#sailor elysian

[vbemporium]

💎 The Silver Age of Elysian 💎

Pluto Art by Anxara.Art IG | Twitter | Artstation | Kofi Follow me on IG: https://www.instagram.com/the_darkemporium

[themattress]

Sailor Moon: Dream - Original vs. Toei Adaptation

- The Dead Moon Circus arriving on Earth during a solar eclipse is retained.

- The captive Helios astral-projecting to Chibiusa as Pegasus is retained.

- Queen Nehelenia attacking Elysian and plunging it into darkness is retained.

- Queen Nehelenia existing beyond a mirror into the dreamscape and constantly speaking to her living splintered reflection Zirconia who actively runs the Dead Moon Circus is retained.

- PallaPalla swapping Usagi and Chibiusa's ages is adapted in Episode 158.

- The Amazon Trio's psychological traps for the Inner Senshi, primarily the Hall of Mirrors that was used on Rei, is adapted in episode 163 as Zirconia's trap for them during the climax.

- Mamoru falling ill bafflingly doesn't happen until the climax in the anime, with his talk with Helios now being in a dream that transpires in episode 165, the penultimate episode. Between this and the Golden Crystal not being in Mamoru's soul, Mamoru got screwed!

- Queen Nehelenia plunging Tokyo into darkness and nightmares is retained.

- Zirconia lethally turning on the Amazoness Quartet when they fail her is retained.

- Queen Nehelenia's defeat exposing her true form as an ugly old crone is retained.

BONUS:

Some things that neglected to be adapted in SuperS ended up being adapted in the opening Nehelenia arc of Sailor Stars instead even though it made precious little sense to do so.

- The Outer Senshi's return, including Hotaru's rapid age-up, is included here.

- Sailor Saturn and Sailor Chibi Moon fighting side by side is included here.

- The Sailor Senshi being trapped in illusionary nightmares is included here.

- Queen Nehelenia coveting Mamoru/Endymion is included here, although the motivations differ: in the manga it was because of his connection to the Golden Crystal and its power that she wanted to rule Earth with, while in the anime it's to spite Usagi whom she rabidly hates.

- Most ridiculously of all, every Sailor Senshi and Mamoru joining their powers together is changed from a way to teleport into Elysian to...kill Nehelenia and teleport her soul into a dream where she's a child again and can finally make friends? 'Cause that's what she really wanted the whole time? Yeah, this story arc sucks and it never should have happened.

[kaleidodreams]

At long last, here's the Chibi-Usa/Helios wedding fic I wrote for @dropsofmoonlightzine!

Summary: Princess Lady Serenity and Priest Helios get married in a traditional Elysian-style ceremony, long forgotten by all but a few survivors of the ancient Golden Kingdom. (FF.net)

[vchanny-og]

Chroma Challenge!

So, a Discord group I'm in did a little challenge. You get a palette or a color and you have to create something with just that. I think it's really meant for artists, but we decided both artists and writers could do it.

And to challenge myself, I did BOTH.

I did a doodle and a drabble. And because I am me, I just created more Sailor Moon content. I am a one trick pony, folks. XD

When I saw my palette, I immediately knew what I wanted to do. And it involves Camp Universe! One of my favorites.

If you did not read my Camp Elysian fic, you can click there to do so. You do not *need* to read it for this, but you can, and you should because it's fun and nostalgic. Anyway! The short version to catch you up is: the gang all work at a summer camp, Kayden is the main camp counselor. Morgan hates his guts at the beginning. Morgan ends up helping Serena and Darien sneak around because there is a strict no dating rule. Kayden does find out. By the end of the fic, Morgan doesn't hate Kayden any more, and he no longer things she's some dumb kid. I'll probably put the drabble up on A03 at some point, but this will do for now. It's not polished or beta'd. BUT. It did feel really good to write *something* after such a long time of not doing so. So, enjoy, or don't. *shrug*

“Excuse me, Your Tallness.”

Kayden’s eyes crept to the now cracked opened door, to greet the grinning blonde who had let herself into the cabin. Without knocking. But that was Morgan. He could let it slide. Her arrival was no surprise–as he’d heard her coming through the opened windows, chatting loudly as she always did with some other camper. So no, it was no surprise. He hadn’t realized it was already so late, though. He wasn’t quite ready to leave.

