowing, smiling at everyone, you didn't even see him. In his head, of course, he makes plans to approach you, even if deep down, he knows all too well he'll never muster enough courage to talk to you. You probably wouldn't want him to anyway. After all, he may be standing tall today, yet he's still a freak, a fucking cripple. He's still cursed with his bony, twisted, useless legs. He's still a burden.

Yet, there's this little voice inside of him, barely audible, whispering that you're not like this, that you never were in the first place; and that's partly why the ten-year-old boy he was when he first met you felt drawn to you almost instantly.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breathing and decides to take a little trip down memory lane, bringing him back to that sunny, summer day of his first – and only – encounter with you. His memory so vivid it's like it happened only yesterday.

He can't hear the chirping of birds as his brothers are loudly playing and bickering in the pool. His beloved mother is nowhere to be seen and he's willing to bet she's taking a nap, but not without first making sure he has everything he could possibly need. Lying on a sunbed in the shade of an oak, a glass of lemonade within reach and a thick book on his lap, he hardly notices his father coming into the backyard, Harald Hårfager following close behind.

Since Ivar knows Harald is here to talk business with his father, he pays no attention to the two men, who take their seats at the patio dining table.

He nearly falls off the sunbed when a tiny voice startles him. "Hello!"

Stunned, he turns his head towards the voice and comes face to face with a smiling girl he doesn't know. You. He'd say you're about his age.

"I'm Y/N," you tell him, waving your hand shyly. "I'm at my uncle's for the weekend," you keep going, pointing your finger at Harald, "and I was wondering... May I join you?" You finally ask, dragging a second sunbed closer to his.

His first instinct is to look around, because you can't possibly be talking to him. Why would you? Surely you can't have failed to spot his leg braces, nor his hideous orthopedic shoes. You can't have missed that he's a cripple.

Frowning as he sees that no one is around, he snorts, his nostrils flaring. He can tell you're wearing a swimsuit under your pink dress. What do you want, then? Are you here to mock and ridicule him or what?

"You better get in the pool with my brothers." He knows he sounds rude, not answering nor greeting you, but he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be made fun of and doesn't intend to give you the chance to do it.

Seemingly undeterred, you speak with a soft voice. "No, I'd rather not." Your smile is so genuine he can't help but think you mean no harm. "Actually," you shrug, sitting next to him, "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind. What are you reading?"

Gobsmacked, he just looks at you – and gods, how pretty you are! – for a long time, unable to utter a single word. Are you truly interested in what he's reading? Interested in him? He swallows hard, his heart racing. A small smile dancing on your lips, your kind eyes never leave his as you wait, full of hope, for him to finally talk to you.

And that's what he ends up doing, almost in spite of himself. For the next two hours, he shows you his astronomy book, a gift from his godfather for his tenth birthday, and tells you about the stars, the constellations and the nights he spends watching the sky, when his mother allows him to. And for two hours you listen to him, asking a question here or there and always smiling. He's pretty sure you're not faking being interested in what he's saying.

All too soon, your uncle tells you it's time to go and you stand up with a scowl, letting out a sigh of regret. The next moment, you flash Ivar a grin. "I had a really great time with you, thanks! I'm going back to my mom's tomorrow but I hope we can spend time together again sometime, maybe next summer. I'd love to stargaze with you, you know?" With that, you lean forward and as your lips touch his cheek, Ivar's breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest.

Ivar inhales deeply. That kiss... That's when he fell madly and hopelessly in love with you. If he concentrates enough, he can still feel the softness of your lips against his skin, still smell your sweet, flowery scent.

That day, he had watched you leave with a smile on your face, already dreaming of the day he would see you again. You had said "next summer" and even though it was a long time away, he was willing to wait. In the meantime, he would have plenty of memories to recall - your joyful voice, your sparkling eyes, your lovely smile... Sure, he could wait.

And he had waited, hopeful and happier than he had been in a long time.

Not long after, however, his life had been turned upside down, his father being murdered and his mother dying in a car crash. Lost, angry, broken, and infinitely sad, he had gone through the following months as if anesthetized - barely living, hardly functioning, sometimes feeling as if the memory of you was the only thing keeping him from drowning.

Yet, and he doesn't know why – or perhaps simply because Ragnar being dead, Harald had no reason to visit anymore – he had never seen you again.

"Hello!"

His whole body freezes and he stops breathing. This voice... Your voice... He'd know it anywhere. Yet, it can't be, right? Did he fall asleep? Is he dreaming? Is one of his brothers tricking him? Why would you talk to the cripple?

"My name is Y/N." He can hear the smile in your voice. "I was wondering... May I join you?"

Summoning the courage he's not sure he has, Ivar looks tentatively toward you.

