#celestial lady

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🌌🌟 Lady Universe 🌟🌌

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Part 1 / Part 2

Emmet remembers when he and Ingo first brought Elesa to explore Celestial Tower, back when they were fourteen and thought they were immortal.

“Allegedly, the bell chime will bring ghosts home”, ingo had told emmet with the pompous knowing energy of a child who read way too much brochures. “It’s culturally significant! We must ring it.”

“Hmmm,” emmet had responded suspiciously. “Brother. The bell is at the top of the tower.” The implication stands: Ingo, there are thirty flights of stairs between here and the top, and no elevator to speak of.

Don’t be a coward, Litwick had told Emmet with the blaise tone of somebody who’s going to be piggy backing off of somebody else. Go ring the bell. Tynamo, sensing a litten fight, floated towards a loitering blitzle.

Ingo turns his lilipup eyes on Elesa, who’s squinting at the carved stone faces of the front door.

“Elesa? What do you think?”

Elesa thinks. She shrugs. “We already made our way here,” she said in accented galarian. “Might as well make it the rest of the way. Ganbatte!”

Emmet sighs. “This is a mistake,” he tells the two in exhaustive patience, but lets himself be dragged into the building.

Last time the twins were here, Ingo caught litwick— but not before she managed to nab a good chunk of Emmet’s soul. It’s not terrible; he felt fatigued for a week and bounced back pretty quickly, but it was the principle of the whole situation— celestial tower’s a pain in the ass and Emmet will stand by that until the day he dies.

Like right now.

The map isn’t working. Emmet checked it once. He’s checked it twice. He’s taken out his pen and written on it, which he would usually never do but desperate times call for desperate measures. The compass he brought spins useless circles. It’s like chargestone cave up here, but worse because instead if electric pokemon it’s all ghosts.

“We’re lost, yyup yup!” He announced to the crew. “I vote we eat Ingo first.”

“I love you too,” Ingo told Emmet placidly. “But we all know between the two of us, you’re the tastier one.” Litwick gives Emmet a thumbs up. Emmet gasps in mock affront.

“Elesa, help!”

Elesa gives the two of them a wary look. It took two floors for her to realize this is not just a weird temple with strange rocks, but a full out graveyard. She’s not very happy about that development.

“Don’t drag me into this,” she tells them. “Teme wa urusaii.”

“I will take that as a compliment,” Ingo reports back.

Emmet, who’s cheerfully struggles with Galarian on a good day, simply gives her a thumbs up.

The three painstakingly crawl their way up. And up. If all else fails, Emmet told himself, at least they can orient themselves towards high ground.

“We’re like pidoves,” Ingo gasps. He has fallen behind them on the stairs, with Emmet taking the lead through sheer spite despite his legs going numb on floor twenty two. “We, hah, we are attracted by the magnet of the bell, like, like probopass-“

“I am emmet! You are not making, sense!” Emmet called back. Elesa, who’s stuck between them and looking two steps from perpetual collapse, giggles.

“No, no hear me out, Ingo wheezes. “What if the bell’s a magnetic pole? And that’s why your compass doesn’t wo, woo, hahh, work.”

Emmet stops to rest, just because Ingo is using precious breathing air to infodump. Elesa gratefully slumps against the railing. Tynamo and litwick, lazy in their still small size, have settled on a weary blitzle and look very smug doing so. (Emmet is not jealous, he tells himself. Emmet is also lying.)

“The bell’s important,” Ingo had repeated.

“Okay,” Elesa responds. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to us.”

And Emmet finds that he agrees with Elesa. Partially because they crawled up twenty fucking three flights of stairs, but also because Ingo thinks this is important, so it is.

And here’s the thing—

— emmet doesn’t remember much after that.

The rest of that trip was a blur of exhausted groaning and burning legs, and by the time the trio managed to breach floor thirty, people’s brains have all but dribbled out their ears. Emmet remembers being disgustingly sweaty. He remembers blitzle almost tripping to death and litwick’s swearing. He remembers tynamo sticking to his neck like a damp towel. He remembers Ingo’s excited sneasel smile, and the way the sunset bounced off of Elesa’s hair.

He remembers the brassy ring of the Celestial bell. It sounded like victory.

But it was Elesa’s cackle turned scream as Ingo swiped cold hands down her neck that sounded like home.

—-

So when the conductor at thirty one, lost and disoriented in the Impossible Place, heard the sound of a familiar bell, ringing over and over and over-

-the sound of laughter-

-EMMET! Elesa cried-

-like a homing pidove, the conductor, thinks nonsensically as something in him perks up.

(Emmet had always liked winning, more than anything else, and the sound of victory calls him home.)

—

Elesa catches lightning in a bottle. Elesa, arms outstretched, finds purchase in her brother, and does not let go.

