I don’t usually post off-topic (other stuff than manga caps or answers to asks) but I thought this might interest some of you. I’ll start with the shoujo manga related stuff and then put the rest in separate posts.
Okay to begin with, here’s a poster for a light novel (Cake Ouji no Specialité from Takafumi Nanatsuki). I thought the guy really looked like Kakeru from Orange. And I was right since Takano Ichigo illustrated the covers. xD
I went to a bookstore in Kyoto so here’s some series I recognized. There were a bit more than I took pictures of, but a Caucasian dude was staring at me weirdly as I took pictures. Maybe he was surprised to find a young guy with such interest in shoujo mangas?
Koe no Katachi by Ooima Yoshitoki
Omoi, Omoware, Furi, Furare by Sakisaka Io
Tsubaki-chou Lonely Planet by Yamamori Mika
Short Cake Cake by Morishita Suu
Takane to Hana by Shiwasu Yuki
Konyakusei by Iwa Chika
ReRe Hello by Minami Touko
Honey by Meguro Amu
Tsubasa to Hotaru by Haruta Nana
Niijiro Days by Mizuno Minami
Aozora Yell by Kawahara Kazune
ALL THE SHOUJOSSSS 8D
Kyou no Kira-kun by Mikimoto Rin
Chihayafuru tie-in snacks!
Koi to Uso ad in the train
Kimi no Na Wa tie-in products at Akihabara
Some detergent with cute shoujo manga-like artwork on them :D
In Ochanomizu (neighborhood to the southeast of Akihabara), I passed by the headquarters of Hakusensha, a magazine, manga and light novel publishing company that has, among other unsavory stuff, Melody, Lala and Hana to Yume (and their deriviatives) magazines under its belt.
Notice the Madara (from Natsume Yuujinchou) plushies and the posters for Fukumenkei Noise (AKA Anonymous Noise) and 3-gatsu no Lion (AKA March Comes in like a Lion).
. (so that users on mobile can see the second picture)
In Harajuku, there were cute billboard ads with shoujo manga-like art. ^^
Next we went to Ikebukuro, a neighborhood like Akihabara (in the manga/anime sense), but catering more to the female crowd (shoujo/josei manga/anime, boy bands/male idols, BL/yaoi, butler cafes instead of maid cafes, etc). I personally found Akihabara a bit crude with the maid cafes (there was even a high school girl cafe) and the few adult material shops in the sidestreets, but whatever floats your goat.
There’s also the biggest Animate of all of Japan (or so I’ve heard). Animate is a chain store selling manga/anime merchandise (magazines, manga, anime CDs, figurines, charms straps, posters, cups, clear folders, plushies, doujinshis, you name it).
Here was part of their shoujo manga magazine selection:
Their selection of shoujo mangas were on point, as expected :3
Omg Queen’s Quality volumes on sale! 8D
Too bad I can’t read Japanese… :/
Wotaku ni Koi wa Muzukashii art on the elevator wall xD
Sono Voice, Yuuryou Desu ka? by Sanada Hatsune and Amazato Sugar. No scanlations yet I’m afraid. :P
And a sneak peak of what’s inside~
Hope you guys enjoyed it and stay tuned for part 2!
As I was younger, I met a boy. Deep, deep in forest he lived in a cave, high up in the mountains. He was feared by his power, his long, sharp fangs, dark eyes, his animalistic behavior and hair, that was long and untamed. Wolf boy, that’s what my village called him. This boy was cold and forceful in everything he did, though he had a soft side. I saw it, once. I hated the narrow minded community in my home town, so I fled in the deep green of the nature to escape shallowness for a minute and explore reality in its purest form. The deeper I got into the forest, the more attention I gathered, by one specific creature. This was the first time that I met this boy. He was in my age and he asked me what I wanted here. I saw that he was careful with human beings - since he was something oddly different, I do not know till now if he was a spirit or guardian of the nature or just returned to the wild - but I saw that he had interest as well. The interest and fascination with the tiny amount of fear the both of us had grew to friendship, and soon, as I turned 18 I realized that I fell in love with this boy and the boy fell in love with me. The wolf boy remarked constantly that I was pure fascination, he could not stop thinking about the words I say, the actions I did, my face - not even at night. But the love took an ugly end. Though our relationship was a big adventure itself since the both of us were from another world, he kept tyrannizing my home town. He said it gave him joy and excitement and that I was just too prude and his pride did not let him feel just a little bit empathy for me. I tried convincing him to stay with me. We could have gone somewhere else, live in another small village together and just keep contact with my family since I loved them - but his raw love decided to turn against me. I turned to to his enemy and I became ‘one of them’. From this day on, he left the forest he lived in and I miss him still.’