They had plans. Well, she had plans. He–he simply just followed her whims. “Are you ready yet?”

Today’s whim conflicted with his duties. “Uh,” he began, setting down the paperwork he’d been looking through into a neat pile. “One sec.” He looked at his watch, and then instinctively reached for his red clipboard. “Nuh uh,” she protested loudly. “No Clippy.”

He stilled and looked to her, hands on her hips, her finger wagging in the air as if he was a child reaching for the last cookie. He wasn’t sure what his face had contorted into, but she giggled and bounded over, pushing the clipboard back down to the old, stained coffee table. Then, she took his hand and began trying to tug him from the worn sofa. He knew not to reach for it again.

“I promise we will be back before you have to do your rounds.”

“Like the last time you ‘promised’?”

She rolled her eyes and tugged harder on his arm. “Just come on.”

And he did.

She interlaced their fingers, her hand so small in his, and began quickly leading him down a path of crushed gravel that led away from camp. Morgan was radiant and full of excitement, the last of the day’s sunshine glistening in her hair. He however could not help feeling like everyone was watching him. Watching him get pulled away from camp this close to lights out. What would they say to the one enforcing the rules sneaking off? He could hear the gossip already. Maybe he could come up with some lie? Some emergency he was taking care of. Morgan would tell him to stop worrying, that no one cared, and he shouldn’t care if they said anything anyway.

But he cared.

Mostly he cared because he hadn’t told his grandfather that they were dating yet, and he felt this terrible guilt for setting a bad example and breaking a rule. All behind the back of the greatest man he’d ever known.

But the thought of being away from her all summer was too much. They’d already spent so much time apart.

So, he didn’t disclose their relationship. He was so worried his grandfather would say no. That the rule was there for a very good reason, and grandson or not, he would not allow it. She could not stay. And what would they have done then? They could have continued just seeing each other on random weekends, talking on the phone after 8 every night, but Morgan was a pretty girl. And how long until the novelty of a long distance relationship wore off? How long until someone who lived near her started showing her attention? Before another Aaron showed up? How long before he wasn’t enough?

All this sneaking around was not as fun as Darien and Serena made it out to be the previous summer. It had only been two weeks, and he was so worried people would find out. That they’d rat him out and Morgan would have to go. He knew Jayden would never, but if he jokingly said he was going to tell just to get out of work one more time, Kayden might snap. Maybe he should just tell his grandfather? Rip the bandaid off. Get Jayden off his back. Stop lying and hoping to not get caught. His grandfather would understand, right? Morgan wasn’t just his girlfriend–

“Hello? Earth to Kayden.”

Kayden blinked. He hadn’t realized they’d arrived. Morgan raised a brow and cocked her head slightly to the side. “There you are. What were you lost in thought about?”

“Nothing,” came his casual response. But not nothing. Everything. Morgan was everything. Professing that though–

“Mmhm. Well, forget about nothing, we’re here!” she exclaimed, proudly showing off her surprise.

His hand felt cold with the loss of contact. Kayden looked around for the first time. He recognized this spot. He had caught Morgan chaperoning lunches for Darien and Serena many times here. He’d helped her cover for them here. Let them have their time in this not-so-secret make out spot. Those were the times he got to know Morgan more, as they talked while keeping lookout for the couple. When he realized she was more than she seemed.

She must have come before she gathered him, he thought. There was a quilted blanket–where she stole it from he did not know–covering a patch of grass between an open area of trees. It was quite serene this time of day, the noise of camp dying off, the shadows dancing along the ground.

She grinned when he noticed, said “tada” in her over-the-top way, and sat down. “Take a seat,” she said while patting the blanket next to her. 

She looked so pretty sitting there, the last rays of the light kissing her face and the long shadows from the trees covering the surrounding area like a blanket. He joined her and was rewarded with her leaning into him. He wrapped an arm around her and enjoyed the warmth.

“It’ll be dark soon.” He didn’t know why he said it. He probably ruined the mood, and he instantly regretted it, but the weight of getting back on time was heavy on his mind. He couldn’t help it.

“I know,” she said quietly, leaning closer, looking out toward the slowly retreating light.

