#celestial requiem

[cero-sleep]

Sun and some palismen from @shookethdev and I’s toh au!

[eldritchlibertine]

[devildomwriter]

Ten Manga I Think They’d Enjoy #2

Lucifer

He likes manga that reads like classic literature, dark stories, mysteries, psychological stories, and occasionally something sweet or cute

Children of the Whales, Mujirushi, PTSD Radio, Requiem of the Rose King, Shadows House, The Summer Hikaru Died, Togue Oni: Primal Gods in Ancient Times, Gachiakuta, Your Lie in April, Drops of God

Mammon

He likes stories involving his personal hobbies like working on cars, gambling, etc. he also enjoys funny stories and secretly cute romances or relatable romances

Play it Cool Guys, Bleach, Chibi Vampire, Daily Lives of High School Boys, Fire Force, I Belong to the Baddest Girl at School, I’m a Wolf But My Boss is a Sheep, My Monster Secret, Skip and Loafer, The Muscle Girl Next Door

Leviathan

Leviathan loves everything but he’s especially a fan of gaming manga, magical girls, monster girls, isekai, and the classics

A Centaur’s Life, Jobless Reincarnation, Yashahime Princess Half-Demon, If Witch Then Which, Banished From the Hero’s Party I Decided to Live a Quiet Life in the Country Side, My Clueless First Friend, Far-away Paladin, Geek Ex-Hitman, If the RPG World Had Social Media, Komi Can’t Communicate

Satan

Satan loves manga that reads like classical literature but he also loves stories about cats, dark mysteries, psychological stories and ones with characters he finds relatable

Case Study of Vanitas, Cat + Gamer, XXXHolic, Haunted Bookstore, Skull-Face Bookseller Honda-San, Vampire Library, Heavenly Delusion, I’m the Catlord’s Manservant, Infernal Devices, Library Wars

Asmodeus

Asmodeus mostly enjoys romance whether it’s cute and fluffy or extremely erotic

Nana to Kaoru, We Can’t Do Just Plain Love, We Started a Threesome, I Want You to Make Me Beautiful, In to the Tentacle Cave, Who Wants to Marry a Billionaire, Training Mr Sakurada, My Androgynous Boyfriend, Birds of Shangri-La, Interspecies Reviewers

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a big fan of manga involving food but he also enjoys a good action adventure and sports manga

Crazy Food Truck, My Deer Friend Nokotan, One Punch Man, Restaurant to Another World, Let’s Eat Together Aki and Haru, How to Grill Our Love, Giant Spider and Me, Hajime no Ippo, How Heavy Are the Dumbbells You Lift?, Plus Sized Elf

Belphegor

Belphegor likes stories with relatable characters which can be hard to find but he also loves adventures, horror, and Slice of life; he’s a little all over the place

Servamp, Soara and the House of Monsters, Jujutsu Kaisen, Rurouni Kenshin, You Have No Human Rights, Uzumaki, SINoALICE, Gannibal, The Tree of Death, Dorohedoro

Solomon

Solomon loves compelling narratives, dark psychological stories, stories that take a deeper look a humanity and immortality, and one’s that involves demons/angels/sorcerers. He does also love cat books like Satan

Ancient Magus Bride, Blood on the Tracks, Bloody Mary, Of the Red Light and the Ayakashi, Demon Diary, Dr. Stone, Emanon, Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, Magus of the Library, Mob Psycho 100

Thirteen

Thirteen is a little all over the place, she likes to see what’s popular but she also enjoys slashers, one’s that take a closer look at death and spirits, and dark romance

Duke of Death and His Maid, Executioner and Her Way of Life, Ghost Reaper Girl, No Longer Allowed in Another World, Versailles of the Dead, Your Turn to Die, Chainsaw Man, Your Letter, Solanin, Corpse Party

Simeon

Simeon enjoys reading manga that have some religious aspects, he likes ones about authors since they are relatable, and he enjoys some random ones here and there that are cute or funny. He’s also a sucker for a pure romance

Ceres Celestial Legend, Handa-Kun, A Witch’s Printing Office, Lord Hades Ruthless Marriage, Takopi’s Original Sin, Ride Your Wave, Haru’s Curse, Blank Canvas: My So-Called Artists Journey, Our Dreams at Dusk, Blue Flag

Raphael

Raphael canonically likes coming of age sports dramas. I believe he’s also he amused by one’s involving ant Christian aspects about angels and demons, heaven and hell. He also enjoys one’s that include his hobbies like security, military, and anything to do with fashion

Cheeky Brat, Waiting for Spring, Blue Box, Kuroko’s Basketball, Yowamushi Pedal, Ran and the Gray World, Mame Coordinate, Cinderella Closet, Kamikaze Girls, Anri a Shoemaker

Luke

Luke loves to try everything but his books are monitored to make sure he doesn’t stumble upon anything inappropriate for his age ana angel status. He loves ones about food, animals, adventure, and a good slice of life or 4-panel.

Cat Massage Therapy, Yu-Gi-Oh, Pokémon Adventures, Animal Crossing, My Little Pony: The Manga, Story of Seven Lives, Star Wars: Rebels, Dragon Ball, Disney Twisted Wonderland, Cardcaptor Sakura

Michael

Michael enjoys funny books, one’s that take a closer look at humanity and war, classical adaptations, and one’s involving angels and demons.

Record of Ragnarok, I Had That Same Dream Again, Skip Beat, Angel Sanctuary, Homunculus, The Ephemeral Scenes of Setsuna’s Journey, Alpi the Soul Sender, X, Ballad x Opera, Legend of the Nymph

Mephistopheles

Mephistopheles likes books that involve history, nobility, prestigious jobs, mystery, and equestrian sports. He also enjoys one’s about demons and servants.

Chronicles of an Aristocrat Reborn in Another World, Great Jahy Will Not be Defeated, Villains Are Destined to Die, Vinland Saga, Cantarella, Kingdom, Blade of the Immortal, Ron Kamonohashi: Deranged Detective, How a Realist Hero Rebuilt the Kingdom, Ajin

Barbatos

Barbatos prefers books that are dark and disturbing as well as insightful books on time, immortality, grief, morality vs law, etc.

Coffee Moon, Drifting Classroom, His Majesty the Demon King’s Housekeeper, The Maid I Hired Recently is Mysterious, Horizon, The Lady and Her Butler, I Sold My Life For Ten Thousand Yen Per Year, Homunculus, Parasyte, Yokai Rental Shop

Diavolo

Diavolo absolutely loves cute family manga, funny manga, one’s that involve demons and angels, cute romances, and exciting action and adventure. He isn’t picky and will read anything if it’s been recommended to him.

Correspondence From the End of the Universe, Soul Eater, Given, In the Clear Moonlit Dusk, Juana and the Dragonewt’s Seven Kingdoms, Terrified Teacher at Ghoul School, Thigh High, Delinquent Daddy and Tender Teacher, Hate Me But Let Me Stay, Hinamatsuri

[liittleemiixeer]

Echoes in a silent heart

summary: The squad planned an improvised get-together at dinner time to unwind after a hard day of patrolling Rotkov. However, neither the angel nor the cryptographer cared much about it.

fandom: heaven's secret requiem (romance club)

pairing: cain x lane

word count: 1,657

rating: general

prompt: eyes lock from across the room

trigger warnings: none

tagging: @romanceclubprompts, @rc-catalog

this is not my first time writing fics, but it is my first rc fic and the first time posting on tumblr, so go easy on me please hehe :) this is my sumbission for the 2024 flufftober prompt event. hope you like it, mwah!

The Romanov estate's living room was cloaked in the warm glow of the fire, casting shadows that flickered across the room’s opulent furniture. The squad, scattered across the room, had made themselves comfortable. Greg sat on the floor with his back against a velvet armchair, cracking jokes that sent ripples of laughter through the room. Anna, resting on one of the plush sofas, rolled her eyes but laughed despite herself. Beside her, Kira smirked and added her own witty remarks, which only led to more good-natured bickering between the two women, their voices rising just above the crackling of the fire. 

Noah groaned from his spot on the floor in front of the fireplace to keep warm, complaining about something—the cold, the food, the endless waiting in this godforsaken city, it hardly mattered. His complaints were constant background noise, drowned out by Nick and Lester’s easy-going banter as they tossed small pieces of bread at each other across the coffee table. The two of them were relaxed, enjoying the brief reprieve, and engaging in their usual antics with grins plastered on their faces.

Dmitry, on the other hand, was standing by the kitchen’s door away from the group, but watching over them. As always, his expression as serious and unreadable as ever. He didn’t partake in the laughter, nor did he seem to mind it. The General’s focus was inward, as though even in this brief moment of peace, his mind was still deep in the day's events.

Anhea and Pileon, standing at opposite sides of the fireplace, both carried an air of detachment, their celestial forms making them stand out from the others. Yet, every so often, they would glance at the humans, as though amused by their behaviour. Anhea would occasionally offer a small, knowing smile, while Pileon, though darker in presence, seemed more entertained than anything else.

