the very first time I saw you Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They’re your mother; Lily’s. Yes, I knew her. You mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others, even, and perhaps most especially, when that person couldn’t see it in themselves. Your father, James, however, had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed onto you. You’re more like them then you know, Harry. In time you’ll come to see just how much.
do any of y'all get that Sapphic Feel when your girlfriend is suddenly the most attractive person on earth? like she’s always been beautiful, but now you’re seeing her beauty clearly for the first time. her hair is soft and bouncy, her curves are voluptuous, she smells divine, and her eyes look like discolored pearls that are somehow more beautiful than real pearls. her laugh is melodic and if you had to choose between listening to music and hearing it for the rest of your life, you know what you’d pick in a heartbeat. it’s long past the honeymoon stage, and your fiery passion for her has dimmed slightly, but somehow you love her more than when you fantasizes about her. it’s like the reigniting of that spark, only softer, warmer, and more brilliant.
hi this is the most beautiful thing i have ever written
‘model for me.’
in retrospect, that was not the best greeting to give a blonde stranger at 4am in a target, but fareeha’s never exactly been socially adept
the blonde stranger studies her, eyes crinkling in a funny way that makes fareeha’s stomach tingle gently.
the next day, the blonde stranger- angela, her name is angela, and fareeha does not believe she has ever heard so beautiful a name- smiles at her front door, and greets her with a soft voice
‘so…’ she says, ‘do i just..?’
‘please, place your things here.’ fareeha says, stepping aside, and letting angela inside.
angela lets out an impressed whistle when she sees fareeha’s apartment.
fareeha isn’t exactly short on money, but her home is decorated simply. it is tasteful, all white and grey marbles, minimalism at its finest.
angela turns back to her, and waits. fareeha is lost in her from a metre away, and she catches herself, smiling slightly in embarrassment.
‘i’m sorry. it’s just- you’re- possibly the most beautiful person i’ve ever met.’
angela blinks at her, cheeks tinting pink. ‘that was-’
‘-i’m sorry,’ fareeha interrupts, blushing. ‘that seemed- it was improper. but i would like to properly introduce myself.’
‘i know who you are,’ angela says, and fareeha has seen many beautiful smiles, but this is the first that has made her breathless.
and then angela laughs, ears blushing. ‘i googled you,’ she confesses. ‘fareeha amari, owner of the amari gallery, one of the most promising artists today.’
‘you’ve been reading the wrong things, i’m afraid,’ fareeha says, and her chest feels light and heavy at the same time, as if a too-deep breath would cause her lungs to break.
angela just smiles like she doesn’t believe her
they go through the contracts, and then angela claps her hands and waits expectantly. ‘what do i do?’
‘um-’ fareeha starts ‘-with a model, i like to first just… look. understand you, but not too much.’
angela nods, and then she lifts her shirt and tosses it to the side, relaxing, leaning slightly to the side
fareeha blinks and angela smiles. ‘i know how this works,’ and fareeha just nods in mute understanding
fareeha studies her, drinking in every detail, how her deltoid connects smoothly with the graceful line of her collarbones up to the smooth curve of her throat, her entire body covered in pale skin so smooth that it might as well be white chocolate, poured over a model of muscles and tendons and bones
she undoes and reconstructs angela in a single breath
‘you can-’ angela says unsteadily, and starts a little, ‘you can touch me, if you want. i know that helps.’
fareeha hums in understanding, and moves around her in a circle, skimming her fingers lightly over angela’s cheek, lifting a pale hand briefly to study it, running a hand over the soft rolls of angela’s stomach, before closing her eyes and lifting her hands to her face.
‘may i?’ she asks in a whisper, and angela nods, chin brushing fareeha’s palm
slowly fingers slide over her jaw, up to her ears, pushing back a few golden strands of hair, ring finger curling against angela’s bottom lip, up to the delicate structure of her little nose, and angela’s eyelashes flutter like moths’ wings against the soft pad of fareeha’s thumb
when she opens her eyes, angela’s blue irises are dark, staring at her with an expression she has never seen. she blinks and it is gone, and angela smiles up at her.
she steps back, hands falling, and angela almost seems to follow her touch.
she leans back and smiles slightly unsurely, mouth quirking, and fareeha turns away, reaching for her paints
‘smile,’ she says softly, and angela blinks at her, standing there in her sports bra and leggings.
and then fareeha dips her fingers in blue paint and streaks it over angela’s cheek, up to the corner of her eye. angela protests with a laugh that turns into a whine as she shivers at the cold of the paint against her skin.