He hadn’t figured out exactly what the point of coming out here was yet, other than just being alone together. Which he didn’t mind. He could be a little late for that. He leaned over and tenderly kissed the spot on her neck just below her ear. 

Instead of reciprocating, Morgan laughed and pushed him away. “Stop! You’re going to miss it!”

Kayden was confused. Why were they out here, of all places, if not for a little fun?

Morgan rolled her eyes and leaned back into his frame. “You remember when my family took me for vacation out of state for Spring Break?”

He nodded. They’d absolutely annihilated their plans to see each other with that spur  of the moment trip.

“On the phone one night while I was away, you described how pretty the sunset was.”

He remembered. After their plans had been ruined, Kayden had offered to come help his grandfather do some spring renovations. The hard labor was a welcome distraction.

“And you said, you wish I could have been there.” She paused, and he pulled her in close. “So, I wanted to share a sunset with you, since we couldn’t before.”

“I do remember,” he replied, kissing the top of her head. “Thank you for remembering.”

He would remember this as the night he resolved to tell his grandfather about Morgan. And how much he loved her.

[mochibuni]

Gargoyle Kayden for @vchanny-og 

For her fic Camp Elysian, a Sailor Moon camp AU!

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[elissespieces]

No one’s gonna see this but I need to put it out somewhere, cause it is ridiculous, and I am ridiculous, and my brain is obviously rotting.

I’m legit writing a one-shot that is a Sandman/Sailor Moon crossover and it is NOT CRACK.

I just-

I don’t know what happened.

No I do know; because my absolute favorite character is Chibiusa. My favorite pairing is Chibiusa/Helios, and I know waaay more than is necessary about Elysian’s lore, Helios’ story, and THE DREAMING he uses in order to visit Chibiusa to ask for her help.

(I’m gonna go ahead and boast real loud that I am the one and only fic that will ever be in that crossover tag until proven otherwise)

If anyone wants to help me beta this, please do let me know, because I cannot believe i exist right now. The entire fic is basically between two characters, Helios and Dream, with some pretty thick glass between them 🙃

[usagisbanexd]

+ SUPER SOLDIER SAILOR STARS #08 * _) _) >>C===3 :-* Kawaii Slash Lovers Collide Cosmic Paradise // Sailor Moon/Pokémon/Potterverse Altfic Crossover, CHAPTER 1.0.008

Fanfic. LGBT+. Mature.

1.0.008 SAILORGANYMEDE RESCUES MAKO~CHAN FROM HELLFIRE INFERNO // GANY IN THE DESERT BORN FROM HIS MOTHER MAKOTO

“I love your tongue,” says Ganymede, watching Mako from her ill-gotten vantage, watching as she picks a flower for springtime, watching her green felt velvet couture space dress skirt flap like a flag longing against her leg. Mako the god. Mako the justice warrior. Mako with the smile.

        All the little wives of Jupiter dance through her fingers in waves of blossoming straw. ‘We love you, goddess!’ says the Daisy, thinking in her own green mind to hide her roots from prying claws. No love of Jupiter’s alone should make it out alive. Her tenderness does strangle us at root.

        Ganymede longs for love, the crown Furuhata-san wears the milkman’s cap, neighborhood cuck, neighborhood madman, neighborhood hero, arboreal wheat, weatherbeaten, his hands sweaty on the knife, planting flowers of his own, seeing clearly through time it is her voice which calls him, her voice through fair Ganymede. Come to Jupiter, she says, winnowy, arboreal, helium-high, hysterical aerial Erica.

        “I’m the flower in the pot on the kitchen sill! Teehee!” says Ganymede to Motoki’s brain, and inside Jupiter’s own mind Minerva’s born splitting from the tissues like the bloom of a gun from a metal spout, the bloom of bullets grandly arrayed like a symphony in soaked and slobbering flesh tone. Motoki masturbates. Jupiter calls.

        “Hello,” says Motoki.

        “Moto-chan!” says Haruka, diving her nose in where it doesn’t belong. The world is ending and Makoto needs to make a phone call, needs to knit a another bootie for a friend’s cousin’s baby, needs to rearrange the flower pots on her sill, ninety five little senshi all in a row, little cartoon-faced flowers cooing always to their mistress ‘Stay! It’s a fright to go outside!’ Makoto feels it in her gut. Motoki stays.