But none of that registered for Lane. None of the banter, the teasing, or the complaints could cut through the fog that had settled over her. She felt removed from it all, like she was observing through a thick pane of glass. Lane sat on the corner of one of the couches, her legs pulled up close to her chest and a soft blanket covered her back and arms. In front of her, the remnants of military prepackaged meals lay scattered across the coffee table, untouched, much like Cain’s. Their squadmates had served rations for everybody, just in case, but he was across the room, standing near one of the tall windows. His eyes were cast downward watching the snowy view outside, as if nothing here truly interested him. The others continued eating their rations or whatever they could scavenge from the canteen, their muted conversation blending into the background.

She hadn’t meant to look at him, but her gaze found him like it always did, as though pulled by an unseen force. The firelight played tricks with the shadows, outlining his features with an ethereal glow. His skin seemed to catch the light in a way no one else’s did, a reminder that he didn’t belong in the same world as the rest of them. She watched him silently, her eyes tracing the sharp line of his jaw, the serene expression that seemed untouched by any human emotion. He stood still, almost unnaturally so, statuesque even, completely removed from the casual chaos around him. There was something in the way he carried himself tonight that was different. He wasn’t just watching them or the street outside. He was waiting, his stillness full of a quiet tension that only Lane seemed to notice.

And then, without warning, his head lifted.

She couldn’t understand what was happening inside her. Was this what it felt like to feel again? Her fingers twitched, her body longing for movement, for some kind of contact. But, before she knew it, Cain was no longer standing across the room. Silently, smoothly, he approached her, his presence commanding but without breaking the gaze. He moved closer, and the world shrank even further. Cain’s form, so tall and imposing, came to rest beside her as he sat on the armrest of the couch she was sitting in, his body close—closer than he had ever been that day. Lane barely breathed.

Their eyes locked, and the world seemed to pause. The chatter, the laughter, the crackling fire—all of it dulled into the background. There was only Cain and Lane, Lane and Cain. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands fisted the blanket from the accumulated pressure. His eyes were piercing, glowing faintly in the dim light, and in that moment, she could see the depth of his age, the ancient knowledge hidden beneath his perfect exterior. Yet, there was something more—something she couldn’t quite place. Cain’s eyes held hers unapologetically, and it felt like the world narrowed to the space between them. She could hear her heart drumming in her ears, becoming louder by the moment, as if it was trying to make up for all the times she hadn’t felt anything at all.

She slowly leaned forward, not fully realising she was doing it, craning her neck slightly to tilt her head upward. She studied him closely—the way one of his hands hung gracefully as he rested his elbow on the back of the sofa, fingers relaxed. The other lay elegantly on his knee. The members of the squad might not have noticed it, but Lane did. His presence, despite its quietness, held an intensity that was almost magnetic. She could feel it, making her crave to be near him every passing day. 

Her hand moved before her mind could catch up. Just the smallest shift, her fingers extending out, brushing ever so slightly against the cushion of the sofa beside her, as if seeking some point of contact with the reality he represented. She didn’t touch him—not quite—but her hand gently caressed the upholstery just on the spot where his hand dangled prettily. The space between them was just a breath’s width, but it was charged with an electricity she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. She wanted to provoke him, dare him to react. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, though—a sign, a flicker of humanity, something that would make her feel connected to him. Yet Cain, for all his angelic calm, wasn’t human, just as she no longer felt as attuned to her own humanity anymore. But maybe, in each other, they could find some common ground; feed off each other to feel complete.

Cain’s gaze flicked down, noticing the motion. His expression didn’t change, but there was the slightest hint of awareness, a spark of recognition behind those icy eyes. He didn’t move, but the air between them seemed to hum, as if time had slowed just for this single, fragile moment. Cain’s gaze focused on her hand for the briefest moment before lifting it back to hers. His face remained impassive, but Lane swore she saw something akin to curiosity, or perhaps caution, confusion even. It was as if he was waiting for her to continue, testing her, just as she was testing him.

And then, it was gone.

Lane’s skin tingled, her senses heightened, every inch of her aware of the space between them. She was suddenly desperate to know what he was thinking, to know if he felt anything in that second of almost-touch. Goosebumps rose all over her arm, surprising her. She observed her skin, how those tiny bumps formed due to the pleasure of being close to the angel, causing her mouth to part in awe. She recognized the reaction, memories of her past flashed in her mind, but experiencing it again after everything she endured was different. Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion, but her body felt alive, more alive than it had in weeks, months, maybe years.

With every fleeting second, she became more aware of the squad’s voices filling the room again, and the mood returned to its lighthearted warmth. But for Lane, everything felt different, as it always did after every interaction with Cain. Something had shifted, and she wasn’t sure if it was inside her or if it was something between her and the angel. He wasted no time in walking away and leaving the chaotic dinner in the living room, but not before looking at her one last time. His steps didn’t falter as he retreated across the room, taking up the stairs where the shadows swallowed him almost completely. But like all the other times, Cain had pulled away again, and she was left with the uncertainty of a what-could-have-been.

While Lane was processing her own reaction, Cain’s eyes broke away, his attention turning back to the room. A sudden burst of laughter from Greg broke the spell, but Lane barely noticed it. Her heart still raced in her chest, her body reacting to a feeling of anticipation her mind couldn’t fully grasp. Suddenly, the sounds of the squadmates’ chatter returned to their original state, startling her out of her trance. The fire crackled once more as she looked around the room to reconnect with her surroundings again, the atmosphere of that moment evaporating and leaving Lane with a hollow ache she couldn’t explain. Cain took advantage of her distracted state and moved away, standing by the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, and his wings spread slightly over him. Seeing the action, Lane’s hand dropped back to her lap, the moment slipping away as quickly as it had come, yet her body still hummed with the aftershock of the near-contact. Why did her body betray her whenever she was near him? It felt as if it was already accustomed to him.

Either way, she knew one thing: that brief, almost imperceptible moment of connection was enough to stir something deep within her. Something she hadn’t felt in far too long, that lay dormant, waiting for the opportunity to awake.

fin.

[sepublic]

TL;DR at the bottom... Even before the decision to include the Collector, I have to wonder if the writers always intended the backstory of a great war between the Titans and a group of celestial beings that descended from above, who smote each other and left only King behind as the survivor. The Season 1 finale alludes to other Titan corpses, with the Boiling Isles being the only fully intact one discovered; So there’s already that implicit question of What killed the Titans?

Likewise, there’s the angelic imagery surrounding Belos, that we also see introduced in S1. And while this could just be a reference to actual Christianity in-universe, I do recall speculating there having been a war between the Titans and divine beings from above during that time in response to this... Not to mention!

The Elsewhere and Elsewhen storyboards have Philip seeking a Song of Stars instead of the Collector, and we know there originally would’ve been three figures that cornered the Owl Beast in Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door’s storyboards. Sounds like...

I’ve speculated on these three as a motif since S1, with their first appearance being in Young Blood, Old Souls, where we first learned of the other Titans and their butchered state. Obviously, we must keep in mind that the crew changed the story after writing Eda’s Requiem, in response to the show’s shortening (this was told to them the week after Agony of a Witch aired, production takes a while), so K3oHD and EE’s storyboards may not mean much in regards to the pre-shortening plans.

But storyboards could’ve been written concurrently; They may have always intended an Angels vs Demons war between the Titans and visitors from the stars, that resulted in a mutual extinction. And the Collector and their backstory wasn’t totally made up in response to the shortening, either; Dana said they were a character concept the writers always wanted to explore.

So it could be that the shortening convinced the writers to make the Collector the face/representative of that extinct species, rather than a more conventional Archivist. And/or the Collectors would’ve remained purely posthumous characters in the backstory, the way Caleb and Evelyn are. The Collector was suggested as a kid of this celestial species to flesh them out, only to be truncated into just the trio; But with the shortening, the crew chose to actualize them as the lens through which we learn of their people’s genocide against the Titans, since they had so much fun with their concept.

Even before the show was shortened and the story changed, the writers might’ve always intended for the Titans to have been wiped out in a war against some celestial beings from space. They entertained the idea of a kid of that species, just as King is for the Titans; And when the shortening was announced in Summer 2020, Dana went F it and decided to elevate this cosmic child from the backstory and into the main story for our protagonists to actually deal with. Instead of an adult trio being this species’ representatives, the writers settled for the Collector.

Even if we didn’t get the Collector, that trio may have taken their place anyway. The background of their species’ genocide against the Titans would’ve remained; Philip’s plan would’ve been to use a leftover spell from that war, the Song of Stars, to enact a genocide upon witches as it was used for Titans (he may have mistaken the Collectors for literal angels whose mission he was finishing; Not unlike how he gets people to project divinity onto the Titan).

And since S1, he was always intended to be aware of and inspired by these celestial beings, who may have come in the form of a trio; Hence the Petrification statue, with the Owl Beast scroll as another hint. The curse is also red magic, which I compared to Belos’, and since he learned from the Collector...!

TL;DR I don’t think the Collector’s inclusion in the story changed it that much, since they’re just an extension of lore that was always planned, possibly filling a role originally intended for others of their kind anyhow; And it sounds as if Dana always considered the Collector, and thus might’ve gone through with them even if TOH hadn’t been shortened. Not that it really matters, because I find the Collector a legitimately compelling character in their own right, who in addition to their contributions to the themes, story, and other characters’ arcs, has justified their inclusion.