Gods! You're even more beautiful up close. Fuck. Now that you're here, right next to him, he doesn't know what to say, what to do. Panic seizes his hammering heart as a lump rises in his throat. He attempts to swallow around it to speak, to say something, anything, but the words won't come out and he finally just nods, his hand gesturing to the bench for you to sit on.

"Thanks," you give him a broad smile before taking your seat.

Ivar cannot believe his eyes. What are you doing? Did you recognize him? Why are you here, with him?

"Woul–", he sputters, struggling to find his voice, "Wouldn't you rather be there?" Pointing his index finger at the crowd gathered in front of the makeshift stage just a few meters away. He frowns, tilting his head, "the party is in full swing."

"No, I'd rather not." You shrug and as you turn your head toward him, he breathes in your sweet scent, suddenly feeling dizzy. "The guys are already drunk and really have one thing on their minds. And those who are not are boring." You lower your gaze, as if embarrassed, and it's so adorable Ivar feels like his heart is melting. "I'd rather stay here with you, if you don't mind."

Oh, he doesn't. He doesn't mind at all. The truth is, there's a fucking firework inside of him, and he barely contains the screams of happiness that threaten to escape his lips. "That's okay, you can stay," he says instead, his fidgeting fingers dancing on his lap.

Over the next hour or so, the conversation flows easily as you speak about Karasjok, the small town where you live, telling him about your mother's people, the Sami, their culture and customs.

Ivar shares with you bits and pieces of his life too, speaking about his passion for the Viking culture and about his belief in the ancient gods. The night, his night, is full of your laughs, full of your smiles, full of you. He wants it to never end.

He's still trying to figure out if you know who he is, if you remember meeting him once when you rise to your feet, almost bouncing with enthusiasm. "Walk with me, will you?"

He's about to break the truth about his inability to walk when he remembers that actually, thanks to Floki, he can. His eyes never leave yours as he grabs his cane with a little bit of self-consciousness, wincing as he stands up, but he can't see disgust, contempt, or disappointment on your face and your smile doesn't falter as you delicately slip your hand under his free arm, curling your fingers back over it. Shaken by your sudden proximity, Ivar feels goosebumps rising on his skin.

"It's such a lovely night and I'm so happy spending it with you."

Your words leave him speechless as you lead him close to the water. A bunch of guys can be seen in the distance and Ivar is pretty sure his brothers are among them. He can feel their heavy stares on him and doesn't need to hear them to know what they're saying. "Who's this dude? Do we know him?" Standing tall, with his braided hair and a blue suit, he knows he doesn't look like himself. Yet, as he locks eyes with Hvitserk for a second, he'd sworn he sees a hint of recognition crossing his brother's face. And as the latter gives him a thumbs up, he knows his mind is not playing tricks with him.

"Oh, I love this song!" You clap your hands twice before shrugging shyly. "Let's dance, please!"

Ivar's heart breaks. Scared out of his wits, he swallows hard, his breathing uneven. "I... I can't." It's a painful admission, and he wishes the ground would just swallow him up.

He realizes you pay no mind to his defeated tone, though, as you grab his cane, leaning it against a nearby tree. "We'll go slow, I promise."

Almost in spite of himself, he places his hands on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. Gently – cautiously – swaying to the music, Ivar leans in close and, inhaling deeply your delightful scent, he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust. Your head resting on his chest, he's sure you can hear his frantic, pounding heartbeat. But he can't bring himself to care, not when you're finally exactly where he wants you to be. In his arms.

That's why he doesn't hear the first beep, or if he does, he doesn't pay any attention, entranced by your beauty, your kindness and the mesmerizing color of your eyes.

But when you stop dancing, your eyebrows raised, "What's that beeping noise? It doesn't stop," he hears it too, cold sweats washing over him as panic courses through his body.

"I... I must... I must go," he stammers, and honestly he's about to throw up. He can't think, can't speak. All he knows is that he doesn't want you seeing him crawling around. He won't allow it. He can't.

Fuck.

That's why he leaves. He just strolls off. He doesn't see the appalled look you're giving him, doesn’t' realize he's leaving his black cane behind, doesn't hear the despair in your tone as you shout, "wait, please! I don't even know your name!"

He has only taken a few steps when crocodile tears run down his cheeks, blurring his sight. It hurts so much he could scream, and he can barely breathe as the realization starts to sink in. Who was he trying to fool? Sigurd had been right all along. No matter the exoskeleton, no matter the genius of his godfather, he's still a freak. A monster. An abnormality.

He doesn't belong. He's not worthy.

Fuck.

His heart shatters in a thousand pieces.

Fuck.

Y/N.

Fuck.

🛡⚔️🛡

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