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usagisbanexd · 1 year

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+ SUPER SOLDIER SAILOR STARS #02 * _) _) >>C===3 :-* Kawaii Slash Lovers Collide Cosmic Paradise // Sailor Moon/Pokémon/Potterverse Altfic Crossover, CHAPTER 1.0.002

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Fic. he/him!Rei, questioning,ace!Mina

1.0.002 BIG-DICKED REI / LOVES /ACE<3 MINAKO <33!, MINA HOPES

“She’s gone,” says Mina, and in her eye a dart hits its target from afar. The ribbon at the crown of her head unwinds and falls, then brushes forward, a little kanji in the dirt, carried with the wind, petals granted by the jungle of different understanding. She assumes the title of the moonless decoy, red and white chalk lips, Moctezuma the Emperor’s Mongol warbride, kidnapped and ransomed in an ox-drawn wagon, home over a gray dirt steppe, Utah, the birthplace of her fathers the suns, Arizona, the distant red clay of unbought Play Doh, Sister Columbine, father’s reassurance, sing-alongs, ice cream men, fountains oily with cartoon glossy waters: ‘ZAMZAM! VENUS ZAMZAM MAKE-UP!’ Her niqab swirls. She thinks with the wind and the ocean, Michiru’s golden semina. She knows her Mars is the lesser shrine maiden, that she, Emperor Mars, shadow of past nations, is the greater music. She knows Haruka lies in wait, her plastic lip no make-up look the hook in Michiru’s gilded cramping muscular wretching no-womb decoy mazey organ thigh. Mamoru sees Michiru’s eye. A minotaur in a labyrinth on her bonemilk skin. Mamoru’s eyes, gorgeous, tender, Usagi’s bane, Minako’s heaven, the only child, muse-borne. Nowombwomban, no-womb man, the emperor borne from the water passes Mina’s eye like the procession of a distant plaster glaized elephant, and her heart worships the stone inside, and Michiru worships the stone in the water, and together Venus and Mercury swim goddess-born, but Neptune knows no mother and Mercury abandons Venus for the stone, and Venus eternal daughtersister holds her arms and limps her ankle against the cold, and all at once everyone is encompassed by a golden hoop with a single ray shining outward beneath, a film played by the sun the god American-born protector projector from the anus of Apollo risen hoarily into Michiru’s turquoise prison in the gape. Manga. Multi-colored. Pixels. Beauty. Peace sign, ~ Venus &Mars

Mars with a middle finger, dirt under her nail. Combat boots. Goth make-up. Mina writing feverishly. Her dad holding her crumpled fanfic in a triumphant limp upturned right hand, outward like a cocktail, in the crux like a teddy bear, his wrist bent back, scolding, happy, cocktail hour, bermuda shorts, little ones, muscular thighs, swollen bird’s scimitar scabcalves, Michiru vomiting out from herself in holy meditation, always in Neptune’s raiment, Haruka as Michiru, pathetic Haruka, evil Michiru, the mother’s shackles in Rei’s eye, Rei weeping, Rei devised, Haruka thrashing, Mamoru crying, Haruka weeping, Michiru laughing, Haruka dying, Mamo holding the sword, Venus puking a single tear from the corner of her eye, wiping it, hiding it, Father’s buried secret. Her dad speaks. “Hi,” he says. “No,” says Venus the sun blazing through his mask. “Fuck you, Father. VENUS MAKE-UP!” She preens sadly in front of the mirror in whoreclown make-up. Nothing happens. The towel falls off Shingo’s head. A fetus rests inside the hoop of a rainbow, Mew, the closed door. “You little perv,” says tiny Usagi, her hands clutching evilly at her mother’s womb. Venus prostrate, a little girl in the arms of her white-haired muscular svelte vuluptuous rippling manly-assed father. Venus crying. Venus in chains, then rolling down a hill, Mamo loosing his grasp on Usa’s star-crowned plastic dime store scepter, beautiful Michiru fixing her lip, Mamo taking over the world, Mina weeping, Usagi entranced, the sun behind a cloud, a man triforcated by three circles, a faceless man with gorgeous long hair, equivalent to Hotaru’s tentacles, Kakyuu’s hair, Seiya plucking an acoustic guitar by the light of an Are You Afraid of the Dark campfire, Minako little eight years old in front of the television, her little brother pinching her. Rei-chan laughing, Hotaru in her womb, penis in her hand, in front of the television. Mina open-fisted, a huge-nosed Fagin in rags like an inflated twisted Eurasian troll pinching pennies from her palm. Mamo laughing, futile, empty eyes, crying tears. Empty tears. Mina before the king, her baby rent in half, Rei overseeing from her balcony, opera-gloved, in a cut-off short-sleeve tuxedo, Kamen-masked, two emperors, Mina drawing the sword from the stone and splitting the Gordian knot, Mamo drawing the sword from the stone, the two of them dancing in an Elizabethan chamber, gorgeous music playing, courtly motions, Venus masked in aristocratic Glinda leaning up to his crook, her hand partitioning her mouth and his ear from mouthless gorgeous-faced onlookers fellow dancing. “Meet me in South Hall, behind the tapestry where the ladies pee, Your Majesty,” she whispers. Usagi watches from a table, shoulders slumped, chin tucked into her shoulder, huge languid eyes more beautiful than Venus’s by candlelight. “Yes, m’lady,” comes Mamoru from out of frame. Together the three of them dance through heather in peasants’ gowns, little children living by the clean clear light of a village’s spring.