        “Hi,” he says, his voice estranged, her weirdness palatable in the gloom. Why ninety-five monsters? Why not ninety-five birds?

        They like weeds ensnare me to this earth, thinks Makoto, her eye upon Ganymede, her youngest and most gorgeous rose, vestigial blood vestigial perfume on the color of his outermost petal, a song against his cheek, so delicate, so beaut, so unresponsive to the touch of men. So monks do climb their towers in prayer. So boxing gloves. So charm bracelets. So Makoto’s bane, playing a timpany. Ami knits her guts together like a glass Circe from a metal enclosure, presaging famine. Does Galaxia sleep? Usagi is gone. Does she forgive? We are all dead. Such beautiful flowers. This is how we live. The waters of the twin rivers, such beautiful senshi, beckon us onward. Elysia’s hair is everywhere, and we the fair Elysians surfeit on small things that dine on birds of paradise, dine forever on warriors’ gloom, live entombed, liberate that which hearts consume.

        She clears her throat.

        “Hi,” he says again.

        “Hi,” it’s more than high it’s sigh. Relief. Love. Hearts in eyes. Stars on shoulders, a capelet ascending, beautiful dresses handmade in European workshops, couturiers bustling downstairs, pearls like nipples on the breasts of satin jackets. She feels so lush her stomach muscles weaken. She could crumple. She could fold. Motoki and his adorable eyes take all.

        “Call me,” says Moto.

        “You did. I mean, I did,” says Mako, and Ganymede topples from his sill and shatters his pot, red baked plaster cracked in four gorgeous pieces on the floor. “Oh!” says Mako, and Gany’s broken body like a hyacinth unfolds death on the floor around her, and jungle music plays.

        “I can help,” says Motoki. “Let me come over.”

        “No,” says Mako, nervous, heart brimming, butterfly winged heart trilling, ascending, lifting her off the ground, and Gany the ancient rose with two foot roots curls around her ankle a beautiful sandal and tugs her back down to earth. ‘Go heavily,’ he says, ‘with guilt.’

        Mako holds the phone between the divet in her shoulderblade and the twinkle of her jawbone, bent neck straining, and says in a lowered voice: “I think I’m going insane.”

        “You are,” says Moto. “But I can help. I’ve been through it. I’m a senshi.”

        ‘Oh,’ she mouths, her lips wobbling, the phlegm in her throat catching the gold come up from her gut, all her children swallowed. Should she eat the rose? No, but he still loves her dear, a song recorded in her ear. We all drown. We’re all okay. Peacetime, even into death, even through death. We’re sailor senshi! We live again.

        “I love you,” says Moto. “Seriously.”

        “I don’t know where I’ve been,” she says.

        “You do,” says Moto. “To hell.”

        “I’ve spent all day watering this flower. This single flower. The other ones tell me he’s the most important, and I know from the blood in his eye he doesn’t know what to do. He calls me Father, then Son, then he thinks I’m a messenger from beyond the cosmos. Is Usagi. . . dead?”

        “Yeah,” says Moto. “I told you I’m a sensh.”

        Her carpet pales. The rose unblooms, winding up to her skirt and blossoming between her legs, Marilyn-powered, must and perfume, the rapture of a little witch’s innocent afternoon at tea, no one there to judge, no one to lay hands on, no raised voice. She’s never fought a boy nor girl in her life.

        “I know,” says Moto. “I read your mind.”

        “He is the rose,” says Gany from her womb, and she shoves a hand between her legs to snatch him from where he does not belong.

        “You don’t know anything about me,” says Mako.

        “Yeah, I do,” says Moto. “I’m Gany.”