[jadegretz]

Elizabeth: The Power of the Tear by Jade Gretz

Elizabeth’s Requiem: A Song of Rebellion:

The gilded city of Columbia hung in the sky like a celestial utopia, its spires piercing the clouds, shimmering in the sunlight as if blessed by the very hand of God. But beneath the surface of this floating paradise, the air was heavy with the weight of oppression, and the cries of the downtrodden echoed through the steel and brass corridors. Elizabeth stood on the edge of a platform, the wind tugging at her dark blue dress and blowing strands of her hair across her face. Her blue eyes, usually wide with wonder, were narrowed in determination as she stared down at the streets below.

Columbia was a beautiful illusion, and she had seen through it long ago. The Founders—those self-proclaimed prophets and paragons of virtue—had built this city as a beacon of American exceptionalism, but it was nothing more than a gilded cage for those who did not fit their mold. Elizabeth knew this all too well; she had been a prisoner in the tower they called Monument Island, a “lamb” meant to be sacrificed to keep their vision pure.

But Elizabeth was no lamb. She was a storm, gathering strength, ready to unleash her fury on those who had wronged her and countless others.

Tonight, the city would burn.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting Columbia in an eerie twilight. The lights of the city began to flicker on, illuminating the grand avenues and towering statues with a ghostly glow. Elizabeth descended the staircase into Shantytown, where the oppressed and destitute lived in squalor, hidden from the pristine streets above. Here, the air was thick with the stench of sweat and despair, and the clatter of machinery never ceased as workers toiled endlessly for scraps.

Elizabeth walked among the people, her heart heavy with their suffering. They looked at her with a mixture of hope and fear, recognizing the girl from the legends—"The Savior" who would bring down the Founders. She could feel their eyes on her, their silent pleas for salvation.

She found Booker DeWitt waiting for her near the entrance to an underground hideout. The man …(see the rest of the story at deviantart.com/jadegretzAI). For more supergirl, chun li, batgirl, tifa, lara croft, wonder woman, rogue and much more, please visit my page at www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai - Thanks for your support :)

[vacantgodling]

WIP MASTERLIST

a landing page for my wips for ease of access—that way you can easily get the gist and peruse the tag if you so desire.

{ main wips }

betwixt thumb and forefinger -> wip intro

the fall of galeré series: paramour (wip intro) // requiem for the monochrome // prim & provocative // empire

he who smites the sun (ph) -> wip intro

{ secondary wips }

alizath -> wip intro // character list

the chronicles of lathsbury -> wip intro

red death & the oracle’s favor -> wip intro

the graves we dug -> wip intro

nondisclosure

train master chidori

magic sex school

the many lovers of the king of concordia

{ non-active wips }

cage universe -> ff: cage

vampires don't take road trips -> CORRECT wip intro | wip intro (defunct)

laurent and the one human he fell in love with

the liminal space series (wip intro): donut wip // noi, alone // jenna the reaper // jenna the witch king // mason at the airport

the virgin of mt heredosa -> character intro

supernatural dads

noble -> wip intro

god eater -> wip intro

peri & dandy

gothica -> wip intro

purple haze

lukewarm rejection -> wip intro

the white shirts

marvin & linda

celestial weddings

dead rites -> wip intro

broken clouds

teardrops of the gods

sixteen candles -> character intro

worthless war (atreyus and the black knight)

soup kink

the face of alexa wardack

operation neith

the grand duchy of black

faceless

bureau of supernatural investigations

tower haunt

something wicked

[aziraphales-library]

hello! i was wondering if you have any more fallen aziraphale fics? thank you so much 💗

Hi! Here are some fics to add to our #fallen angel aziraphale tag...

Aziraphale falls from grace. by Pinkishrose (M)

After Aziraphale comes back from Heaven and reconnects with Crowley, leaving his Archangel days behind him, Heaven gets mad, and makes him fall. But Crowley is here to support him during this, torturous time.

Aziraphale Come Down by TheNapoleonOfCrime (T)

Crowley stared at the television with wide eyes, dropping the drink he held right on the floor and causing it to shatter. He watched the video that had been captured of the angel, his angel, Aziraphale, walk through the busy roads like nothing. Aziraphale, his friend who he always knew to be cautious, to be perfect, walking around as if he was drunk. And his wings, what had happened to them? What had they done to him? Without another thought, Crowley ran out of the bar he had been so comfortably situated in. “Angel-!”

"Angel" He Called Me by AislinRegin (M)

Crowley falls twice so Aziraphale never falls alone.

Well, that won't do as an ending (Let's try again, shall we?) by longdeadking (T)

"Aziraphale would never— Well, he simply wasn't— It just couldn't— Well. The point was, Aziraphale's feathers were… turning odd, these days." or: Aziraphale is having some growing pains as he gets used to his new role as Supreme Archangel. Crowley is being a pouty baby about being left on Earth. Everyone else seems to be doing just fine. or: fuck canon all my homies hate canon. they will be married if i have to officiate the wedding myself. (canon compliant, picks up a little bit after the end of the show)

requiem of a fallen angel by viperinz (T)

“Tomorrow, I might knock on your door again,” Aziraphale says, and it’s so quiet that Crowley has to strain to hear him. “I… I want you to read this before that happens. Should I not come, I want you to know why. A-and what I wanted to say tonight, you deserve to know it.” He schools his expression, bringing it back to his annoyed one he had on earlier. “I don’t want your apologies if you’re going to leave. S’useless, isn’t it?” he grits out, putting a hand on his hip. It’s only for a second, and Aziraphale looks back at him with a small smile. One that doesn’t reach his eyes, and one that is full of utter devastation. “You’ve always been the best of us, Crowley,” Aziraphale says quietly, and Crowley closes the door.

When Aziraphale falls from grace after stopping the Second Coming, it's a slow, painful process. Crowley picks up the pieces, and holds him together.

One Vision by goodoldfashioneddeliveryboy (M)

Something Big. Something Falling. Something falling that started Up, which Muriel had felt, and had descended Down, which Crowley was now feeling. This wasn’t sauntering vaguely downward, no, this was crashing and burning, a comet encased in the hottest of flames, exploding and coming back together in a warped wave of furious celestial intent. The surrounding BANG as it thudded from the mighty Above to the murky Below was felt by all supernatural entities, occult and ethereal. On a bustling street in Soho, the Bentley's alarm wailed. In a dusty bookshop on Whickber Street, the lights flickered. In a deep pit of hell, Aziraphale burned. -OR- Mr SuPrEmE ArChaNgEL falls Tremendously, the two ineffable idiots begin sorting their sh*t out, but the Second Coming appears to still be Coming much to everyone's utter annoyance.

- Mod D

[sarahalainn]

PART 2!

(PART 1 は一つ前の投稿より)

Sarah Àlainn - Celestial Christmas Concert

サラ・オレイン

~ 天使と天上の音楽 ~

8. Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen)

Airmail Specialをはさみたかった最大な理由が、

ここからの絶対的な３曲のため。

Hallelujah

タイトルだけ見ると教会にぴったりな選曲。

でも、これはレナード・コーエンのハレルヤ。

歌詞の内容を思うと、やって良いものなのだろうか、悩む。

「神様は、いるかもしれない

でも、愛から学んだのは、

自分より銃を早く抜くことが出来る人を、

どう撃つかくらいだ」

壊れたHallelujah。

でも、コーエンが言ったもう一つの名言を思い出す:

「すべてのものにヒビがある。そこから光が差し込む」

そう、私たちは壊れてる。ヒビだらけ。

でも、そこから光が差し込むのよ。

Jeff Buckleyのカバーが特に好きで、ギターが印象的。

今年ツアーでエレキを弾く機会があって、今回もと思っていたのですが、

PAさんとも相談し、結果エレアコに。

久しぶりに登場したオーストラリアのMaton。

指が攣りそう＞＜エレキと違って、ヴァイオリンとも違った力の入れ方があり、フォークギターはとにかく毎回緊張します。

エレキヴァイオリニストの壷井彰久さん、ギターも以前弾かれてましたが、「ギターを弾くと指が硬くなってヴァイオリンに影響するからやめた」と話されて、確かに。いつかもっと弾けるようになりたいものですが、今のところ練習を控えてた楽器。

なので、パイプオルガンと並んで、1番緊張した楽曲。

筋肉痛、きっとここからも来てる。

サビでのTakanaとのハモリーがまた気持ち良い。

心の叫びのような、大好きな一曲です。

9. Andata (坂本龍一)

セトリを考える時、一番大事にしてるのは流れ・物語。

演奏者としての自分のことはその次、または無視。

なんでギターの後にまた大変なオルガンを持ってくるのか＞＜

でも、上手くいったら、綺麗なFlowになる。

それを信じて、突き進む。

パイプオルガンのソロ曲、バッハは冗談で言ったものの（ディズニーの「Fantasia」にも出てくるし、分かりやすいかなと。Takanaが当日初めてリハで聞いた時、ふいちゃいましたw）、可能なら挑戦してみたいと思った曲は坂本龍一氏のAndata。アルバム「Async」のバージョンが一番好きで、これをパイプオルガンで演奏できたらなんと素敵だろうと。。