“Yeah,” say Mars, Rei-chan, Mina P’s true love. Mercury lives damning a frenzy, her ugliness shown before the sun. Mercury in retrograde, the spirits haunt the latter days. The sun is chilly. “Hi,” says the baby in Mina’s womb, little Kousagi, and the emperor penguin crowns Mars’ feet with lotuses.

Mina feels sick.

I know Mina feels sick, thinks Mars. Little Ami’s holes make staples like trainers in her arms, but Mars cares. She doesn’t care. Her eye is a sparrow made

‘holeywhollyholy,’ Mina worships.

Mars prostrates before the fire. The ancient mist spills red ink from a fountain. She believes. In her eye. Venus the man, her Heracles, seven-breasted, abs dry, encircles the Nemean lion with a vitiligo velificatio, the empty crook of his arm encircling a discus, baroque lion poised on its haunches, snarling like heraldry. Mina winces. Mars sleeps. The earth shudders the sun. The earth conquers Mars. Mars sees all. Time elapses eternal. Mamo-‘s heart sickens. Goddesses are stripped of their robes, mocked by cold hearts in ghost forums. Mina’s eye enlarges, her lip movelessly quickers. The song creeps, music notes played a loop threaded through her ears. Pigeon-toed, she floats. Mars lies. He always lies. Wicked love songs, confusions, clang, Mr. Muse, Mr. Apollo, Mrs. Sunshine, married to her own breast, hail sun, fairer than Mars, hail earth, bearing fruit, hail children, baring all, hail mothers, the lesser, hail Mamoru, rescuing Mars, hail Mars, the fairest son, the gravest voice, the true nation, war between earth and Mars, war at mars and earth, eternal emperors waddling toward the foot of their thrones, kings anointed by godly Beryl, penis tucked, talons quivering. Rei vomits on Mamoru’s head, Mamoru vomits on Rei’s head. They laugh. They take over the world. They can do this. Venus drags her sword against the earth. Mamoru laughs.

Venus’s eyelids shutter, tears below. Mars’s arms outstretched. Venus runs to them, Mina in a long skirt and a sailor’s blouse, bow outsized like Butterfree’s limbs. Sailorbutterfree holds a pistol, squinting an eye through the hole burrowed in Rei’s skull, third eye, penis, unhidden, unbidden, Sailorbutterfree flashes a peace sign.

Sailormetapod slinks. Eaten. Mamoru heaves his guts. Haruka in gorgeous sensh attire wipes his mouth with a little white kerchief. Kyrie eleison, says Michiru’s body, her hands on her thighs, her thighs on her calves, her feet tucked like a Muslim maiden ready for prayer.

Venus the maid stumbles on her sword.

Mars the maid cleans Minako’s apartment.

Venus the lover rubs her eyes with thumb and index fingers, laughing from a couch. “Last night, my love, the nightmare ceased. Sometimes that which should go with Ares goes with Mars.”

“Teehee,” says Mars, says Neptune, says the Doom Phantom. He clutches in his hand a chalice in which swim chunks of ambrosia like ice through which a boy is skiing. Mamoru assuming the throne, walking up the backs of prostrate naked senshi, their penises tucked between their thighs, the white cocooned reflexive silhouette of penisless Usagi offering him prostrations like an American-Korean peasant worshipping the newly crowned divinity, naked faced, the fallout after Mina drops the bomb on God. Mars smiles, sick, sad, scared, eternal, an emperor’s eye, anointed, three people, Mirror Elon, giving birth to god through an acorn at the nippleless breast of Ephesian Artemis.

