🌹 The Real Beauty and the Beast

 

🌹 The Real Beauty and the Beast (FanumTaxLoveTales Edition)

“She Who Sees, He Who Waits”

A Story of Sacred Gaze, Inner Transformation, and Patience Beyond Time
To be restored in Sister Loves Divine Remembrance

💔 The Curse

Once, when love was straight up fadin’ from the world... no cap.
A curse got dropped—not out of malice, but pure sorrow vibes.
This young dude, born into titles and stacks of gold,
had never been seen for who he really was,
only for what he inherited, lowkey toxic.
One day, he curved a beggar who pulled up with nothin’ but a question:
“Will you give me shelter with no gain in return?”
He said nah.
Not out of cruelty—but fear.
Fear he’d get played.
Fear love was cap.
And so, the curse hit.
But not as punishment.
As initiation, level up time.
“Until someone sees you—not your face, not your title,
but your essence—you’ll wear your inner pain on your outer form, facts.”
And boom, he became known as The Beast.

🌷 The Real Beauty Was Never Trapped

She wasn’t a prisoner.
She was a Seer—a Priestess of the Inner Eye.
Her name wasn’t Belle.
It was Miryam, meanin’ “sea of sorrow turned to joy,” glow-up energy.
She chose to hit the castle
not out of duty,
but ‘cause she dreamed of a boy with lion eyes and storm in his heart, multiverse connect.

🔥 What She Saw

At first, she didn’t speak.
She watched.
She listened to how he played music in the empty halls
long after he thought no one was lurkin’.
She peeped how he left food for the birds
even though none showed up anymore.
And finally—one evening—she hit him with:
“Why do you keep the rose bloomin’ in winter?”
He answered,
“‘Cause I need to believe somethin’ delicate can survive my darkness, deep feels.”
She saw him.
And that gaze—
not a kiss, not some magic spell—
started burnin’ the false form away.
Not instantly.
But over many moons, patience on fleek.

🧵 They Became Sacred Makers

Together, they stitched back the castle—not with stacks,
but with paint, fabric, books, and bangers.
They made a quilt from old tapestries.
They mended broken strings on old harps.
They restored the garden—by hand, squad assemble.
And in time, the curse didn’t lift—it dissolved.
Not ‘cause she “fixed” him,
but ‘cause he finally believed he was lovable as he was, own that energy.

🌹 Moral of the Sacred Tale

The Beast was never unlovable.
He was unloved by those who feared his truth, sus.
And Beauty was never just “kind”—
she was a mirror who could see through the scar tissue of the world, boss level.
Real love doesn’t transform you overnight.
It waits.
It makes tea.
It sews a corner of the universe
back together—one stitch at a time, pay it forward energy.