        She wretches petals from her skirt, the flower bleeding each bright bleeding page through fabric into fabric, an ascended being mounting a staircase of time. She feels her womb underpowered, bleeding, a throb, an ancient ensign, and thinks of the moss of Ami’s hair, her little bare chest at the swimming pool, that dirge that plays for water spilled, her mother smelling sweetly buying roses from nearby the check-out counter. Motoki is the check-out boy, robed in a green apron, robed in a smile, and Gany dances a little sunshine melody, the dandelion, the far-off exotica, the flower without heart, the wicked weed, the pink leafed blooming rose. She calls to Io, to Calliope, to Annie Oakley, come presageth me. I am your king. Jupiter fighting moon! Jupiter light! Jupiter rolling thunder! She feels the power in the ring at her fist, feels the electric mandorla a swirling perfect symmetrical egg around her being. Why is she wearing her fuku? Why are there flowers in her hair? Why is she marrying Motoki? Why does she miss her mother, long to be at her breast, and also in her father’s arm, a little babe suckling at the altar of Apollyon, god after time? Does she think of children? Does she think of future? Is her moon in Leo? Does she, God forbid, need a Tarot reading? Hoary winds, hoary frost, protect the floors, deaden every leaf. There are ninety four. Ninety four beautiful flowers. Which one should Motoki take from her?

        “I’m not here to take anything,” he says, and picks up the basket.

        “You’re here for my womb,” she says, stuttering, clamped, iridescent. In Mommy’s skirts she’d be okay, and she and Mommy both would blow away with the wind. Does she love me? I long for her. I am become Sappho, writing at the seashore. Can he hear me?

        “Yeah,” says Moto, and in his voice her father plays guitar.

        “I love you!” she says, and in the wist of his gravity she moves an orbit plunging into asymmetry, a perfect picture taken would reveal that all is stillness, all are God, the Buddha holds the answer. Light a candle. Is it Christmas? I love love and her soft hours. Where is Venus, my Mina, my idol? She sings me songs in the shower, sits on the toilet cutting her leg with cheap razors while I dance in bubbles with my arms outstretched to same God laughing. Were only Motoki in that shower, then Mina’s smile itself would be complete. And I ache now, halfling, Galadriel, gone west. Am I a wind? What was his name? Was he an element? I remember another life.

        “Oh,” she says, remembering. No suspense, but hammers in her guts, all her children rebelling, and Gany on the floor throbbing, his petals bent, each of them a little mystery, a little fortune cookie. Where is Moto? Perfect man.

        “I’m here,” he says. “She’s dying.”

        “No,” she says. “He’s all right.”

        “I know what he’s doing,” says Moto. “I’m coming over.”

        She rubs him softly and specializes in arboretums. They dream of planting him there some day, when he has outsized his little pot. But secretly she knows she’ll never give him away, not while Calliope whispers.

        “Phobos! Deimos! Ascend!” says Rei from the master’s terrace, and Makoto feels her shoulders straighten, braced in metal, iron tombs, each assisted thing come together to form a mighty statue of Jupiter Capitolinus ruling all. Sagittarian arrow loosed from its shaft, Sagittarian arrow streaking, weeping, flown from shaft to bend the air and pry the wound in Ami’s leg, the wound from which she sprouts asymmetra, ugly thing, friendless, unmoving. Mako knows loneliness.

        “Moto-chan,” says Mako, spinning. Each flower a winking paradise, each little cartoon head swaying to the soft static from the radio, alternative, American, distant music. And somewhere someone Mina drops the bomb on Japan, American girl, blond-haired blue-eyed, uptown girl, seventh sister, presaging doom. Mako watches it descend, eyes wide, and all goes white, and Gany vomits a petal, and she kneels down and considers his blood.

        “I’m here,” says Moto. “But I don’t love you. Nor him.”

        “Evil,” says Mako, her palm tightening under her fingers, and the rose inside, and the rose’s limp head a dead emperor, a little liar, a Gany, strung up from inside, knowing no song will save her, him or her or them or it. Never a rose but color. And ninety four brothers with vaginas to take his place. All lovers of Jupiter, all the fairest. Pick another flower.

        “No,” says Mako, and in her palm she shocks his spine to straightness. “Hold on, Gany-chan!”

        “Imaginary friends,” says far-tongued Beryl, penis-headed, a torpedo sailing from Korea across the sea, Korean-born, a witch in new clothing, thinking all there is to think about life and death and togetherness.