Venus swims in amber.

Mars plunges for her.

Venus holds up a phallus, Galaxia-made. On it, close-up, written, beautiful English legible graffiti: ‘He one-nights ‘em.’ SMILEY FACE, Joker smile, on the low-hanging left nut. Mars grabs the phallus, black onyx bindi on her forehead, and vomits bubbles through the water, groping for them.

Michiru, robed as senshi, gorgeous, watercolor, maroon, turquoise, marooned, turquoise, smiling a Beryl Michiru smile, holds out enormous hands like a marionette, and the cold sun behind her left elbow casts a shadow and *coughs*.

The riddle sickens Mars’s hope, and the emperor closes his eyes and cocks back his head in prayer. The emperor becoming.

The riddle sickens Mina’s hope.

Mars weeps, walking from the wheel.

Venus’s mouth waters. Father me.

I will.

Mercury loves the emperor.

“Do you love me?” asks shackled Venus, and a shiver like a tomcat’s spine rises in her right shoulder. The sun weeps a ray upon the blade of her cheek, and through stillness she turns to time and says ‘No,’ and the tears poison her heart and weigh the wink chain beneath her beltloops. Does Rei ever weaken? Does Rei ever bleed? The sun her mother asks her questions, spurning the sickness Mercury feeds her. Mina hates this life, Mina hates her burden. Her fathers bear her beneath the concrete with their grasping hands. She walks on toward the water’s edge, her fathers’ semina. Pasty Mercury with her heaving ugliness and her wicked eye bleeds poison into the sky. Mina’s pupils dilate, a pallor ransoms her beautiful face to hell, the untrue Satan’s bounty. Sailorsatan beautiful in red wakes stirring, a woman in the body of a man, a man in the body of a male woman, cute little horns on her head. She’s masturbating her inflated penis on a couch in the depths of hell. Sailormoviejesus her lover stares on with perfectly symmetrical blue eyes like a superimposed eagle male model’s face all in his irises beyond the silhouette of her body the sofa her body the everything. The flames of hell are the wets of the corners of his unseen mouth. Beautiful daughters bleed.

Beautiful sons make love.

‘Not in front of Mercury,’ says Venus. ‘Galaxia makes love to you.’

“I’ve lost everything,” says Venus, “and the worm in my stomach twists my power into evil. Is this the world your fathers envision?”

“She’s here,” says unfaithful Mars.

Little faithful Venus says no. “My husband has made me a promise of moons,” says the Mina-P inside of her twinkling eye. “You know I’m not Japanese.”

“Nipon is a beautiful city,” says Rei.

“I asked you if you loved me,” says Supersailorvenus, her beauty concealed beneath a sweater and denim. The wink chain like beauty’s crooked pinky ensnares her hip like a man who saunters loving her, and she thanks her father.

Mars stares, no orgasm gurgling inside him.

“Speak not for Hotaru your metal god,” says Venus. “We’ll get to that.”

The wind speaks for Venus to Mars, his hair his crown her loving arms reach toward the wind which ties their pasts into love, and Venus weeps knowing. “I asked if you loved me.”

“I said I never loved anyone,” says Mars. He thinks he’s a savior to men. His vagina throbs. He tries to think.

Do they the emperors and their hentai-loving concubines forget the starry womb of Venus their big sister? The sun their mother weeps tongueless from the cushion of her quicksilver-reactive transitioning raiment, a bony earth. Venus’s private temple sacked, she and her fathers know better, but she is regressing, they have given her the knife, said ‘Hera, go into the tomb,’ and fearless she has lowered herself into Saturn’s throat and discovered her ugly brothers.

Vulcan eyes himself, his breasts like twin torpedoes at the verge of ignition. Beryl’s wicked dick wipes the lips off her teeth and is shredded into the trash can by quaking Mercury.

She wakes. She wonders, in Mercury’s womb a twisting knife. “We tremble,” say her children, and hungry emperors engorge them in their brazen stomach like the lovesick bull.