Emmet is so, so cold, Elesa thinks as the wind steals air from her lungs. (That’s okay. She’s already breathless from a terrible business called hope.)

Emmet stares back. His hands flap against Elesa’s jacket. Elesa desperately drinks in his wan face and too wide eyes and his frost bitten lips. In a tiny, meek voice, almost lost to the wind, he asks:

“Are you real?”

Elesa lets out an ugly sob. Her tears whip away in the wind as they fall. Emmet’s frightened countenance turns immediately to alarm. His shaky grasp becomes a solid grip as they spin through the air, cushioned by chandelure’s psychic.

“I think so??” Elesa warbles. She sees Emmet’s eyes dart to her mouth. He’s reading mirroring her, she realizes with giddy delight— it’s such an Emmet thing to do, to read lips, and-

“I am Emmet,” Emmet breathes. His eyes have started to water. “Yyou are Elesa- Oh dragons, Elesa!?“

Elesa reaches. Hesitates.

Emmet grabs elesa by the lapels and crushes her tight against him. Elesa holds on, and the grief and relief in her accumulates into a wet sopping mess. She’s ruining his jacket, she mourns, but its okay because he’s dripping all over hers.

She can’t hear what he’s saying into her shoulder, can’t read what he says, but everything’s okay because every part of her is chiming

You came back

You’re here

I’m not alone anymore.

Around them, the air distorts as Chandelure’s psychic wavers, flutters, and solidifies. Gravity reverses its call as they settle gently on the ground, dust billowing in all directions.

The ghost pokemon drops next to them, shaking so hard the musical clang of glass makes Elesa flinch.

You fucks, Chandelure gasps. DON’T GO LEAPING OFF BUILDINGS, I AM NOT YOUR EMERGENCY PARACHUTE.

“I’m sorry,” Elesa gasps, still giddy from the adrenaline.

AND YOU! Chandelure howls, whirling on Emmet, who’s still staring at the ghost with huge eyes. He’s gripping on to solid ground with the energy of a man who realized he could have been a splat on the ground.

YOU LEFT!

Emmet winces.

You- You left us, you left me-

Ah, ah no, Elesa thinks as golden globules of light shed from Chandelure. This is what a ghost looks like crying.

Emmet holds out his arms. Chandelure drifts into his embrace, and shakes, and shakes, and shakes.

You left me, the ghost pokemon whispers. How dare you. How could you.

“I didn’t mean to,” Emmet whispers. “I’m sorry.”

Stop doing this to me, Chandelure demands. Golden brine joins human tears, like drops of sun trapped in wet glass. Stop going where I can not follow.

And Emmet holds his tongue, because he knows he can not promise staying. Not while Ingo and Eelektross are still in Hisui.

(In the back of Emmet’s hurt and shattered mind is a spark. Synapses connect. The cold breach of the Distortion does nothing to drown out the sudden flare of hope in Emmet’s chest, so great he can not breathe, so strong he can not feel, because there’s a path. A difficult, painful path through the Space that Can Not Be, but a path all the same.)

“Elesa, Chandelure-“ Emmet’s voice breaks. He wants to tell them about Eelektross. He wants to tell them about the terrible past that is Hisui. He wants to explain how the last five months were filled with horror and wonder and fear and hope.

Hope, he thinks. So he says this:

“I know how to get Ingo home.”

NOTES:

AAAAAND THAT’S ALL FOR THIS DRABBLE. ITS OUT NOW. I CAN FINALLY GO BACK TO POSTING HAPPY SHENANIGANS! (Now you know the shape of their story.)

Thanks for reading this monster of a post!

[amazingdeadfish]

Day Six: Alternate Universe

[allgirlsareprincesses]

I am Venus: Folktale Motifs in Queen Charlotte

Adapted from my 2023 Twitter thread

How the love story of George and Charlotte subverts the classic animal bride and groom tales for a new generation:

We begin with clear swan maiden motifs, with Charlotte as the captured bride betrothed against her will. When the dowager princess refuses to allow her to wear the wedding gown she selected, this is stealing the animal skin (or power) of the animal bride.

What’s more, George’s mother insists she wear an English wedding gown. Clothing the bride claims her for the mundane world, separating her from her otherworldly home. In a typical swan maiden tale, she would flee the moment she recovers her stolen skin.

Then comes the first subversion of the tale: George gives her the option to leave, symbolically returning her animal skin and her power. And Charlotte chooses not only to stay, but also to wear her own wedding gown, thus claiming his world as hers.

Next we see Fruit Maiden motifs, as Charlotte is twice prevented from picking her own oranges. In these tales, the prince cuts open two oranges before discovering his true bride in the third. When Charlotte finally picks her own orange, she once again claims her power.

Later, we see hints of Star Lovers. George has already mentioned his interest in astronomy, but now we see his observatory. This fascination with the heavens and his role as monarch suggests that he is a star husband and Charlotte is his mortal bride.