‘what are you doing?’ she demands
fareeha smiles deviously, dips her blue-stained fingers in gold, carelessly mixing the paints together, ah, what the hell, it looks good, anyways, and runs her hand over the hard slope of angela’s collarbones, sliding to her back, letting it drip down her shoulder blades, staining her bra
‘i’m painting,’ she responds, ‘and maybe you should take that off.’
angela blinks at her, before her grin turns challenging, and then she pulls her bra off. fareeha gapes at her, taken aback- she didn’t expect her to actually do it.
‘your contract involved nude modeling,’ angela points out, smiling devilishly and then reaches for the paints, grabbing a palmful of green and spilling it down her front before pulling her pants off as well, laughing and stealing some of the purple, drawing a few messy violets on her thigh
fareeha just stares at her before smiling, and then angela reaches for the blue again, and draws a line around the back of fareeha’s neck, drawing her closer, and then she unconsciously (very consciously) leans up, eyes sliding half-closed
they both freeze.
‘um.’ angela says. ‘do you-’
‘i should- i’m sorry-’
‘no, no, i’ll move,’ angela interrupts.
her hand is most decidedly not moving.
angela’s breath brushes fareeha’s lips. ‘can i kiss you?’
fareeha gives her the strangest look, and angela starts to move back- maybe she should start her walk of shame now- and then fareeha half-smiles.
‘why would i ever say no?’
and then they’re kissing, and goddamn if it’s not the most beautiful thing she’s ever done
fareeha lifts her onto the countertop, hands strong underneath gold-painted thighs
angela lands halfway in the paints, colours streaking her body
together, they paint the white sheets of fareeha’s bed a beautiful mess of colours
the next morning, angela takes fareeha’s hand, dips it in red paint, and presses it to her heart. the rest of the paint is fading, and the handprint stands out sharply.
fareeha doesn’t know what to say, so she takes a picture.
“The very first time I saw you, Harry, I recognized you immediately. Not by your scar, by your eyes. They’re your mother, Lily’s. Yes. Oh, yes. I knew her.
Your mother was there for me at a time when no one else was. Not only was she a singularly gifted witch she was also an uncommonly kind woman. She had a way of seeing the beauty in others… even, and most especially, when that person could not see it in themselves.
And your father, James, on the other hand… He… He had a certain, shall we say, talent for trouble. A talent, rumor has it, he passed on to you.”
Okay, i’ve posted pictures of Chamomile before, but she never gets any notes which to be honest is fustrating, she is the most stunning cat i’ve ever met and I love her to bits and wish she was my own. She has been in cats protection for a long time as she gets stressed easily and when she does she sometimes pulls out her fur and gets nasty rashes. I hope soon she can go to a loving home as I swear to god i have never met a lovelier cat.
She’s missing? We’ll keep an eye out for her, what does she look like?
Well, Lucy’s got the most beautiful hazel eyes--you can see flecks of gold in them when there’s light--she also has this milky brown hair that flows in the wind when she runs beside me, and oh! She smells of soothing honey tea on a cold day. And god, don't even get me started on her smile, it’s the sweetest--makes you feel all safe and warm inside--
Ok I'm sure that's quite enough information on her Lockwood
- Kai is always warm, he never gets cold no matter what the weather is. His emotions also change his body temperature
- When Kai is mad his body gets too hot to touch
- Jay shocks anyone he touches unintentionally. It has lead him to avoid physical contact because people always get angry when he shocks them
- Zane goes on walks by himself in beautiful locations all around ninjago so that Pixal can see them since she no longer has a body of her own
- Cole asks Zane for cooking lessons. They meet occasionally when there isn’t trouble in ninjago. The rest of the group taste tests the dishes
- Lloyd usually doesn’t get much sleep during the night. Most of the time its because of nightmares, but other times he just lays in bed for hours and can’t fall asleep for no apparent reason. This leaves him with dark circles under his eyes
- Some nights if Lloyd can’t sleep he will go out and train
- Jay loves to braid hair. Usually he braids Nya’s or Cole’s because they have the best hair for braiding
- If any of the ninja has an especially bad nightmare they will go into one of the other ninja’s bed and sleep with them. All the ninja are very understanding and know that the life can be frightening at times
- Zane and Jay share a love of birds. Jay is fascinated by the fact that they can fly and Zane just likes birds a lot
A/N: For anyone reading this: you are beautiful. x
Irene Adler was the most perfect woman you could think of. From a young age you have been told that perfection isn’t a thing because everyone/everything has faults. But Irene was the ideal girl. She has stunning cat-like eyes and beautiful silky hair. She has a gorgeous body and has incredible cheekbones. On top of that, she was very intelligent. She was like a mortal goddess if you compared her to yourself. Everyone else would think that you matched her beauty. You were beautiful, charming, and kind but you never saw yourself as any of those things. You saw beauty is everything except from yourself. However you were beautiful. Everyone told you that you were pretty but you never believed them. Even Irene herself had brought up your beauty! You first met Irene on the ‘Scandal In Belgravia’ case with John and Sherlock. Both you and John had thought that Irene was dead after that case so it was a shock when she suddenly appeared on the doorstep of 221B. The three of you helped her with a case before she moved away again. She had gone to a different country this time. Germany is where she said she was going. It was obvious that when you first met Irene, Sherlock somewhat fell for her. Sherlock didn’t fall for her a second time but you were still worried he liked her because she was stunning. Sherlock had deduced that you felt insecure but didn’t point it out because he didn’t really know how to bring it up.