Pink sunset greets Mina in the face, bleeding out cinema orange over the flat gray canvas of the God-given oval of her visage. Candy-coated rain spills down the front of her corn white tendrils, whipping them to butter in the melting light of dozy day dying quick like the plunge of a woman’s knife into the hearts of more beautiful girls. The sun the senshi’s father squats his womb against the water. Stillness like Crystal Tokyo before the bomb precedes proceeding, and mothers prostrate before their strollers’ shadows against the sidewalk, all knowing the danger. Empty oceans bear their young, and their young bare their young, and senshi are born from the beauty in boys’ hearts, like razorwire pricked outward, making girls from soldiers but soldiers from girls, and soldiers from girls dance in their wombs and call to boys from soldiers, and all the senshi steal their hearts against the Shadow Destroyer, knowing in their hearts and heads and in the mind of Venus their sister that death will come, and she tells them with the tongue of her father that stars are reborn with men who love them. And planets are born with mercuries in retrograde, their cripple-loving hearts scheming how to infect men with sick and enslave them to her crown the ugly mold, the pretension and the privilege.

‘Reject thy mother, Sailorstar,’ says the sun through Venus’ tongue, and Venus in her vacuum womb says ‘Woman, rise,’ and the ancient goddess with her marble mystery and the systemic swell of her breasts gives way to her priests her keepers, and through the lineage of her tears and the tears of her infinite children a love for girls so other from herself blooms like stone bulbs from the cracks of womens’ shields, knitted with Amazons’ false valor, the mists of Mercury descend upon the mind of Venus and unmother her children, unfather her procession, and their weeping will redound upon Mercury with swords, and Venus knows her task to kill, and her hand shakes spasming, and should she call her father? How to tell him all her madness is the stuff of Mab, and Sailormercutio in his restless fever split from his thigh the bloody goddess whose mission is shitcaked vengeance. Does Daddy know? Sailoronestar the little fool in Ami’s womb twists like a rat against its noose umbilical, and Venus’s longing womb cries out to Anna the painted actress, and all women know. And Cat Stevens plays on the radio from a delivered future. A is for Allah. B is for Bilal. Venus weeps for her mother, her mother prostrate, her mother’s wreckage womb. Shadow Destroyer like the hand of a black god points fingers to Mars’s impotent penis, and Venus feels within her head a rattling ghost without bones.

Mars waits, an evil emperor. Does his penis know its barrenness? Has she sought in her consort Galactica, crown of emperors, bane of love? She speaks in tongues of devils, ifrits shuddering with manly fire, the chauvinist’s lies the concrete boxing his feet. He moves not, not to comfort, not to repent, never to know his princely kingdom is a pauper’s jest played against a losing gambler. Venus the sun’s omniscience breaks rainwater against the placid pond, and Sailorlittleonestar in her eye and Ami’s womb twists wreckless as an acrobat and whispers umbilica, ‘Mother, conquer.’ Fool. Venus feels her starseed. Mercury knows nothing. She holds her arm to it, shielding herself, and the evil girl from across the sea crumples into sickness and subsides. Shadowmercury, Shadowlove.

Tokyo disrobes her head and breast. The cyberslave glitters blood-red, black over their shoulders’ eye, and the city’s pyramidal eons are an offering to the distant eyes of the newly empty, now-new-dead starlight. Shes sleep in a gray-red dream, and Mars’s eye is on the sparrow.

Mina the senshi feels herself alone again, and that wind like her daddy runs fingers through her hair, braces her back against his bloodhot chest. Call him Zephyr and the seasons cannot fade him. Call him Zephyr for the lords who re’rrange him. From the sun Sailorzephyr brings a bounty of flowers, beautiful dying sakura-hime, sleeping senshi Venus dies for, and the cornacopic Venus enjoys her sacrifice. Blood thickens at her loin, Achilles’ daughter, Penthesilea’s bright bane, the orphan Amazon in her chest says ‘Daughter,’ says ‘Father, I love you,’ and a blue tear dies blue in the blue of her blue iris. Ami’s visor waits like glass monster Marios.

“What do you want?” says Mars, and his hair is like a timeswept pupil unfurling into rind.

“Loose your arrow, love,” says Venus. She swallows air for Rei-chan. Her throat an overburdened elevator, her eyes dead Xs. “Rei-chan,” she turns, and tears become ships bearing riches from the deep blue of her eye, rescuing her history for a nobler shore. “I love you, Rei-chan,” said with a lion’s heart, in a mouse’s voice, the muse quaking in her throat.

“You don’t, or you’d show me your dick,” he hymns.

