harsh desert

I’m just saying

so here’s our favorite adoptive space dad Bail Organa in Revenge of the Sith:

and here he is in Rogue One:

meanwhile, here’s Obi-Wan in Revenge of the Sith:

and here he is after the exact same amount of time: 

I’d like some of whatever Bail is having on Alderaan and exactly zero of what Obi-Wan is having on Tatooine 

Las Vegas is a real city humans can actually visit and it just baffles and delights me in equal measures

like someone looked at the harsh, inhospitable Mojave Desert and thought “you know what’d go great here? a resort town” and then the government was like “you know what else would go great here? a nuclear test site” and then the tourism industry was like “you know what? we can use this”

okay but i know a lot of people are on the knight jeremy train, but hear me out for a second

king jeremy

one of the youngest kings out of the current kings to rule. he may not know a whole lot, but he tries his best to learn all he can so he can run a successful kingdom. who always puts his people first and is one of the kindest rulers. who creates beautiful buildings and structures either for people to live in or to decorate the kingdom. who is fair and kind and courageous. a man who is a nightmare on the battlefield and can destroy armies with little effort. a man who charges into battle with hell’s fire in his veins. who, after every battle, weeps for the lost lives and goes to the homes of the knights who gave their lives to say his condolences to the families, should their families be alive. a king who gives it his all to protect everyone, even if they have committed crimes.

literally just give me king jeremy who tries his best and is always optimistic and trying to make his kingdom a welcome place for all to come to.

Kenshi Yonezu's Monster Encyclopedia (Text Translation)

Kenshi Yonezu released his first book, Monster Encyclopedia, on December 10th, 2016. It’s a collection and expansion of a monthly series he did for the magazine ROCKIN'ON JAPAN, where he drew monsters and gave a short description of their ecology. Here are translations of all the descriptions from the book.


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Twin Suns trailer like...

A Tatooine moisture farmer trying to find his lost bantha comes across Maul screaming “KENOOOOBIIIII!” in the middle of the desert

“Fucking Off-worlders…….”

anonymous asked:

What are your thoughts on succulents?

COOL NEAT BABIES i will now list several things i know about succulents off the top of my head

-a ‘succulent’ refers to a plant that holds a ton of water in its leaves. so all cacti are succulents, but not all succulents are cacti. 

-the lead botany professor at my college studies cacti systematics (taxonomy). i asked him about how he prepares dried herbarium specimens, and apparently they’re crazy to prepare. like, you gotta cut them in half to preserve the shape, carve out the fleshy water storing places, then put them in a special plant press that heats up as it presses down. he says that even after all that treatment where the plant is literally burned alive and squished and cut open, sometimes he comes back to find the samples growing new shoots out the side of the plant press

-many cacti and succulents are r selected organisms, meaning that they produce a ton of babies that all have a low probability of survival. this makes total sense when you think about it: it makes more sense to just set a ton of babies free into the sand then to assume that you’ll be able to survive to nurture them (put a ton of energy into making big flashy fruits and stuff)

-some succulents have weird transparent looking leaves like this:

these are called epidermal or leaf windows, and they’re there to help the plant survive under the harsh sun of the desert! for a normal plant in the desert, light of that intensity would burn the leaves and kill the plant. but in some succulents, those transparent ‘windows’ are made with a thin layer of cells designed to filter the light out; the actual photosynthesising leaves are on the inside, so they’re all tucked away and protected from wind, sand, and other harsh conditions. its also pretty cool because it means that theres more actual photosynthesising surface area for the plant to make more food. 

Timeless Memories

The battle felt like it had taken eons.

Considering the nature of it all however, it might as well be all wrapped up in one eternal fight.

At first they had started slow, testing each other. One had been weakened to the point where he had to take his human form, the other had pushed hard to become stronger.

Then Zelda had regained her senses and conjured her bow of light. Link could see that she wasn’t fully in charge of her wits, how her feet shifted as though the ground under her was tilting, and sometimes the magic arrows missed their mark and dissipated into the trailing cloak of shadow that clung to their enemy.

Some still managed to hit, and Ganon snarled as one pierced into his left shoulder. His nerveless hand dropped one of his dual swords and he felt the warm pulse of blood under his robes.

He pressed hard on the Hero of Time. Link’s tunic was ripped in many places but showed no blood; testament to his use of a bottled fairy. Ganon had a disdain for the Hylians, with their potions and fairies. The Gerudo magic was of the body and made them strong, not dependent on glowing fluids.

But still he had to chuckle as his blade clashed with the Master Sword. Here he was, bleeding out from various wounds, and the hero in green looked barely winded.

Another arrow sunk into Ganon’s thigh and he faltered. He sank to one knee but managed to block the overhead blow as Link leapt at him.

“Why do you fight me boy? You know it’s useless.” Ganon pushed up with enough force to send the youth sprawling. He stood and snarled as his leg spasmed in pain.

“You’ll die here Ganon. Just like all the other times.” Link winced as he stood, but swung around his sword and braced himself.