You were having a salad for diner at 221B. Sherlock was sat opposite you reading a newspaper. He had passed on dinner like usual. You had made him clear all of his experiments off of he table which he did reluctantly.
“You’re picking at your food Y/N,” He stated putting his paper down.
“Yeah,” You replied as you looked up from your dinner. “So?”
“It mean you are either hungry or insecure. It is most likely the second option.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You’ve always been conscious about your appearance. Especially your weight. You try to hide your concerns from me but I still notice. A lot of things you now do subconsciously. Like picking at your food. Now, what could have triggered this? You have always had these worries but they’ve got worse. Someone must have caused this. Not by their actions but by being there. It can’t be Mary or Molly. There is noting wrong with them of course and you find them beautiful. They have just been around too long so they cannot have caused the sudden distress. There are your childhood friends but again they cannot have caused this. So who, a female, has recently arrived and could have caused this. Ah! I know. Irene Adler.”
There was no response.
“Y/N, I notice everything. Especially you.”
Again there was no reply.
“Y/N speak to me.”
“Okay,” You said quietly. “You are right.”
Sherlock took your hand before speaking. “You are perfect.”
“You don’t believe in beauty or perfection.”
“No but if someone was to ask me who I would view as perfect, then I would reply with your name.”
“Not Irene then?”
“Why would I say Irene?”
“Because she’s gorgeous and very smart!”
“You are. Y/N, I don’t love her. I love you.”
“I thought you didn’t love either.”
“I didn’t think I did. You proved me wrong. Another reason why I love you.”
You smiled for the first time that day. “I love you too Sherlock.”
What if after they get back from summer break going into their Sophomore year Nursey sees Dex for the first time and can’t help but make the comment to Lardo “Oh god he is so attractive” and she just chirps him for the whole night and he can’t even say anything cuz he’s just like “look at him. He is objectively beautiful. If I was traveling I would show him off to other tourists and be like look at this guy he is the most attractive American I have ever seen” and his face just goes all heart eyes emoji and the next time they’re drunk together Nursey just can’t handle it and just has to sit down cuz Dex is so damn pretty.
He is just so unchill it’s painful to watch and when Dex spills pie on his shirt and takes it off to go wash it he just walks into a wall. Like face first into a wall. Poor Nursey.
alicia zimmermann is literally a supermodel? she’s literally iconic like for every Uncle Gretzsky jack has jack also has an Auntie Kate and an Auntie Naomi and an Auntie Tyra like his mother is LOVED in her industry she guest stars on ANTM a bunch probably and you know what? jack has done photoshoot after photoshoot in his Dad’s old ratty ass jersey and then one day he’s like???? what about my literal mother who is also iconic and beautiful and that’s how jack zimmermann ends up on the cover of vogue recreating his Mother’s most famous photoshoots and YES that includes that one where she was naked with only her eyes showing over the bathwater . it’s the best selling magazine vogue has that year, bitty buys 80 copies probably, and bad bob is so proud of his model family. his aunt naomi posts the cover picture like “he did that!!!!!! ❤️” jack is very loved
You ask me about the beautiful girl you saw me kissing at a party. I tell you she has big hazel eyes and soft hands. What I don’t bother to tell you is that she’s always wearing a locket in the shape of a heart around her neck, and I swear that it’s mine. I tell you she’s smart and kind and interesting, and she has the most beautiful mind. What I don’t tell you is that she is always on mine. Even when I don’t want her to be. I tell you she has long blonde hair and she's five foot three. What I don’t tell you is that I love every centimeter, every inch of that beautiful girl. That I’d take every single piece of her and keep her in my right side pocket if I could. I tell you that she told me she just wanted to be friends and I’m okay with that. What I don’t tell you is she makes me lose sleep.