ご本にの前で演奏してみたい。みたかった。

そんな教授へのRequiemでもありました。

終わったから言えますが、初めの和音を弾いた瞬間「やっちゃった。。＞＜」

Shchedrykで消したはずのFull Organ（音色を変えるボタン）がONになってました。

最初は「え！何でこんなに音が大きくて音色が違うんだろうと」、左、右い、上下を次から次へと見て、

最後に赤いランプを見て「うわあ、まさかの」と。

頭の中ではこんなことを色々考えていたけど、現実ではおそらく多分２秒くらいしか絶ってなく、パニックした割には落ち着いて演奏ができました。ちょうどリピートがあったので、落ち着いてボタンを押し、２回目は想像してた音色に。

後で関係者に聞いたら、意図的だったと思う人がいるよ、とのことで、安心。

ハプニングがあったけど、今回一番集中できた演奏でした。

落ち着いたらこちらもYouTubeでシェアしたいです。

10. Merry Christmas Mr. Lawrence 『戦場のメリークリスマス』

もちろん、この季節に欠かせないこの一曲。

ツアーではキーボードの弾き語りをしてますが、Andataからの流れを考えて、パイプオルガンに。

いつもはもっとRubato気味で演奏してますが、オルガンはオリジナルのテンポ感の方があってたので、

演奏してて新鮮でした。最近混ぜてるYMOの「Behind the Mask」もパイプオルガンの音色がハマり、

やっぱり、シンセサウンドに近いものがある！

ここで一番アレンジで苦労したのはピアノとのバランス。

当日でしか分からなかったのですが、オルガンとピアノのチューニングが違う。

あんな大きな楽器で、寒いホールなので、音が狂わないほうが不思議です。

そこでTakanaと上手くどうぶつからないか試行錯誤。

10代の時ピアノトリオで戦メリーを弾いたこともあり、自分の中ではヴァイオリンの激しい部分あってのMerry Christmas Mr. Lawrence。今回のセトリは見ての通り、殆どヴァイオリンの出番がないTTやはりできればここで演奏したい。

そんな構成もあって、楽器の配置も考えました。ヘッドピースは衣装につけられないため、電池を持ちながらヴァイオリンを拾う地味にむずい動作。

色々なアレンジ、編成で演奏して来た戦メリですが、人生でせめてもう一回、またパイプオルガンの弾き語りで表現してみたい。

遠くにいる教授へ

遠くにいる知らないあなたへ

この歌が届きますように

11. Joyful Joyful / 第九

クリスマスは喜ばしい季節。

だから一層悲しみも深く目立つ。

誰もが贅沢できる、少なくとも安心して生きられる、そんな世の中になって欲しい。

でも、現実は違う。

毎日複雑な思いで生きています。

自分自身の行動に矛盾があることにどんどん気づく日々。

今年も出させて頂いた、体にも、環境、動物に優しいクッキー。

今年のクッキー���寄付先はTABLE FOR TWO へさせて頂きます：

https://jp.tablefor2.org/

お陰様でSold Outに。

沢山お作りしたいのですが、ひとつひとつ気持ちを込めて手作りのため、数量限定での販売となっています。

皆さんのおかげで、健康的な食料が、必要とされてる子供たちに届けられます。

最高な、クリスマス・プレゼントでは？！

サポートありがとうございます😇

さあ、クリスマスは、そんな自分にも優しく、遠い誰かにも優しく！

クリスマスをお祝いする方も、

ムーミンみたいに本来お祝いしない方も、

クリスマスは喜ばしい、Joyfulな季節だから！

クリスマス、年末年始にやっぱりこの曲でしょう。しかも今年は合唱入り！

合唱も手拍子しながらのノリノリなゴスペルで「Joyful Joyful」からの日本語で賛美歌のような「喜びの歌」。

そしてラストは声楽で「第九」。Takanaアレンジでお届け！一曲の中で人格がなん度も変わる。好き。

普段声楽を歌われない合唱がさらにドイツ語で歌われて、bravissimo!!!!

そうそう、偶々第九のワインを見つけました！いつか合唱とゆっくり飲む予定＾＾

Joyful Joyfulから最後までは、ほっと一息。

力が抜けてリラックス。

12. O Holy Night

聖なる夜に聖なる���所で皆さんと過ごせた幸せ。

本編最後はやはり、この一曲。

昔からもっとも好きなクリスマスソング。これ、歌っててとても気持ち良いのです。

歌詞も音符・キーも含めて、とにかく歌いやすいんですよね。発生しやすい？というのだろうか。

綺麗に音が響く、計算されて作られた一曲なのかもしれません。

こちらはウィーン少年合唱団と歌わせて頂き、レコーディングをさせて頂きました。

男の子になりたかったチビサラ。それは叶わないと思った時、せめてボーイソプラノになりたいと思った。

その時からなのか、声を真似て高音が出るようになりました。ビブラートが殆どない、ピュアな歌い方。

こちらの方が誤魔化しが効かないので難易度が高い。後半に連れて疲れてくるとビブラートに逃げたりもします。

今回はウィーン少年合唱団のアレンジをベースに、最後は「Amen」を足してみました。🙏

ENCORE

13. Ave Maria (Vavilov)

きっとアンコールがあるだろうと、お客様は思ってくれるでしょう。

でも教会だから、ここで終わりなのかなと思われたりして。。

色々考えながら、焦りながら、大移動＋早着替えを。

オルガンももうないので、ロングのウェディングドレスに合わせてハイヒールに。

ヴェールも被り、慎重に急ぐ。

今度はTakanaがパイプオルガンへ。

Sarah’s AngelsのSAK.と磨裕美さんがヴェールを丁寧に持って下さり、素敵な絵になりました。

この曲は是非ともオルガンと、この時期に、こんなお衣装で歌いたかったです。

2000年以上前の今頃、お腹が大きかった聖母マリア様は大変な思いをされて���をします。

そんな偉大な母の存在も、決して忘れたくありません。

バージンロードを歩きながらの「Ave Maria」。

静かに見守るお客様。

この歌にもっとも相応しい会場。

大好きなこのAve Maria。よくCacciniと表記されてますが、実際はもっと最近のロシアの作曲家、Vavilovの作品。

あまり知られてないので分かりにくいかもしれませんが、これからはこんな素晴らしい曲を作られたVavilovの名前で表記します。

いつもならMinor（短調）、切ない感じで終わるのですが、打ち合わせも特になかったのに、TakanaがMajor（長調）で終わり、顔を見合わせながら、「だよね！」と二人頷く。

切ないけれど、絶望的でもあるけど、ハレルヤのように希望を感じさせる、そんな気持ちにさせるクリスマス。

14. Silent Night

ここで演出として、会場と一体になりたく、「きよしこの夜」を皆さんと一緒に歌いました。

みなさんが立ち上がり、事前に作った歌詞カードを手にされ、声を一斉に。

伴奏もあっても良かったですし、合唱がハモるのもありでしたが、

ユニゾンで、同じ音で、アカペラで一緒に歌うことに、力を感じました。

シンプルに、ストレートに、心を一つに。

心の中でうるっと🥲

唯一今思うと、私も合唱もマイクを通さないで歌ったらさらに一体化しましたね。

なので、それは絶対にまたどこかで実現したい。

響き渡る皆さんの歌声。Bravi 👏

ここからさらに高いキーに転調し、Takanaのパイプオルガンのベースが鳴る。

合唱がSAK.の指揮によって入られる。

これまたエグいアレンジ（すみません）。

でもSarah’s Angelsは「こういうの好き！」と、

優しさからなのか、チャレンジ精神豊かだからか、天使の笑顔で微笑んでくれた。なんて良い人たちTT

本当に美しかったです。

15. Nessun Dorma

2023年ファイナルということもあり、音響が美しいということもあり、

「Silent Nightでも、誰も寝てはならぬ！」

本人はこの後１０時間爆睡しましたけどね。

ツーランドットの女性バージョンを歌いきり、カーテンコールへ。

本当に皆様お疲れ様でした！

関係者の皆様、来られた皆様、

一生忘れない、クリスマスプレゼントをありがとうございました。

16. You Raise Me Up

本来は「Nessun Dorma(誰も寝てはならぬ)」で終わるはずだった舞台。

大きく二つの理由があって、もう一曲アンコールを。

ちょうど一ヶ月前の１１月２１日、1/f FANCLUBの限定イベントが開催:

https://www.sarahalainn.net/

リクエスト曲ライブ。

最後���ノーマイクで歌って演奏した「You Raise Me Up」。

いつもサポートして下さってる方に最後は肉声で思いをお届けできればと。

限定ライブだったため、もう一度似たような演出を今回も。

満員のホールにもか変わらず、響く教会にビックリ。

ここだったら完全にunplugged (PA・マイクなし)のコンサートは全然あり得ますね。

そして、もう一つ。

コンサートとはいえ、教会でのクリスマスということで、

拍手とお辞儀で終わるのが、ちょっと違和感を感じました。

聖なる夜に、本当の意味のクリスマスをお届けしたい。

メッセンジャーというスタンスで。

最後は、会場に下り、バージンロードを演奏・歌いながらその場を去りました。

ディナーショーなら手を差し伸べたい気持ちは分かりますが、

教会でのマナーを意識されたお客様のおかげで、こんな演出が可能でした。

安心して楽器の演奏も。エンターテイナーとして今後も安心しながら面白い演出をしたいので、とてもありがたいです🙇‍♀️

サラジオのプロデューサーも来て下さって、とても嬉しい感想だったのでシェアさせて下さい：

「お客さんもあの終わりかただと満足度が極まって、アンコールの拍手も止んでしまいますね。

アンコールの拍手が出ないと言うことは、満足したと言う証明ですから、昨日はそれを実証しました。」

ここまで読まれたのですが？！

ありゃま。ワオ。お疲れ様です！

いつもこんな感じでコンサートの準備などしてます！

年末年始ということで、いつも以上に舞台裏を書けました^_^

そして終わっていつもこうなる：

「次どうしよう。。。＞＜」

笑

今年も沢山のサポート、愛をありがとうございました🫶

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Happy New Year!