“Then I’ll come back, same as you, and same as your pitiful princess. And maybe next time, maybe you’ll find things are different.”

“Things have always been this way. And I will always defeat you!” Link jumped high again, and Ganon raised his guard to meet the impending blow.

A mistake, as now his torso was exposed. Just as their blades clashed, Ganon felt a heavy thunk in his stomach. He looked down in time to see the light arrow fade away.

He had not expected the princess to recover so quickly.

He had, as usual, misjudged the constitution of the poorly form Hylians.

His other sword fell uselessly to the ground. Ganon sunk to his knees. Link approached him calmly, the sword held down at his side.

“Kill me boy,” Ganon said and paused to cough up something wet and thick. “Kill me and we can begin this farce anew.”

Link raised his sword and angled it. He would strike downward through his chest and pierce the Gerudo’s heart.

“May the Goddesses show you mercy.” He plunged down his blade.

Death was supposed to be instant. But what is an instant in the face of eternity?

As the blade sank into his skin, Ganon was impaled by the force of his past. His memories of defeat rushed over him like a great wave.

He remembered, with great clarity, every instance of his death at the hands of the Hero of Time.

He felt rage and shame. He felt a burning fury that promised to cauterize his wounds. This would sustain him. This would bring him back.

Damn it, he would defeat these cursed Hylians!

But then he felt fear. He felt sadness. He felt, love.

The hand of the Hero of Time was clasped in his own. The palms and fingers were callused. They were hands that he had taught to hold a bow. To hold the reins of horses. To scale a wall.

This was his boy. His skinny child who tried to keep up with his much bigger sisters. His heir who used to curl in his lap and sleep as Ganon read.

How could his son do this? How could his beloved child be his killer?

How could he have hurt his own boy?

Ganon looked up and into the eyes of the Hylian. Tears fell from the boy’s wide gaze and he knew, he was seeing it too.

The Master Sword had resided too long within the Temple of Time. It existed always in its perfect form in every reincarnation. It did not notice that the hand that wielded it had lived a different life. It was, practically, the same hand that always wielded it.

The guilt that surged in Link made his stomach twist violently. In every lifetime, he grew up without a family. He grew and then left behind whatever community had brought him in. He fought, and sometimes died, in protection of a kingdom he hadn’t seen until the day he was called.

He did it because that was his destiny.

But there was one time, one lifetime, where he did not.

He grew up with an indulgent father and way too many stern mothers. He remembered burning under the harsh desert sun. He remembered meeting the princess for the first time and being confused by her small stature, her quiet manners, and her lack of tattoos.

He remembered being with Ganon as the man died. As was his place. But this time, the death of the Demon King was a time of sorrow.

Link felt fear. He felt anguish. And the disgusting guilt.

“P-” He couldn’t force the word out of his throat.

When the point of his blade pierced Ganon’s heart, Link watched as the life left the Gerudo man’s eyes. Tears had fallen down the weathered face. Ganon slumped forward, and then fell to his side.

Link fell backwards, his sword jutting perversely out of Ganon’s body, and he fought down the urge to vomit.

Suddenly, he felt arms around him. He put a fist to his mouth as he felt it burn and tighten.

“I’m sorry.” He managed to whisper. Zelda knelt beside him, pulling him closer to her.

“It’s okay. You’re in shock.”

He hadn’t been speaking to her.

There was only white light.

He did not know if it was a room or a void or what, but it was peaceful. He felt like he had been there before. Perhaps many times.

A woman approached him.

“Din.” He said and bowed. The woman, the Goddess, nodded her head.

“You must choose a form before you meet with Hylia.” Din said and he wondered how he had bowed with no form.

“Can it be anything?”

“Any of your past lives. Choose wisely.”

“That’s not my part.” Din smiled and he, Ganon, chose his form.

He wanted to feel that moment again. He wanted to feel love.

“The others are coming.” Din said. Ganon began to feel nervous.

Another woman approached, a figure at her side.

“He cannot be dead. He lived!” Ganon cried and Din put her hand on his shoulder.

“Time means nothing here. But yes, he lived.”

The figure was not a wolf, thank the Goddesses for that.

The figure was not in green.

“Son!” Ganon rushed forward to embrace the man in the crimson robes.

“Papa!” They crumpled together, sobbing loudly.

“I’m sorry Papa.”

“No my son. It was my fault. If only I had remembered.”

“Naryu is approaching.” Farore said. The men rose, shakily, and still held onto each other.