Meet the Man Behind the Iconic Patriotic Muslim Woman Photo
Photographer Ridwan Adhami, a Muslim, has been making a statement in the art and photography world for more than 15 years. And, unless you’ve been hiding under a rock to keep from watching or reading the negative news , we’re pretty sure you have seen one of the most famous photos used as a symbol of strength for women everywhere today. She is fierce and majestic; bold and beautiful; and serves as reminder to all who rests their eyes upon her that the Muslim woman is a part of the American fabric.
There are many stories told of princesses, each described as the most elegant, the most beautiful princess who had ever lived. None of these stories are true, for the most beautiful princess who ever lived is, without a doubt, the desert Princess Sun.
From the moment Sun was born she has been graced with the gift of beauty, her skin is black and pure, her dark hair thick and coiled, eyes so brown you would believe they were born of the earth, and kissed by the sun with flecks of gold.
As Princess Sun grows, so too does her beauty and grace, sun gifted vitiligo on her skin growing and strengthening as she ages. Strangers travel the harsh desert of her homeland just to gaze upon her, and bring gifts to earn her favour. All those who come wish to be the one to receive a royal kiss from the Princess’ own perfect lips.
Sun is kind and gracious, she will offer food, drink and shelter to those who travel to greet her, but never will she offer a kiss. Some will plead and beg, others bargain and bribe, but not a single soul is able to pry the much yearned kiss from the lips of the world’s most beautiful princess.
“It is a silly tradition,” Sun will tell her servants, “A kiss will not heal them of their weariness, a kiss will not fill their bellies or dry their parched mouths. I offer them something they should value far more for their efforts and still they remain stubborn for the touch of my flesh upon theirs. I refuse to take part in such a useless exchange.”
A palace guard risks his life for hers and is refused a kiss, but offered medicine and a life of ease in the palace. A magician saves her people from a frightful Monster of the Sand, she too is refused a kiss, and instead given gold and jewels and rare herbs for her potions. Princess Sun gives only what is deserved and what is needed, she gives generously, her people love her, her people respect her, and yet-
“The Sun is cold,” her people say. “I hear she has never loved, she has never embraced another, never even touched another. She is generous in spirit but she is cold of heart.”
They pity their princess, incapable of love, cursed to be forever alone without a soulmate to complete her. They mean well, but Sun loathes the whispers. She is not cursed, she is not incomplete, but she is lonely.
She is loved by all and befriended by none, those she meet want her kisses, they want her devotion, they want her to bear their children, they do not want her unless they can have her lips or her hand or her womb, all things Sun is unwilling to give.
“I do not understand,” she says to her servants, “I give them all that they need and they ask only for parts of my body. How can my body give them the pleasure of a soft bed, or a fine wine? What pleasures can my body give them that riches and jewels cannot buy? I do not understand.”
Her servants say nothing, they understand the pleasures of the body that Sun has never craved, but these are not things to be spoken of to a Princess.
Things change with the presence of a new visitor to the palace. His pale skin is wrinkled and sallow, face gaunt, eyes sunken and back bent, he appears simultaneously bloated and withered. The servants fetch Princess Sun immediately and she hastens to greet the ill foreigner.
“I have not long in this world to live,” he rasps. “Please, all I ask of you Princess is a kiss, a kiss from your own beautiful lips to ease my pain.”
“Nonsense,” says Sun. “You are not in need of a kiss, you are in need of medicine and herbs and rest. My servants will take you to a room of your own, you will have your own personal healer and food and drink delivered to your bed.”
The old man clutches his chest in pain, “But my lady! I have come all this way at the end of my life just to gaze upon you, and you will not even ferry me to the afterlife with the touch of your soft lips upon my cheek?”
Sun feels pity for the man, in his state she knows he may not last the night, but she cannot accept his request, he is ill and perhaps diseased, were she to kiss him she may become sick herself and she would not risk her own health for the sake of a simple useless gesture.
“I am sorry I cannot grant your request, but I can give you comfort, my most beautiful guest room and the finest foods you can eat. If my healers fail you and you pass into the afterlife this night, you will pass on in luxury.”