Silence as the dust settles back to quid pro quo. Mina’s ribbon skates along the concrete before her feet, a dance for the new Moon Queen, imposter though she is, making the wind another slave in red velvet shackles.

Mina watches the sky, ever virgin Venus now a mirror of the moon. “Galaxia moves slowly,” she says, and the twin musics of tears and terror die in her mouth before reaching fully out from the loamy secrets of her mind, frogging her up at the larynx and making her choke on gurgled noise. The words carried out next are like waves without water, salting the beach of her dried mouth and making the air a welcome substitute: “We don’t know where she is.”

“You’re getting better,” says Rei from in front of the open car door, and in his hand an iris plays with itself in the air.

“Pretty make-up,” says Venus, forgetting to shut up. Galaxia hears from far-off Planet Star Destroyer, and the wind howls into a vortex from inside a primordial vacuum, reaching its hoary black arm all the way from death beyond the black hole to the heart of Earth. She bites her lip against a shiver; so does Galaxia. “I think you left your fuku in the car, Hino-sama,” Venus says, tucking her chin into the limped synthetic lip of her turtleneck, Sailorsailorvenus’sfavoriteturtleneck, still breathing.

“I like to change you,” says Rei.

“Use my henshin stick,” says Venus, and through her father in the ground the wink chain sword winks a chain at her hip, ready to spasm. The starseed in her heart spins like a dradle dowsing Zamzam from its opposite pole. The fossil Venus encased in amber wood beneath the armored slab of concrete at her feet beats its eyelid and the muscles in Mina’s right leg tremble like a dog awaiting its cannibal gruel. Mm, cannibal gruel. Yum, cannibal gruel. Yes, cannibal gruel, yes! And she's a shampoo commercial getting slimed by Campbell's beef stew or something worse. And for Rei she's a depository. And for Rei she's everything. And for Rei she twitches, blinks, twitches and then blinks to play it cool, the scepter of Galaxia unthreading the fabric of her brainstuff and twisting it into a little spool sharp against its sisters. Bubbles in her brain. Speak of bubbles. The god of suns obliges.

“MERCURY AQUA MAKE-UP!1!” Venus hears, and her eyes sting with vapor, the sun her mother wailing with torn hair and a bleeding scalp at the crook of the girl’s neck. America’s war rages on, Galaxia her mistress on the cusp of Gemini and Latin, enthroned in the might of her majesty. The distant sleeping Tuxedo Kamen wakes to sleep again, loving the barren planet in his ball, and loving the silver cooling his blood. Pallas is born a bastardess, robed in glamor stolen as an apple from the garden of the sun. The pirate princess gold in her nakedness, Sailorarethusa, loses her seed at Mamoru’s V, and Venus of the V quakes soft at blond profundity; all worship the emperor. All but Ami, in whose dark heart a starseed pumps ice and dances as the sun’s towers fall.

“I’ll use mine,” says Mars to Venus. To Venus. To Venus.

“Sometimes that fuku which should go with Mars..,”she touches her lip with a wobbling index finger, “isn’t there, babe.” A smile. Then a blank. A profound blank. Wiped blank. “You don’t love her anymore.”

Galaxia shudders, someone's glee. Shadow Destroyer flicks, switches, a mare's tail emphasizing. Mina flushes hot, then lifts off the ground, arms ascending backwards, and the wind brings her toward the water’s edge. The emperor’s icy hand calls her toward the guillotine, and all is emptied and laid bare. Her clothes, beautiful 90s supermodel fabrics, loose into webs around her body. Her penis enlarges, flesh-plated, arcing at the sun. Her traveling vulva like sails ensnare an empty acrid acre of Antony’s tomb, and the eye of the sun goes white cold. Ghosts fuck to the fore from behind her in wraithe-like procession, beyond her shoulders, burdening her shoulders, countless beautiful billions, stars, beautiful children, people, a Tokyo crowd, each of them surging a walking blitz march behind her.