However, Charlotte also originally called him a beast or troll, and as we see more of George’s mental health struggles, we realize that he does indeed see himself as the animal husband, unworthy of his celestial bride.

When she discovers him in the garden calling to Venus, Charlotte explicitly associates herself with the planet and thus with the goddess of the same name. It turns out SHE is the star bride after all, and George is the mortal husband.

In fact, as the king associates more and more with his "Farmer George" persona, even using this knowledge to assist Charlotte in birth, it becomes clear he is the earthly husband, always digging down while gazing up.

He allows himself to be practically buried in the cellar under the doctor's horrible "treatments," and hides under the bed to escape the sight of the heavens. His only light is his wife, descended from the sky of her own choice.

Mythically, the monarch is the conduit between heaven and earth. When Charlotte the Star Bride meets George the Earthly Husband in the middle, two halves become whole, and they are able to rule together.

Swan Maidens, Star Brides, and Fruit Maidens are nearly always captive brides. Their agency is not a factor in most folktales, but Queen Charlotte turns this on its head by making its heroine a goddess, giving her the power and choice to love as she wishes.

This story's thesis is vital in today's world where nothing seems certain: that life is lonely, so if you are fortunate to find your person, you choose to love them even when it's hard and painful. That feminine desire matters at every age. And that love can work miracles.

[panicky-pansexual]

Doodle sheet‼️‼️

[kirbikomeiji]

i made another one

for girlies that live together i ranked them based on how their room would look like

[marzipanandminutiae]

do people get that Lucille's hobbies are considered perfectly ladylike and acceptable for women within her cultural context?

natural sciences, as long as they remained at the amateur level, were common interests for Victorian women. and lepidopterology? combining a "feminine" branch of the sciences with Pretty Animals? high on the approved list, even though it involved killing aforesaid Pretty Animals

music was all but expected of middle- and upper-class women, hence her performance at the McMichaels' ball. even her offscreen hobbies from the bios- writing never-to-be-published poetry and reading French literature -could come from a checklist of Appropriate 19th-Century Feminine PursuitsTM

Lucille is an EXTREMELY typical, even ideal Victorian lady on the surface, with the exception of wearing old clothes and being unmarried at age 36. and that contrast makes what lies beneath the surface all the more compelling

[derangedrhythms]

[…] for angels fill me with horror, being, I imagine, neither mind nor matter, white, filmy, and frightening, like the translucent bodies of ghosts.

Jean Genet, from 'Our Lady of the Flowers’, tr. Bernard Frechtman

[euphorictruths]

Bonds Of The Heart- Raphael Vavasseur

[maxyvert]

🌟Arenta portrait🌟

She finally got a name! 🥳 Last illustration from 2023, painted on that awful Drasca paper. The texture looks extra bad here because of glazing :'D oh nvm, I'll find out something for that...

🌟 Ko-fi - Inprnt - Patreon 🌟

[notbecauseofvictories]

It's heartening sometimes to realize how incredibly ordinary historical figures looked. If you watch a bunch of period dramas, you come away thinking that history was made exclusively by shockingly attractive people---when actually, famous poets with burnished names look more like Jim, The Local Bank Manager; artists who broke the mold wouldn't look out of place scrolling through their phone on the subway. You could walk past the absurdly wealthy doyennes of society in the grocery store and never give them a second glance.

[mswyrr]

"Catherine, flustered, dropped her eyes to the page again: the attractive force between two bodies . . . All at once it was a great deal of work simply to pull breath into her lungs, and force it out again."

-Olivia Waite, "The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics"

[mordredscrown]

Bloodborne chibis Pt. 1

>>>> Bloodborne chibis Pt. 2

[queer-book-character-tournament]

Character, book, and author names under the cut

Maddie Morrow- Havenfall by Sara Holland

Lucy Muchelney- The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite

Moiraine Damodred Sedai- The Wheel of Time Series by Robert Jordan

Silariathas “Silas”- Sorcery of Thorns by Margaret Rogerson

[spiritintheinkwell]

Happy Pride! Featuring my nine favorite wlw books.

Mahit/Three Seagrass from the Teixcalaan series by Arkady Martine

Catherine/Lucy from The Lady's Guide To Celestial Mechanics by Olivia Waite

Kath/Lily from Last Night At The Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo

Zanja/Karis from the Elemental Logic series by Laurie J. Marks

Jude/Síle from Landing by Emma Donoghue

Ead/Sabran from The Priory Of The Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Emi/Ava from Everything Leads To You by Nina LaCour

Thenike/Marghe from Ammonite by Nicola Griffith

Red/Blue from This Is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

Ordered by theme, not by preference.

[reinabeestudio]

Can we talk about Starlo's family cause like. How can everyone in that house be so damn pretty