In the great arched entrance of the royal palace the hideous old beggar transforms. In his place there is a stunningly beautiful young man encased within a whirlwind of pure light, his hair is like spun gold and the blue of the sky dances in his eyes.
He points a slim, delicate finger encrusted in shimmering jewels at the stunned Princess.
“You believe your wealth to be of more worth to an old dying man than a simple gesture of love and warmth. The Sun of this kingdom truly is cold. You do not deserve the beauty you flaunt in the faces of all those who adore you, those you bring the hope of love and then snatch away in exchange for mere trinkets! You are a heartless beast!”
As the servants cower before this shining Sorcerer in his otherworldly beauty, Sun stands firm. A scowl on her lips and the flare of her namesake in her eyes, she is no helpless waif and she will not be intimidated.
“I offered you comfort and medicine!” Sun’s voice echoes through the halls of the palace. “I offered an old beggar the luxury of passing on in peace with the chance to live another day, a chance to keep his flame alight! Most paupers could only dream of such a way to pass! How dare you liken this gift to a mere ‘trinket’! Were I a princess of any other kingdom I would have granted you your precious kiss and left you on the street to DIE! And yet you call ME heartless?!”
The Sorcerer’s soft, pink lips pull up in a sneer. “I see you will not easily learn your lesson Cold Sun. It will take more than my words to prove to you the meaning of a tender loving touch to one in need.”
“Don’t preach false lessons to me Sorcerer,” Sun spits. “You come into my home a liar, here to steal my intimacy through trickery and now that you’ve failed you claim a higher morality to save your ego. I see right through you Sorcerer, you are no more than a selfish, deceitful, entitled BRAT.”
The Sorcerer’s face hardens in fury, his magic lashing out and twisting around Sun, grabbing at her with golden hands of light, fingers clawing and grasping until not even a strand of the Princess’ dark hair is visible under the blinding light of the strange magic.
“YOU HAVE MADE A GRAVE MISTAKE THIS DAY COLD SUN, FROM THIS MOMENT FORWARD YOU WILL REGRET EVERY KISS YOU NEVER GAVE, FOR NO HUMAN ON THIS EARTH WILL EVER LOOK UPON YOU WITH LOVE AGAIN. NEVER WILL YOUR KISSES BE COVETED, NEVER WILL YOUR HAND BE SOUGHT AFTER. YOUR BODY WILL REFLECT WHO YOU TRULY ARE INSIDE, A COLD, HEARTLESS BEAST.”
As the Sorcerer’s magic peels away, the palace guards and servants look on in horror as a creature unlike anything they have ever seen is revealed in the place of their beloved princess.
Knotted locks of dull, tangled hair covers her large, hulking body, standing on all fours her sharp claws dig into the marble floor as she shakes off the tattered remains of her fine clothing. A ragged tail cuts sharply through the air as Sun rears her head, flicking a matted black mane off of her beastly snout and ghastly twisted horns.
All that remains of the beautiful Princess are the sun kissed markings upon her deformed face, and the bright flecks of gold within the black beads of her monstrous eyes.
The twisted beastly lioness turns to face her servants as they run in terror, pointed ears twitching at the sound of the Sorcerer’s manic laughter. Before she can leap upon him he disappears, leaving in his wake an enormous pulsing heart of molten flame. It hovers in the centre of the palace hall, shifting shape and shooting off tendrils of fire with every beat.
A mocking voice echoes through the palace doors, “If you fail to find someone who will look upon your monstrous form and willingly place a kiss to your beastly snout before the heart grows cold, then, and only then, will my spell be broken. It is your turn to yearn for a tender touch that will never come.”
Sun roars. She roars in anger, she roars in despair, she roars in outrage at this unfair curse undeservingly placed upon her. She has no lesson to learn, she has done nothing but show kindness and generosity to all who graced her halls, and still it is not enough, it has NEVER been enough.
She refuses to be punished for the greed of the Sorcerer, she refuses to bow to his whim and search for one who will kiss her, she has never wanted such things and this new beastly form will not change that for her now.
If she is to be this way forever, so be it.
Her servants quickly abandon the palace, guards blockade the front gates to keep the monster inside. Sun knows that she could easily jump the outer walls but she thinks better of it, her people are terrified of her, her presence would insight only violence and panic among them. She stays inside the palace, wondering what to do next, she no longer has a village to run, no diplomats to meet, no treasury to organise, no future to plan for.
Sun cannot remember a time where she had so little to do, so she sleeps.