Happy New/Old YOU!

良いお年を！新しい自分、今までの自分に乾杯！

[u2fangirlie-blog]

Good Omens Aziraphale's Sad Bastard Breakup Playlist

After the breakup, Aziraphale has a new job in heaven, having taken Gabriel’s vacant position. Aziraphale is haunted by sad music reminding him of his time with Crowley. The songs are dramatic, tragic, melancholic, angry, wistful, romantic, and sentimental. How does he listen to music at his new job in the head office? Are material objects allowed? Does he keep a secret stash of tea, cake, and records and a phonograph player in his office? Does he have a celestial radio that can tune in Earth radio stations? Does he sneak off to Earth to hang out in record shops and bookstores? Or more dramatically and emotionally torturously, does he remember every note, every nuance, every feeling, of every song and replay them in his mind? He's stuffing his face with angel food cake and tea while crying and listening to sad bastard songs and hiding from Michael and the Metatron.

See note after list on song selection process.

Songs include:

“Lacrimosa” – Mozart, Requiem in D Minor, Vienna Mozart Orchestra

“Commendatore” – Mozart, Don Giovanni, Amadeus film soundtrack

“Ja, tot katoramu vnimala” – Rubenstein, The Demon, Nicolai Ghiaurov

“D’amour l’ardente flemme” – Berlioz, The Damnation of Faust, Maria Callas

“Liebestod” – Wagner, Tristan and Isolde, Waltraud Meier

“Ach ich fuhls” – Mozart, The Magic Flute, Gundula Janowitz

“Thy hand, Belinda … When I am laid in earth” – Purcell, Dido and Aeneas, Janet Baker

“E lucevan la stelle” – Puccini, Tosca, Placido Domingo

“Celeste Aidia” – Verdi, Aida, Mario Lanza

“Ich bin der Welt abhanden gekommen” Mahler, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau

“Der Wanderer” – Schubert, Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau

“Love is a Plaintive Song” – Gilbert and Sullivan, Patience, D’Oyly Carte Opera Company

“I am a Courtier Grave and Serious” – Gilbert and Sullivan, The Gondoliers, D’Oyly Carte Opera Company

“The Gentleman is a Dope” – Rodgers and Hammerstein, Allegro, Blossom Dearie

“A Hymn to Him” – Lerner and Lowe, My Fair Lady, Rex Harrison

“Could I Leave You?” – Sondheim, Follies, Alexis Smith

“We Do Not Belong Together” – Sondheim, Sunday in the Park with George, Bernadette Peters and Mandy Patinkin

“On My Own” – Schonberg, Les Misérables, Frances Ruffelle

“As Long as He Needs Me” – Bert, Oliver, Judy Garland

 “Stranger in Paradise” – Wright and Forest, Kismet, Richard Kiley and Doretta Morrow

“A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” – Sherwin and Maschwitz, Vera Lynn

“Night and Day” – Porter, The Gay Divorcee, Ella Fitzgerald

“I’ve Got You Under My Skin” – Porter, Born to Dance, Shirley Bassey

“Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” – Rodgers and Heart, Pal Joey, Sarah Vaughan

“They Can’t Take That Away From Me” – Gershwin, Shall We Dance, Fred Astaire

“Mon Deu” – Dumont and Vaucaire, Edith Piaf

“Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” – Dumont and Vaucaire, Edith Piaf

P.S.: Aziraphale likes Les Mis because it reminds him of that time Crowley rescued him from the Bastille. Don't tell anyone. It's a big secret.

P.P.S.: “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” reminds him of the time he and Crowley got drunk in the backroom at the bookshop the day the anti-Christ was delivered to Earth. Basically, this song reminds him of every time they went out for drinks or stayed in and drank.

P.P.P.S.: “I am a Courtier Grave and Serious” was the song Aziraphale planned to play when trying to tempt Crowley into learning the gavotte. It reminds him of the ball in the bookstore when he finally danced with Crowley.

P.P.P.P.S.: “Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien” is as close as Aziraphale can get to telling the world and Crowley to eff off. He has no more effs to give. Or at least he’s trying to convince himself he no longer gives a f***. He’s going off to his new job at the head office and Do Good.

Note on song selection:

I selected songs that thematically fit with the relationship between Aziraphale and Crowley. I think the songs tell a story of Aziraphale’s struggle to reconcile his conflicted motivations. They reflect Aziraphale’s fears and desires. He fears being hauled off to hell for disobedience. He fears Crowley’s death and being alone in the world. He desires to be emotionally intimate with Crowley. (Dare he risk physical intimacy with Crowley?) He feels self-righteously indignant, but he’s soft and squishy and weepy and misses his best friend.

I don’t have much knowledge of opera or musical theater, but I have some experience with choir and solo performance. I did a lot of research into opera, art songs, musicals, showtunes, and standards to create a playlist on YouTube. Selections were based on availability, popularity, and sound quality. My big question was whether or not Aziraphale is a strict originalist or if he likes different versions of songs. In some places, I chose newer versions over original versions due to the sound quality of the recordings. I tried to keep selections accessible to a wide audience with varying degrees of musical knowledge. You may not like my choices, so your mileage may vary. You can make your own playlist.

You can listen to it on YouTube.

[cero-sleep]

Sun and Moon harpy forms!

Celestial Requiem by @shookethdev and I!

[eldritchlibertine]

PAIRING: Castiel x OC

Reed finds herself caught between loyalty to the Winchesters and her complicated relationship with the Bela Talbot. With time running out and bonds being tested, Reed must navigate between family, friendship, and faith - all while facing the terrifying possibility that she might lose Dean forever.

Sacrifice, betrayal, and the sometimes painful cost of protecting those we love.

[dawnsbreaking]

Transcription: Zayne's ST "Beginning"

i transcribed Zayne's ST story for meta purposes and thought I would put the transcription here for others to have it if they haven't unlocked it yet/to have it more accessible than it is in game

everything with "Foreseer:" is Zayne speaking directly, anything not attributed is the poem. i did it this way to make it easier to read the poem on its own, since that's what i hope to analyze in the future <3

Foreseer: Shift your gaze elsewhere. Foreseer: Your expression shall not even earn an ounce of my pity. Foreseer: Though it seems a night in the throne room was not enough. Foreseer: Perhaps you desire to be frozen with the wall as your paltry confessional? [Ice SFX] Foreseer: Better to yield now than later. [Page turning SFX] Foreseer: Could you still be interested in what I’m currently reading? Foreseer: …Certainly, ’tis a poem related to Astra. Its descriptions suit you. Foreseer: Would you like to hear it? - A great distance beyond, …. north of ice and snow, Atop the Divine Mountain, When Light pierces through howling blizzards, The divine sing of Destiny’s crest My Emissary devout, Will thou be lost in these celestial halls? Will thou have the courage to wait for Mine words? To unveil thy fate predetermined. - Foreseer: You appear to be fascinated. Foreseer: [Laugh?] Hmph, then don’t speak. - With the frozen kingdom awakened, Greedy ants fall into eternal slumber. The divine rest upon their thrones, Yet hidden daggers lie beneath their robes. Brazen trespasser, Arcticyons sing of thy requiem. Dost thou know where thy stands, Upon white, gleaming bones? - Foreseer: I don’t mind repeating this verse. Consider it a prophesy of your future. Foreseer: Are you frightened? Foreseer: If this is all your courage is capable of, you best forget about the Creatio Protocore. [Page turning SFX] - Traces of destiny like shimmering starlight, Bind people who have never met… - Foreseer: I’ll stop here. The last verse is rather strange. Foreseer: Do you truly wish to strike a deal? Foreseer: You ask far too many questions. [Ice SFX] Foreseer: Must your wild curiosity be satiated? - Celestial Savior, Is thou prepared? To save him from darkness? To be his sanctuary amidst rime and gale, To allow the descent… of miracles once again? - [END] here is the poem in its entirety without interjections just to make it easier to read:

A great distance beyond, …. north of ice and snow, Atop the Divine Mountain, When Light pierces through howling blizzards, The divine sing of Destiny’s crest My Emissary devout, Will thou be lost in these celestial halls? Will thou have the courage to wait for Mine words? To unveil thy fate predetermined. With the frozen kingdom awakened, Greedy ants fall into eternal slumber. The divine rest upon their thrones, Yet hidden daggers lie beneath their robes. Brazen trespasser, Arcticyons sing of thy requiem. Dost thou know where thy stands, Upon white, gleaming bones? Traces of destiny like shimmering starlight, Bind people who have never met… Celestial Savior, Is thou prepared? To save him from darkness? To be his sanctuary amidst rime and gale, To allow the descent… of miracles once again?