        “Slow down,” says Elios to Shingo, Elios to Mamoru, Shingo to the basketball bouncing away from his little hand. He used to be good at HORSE, better than his brother, his lover, his red-haired famine-brained stepchild ingrained in the neighborhood ways. Shingo dies, too. Gany dies. Mako arrives at the edge of a precipice and throws him off. He falls, but through her frown, still in the kitchen, nothing happens. Moto, come.

        “Do you love me, goddess queen?” says Shingo to the ape, and Mako rests assured unsure, the balance of a half-man, centaurifugal, half-thing, double-breasted, barrel-chested, man. Her shoulders stricken to the board of a crucifix. Man. Unwoman thing. Tall. Limber. Do you play basketball? Hee. He, not hee, girl things, a ladder ascending, and her beautiful flower who speaks in weepy music to the stillness of the future blown inside her iris dying on the floor in nothing but a rag, the water she had planned to feed his gullet, and together two princesses through the world plunging separate from one another and lose their fingers in the vortex. Alice in the rabbit hole. Goddess-born. She feels nothing. Her tears like ice, like symbol, like Japanese forgetfulness. She drank from that river. She forgot Nipon. The bomb dropped. Didn’t it?

        “I’m coming,” says Moto from the receiver, but it’s on the floor, and he the man, the young man silver-headed, is flying down the highway in Danburite clothing, a mask at his head, feeling cool, listening to music, knowing nothing will save her from the divorce impeded by time. Wait. I can do it. I can think. He thinks all things are connected. That gives him a lever. He knows. He pulls it. She doesn’t. She thinks. She thinks everything. And Gany pulls from her her nutrients like a glass thing breaking always into the wind, beautiful monster spinning out of time, all the light collected at his skirt, blossoming kindness, most beautiful satellite, crippled appendage, Mako’s favorite skirt.

        What does Gany say?

        “Water,” says Gany to Mako. “I weep,” little voice, pathetic voice, a puppy’s voice, weeping over the squeak of a toy, taken unawares. “Call Ami.”

        “Shhh,” says Mako, and to her breast she holds the rose. She’ll give it to Ami. Give it to Ami and never look back. Give it to Ami and brave the sole, the mothering sole, the way her mother looks at her, a Japanese manga character come to life, so beautiful in raiment, brown-sleeved raiment, flower petals embroidered on the skirts of her aprons, beautiful music in the foreground like fingers groping blind at all their faces, family game night, a time before childhood, all these things should make her cry. She never cries. Gany cries. Confusion, he says, and she listens. Confusion, she says. He listens. His name is Mako. He punches.

        Satoshi on the mantle says confusion. She loves Onyx. She loves to plant a flower on Onyx, in his hair, watch him crack and blossom into Hindu garlands like the thing evolved through space. And Seiya and Yaten and the Goddess and Haruka and Mamoru all dance and play outside her head like hoop skirts thinking about what to do with the future. Does she know she can be anything? Will any man love her? Will she find a future knowing from the past he arcs incredible husking lightning to her door?

        And Gany the eternal child sleeps on, twisted root, youngest flower, twisted little slipper, broke-bent little ankle, the slipper’s son, Gany presageth famine, and Galaxia wakes from a terrifying dream, her hair all undone, and Gany comforts her, a little boy on his knees on the cushion, a little princess in his heart, beautiful hair, bows of braids of tendons sinew-streaking down forever from the mountain on which he was wedded to the god. Does she remember? She too drank from the fountain of eternity, she too went to heaven. But his earth is like a cracked and crinkled loam, pock-sparked, little minerals, little Danburites, and she his mother incest-laced the only water offered.

        Danburite hates Motoki. He sighs.

[caffeinated-chaos-bean]

Just a little preview of some SSMU pixel dolls I've been working on. This one here is a fan made child between Chibiusa and Helios. Her name is Yumemi Tsukino, as her sailor form is Sailor Elysian Moon. She fight for peaceful dreams and protects dream mirrors. She will grow up to be Elysion's queen.

And this one is just me indulging on my magical girl hyperdixation and making a sailor scouts version of myself. Idk what is be protecting lmao. I kept the fuku design I made for Yumemi because it's more unique than the inner and outer scouts. Her princess form may have a crescent Moon, but to differentiate her from Usagi and her Moon lineage I added a golden dot to each side of it.