Her claws tear up the fine silken sheets and her heavy mass collapses the bed frame, but she hardly notices once she lays her great maned head down to slumber. Sun does not dream, the fate of her village and her people does not come to her mind, all of her stress and worries simply melt away, but she cannot sleep forever.
When she wakes and finds herself unable to grasp the calming nothingness of her deep slumber once again, she concedes to the waking world. Lifting herself upon her large legs she walks the palace grounds. She has not eaten yet she feels no hunger or thirst, and so cannot use such needs to distract her, boredom settles upon her quickly and Sun begins her search for entertainment. She avoids the palace entrance, and the large pulsing heart of fire within.
Word spreads through the village fast, “The Princess has become a beast!” they say, “Cursed by a Sorcerer, only a kiss will free her!”
The palace guards stay by the gates for days, they stay as the people flee to neighbouring villages, wishing to keep their children safe from the monster behind the palace walls. The beast makes no move to escape, but every so often the guards will hear the heavy footfalls of the creature shuffling through the gardens and they remain in place. Their princess would have wanted it.
As days pass the village degrades, most left the day the curse was laid, others followed slowly as resources dwindled and looted homes become empty of valuables. The guards are the last to leave, ensuring that no one has been left behind.
Sun wakes one morning to silence from outside the walls. In her boredom she had circled the grounds, listening to the guards chatting outside. She recognised most of them by voice, she had considered many of them friends after all, but her friendship had always been one-sided. She could speak freely to them, but they could never speak freely to her, it had always been that way. Sun will miss listening to them talk casually amongst themselves.
Years pass and the princess swiftly runs out of ways to keep herself occupied and the palace begins to fall apart with neglect, her library is useless to her when her claws tear apart any book she sets her paws on, the gardens become more and more overrun with weeds every day, the once beautiful golden sheen of the palace walls become dulled without regular cleaning. Floors begin to crack under Sun’s immense weight, many narrow doorways are destroyed when she tries to fit through them. Parts of the palace roof and walls degrade quickly from her daily climbs up to watch the sun rise and set over the dunes.
Though she does not require food Sun still eats from the overgrown trees and vines from her once impeccable garden and leaps over the walls to reach the large oasis that her servants would fetch water from to deliver to the castle so long ago. She had never visited the large lake herself before she was cursed, but she now does so regularly, as splashing through the water feels wonderful on her thick, dark fur.
With every year that passes, Sun forgets more and more of her human life as she falls into the nature of a beast, hunting rodents and small critters through the empty streets of the village, sharpening her claws on the remains of sandstone walls. Chasing and pouncing upon the surviving abandoned livestock for sport, eating only out of boredom than any real need for food, more interested in chewing on the bones left behind.
There is hardly a shred of Princess left in the beast that roams the neglected desert kingdom, and the Cold Sun lords over the grounds with eyes of pure gold and a heart that no longer feels.
Until the day comes when a stranger enters her palace.
She is small and weak, young and fragile. Damp from a dip in the oasis but the smell of unwashed clothes and many days of travel still cling to her skin. Sun stalks the malnourished waif through the ruined village, watching as she raids old stalls and homes in search of something. Food? Treasures? The girl’s search leads her to the palace, she climbs over loose stones through a break in the dilapidated wall and enters the great doors.
Sun, focused on the hunt, follows the girl, she forgets that she has not been inside the entrance hall in many many years, she forgets why she has been avoiding this place for so long, she forgets until she looks upon the great heart slowly pulsing in the centre of the room. Every beat sends a weak tongue of flame flickering through the cracks of the icy skin that has grown around it. Heat shimmers below the cold armour, splashing the walls with eerily beautiful patterns of light.
The Sorcerer, the curse, her Palace, her people. Sun is a princess, Sun is a leader, Sun is a woman who cares deeply and gives generously. Sun is not a beast, Sun is not cold like the heart before her. Sun is not cold. Sun is NOT cold.
“Sun is not cold.” her great, gravelly voice echoes through the chamber.
The ragged girl, entranced by the heart before her, quickly turns to find she is not alone. Sun can see the fear on her face, she can smell it in the air, it sickens her.
“Do not be afraid child.” Sun sits on her haunches, tail sweeping lazy across the grand marble floor. “I mean you no harm.”
“You are the Great Beast,” the girl says. “I believed you to be a story, a legend to frighten away thieves.”
“Are you a thief?” asks Sun.
“No! I am not here to steal treasures! I simply seek shelter from the harsh desert winds.”