[acoraxia]

is there ever a moment in requiem au where Erlang gets startled by just how young Wukong is. if he was any different he would be considered a child, not a weapon

Yes; please take in mind that despite the fact Wukong is immortal and lived a good 50 or so years — he was still young. Incredibly so compared to most other celestials and he presented himself as such. Even in LMK he is younger than he seems to be in present time. Erlang was sent down to kill him when he was an infant — and considering how time works in Heaven that was a little over 5 days ago for him.

He meets Wukong again and asks how old he is and Wukong answers earnestly. He hasn’t even lived a full life yet, he hasn’t grown at all. He’s still learning. It’s like looking down at a younger version of himself and Erlang still makes the mistake of treating Wukong as a weapon (something something continuing the cycle of abuse)

[fatherentropy]

Commission for @celestial-requiem

[magic-shop-stories]

Hey, this might be a little out there, so feel free to ignore it if it’s too much, but I just wanted to say that I absolutely adore your writing and I’m so grateful for all the stories you share! Thank you so much for all the inspiration!

So here’s my request:

I’d love to read a fantasy AU where BTS are immortal guardians of the cosmos, each tied to a different constellation. Their soulmates are mortals who have a starfragment embedded in their palm.

Imagine this: Jungkook, the mysterious guardian of the Orion Nebula, falls for a human astronomer who’s spent her life studying his stars—only to realize she’s his destined soulmate. But as her starfragment starts to fade he defies celestial laws and shares his immortality with her, unknowingly setting off a chain reaction that could destroy both of their worlds, causing a cosmic disaster.

It’s a little wild, but I think it would make for an epic story!

💌Reply:

Hi there! ✨️

First of all, THANK YOU so much for your kind words and for trusting me with such a unique and creative idea! Your request was absolutely NOT too much—in fact, it was such a joy to write! I loved diving into this cosmic fantasy world and exploring the dynamic between Jungkook and Lyra (I guess I'm not very creative choosing names), with all the celestial drama, angst, and fluff that came with it. The concept of immortal guardians, star fragments, and forbidden love was so inspiring...

I hope the story I wrote captured the epic, emotional, and otherworldly vibe you were imagining! If there’s anything you’d like adjusted or expanded, just let me know—I’m always happy to tweak things to make it perfect for you.

Thank you again for such a creative and heartfelt request. It was truly a pleasure to bring your vision to life! ✨️💜

REQUEST NAME:

Nebula's Requiem

↳ Jungkook x f!OC Lyra (Soulmates); Fantasy AU, Angst with Fluff, Cosmic Romance

Rating: G maybe T (I'm bad at this and read too much stuff when I was too young so you better don't trust me)

Word Count: ~ 4k

Genre: BTS AU, Cosmic Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Mythic Romance, Action, Found Family, Epic Battle, Emotional Whump

Warnings: Intense action sequences, strong language, near-death experiences, existential horror, celestial body destruction, transformation trauma, godly devotion, cryptic foreshadowing.

Pairings: Jungkook × f!OC (Lyra) – Godlike Devotion, Fated Bond, Mythic Romance

Featuring: Taehyung as the chaotic Pleiades guardian, Yoongi as the stoic black hole keeper, and Jimin as the dazzling Andromeda protector. Celestial warlords, space-time anomalies, divine power struggles, supernova awakenings, galaxy-shattering battles, sarcastic Yoongi wisdom, Taehyung’s chaotic brilliance, Jimin’s flamboyant mischief, and Jungkook as a relentless force of cosmic love.

The abandoned Seoul observatory crouched atop its hill like a skeletal beast, its domed roof long stripped of copper, its telescopes rusted sentinels pointing blindly at the sky. Dr. Lyra Han’s boots crunched over shattered glass as she navigated the decay, her breath crystallizing in the subzero air. She came here every new moon, when light pollution dimmed enough to glimpse the truth—the Orion Nebula, bleeding crimson and gold through the observatory’s fractured dome. Tonight, its glow pulsed like a wounded heart.

Her gloved hand trembled as she adjusted the radio telescope, its gears shrieking in protest. Static crackled through her headphones, then...

Hiss

Click

Voice

...not her own.

Lyra froze. The frequency wasn’t hers. It wasn’t human. The voice wove through the static like smoke, low and resonant, speaking in no language yet understood by her bones. She’d heard it for months now, always when the nebula swelled brightest. Tonight, she’d record it. Prove she wasn’t hallucinating.

“Just… a few more adjustments,” she muttered, scribbling equations on the frosted windowpane with a half-frozen marker. Her breath fogged the glass, her left palm—always unnaturally warm—pressed against it for stability. The star-shaped scar there itched, as it did whenever the nebula flared.

Jungkook had not risen from his throne in three mortal decades.

Why would he? His realm was a graveyard. The Orion Nebula coiled around him, its once-vibrant gases now sluggish and dim, chained to his obsidian throne by filaments of dying light. His brethren called it a cage, and he its warden. They did not know it was his penitence.

But her voice...

It pierced the silence like a comet. Crackling through the radio waves, soft and stubborn, a mortal woman dissecting his prison with equations sharper than celestial steel.

“The Orion Nebula isn’t just a nursery for stars,” she’d murmured weeks ago, her words etching themselves into the throne’s armrests. “It’s a requiem. Something here is… grieving.”

Jungkook’s hand spasmed, fracturing the throne’s arm. Grieving. Grieving. How dare she...

He materialized in her realm in a storm of nebula dust.

Lyra didn’t hear him arrive.

She felt it.

The air thickened, tasting of ozone and burnt cinnamon. The radio static sharpened into a scream, then silence. When she turned, he stood haloed in the nebula’s bloody light—a figure carved from shadow and starfire.

His skin was not skin but a living tapestry of constellations, their patterns shifting like restless serpents beneath the surface. Hair as black as event horizons fell to his waist, threaded with filaments of gold that pulsed in time with the scar on her palm. His eyes—gods, his eyes—were twin supernovae, white-hot cores ringed with dying stars.

He wore armor forged from the remnants of collapsed suns, jagged and iridescent, and a cloak that billowed not with wind but with the gravitational pull of unseen worlds.

Lyra stumbled back, her hip striking the telescope’s edge. Hallucination. Sleep deprivation. Hypothermia. Her scientific mantras dissolved as he spoke.

“You are wrong.”

His voice was the death rattle of a star—a basso profundo that vibrated her teeth, layered with echoes of a thousand collapsing worlds. The observatory trembled, dust raining from the ceiling.

Lyra’s gloves slipped as she gripped the windowsill. “Wh-what—”

“It is not a requiem.” He glided forward, boots leaving scorch marks on the rotting floorboards. The nebula’s light bent around him, as though spacetime itself recoiled. “It is a cage.”

Her scar burned. She ripped off her glove without thinking.

The starfragment embedded in her palm—a shard of cobalt light she’d borne since birth—flared violently. Jungkook froze.

“You.” The supernovae in his eyes dimmed to embers. “You carry… my sorrow.”

Lyra’s knees buckled. The scar was reacting, tendrils of light snaking up her wrist. “What are you?!”

He did not answer. His armored hand hovered over hers, close enough that her skin blistered from the heat. The starfragment screamed—a sound only she could hear—and suddenly, she saw

A throne of blackened starlight.

Jungkook, younger but no less ancient, weeping diamonds as he shattered a star with bare hands.

A nebula screaming as chains of light cinched around its heart.

Her own infant fist, closing around a shard of celestial debris.

A voice -his voice- howling across the cosmos: “Forgive me "

Lyra wrenched back, gasping. “N-no. This isn’t—I don’t—”

Jungkook’s face contorted, the constellations beneath his skin roiling like storm clouds. “You should not see. You should not be."

“Be what?!”

“Mine.”

The admission detonated between them. The radio telescope exploded in a shower of sparks. Lyra screamed, shielding her face, but when the debris cleared...

He was gone.

Only the scar’s afterglow remained, throbbing in time with the nebula’s wounded pulse.

Lyra’s apartment was a cathedral of chaos. Star charts papered the walls, equations scrawled in red ink bleeding over coffee stains. Her telescope pointed defiantly at the boarded-up window, and her kitchen—now a warzone of half-empty ramyeon cups—still smoldered from Jungkook’s abrupt departure. She’d spent hours scrubbing scorch marks from the floor, her starfragment throbbing like a second heartbeat.

It’s not real, she told herself, scalding her tongue on bitter tea. A stress-induced hallucination. Sleep deprivation.

Then the ceiling screamed.

The black hole tore through her apartment like divine vandalism.

One moment, Lyra was glaring at her starfragment—now dimmer, smaller —and the next, spacetime itself ruptured above her stove. The air curdled, condensing into a singularity no wider than a dinner plate, yet radiating gravitational malice. Dishes levitated, her textbooks shredded into confetti, and the microwave imploded with a metallic shriek.

From the void emerged a figure wreathed in dying starlight.

Taehyung, Guardian of the Pleiades, tumbled onto her linoleum floor in a cascade of supernova debris. His cloak—woven not from feathers but from the souls of extinct stars—billowed with phantom winds, its fabric shimmering with the trapped light of a thousand dead galaxies. His hair, a nebula incarnate, shifted from violet to ultraviolet as he laughed, shaking comet dust from his brow.