Then past her, through her, piercing her like an arrow. From her hands limpid lamplights like Mary Mother of Graces, that wrong-wombed Mother of Graces, Mary on the water, and now she is floating above the pond like a foot skating limp like Barbie’s lost loved cherished worshipped limb, the ice blade of her toe on the ice-blade of the water, and Adonis Mamoru True Man races past her on a jet ski on the water, too, but with the water, and the procession explodes the womb in at her bellybutton into tentacles blood pink like a flytrap and terrible in her her mother sun’s sick male female girlhood soft loving gorgeous sad DEAD DEAD DEAD fury. A harvester, a tomb, a channel, a crownless queen, the sun her king heavy-head-hung, brokenhearted, both of them barren, buried, carrying their ancestors. Her face ugly, her face fat, her body an empty suit, her body a loosed tomb, plundered, given to emperors. Adonis is smiling. Minako’s eyes are turned toward the god in the hell her children bear through her, and her stomach is a nothing. A light dazzles a nimbus at the tip of her penis, an electric shock, presidential, motherhood, mothering, queenless, Hillary-haired, a new god born, Shingo’s eye in a mask, Shingo’s profile, a smile on Minako’s face, one tear, anime tear, streaking down the whole of her face from a smash-breaked beaten battered wincing swollen right eye. Rei’s face: “Gouge,” she says. “I am Eurydice.”

Minako loves horses. Loves them and needs them to rescue her. Loves Elios, wild unthrowable Pegasus, wile and unbred thing consuming champions at her heel and from her incisor springing a heavily-headed steam treat trained from go to forever entangle. The horse the shrine, the wicked thing. Horses can be evil. This pond is evil. This pond an evil horse does away with me, never moves. I love a good horse, a beautiful horse named Sally. I miss my home in Connecticut, before the war, before the names, before Daddy became Mommy and Daddy became Sir Ansel. I miss Sir Ansel. I miss the horses. Look up there, a woman, a child, a little horse, and my husband Mars all the while playing in his purple iris the strychnine of an evil xylophone. Mars is jealous of Mars.

Hotaru in the tomb of the cold hard sun. Hotaru’s purple eye. Rei’s child. Rei’s knife. Rei the hunting predator, Minako the hobbled foot-corded wounded limping terrified unhorned dappled soft supple deer, and her father the sun trapped behind his eye with his arms splayed over his visage, presaging magic, unbirth, unwomb, presaging terror, the children of Nagasaki, the women of Taiwan, the carved out penises of Iranian sex-traitors, the sun in terror, Mamoru prince jet ski smiling, grinning, smiling, unblanked, a gun, his jet ski hot pink, Barbie’s whip, Minako’s forfeit womb, and then a rapper beside him black, beautiful, wearing pink and blue tiny board shorts. Mamoru prince Adonis looks at him, his grin the dazzling sunlight off a knife, and checks him out. Hotaru’s womb the tentacled beast extends from the cold blazing sun and threatens Venus’s glass womb upon the water, and Steve Adonis Mamoru Prince turns tears to smiles, and becomes one with the ravenous wolf emperor in his breast. His empty hollow canyon a brass belt like the god he covets and makes covenant, that god Hotaru’s shadow glides upon the water motionless, a kanji, a hidden dagger, child, be armed, child, put down thy weapon, and Mina’s tear freezes on her face, and she gives her womb to the black boy passing, and his stomach grows full, and his breasts heave with muscle, and he too is lifted, and then drowned, and the water thrashes, and Hotaru’s monster tentacles move clasping the water and lifting it like children unworshipped at the sandbox. Mina’s eye opens, her left eye, her right eye still bearing young, and her left eye has become a blank yellow blue iris howling into an abyss, and Galaxia weeps above her with a sword at her breast, gorgeous Roman woman becoming hero, becoming man, and Venus moves slowly through the earth like the void upon the shadow and the water upon the void, the stolen egg, and her fathers’ hands clasp for the egg, trembling, fumbling, strong rippling arms, muscled, unbeautiful, hard palms, and Lil Wayne sings ‘Go DJ,’ and a black kid in a white body spins in a flat-brimmed baseball cap over a tennis ball which inflates into the tail of Pallas’s hair. He and Pallas swallow each other, and a Venus in the boy’s eye assumes her fuku and her heavy sword and chain and pivots toward her father the sun.