The girl’s skin is rough, her eyes and lips are red, chapped and raw, but there is also hunger in her narrow emaciated face. Sun knows it was not merely the promise of shelter that brought her here.
“Did not the temptation of my lush gardens draw you in? Did you not hope to find food behind the palace walls?”
“I had no intention of theft Great Beast! I did hope to perhaps find food in your garden, but now I know this garden has not been abandoned, and so I will not take from it. Unless you would allow me? I have little to trade but I will give you everything I have for a night’s rest and a full belly.”
Sun thinks. She thinks of the curse and the girl and a trade. A kiss on her beastly snout for a night of rest and respite. The heart is close to frozen, she has little time left, it is a fair trade is it not?
Sun shakes her wild mane in disgust. Never in her life has she asked a price for food and comfort, she has given freely to all those in need who have graced her halls, she refuses to change now. Curse be damned. The Sorcerer’s magic heart can grow as cold as the lands of the far north for all she cares, for her own heart will always be warm as the desert sands, warm as the great celestial being she was named for.
Sun does not need a kiss to prove so.
“The palace and gardens are yours to roam at your leisure, the garden’s spoils and the water of the oasis are yours to gorge yourself on as you please. I need only look upon you to see that you have lived a life of poverty and pain, so know that for as long as you remain here, you will be cared for. I will give you all that you need, child.”
The girl’s face is clear with suspicion. “Do you intend to fatten me up to eat me?” she asks.
Sun laughs, a mighty roar of a laugh that sends the short, black hairs on the young girl’s neck standing straight. Her blazing eyes soften to a comforting dark brown, only subtle flecks of their previous gold shining through.
“Child, of food I have plenty. Of company, I have only you.”
The girl, though still weary of the beast, does not turn up her nose at the generous offer. She feasts upon the sweet fruits of the garden, returns to fill her water-skin at the oasis when it runs dry, and the Great Beast simply sits and watches, leaving her side only once to return with the leg of a large, hoofed animal for her dinner. The young girl sleeps in the most comfortable, luxurious bed she has ever laid eyes on that night, pleasantly surprised to find that she has not been eaten in the morning.
The girl does not leave the next day as planned, never has she been so comfortable and well fed, never has she had such a pick of fine, though dusty, clothes to wear, never has she had someone look over her with such generosity and care.
“If the Great Beast truly wishes to fatten me up and eat me,” she thinks to herself, “perhaps I won’t mind if it means living my last days like this.”
The girl does not merely spend days living alongside the Great Beast, she stays a much longer time. Every day she wakes fearing her generous host less and less, she passes time telling stories of her travels, the places she’s seen and the many languages she speaks. For a girl so young she has been through so much, and she is grateful to have a place to rest and feel safe.
“My name is Acacia.” the girl says one night as she lays against her friend’s great black hide, decorating her mane with tidy, twists and braids.
“You may call me Sun.” the beast says in return.
During daily visits to the lake they both romp and play in the water, splashing and roughhousing before drying off in the desert heat. Acacia helps Sun brush the clinging sand from her fur, and in return Sun will lick the sand from Acacia’s own short locks of hair.
Acacia spend the years teaching Sun the many songs and rhymes she has learned in all her languages, Sun teaches Acacia how to hunt and track and kill large prey. The two run together through the dunes, chasing the wind and challenging the sandstorms, for they know that no force on this earth can take them down when they ride together.
One day Acacia ask, “How is it that you became a beast? Stories tell of a curse, that you were changed for being cold of heart, but I can hardly believe such a lie about one so warm and loving.”
“Those who hold magic are not always deserving of their power,” says Sun. “The curse is what froze my heart dear Acacia. It is you who reminded me of it’s warmth again.”
“Is it true you can be saved with a kiss?” Acacia asks. “You have done so much for me, if a kiss is what is required to end your curse I will gladly give it.”
“Thank you my child,” says Sun as she bows her great head. “But I have no reason to return to my mortal form. My spirit has grown too large for the skin I once wore, and to accept a curse as a gift is a greater insult to a Sorcerer than playing his game and breaking it.”
Sun laughs to herself and nuzzles the young girl’s hair with her great snout, Acacia responds with a scratch behind her friend’s large ear, she does not ask about the curse again. The flames within the magical heart flutter with one last beat before finally succumbing to the icy cold of the Sorcerer’s spell.
Sun, enveloped by the warmth of Acacia’s love and friendship, does not even notice.