“Let us see if the Triforce can heal this time.”

remember when rey lived on a harsh desert planet for most of her life just like anakin and luke?

remember when rey built a speeder that looks like luke’s flipped vertically and how anakin built a podracer by himself at age 10?

remember when rey found a droid carrying important information vital to the resistance just like luke did?

remember how rey could successfully pilot a ship on pretty much her first try just like luke and anakin?

remember when rey dropped the doors on a rathtar just like luke dropped a gate on the rancor in ROTJ?

remember when rey had a force vision in a dark place just like luke did in empire strikes back? and that anakin was also known to have force visions predicting the future?

remember when maz kanata said “that lightsaber belonged to luke and his father before him and now it calls to YOU.” clearly framing it as a FAMILY heirloom and not a “wow what a good person so you can have it”?

remember when rey initially denied her destiny like luke did?

remember when rey witnessed her mentor die in front of her, screamed “NO!” and shot wildly at stormtroopers just like luke did when his mentor died?

remember when rey pulled the saber from the snow just like luke did?

remember when rey pulled the lightsaber from the snow and the burning homestead music played? a piece of music that has only played ONE time in the saga and it was during a pivotal luke scene?

remember when kylo ren said rey would envision an island when she was desperate to sleep and then what d’ya know luke is on an island? 

but idk i guess she’s a k*nobi or a p*lpatine or a random ass person from dagobah and they just ~accidentally~ put all those parallels in there to show you she’s the hero character even though anakin’s journey ALSO paralleled luke’s to show the family connection. 


Fall colors year-round: the high desert in Technicolor

Story and photos by Greg Shine, BLM Oregon/Washington Tumblr blogger

Fall is known as the season for nature’s colors, but what if you could see magnificent oranges, bright yellows and fluorescent greens year round? One place you can is on public lands in central and eastern Oregon.

Far from the black and white of old cowboy movies filmed in the area decades ago, a multitude of colors – including autumn’s reds, oranges and yellows – abounds perennially in Oregon’s high desert, compliments of unlikely hosts.

At closer glance, those monstrous, jagged, fault scarps and rocky remnants from ancient volcanoes and shifts of tectonic plates – the outcroppings and rims that give the area its rugged, desolate look – are far from barren of bright color. Same with the dead limbs and decaying trunks of evergreen juniper and pine trees. Even the wooden fence posts studding the range harbor flamboyant life.

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Desert Eagle

Not really about the pistol, more about the sights. Aftermarket front and rear sights are few and far between. Fords Custom Guns produces and sells a fiber optic front and rear replacement. Designed for low light applications, the sights are able to withstand the harsh recoil of the Desert Eagle. MSRP is about $170. (GRH)


His windows really were huge. If she were to just peak over a little bit, Laelia could see straight into his kitchen which led into his living room. If she were to look over a bit, she could see if he was home but that would make her a stalker pervert and she wasn’t any of those things. 

She looked back down to her small, growing garden. Despite the harsh, desert heat, they were flourishing. 

“Mommy, is so proud of you growing so tall. You’re taller than mommy now! Yesh, my little sprites!”

Have some handmaiden feels

For @fireflyfish who got me thinking about the handmaidens meeting little Luke. This was meant to be a short snippet about a happy reunion, but it just kept growing and growing and getting sadder and sadder until it turned into this monstrosity of angst ( @albaparthenicevelut you can stop laughing!). Comment and criticism extremely welcome - this is the longest bit of fic I’ve written in a very very long time. 

Rabé was beginning to truly appreciate why Anakin Skywalker had hated Tatooine. The rasping howl of the sandstorm outside was relentless, and what could not have been more than a few hours felt like years as she waited restlessly for it to end. It felt far too similar to the last time she’d been here, years before. Really, she should have known better. Everything had been going so smoothly - her arrival in Mos Eisley had gone unremarked, her contact had been waiting in the cantina as expected (just two travellers sharing a drink while waiting for the next leg of their journey) and the datachip carrying key intelligence was safely stored alongside several decoys in one of the pockets sewn in the bodice of her dress. Her informant had left  while she waited a little longer for her prearranged lift off planet. Then the sandstorm arrived and with it the inevitable delay in her departure. Now here she was, slumped over a table in what was, thankfully, one of the more reputable watering holes in town, trapped with the memories of another time, and the aching hole of grief threatened to draw her in.

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Day Four -- Favorite Trope

I think most people will agree when they finish reading, that the one I chose is the best trope.

715 words

It was one of the worst humanitarian crises Overwatch had ever encountered. They partnered with the local government when the world’s top leaders turned their back, claiming their hands were tied, that they had their own issues, that they were still rebuilding after the omnic invasions.

Fuck that.

It was not beneath Hana Song to use her drone unit to drag steel beams from rubble, to help with the digging and the searching after the earthquakes. She got her hands dirty. She poured millions of her own personal funds into the recovery effort. She appeared on TV and online, a firebrand lashing out at the inaction of the people who were supposed to lead us, to protect us.

She worked herself to the bone. They all did.

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Sand cats live in sandy, stony deserts and the only species of cat that survive without water for long period of time (couple of months). Unlike other species of cats, sand cat is poor climber and jumper but proficient digger. It digs burrows in the sand where it hides from the harsh desert sun. 

Paws covered with thick fur protect the cat’s feet from the hot desert sand. This foot cushion also act like snowshoes. They prevent the cat from sinking into the sand and leaving footprints [x].


The Desert Sun was Never Cold

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.


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.

Sun remembers.

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 😎👌✨

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