“Apologies for the mess, mortal!” His voice was a symphony of chaos, notes clashing like colliding asteroids. “Black hole shortcuts are… unrefined.”

Lyra staggered back, her spine hitting the fridge. Another hallucination. Worse this time.

But the stranger’s eyes pinned her—one pupil a spiraling galaxy, the other a pulsing quasar. His grin sharpened. “Ah. You’re the reason Kookie’s been moping for eons.”

Jungkook materialized in a supernova’s afterglow, his armor crackling with contained fury. “Taehyung.”

The Pleiades guardian waved a hand, and Lyra’s toaster erupted into a miniature supernova. “Miss me, Orion?”

“You violate celestial law.” Jungkook’s throne-scarred hands flexed, nebulae churning in his palms. “The mortal realm is forbidden.”

“Says the god who branded his soulmate.” Taehyung flicked a finger, and the floating ramyeon cups aligned into a scale model of the Solar System. “Adorable, isn’t she? All fragile bones and borrowed time.”

Lyra’s breath hitched. “Soulmate?”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped to her—a supernova’s glare. “Silence."

“Oh, let’s not.” Taehyung levitated onto her countertop, legs swinging like a child’s. His boots were soled with dying white dwarfs, their light leaching into her tiles. “See, darling, that pretty shard in your palm?” He pointed to her starfragment, now flickering erratically. “It’s a piece of his prison. Which means...”

“Enough.” Jungkook lunged, but Taehyung dissolved into stardust, reappearing behind Lyra.

“...you’re bound to his suffering. And dying because of it.”

Lyra’s vision tunneled. The room tilted.

Taehyung’s hand—cold as the interstellar void—closed over her wrist. Her starfragment screamed, projecting holograms of Jungkook’s throne, the nebula’s chains, her own infant face bathed in celestial fire.

“Your mortal coil can’t contain cosmic grief,” Taehyung murmured, almost gentle. “His sorrow is killing you.”

Jungkook stood frozen, his constellation-kissed skin gone ashen. The Pleiades guardian laughed bitterly.

“Look at him! The mighty Orion, who shattered stars to build his cage. Now he’d let you die to keep his hands clean.”

Lyra wrenched free, her scar searing. “Stop—stop talking like I’m not here”

Silence.

Taehyung tilted his head. Jungkook’s fists clenched, neutronium armor groaning.

“You… feel nothing?” The Pleiades guardian drifted closer, galaxies swirling in his irises. “No cosmic pull? No recognition?”

Her laugh bordered on hysterical. “I’m a radio astronomer who hallucinates gods! What do you want me to..."

Jungkook moved.

One heartbeat, he stood across the room. The next, his hand—incandescent with dying stars—cradled her jaw.

“Look,” he commanded.

And she saw.

Scenes flashed...

A younger Jungkook, golden and laughing, weaving nebulae with Taehyung.

A council of gods sentencing him for crimes unnamed.

His hands, trembling as he carves a shard from his own nebula.

A newborn’s cry—Lyra’s first breath—as the starfragment grafts to her soul.

Centuries of watching, yearning, as her mortal life flickers like a guttering candle.

Lyra recoiled, tears boiling as they fell. “You… stole part of your prison. Put it in me. Why?”

Jungkook’s hand fell. "To remember.”

“To remember what?”

“That destruction is not all I am.”

Taehyung snorted. “Poetic. Now fix it.” He tossed Jungkook a jar brimming with stolen galaxy cores—primordial energy sources banned by celestial decree. “Share your immortality. Break the bond.”

Jungkook stared at the cores, their light refracting in his eyes. "The cost...”

“...is worth paying.” Taehyung’s levity vanished. “Or would you let her die a martyr to your pride?”

Lyra’s knees gave out. She slid down the fridge, staring at her dimming starfragment. “I’m… really dying?”

Jungkook’s silence was the answer that shattered her world.

The Cosmic Vault existed outside spacetime, a fortress carved into the ergosphere of a rotating black hole. Its walls were forged from quantum paradoxes—every step Lyra took fractured into infinite possibilities. To her left, a version of herself aged into dust. To her right, she became a god. Jungkook gripped her elbow, anchoring her to the present.

“Do not look. Do not think.” His voice was strained, the constellations beneath his skin fraying at the edges. "Mortals unravel here.”

“Too late,” Lyra muttered, her starfragment pulsing like a Geiger counter. The vault’s aura reeked of static and forgotten graves.

Taehyung materialized ahead, juggling three miniature neutron stars. “Remind me why I'm the distraction?”

“Because you’re expendable,” Yoongi said, emerging from the shadows like a wraith.

Yoongi, Guardian of Black Holes, was a study in controlled annihilation.

His armor was simpler than Jungkook’s—obsidian plates smoothed by aeons of gravitational erosion, their surface devouring light. His eyes, hidden behind visors of collapsed spacetime, glowed faintly with Hawking radiation. The gauntlets on his hands were twin singularities, humming with entropy.

“This,” Yoongi said, activating his gauntlets, “is why I hate poets.” The black holes whirred, unraveling the vault’s lock—a mechanism built from contradictions. “Sharing immortality? Might as well piss on the laws of thermodynamics.”

Lyra frowned. “But you’re helping.”

Yoongi didn’t glance up. “Taehyung owes me five hundred supermassive black holes. And Jungkook…” His gauntlets sparked, fracturing reality. “…deserves a second chance. Even if he’s an idiot.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened but he said nothing.

The vault door split with a scream.

Inside, the Font of Eternity churned—a liquid star contained within a cage of gravitational ropes. Its light was alive, lashing against the bonds like a caged animal. The air thrummed with the screams of every mortal who’d ever begged for forever.

Lyra gagged. “It’s… sentient?”

“It is a compacted timeline,”Jungkook said, stepping forward. “Every drop contains a million potential eternities.”

Yoongi crossed his arms. “Touch it, and those eternities become your problem. You ready to babysit entropy, princess?”

“Don’t call me...”

“...Focus,” Jungkook snapped. He unsheathed his dagger, its blade forged from the last light of a dying universe. “The bond must be severed at the quantum level. Lyra—your hand.”

She hesitated. The scar ached, whispering of Jungkook’s grief, his rage, his regret.

“What happens to you?”

“Irrelevant.”

“Liar,” Yoongi muttered.

Taehyung’s voice crackled through their comms a nebula fragment stuck in Lyra’s ear. “Enforcer drones incoming! Kindly hurry with the cosmic felony!”

Jungkook sliced his palm, letting godblood—thick and iridescent—drip into the Font. The liquid star hissed, morphing into a vortex of screaming faces.

“Now,” he ordered.

Lyra pressed her starfragment to the Font. Agony erupted—a supernova in her veins. The scar unfolded, tendrils of light fusing with the liquid eternity.

Yoongi cursed. “Her mortal frame can’t stabilize the merge! Jungkook, you idiot...”

“Hold. Steady.”Jungkook gripped Lyra’s shoulders, his eyes bleeding starlight. “You are not small. You are infinite!"

The Font erupted.

Lyra’s scream echoed through paradox walls.

Her body flickered—mortal, immortal,

other. The vault trembled, quantum walls fracturing. Yoongi swore, black holes flaring as he fought to stabilize reality.

“Get her out!” he roared.

Jungkook reached for her, but the Font’s chains snapped. Liquid eternity flooded the vault, birthing and erasing civilizations in its wake.

Taehyung’s voice cut through the chaos. “Incoming Enforcers! And—oh hell—is that a class-9 supernova?!”

Lyra glimpsed it then—a detonation wave rippling through the cosmic fabric. Her starfragment ignited.

“Jungkook!”

He tackled her as the vault imploded.

The asteroid belt was a graveyard of dead planets, its debris field stretching into infinity—jagged rock and ice glinting under the faint glow of a dying star. Lyra’s breath fogged her helmet visor, her body tethered to Jungkook’s by a cord of braided starlight. Behind them, the Celestial Enforcers’ warships loomed like steel leviathans, their hulls etched with runes of obliteration.

“Stay close,” Jungkook ordered, his voice fraying at the edges. The nebula in his veins pulsed erratically, dimmed by the Font’s backlash.

Lyra gripped his armored forearm. “Why? Because you’ll vaporize me if I wander?”

His jaw tensed. “Because I cannot lose you again.”

The words hung between them, charged and fragile. Then...

A missile of condensed dark matter struck their flank.

Lyra’s tether snapped. She spun into the void, the Enforcers’ gravity nets closing in. Jungkook roared, diving after her, but the second missile detonated inside his chest.

The supernova ignited.

Lyra caught him.

Or he caught her.

Their lips met in the electric silence between explosions.

Jungkook’s kiss was superheated plasma, a fusion reactor contained in flesh. Lyra’s tasted of stolen stardust and mortal defiance. For a heartbeat, the cosmos stilled...

Then her starfragment detonated.

The shockwave tore through the asteroid belt, vaporizing rocks into primordial dust. Lyra’s scream crystallized into a symphony of creation as light birthed from her scar—a supernova contained in a mortal shell.

Jungkook shielded her with his body, his armor disintegrating. “Lyra—control it...”

“I can’t...”

“...You must.” His eyes bled starlight, hands cupping her face. “You are not destruction. You are dawn.”