In time Sun knows her friend will grow old and pass away, but they have many many years to spend together before such a tragedy befalls her, and in that time Sun hopes that others will come to the old palace, others who may be seeking food and shelter. They will find all that they need here in this forgotten desert village, as they always have and always will, because despite what all the stories say;
The desert Sun was never Cold.
oh my god this is so long I’m so sorry but the tumblr app dOESN’T LET YOU USE READ MORES AND I WROTE IT ON MY IPAD AAAA
*cough* so here’s my spin on aromantic, asexual Beauty and the Beast, take care to notice my own aro ace ass projected literally everywhere and also my love for giant monsters mothering tiny humans, also changed the working title from The Cold Sun because The Desert Sun was Never Cold resonated stronger with me 😎👌✨
SOME VISUAL NOTES:
Sun’s looks are loosely based on Canadian model Winnie Harlow, (vitiligo yo it’s gorgeous) the setting is loosely based in North Africa, you can basically assume everyone but nobody’s-favourite-blue-eyed-blond-haired-asshole-Sorcerer are POC
Sun’s beast form is like a huge mix between a lion and a Tibetan Mastiff and I want to cuddle her SO MUCH and Acacia you will be braiding that mane all fucking day if you aren’t careful there is a lot of hair to work with and Sun will just sit there and let you do it
man but yeah, I wanted this story to highlight the importance of not assuming asexual people are unfeeling robots, and how we need love and attention just as much as any other person, we just don’t need the sexual and/or romantic kind of love and attention, and that doesn’t make us cold or selfish and ngl we are all secretly giant lions on the inside don’t tell anyone
The Goddess Nyx, also known as Nux, Nox or Night is a primordial Greek goddess who is the personification of the essence of night and darkness. She is an ancient goddess of Night thus the meaning of her name. She is considered to be one of the most powerful divine beings who was born of the cosmic being, Chaos. Ancients believed that before the universe was created there existed only a void of “chaos” that was black and silent. From this “chaos” Nyx emerged into existence. She is often depicted as a great black winged spirit or seen riding in a chariot, trailing stars and bringing the night behind her, accompanied by her sons Hypnos and Thanatos. Nyx has always been presented as a figure of exceptional power and beauty. She who lives in the shadows of the world, only ever seen in glimpses by mortal eyes. According to myth, Nyx had conceived from the wind and laid a silver egg in the darkness (the upper part of the egg representing the sky and the lower section was the earth) She could be helpful or harmful to mortals, bringing either sleep or death with her. Nyx has many children. Most of her children represent the ‘darker’ aspects of humanity, such as the Three Fates, Nemesis, Sleep, Death, Doom, Misery, Deceit and Strife. Nyx possesses prophetic powers and is known to be affiliated with owls and bats. Her planet is the moon and the best time to connect with her is on Mondays, especially around Yule. Nyx is associated with the night; the color black; eggs and birth. Nyx is of good to call upon when you need to find yourself, reclaim lost awareness of your truest nature, for protection, cleansing and fertility.
Nyx also represents nightmares, mystery, dreams, darkness and night. It is recommended to call upon Nyx after sunset. She can be invoked her for psychic dreams and astral travel and for rituals at midnight or when it is a moonless night. Offerings to this goddess could include libations of water from a natural source such as a river or a lake as well as red wine, honey, or oil.
Some of her correspondences include:
Part of the day: Night
Day of Week: Monday
Color: Black, Silver, Grey or White
Incense: Myrtle, Aloes and Camphor
Symbol: The Moon, 3 Stars and a Crescent Moon
Plants: Night Blooming Flowers
Fruits: Dragon Fruit
Perfumes: White Poppy, White Rose and Wallflower
Her children were believed to be:
Aether - the god of air
Apate - the goddess of deceit
Dolos - the god of trickery
Eleos - the goddess of mercy
Epiphron - the god of prudence
Eris - the goddess of strife
Eros - the god of procreation
Geras - the god of old age
Hemera - the goddess of daylight
Hybris - the goddess of insolence
Hypnos - the god of sleep
Kharon - the ferryman for the dead
Momos - the god of ridicule
Moros - the god of doom
Nemesis - the goddess of retribution
Oizys - the goddess of misery
Philotes - the goddess of friendship
Sophrusyne - the goddess of moderation
Thanatos - the god of non-violent death
The Hesperides - goddesses of the evening
The Moirai - the fates
The Oneiroi - spirits of dreams
The Erintes - the furies
The Keres - goddesses of violent death
Nyx can be called forth for Cleansing, Protection, Awareness of self and fertility