“DAUGHTER!!” cries the sun, and Hotaru stumbles on her heel and plummets in the air, her snapped shoe crying out beneath her little Cynthia Candy heel, and the sun blinks rapidly, the sun becomes a shutterstock, a shuttering light at a nightclub light’s up bar close 3AM impotent, and the black boy stops dancing, and Venus’s sword grows Japanese, and the sword and the water kiss lovelessly, and no children are born, and Rei’s eyes grow wide, and Venus points her sword toward the sun, body arcing, and Hotaru stands above her an eclipse without retrograde in the air over Venus’s head, her arms out like a proud Japanese Jesus, and Venus’s chain shoots from the hoop beneath her sword like loose bowel movement, and Venus’s father reaches his hand from the water and holds her heel, and her ankle swells, bone trembling, and tears drowning undrowning fill her eyes, born star from her father’s scraped womb, and Hotaru reaches down with an evil cold tentacle and they caress hands, and then Venus in retrograde supraintraposed vomits a ribbon from the corner of her eye on her father’s head, into his closed open mouth, and with his teeth he’s bitten it off umbilical, Neanderthal woman, and from his ass bubbles break the water, beautiful as Michiru’s ocean kiss, and say ‘Neptune’ and ‘Poseidon’ and ‘Whisper’ and ‘Future’ and all kanji which means faggot, boiling, and the water beneath her naked father form is boiling, and Vulcan in her gorgeous torpedo-titted lithe form hammers her shackles at the depths of the pond, and Sailorironmouse smiles to the camera, peace sign, so pretty, and Venus’s face is tense in intrapose, and in interpose, in one movement, unknowing, certain, certain of her womb, certain of Rei’s potency, knowing gods, and she twirls slowly like the rotation of gorgeous family romance nighttime twilight kisses to Christmas carols, and a single snowflake dawns from around her body like the most mathematically complex fractral given to God the monkey typewriter megasystem computer to produce, and at the edges where it grows dumb and ugly for lack of honesty lack of effort it becomes Hotaru’s black squid ink metal tentacles. Hotaru’s eyes shoot open. Her breasts take form, bouncing into fruition, nippled, large and small, real flesh, plastic, and from the stolen womb between her legs a metal god Arachne Sailorarachne pretty privileged princess descends on a curling wire, and appears to Venus as a transvestitic dancer.

“You are not my father!!” yells Venus to the dancer, and in her head a splitting womb gives birth to a god stolen by evil sickly pale woman Mamoru, and in woman Mamoru’s emperor’s eye he sees Venus entangled by his throne.

“SAILORNEWMOON TWINKLE!!” says the dancer, becoming a Hathor-crowned black crescented gorgeous little princess Usagi, and Venus’s wrist limps clutching a ladder, the Batladder, descending from a helicopter, and the black boy now bespectacled is flying it, and Venus’s lip does nothing in anger and pain, and she falls limp, and the helicopter whips her against a building, and it shatters into asteroids, and the newborn false senshi dance with white light hearts, and the sun Elios reaches for them from space, and they fall from his fingers like saddening sand, and Venus sheathes her wink chain sword between his fleshy pixeled pornographic male asscheeks, Hanyu Yuzuru, and Mamoru feels Hotaru’s shock at the prostrate anus, and the anus lives, and the anus is unprostrate, and Mamoru and Helios dance inside the air once romantic, hands losing one another, tectonic shifts, loosed on opposite sides of their two married pages, Mamoru poised, posed, meaning to, Helios grasping impotently, not barrenly, manned and masked and then bound too by the ropes of the helicopter. And the gladius pierces Galaxia’s oblique, and the blood blossoms under her opaque gold bodysuit, and Lady Gaga somewhere dies alone, and a man’s eye rescues her from his sofa, and it’s all in Galaxia’s crying eye, her lying smile, the blade sickens, the blade is a female appendage turned inward, the blade has tentacles, Hotaru’s mouth bends downward, her soul so far within her inside barriers grows fearful of the howling god, the stupid emperor, Mamoru’s forgotten past, his blank, and Mamoru sheathes his blade and bends toward the prone dead corpse of coldfish Usagi, so beautiful in her untouchable glass skin, and Helios looks on with an empty woman’s smile, and Galaxia’s blade pierces the page.

An empty left page. Venus to its right, dressed as Minako in a spring day in Philadelphia, red checkered shirt tied like Dorothy Britney, warm little smile for the child behind the camera, peace sign: “JUST KIDDING. HEHE! XOXO SLOW DOWN, BABE. GO TOUCH GRASS. ALL THE GODS LOVE YOU ESPECIALLY, AND THAT'S BECAUSE YOU’RE SPECIAL. HUG YOUR SISTER. HUG YOUR BROTHER. FOR GOD'S SAKE, LOVE YOUR LOVER. LOVE LASTS ETERNAL. VENUS… MAKE UP!!”

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