Yoongi materialized in a maelstrom of fury, black hole gauntlets devouring Enforcer drones. “ROMANCE IS CATASTROPHIC!” He annihilated a moon-sized asteroid, its fragments forming a temporary shield. “Jungkook! Contain your apocalyptic girlfriend!”

Lyra, half-blind with supernova energy, stumbled into a floating debris field. Her veins glowed like magma fissures, every exhale scattering starseed.

“Darling! Catch!”

Jimin’s voice. Then—weapons.

The Andromeda Stardust Nunchucks spun toward her, each chain forged from the galaxy’s spiral arms, their handles inlaid with pulsar cores. She grabbed them, and the universe sang.

“Flick the wrist!”Jimin called, his lithe form dancing across an asteroid in robes of living auroras. “Stardust is a language—speak it!”

Lyra swung. The nunchucks left comet trails, their impact rippling spacetime. A meteor shattered into glittering sapphire shards.

“Jealous?!” she taunted Yoongi, dodging an entropy beam.

He atomized a drone with a snarl. “Of what? Your impending supernova-induced death?”

Jungkook fought like a god unshackled.

Nebula tendrils lashed from his fingertips, binding Enforcer ships in cosmic vines. His blood—now liquid starlight—dripped into the void, crystallizing into black-hole daggers. But his gaze never left Lyra, a supernova blazing through her mortal frame.

“Kookie!” Taehyung’s comet skidded to a halt, Pleiades cloak singed. He hurled a galaxy core grenade, its detonation birthing a temporary star. “She’s not dying—she’s evolving!”

Jungkook froze. “What?”

“The starfragment wasn’t a leash—it was a cocoon!” Taehyung ducked an ion blast, grinning manically. “Her mortality was a lie! She’s the universe’s reset button—a primordial supernova!”

Lyra’s nunchucks faltered. Memories flooded her—not hers. Ancient ones...

A cosmos before light.

A council of gods fearing a power that could unmake them.

Her soul, forged in the first supernova, sealed into human flesh.

Jungkook, unknowingly binding her to his heart to protect her.

“No…” She gripped her head, supernova energy scorching her helmet. “I’m not—I’m not human?”

Jungkook reached her as the energy peaked. “You are Lyra.” He tore off her melting visor, forehead pressed to hers. “That is all that matters.”

The Enforcer flagship fired.

Yoongi intercepted the blast.

His black holes collapsed into a singularity shield, muscles straining as spacetime itself screamed. “Hurry!”

Taehyung tossed Lyra a galaxy core. “Take this!”

“What?”

“JUST DO IT!”

She swallowed the core.

The supernova erupted and shifted...

Lyra’s scream was not a sound but a rupture —a fissure in the fabric of spacetime that echoed with the agony of dying stars. Her body hovered at the epicenter of her own annihilation, limbs contorted as supernova energy ravaged her mortal shell. Skin crystallized into diamond fractals, hair unraveling into solar flares that scorched the asteroid belt to glass. The Enforcers’ warships disintegrated, their crews reduced to ash-motes singing requiems only she could hear.

Jungkook lunged through the inferno, his nebula armor sloughing off in molten ribbons. Beneath it, his true form flickered—a skeletal constellation, ribs cracked from eons of grief, eyes hollow supernovae. He crashed into her, their bodies skidding across a disintegrating asteroid.

“Lyra!" His voice was raw, bleeding stardust. “Anchor yourself! The power is yours—it does not own you!”

She clawed at her throat, veins pulsing with primordial fire. “It’s—too much...”

“You are more.” He cradled her face, thumbs smearing iridescent tears. “You are the dawn that outshines the dark.”

Their second kiss was not a collision but a symphony.

Jungkook’s lips burned with the desperation of a god who’d forgotten mercy. Lyra’s tasted of supernova ash and human defiance—salt, iron, and the faintest trace of peppermint chapstick. Where their mouths met, reality bloomed.

The supernova imploded.

Then... silence.

A newborn star ignited between them, its core a swirling helix of mortal DNA and celestial fire. Light rippled outward, mending shattered asteroids into delicate rings, repainting the Orion Nebula in hues of amethyst and gold. The Enforcers’ ashes coalesced into butterflies of condensed stardust, their wings whispering apologies as they scattered.

Lyra gasped, her crystallized skin softening into flesh. The starfragment scar now blazed as a constellation across her collarbone—Orion’s belt fused with a supernova’s heart.

“Jungkook…” She stared at the star, their star, orbiting them in lazy spirals. “What did we do?”

He laughed—a sound like nebulas relearning joy. “What you were born to do.”

Taehyung emerged from a supernova’s debris cloud, his Pleiades cloak now mostly scorched. “Dibs on naming the star!” He lobbed a galaxy core at Yoongi, who vaporized it mid-air. “Lyra’s Folly? Jungkook’s Redemption Arc? Sparkles McSparkleface...?”

Yoongi sat atop a black hole singularity, massaging his gauntlet-singed wrist. His visor was cracked, revealing eyes like event horizons—endlessly patient, endlessly exhausted. “Name it ‘Regret’ so I can christen it with your funeral.”

Jimin descended from Andromeda’s spiral arm on a comet, robes billowing with bioluminescent nebulae. His hair shimmered with stolen quasar light, and his smile could’ve jumpstarted dead stars. “A performance worthy of encores!” He tossed Lyra a thermos of liquid starlight. “Drink, darling. Supernova hangovers are brutal..."

Lyra sipped, warmth flooding her veins. “Why does this taste like… ramyeon broth?”

Jimin winked. “Andromeda’s secret recipe.”

Jungkook traced Lyra’s new constellation scar, his touch featherlight. “The council will come for you. For us.”

She leaned into him, their star nestled in her palm like a firefly. “Let them.”

Taehyung snorted. “Oh, they’ll try. But between your apocalyptic snogging and Yoongi’s chronic grumpiness...”

“...I will erase you,” Yoongi said mildly, summoning a black hole.

Lyra laughed, the sound harmonizing with the star’s hum. For the first time, her soul felt aligned—no longer a mortal borrowing time, but a cosmic equation balanced.

Jungkook pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths syncing. “You are stardust and supernova. Mine.”

“Yours,” she agreed. “But not only yours.”

Their star pulsed, casting shadows that danced like promises.

The Orion Nebula no longer wept.

Where chains of dying starlight once strangled its core, new stars now pulsed in rhythmic constellations, their light harmonizing into a symphony that echoed across the cosmos. Jungkook’s throne had been dismantled, its fossilized starlight repurposed into bridges that arched over nebula rivers, their waters singing with the memories of liberated suns.

Lyra walked those bridges often, her boots leaving trails of bioluminescent moss. The supernova tattoo across her collarbone shimmered with every step, its light fractalizing into miniature galaxies that drifted like fireflies. Jungkook trailed behind her, quieter now, his hands weaving stardust into intricate braids for her hair—each one a protective charm, a silent apology, a love letter written in celestial geometry.

“You don’t have to follow me,” she said one dawn-cycle, catching his wrist as he threaded a braid with pulsar beads. “I’m not going to dissolve into supernova debris.”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her tattoo. It flared gently, casting his face in cobalt relief. “I follow because I choose."

Taehyung arrived unannounced, as always.

“Housewarming gift!” he declared, dumping a black hole bonsai tree onto Lyra’s dining table. Its event horizon swirled with tiny trapped stars. “Water it with starlight, talk trash about the Cosmic Council, and it’ll bloom into a portal to anywhere!”

Yoongi, nursing a mug of black hole coffee brewed in his singularity kettle, raised an eyebrow. “Or implode the quadrant.”

“Same thing!”

Jimin descended next, trailing Andromeda’s auroras like bridal veils. He gifted Lyra a mirror forged from the newborn star’s light. “For vanity,” he teased, though they all knew its true purpose—to track the Council’s approach.

Lyra caught her reflection: a mortal woman glowing with borrowed divinity, her eyes flecked with supernova remnants.

Not a god. Not human. Something… else.

Peace, Lyra learned, was a fragile nebula.

The Cosmic Council’s warships lurked beyond the galactic rim, their silhouettes blotting out star clusters. Jungkook’s spies brought whispers of tribunals and treason charges, of gods who feared her power—their power.

“Let them come,” Lyra said one night, her tattoo blazing as she stood atop the bridge. The newborn star orbited her like a loyal hound, its light painting Jungkook’s scars in gold. “We’ll turn their verdict into stardust.”

Jungkook’s smile was a rare, slow-blooming thing. “You are… terrifying.”

“You taught me.”

He kissed her then, deep and unhurried, as their star spun protective sigils into the void.

But in quiet moments, Lyra heard it—a dissonant chord in the nebula’s song.

The newborn star flickered when she wasn’t looking, its light dimming to blood-crimson. Strange symbols etched themselves into the bridges, vanishing when Yoongi inspected them. And Taehyung’s bonsai tree? It grew a single obsidian leaf engraved with a warning:

THEY ARE COMING.

BRACE FOR WAR.

Lyra tucked the leaf into her journal, between sketches of Earth’s moon and Jungkook’s sleeping face. Outside, the nebula sang sweeter, brighter—a lullaby for the calm before the storm.

Jungkook found her there, braiding stardust into her hair. “You should rest.”

She leaned into his touch, her tattoo humming. “Soon.”

Above them, their star pulsed once, twice, as if counting down.