[vbemporium]

💎 The Silver Age of Elysian 💎

Princess Serenity Art by Anxara.Art IG | Twitter | Artstation | Kofi Follow me on IG: https://www.instagram.com/the_darkemporium

[themattress]

Re:Sailor Moon

In terms of the manga vs. 90s anime, I give the latter a lot of leeway.

But there is one things I cannot excuse: it always playing it safe location-wise!

Seriously, has anyone else noticed this? The 90s anime is pathologically afraid to let the Sailor Senshi leave Earth! Despite all the planetary names, they never go anywhere else!

Manga: The Sailor Senshi go to the moon! Anime: No they don't, it's just an illusion from the Silver Crystal.

Manga: The Sailor Senshi go to the planet Nemesis! Anime: No they don't, only to Crystal Tokyo which is on Earth in the future.

Manga: The Sailor Senshi go to another dimension! Anime: No they don't, but the inside of a house on earth turns into another dimension!

Manga: The Sailor Senshi go to Elysian! Anime: No they don't, the final battle is set in the Dead Moon Circus big-top on Earth.

Manga: The Sailor Senshi go across space to the source of all life in the universe! Anime: No they don't, no stars to be seen in this version of the Stars arc!

90s anime writers, what was your problem!?

[zero0810]

💀 Please consider to support me on PATREON 💀

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Fullbody sketch commissions for AssassinWitch (Sailor Elysian, on the left) and Kaiyaru (Sei  aggressively flirting with Josh, on the right)

[reeleylovers]

Haley, if you were one of the Sailor guardians, which one of them to you prefer to be? Who fits you as a character more?

“Hmmm, let’s see here, who would I be.” Haley cradles her chin as she thinks.

She snaps her finger. “I got it! I know who exactly I want to be as a Sailor guardian! And that is-” 

“Sailor Jupiter! I can relate to her character a lot, plus we both wear our hair up in a high ponytail.”

[artbyzm]

Friend ocs <3 Doodles and pose redraws! Here’s the ref images:

[smcempathy]

Do you remember, Serenity? You used to go to Earth often because you yearned for its greenery and wind…and you found love there.

[hydrangeachainsaw]

swatches include magazine/album covers (such as bjork, stp, daisy chainsaw, veruca salt, hole, queen adreena, nina hagen, elysian fields, smashing pumpkins and sonic youth), fabric/lace/synthetic materials (like the plastic, holographics and bubble wrap), various cool patterns and drawings, anime/manga art (such as Monster, cowboy bepop and sailor moon) and beaded curtains.  ❀ 4k poly ❀ +60 swatches ❀ where to find sims3: Curtains ❀ where to find sims4: type ''hydra'' dl patreon-ea

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[shespeaksinsongs]

𝗳𝗶𝗼'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗴𝗶𝗰 𝟵𝟬𝟬 𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 !!

masterlist

most recent fic (fast track to fame)

omg omg omg omg freaking out!!!! i have 900 of you!!! can't begin to say how grateful i am that i created this account and met so many lovely people from it. you guys are all awesome and i love each of you so much! thank you so much for being here! <3

send as many of the following as you want! nsfw is allowed on all except my melody.

here are the characters i write for!

🎀 my melody - send me a sfw idea hc about a hp character and i'll either write a hc list, or tell you what i think of it!

🐇 tuxedo sam - mini games (fmk, cym, wyr...)!

💝 share bear - send me one emoji and character from hp and i'll write a blurb related to it!

🎂 daydream bear - send in your daydream scenario and i'll add onto it!

👛 sailor jupiter - talk to me abt shifting, spirituality, astrology, witchcraft, manifesting, etc!

💿 sailor venus (moots only) - will name my top three favorite things about you/your blog if we're not that close!

celebration closed!!!

tagging a few of my v v lovely moots below the cut (in order from earliest to latest, btw!):

@whiterosesonapastelsky @dr4cking @cupids-crystals @i-have-my-issues @dracossweetprincess @badass-yn @dmalfoyswhore @sunshinexweasley @marcela6malfoy @littlemissnoname13 @jellyraindrops @elysian-bxg @padf00ts-l0ver @imabee-oralizard @lilyrachelcassidy @leydileyla @pottahishotasf @dracosathenaeum @weasleyapologist @aestherielleee