Taurus: I am what they call a ‘femme fatale’ or, if you like, a maneater.
I do not know my purpose, I honestly am as clueless as the poor creatures which soul I take every night.
One day, I woke up, laying on a cold ground and the only thing that was in the room with me has been this giant mirror. I looked at myself. It is not like I had a life in the past or was I plainly made like this? Made for this life? I do not know. I just know that my full lips and curves are hypnotizing them and my deep, brown eyes are grabbing them so tightly, none of them would ever be able to forget me. And that is a fact. None of these men ever forgot me. Me or my voice, my soothing laugh and light touches. They bought me red dresses made out of fine silk, the wrote letters, telling me how they missed my soft, sun kissed skin. I loved that. Somehow it was nice to be spoiled. I drank the best champagne, ate the most exotic fruits and had my senses pleased by every good willed or desperate soul that crossed my way.
That was my life before I got rejected. Rejected by a guy, so simple and dull looking, ugh, it gives me headaches just thinking about it. “I don’t want your company”, he said and ignored me. He even looked into my eyes but was still not reacting. Wasn’t I something different? Wasn’t I the demon that visited them every night just to slowly kill them? “Do you tell me, I am not appealing?” He dared to nod. “Yes.” I noticed how my real raging, evil nature wanted to show itself but I gritted my teeth and went back to my apartment.
Hadn’t I everything I needed for them to fall in love with me? Wasn’t that what I was made for? As I cried hysterically, I noticed a little piece of paper lying on my desk. A little bit confused I picked it up and read the short sentence written on it. ‘Look in the mirror’, it said. Suddenly I was scared. What was that supposed to mean? A joke of some guy that in the end turned out to be vengeful, huh? So I looked into the mirror. And in front of me was an old woman. The woman was not ugly, but she did pass her best years in life already. I screamed and out of shock I threw the mirror to the ground, it shattered and little pieces of glass flew to my feet. I threw every mirror out of my house.
What if it hasn’t been their souls keeping me alive? It doesn’t matter, because I refuse to believe that this is me.
Gemini: I remember
that my grandma told me many stories as I was younger. She told me a lot of her
childhood, especially about her school time. Every dinner at her house ended
with tears of laughter because of the memories she shared with us. One day
though, she told me something I couldn’t believe at all. It was at her 74th
birthday, the last birthday we celebrated with her. “As I
was younger, there was not much to laugh about, I know, it doesn’t seem like it
sometimes, but the times were harder than now, we had no time to be kids. And
as I turned 14, I was an adult in the eyes of my parents. One day as I sneaked
out of the house to play with a friend of mine - I wasn’t allowed to go out
because I had to tidy up the house, but oh well, I didn’t felt like doing so
this day - when I noticed that there was
a new family that moved in the house that was empty for years. I was and still
am very curious, so I observed it all a bit. The family seemed regular, nothing
really special, but the older brother out o these two - he was sixteen if I remember
correctly - he was special. I don’t know what he was but for me he was a magician. No, something higher, like a chosen one. A
story teller from another world. Since I was a polite girl I asked him if he
want to play something outside - or if he wants me to show him the neighborhood
- and soon the boy called Josh turned out to be my vanishing point, because the
things he told me…they became real.” As my grandmother told me that I
was highly alarmed. Maybe she was not right in the head because of her age, but
then again she never showed any kind of symptoms or has been seriously ill. So
I kept on listening and what she told me was unbelievable.
“ One day he asked me to close my eyes while he wanted to tell me a story
he just heard and really liked. I did, since I did not see any harm in it and
as his words - so full of energy and life - reached me, I felt a mildly stronger
wind soothing me. “Open your eyes, carefully and don’t panic”, he
told me and I literally could hear his grin. I was in a land mad out of clouds and
everything gold, the sky was bright and blue, but somehow you could see the
stars, planets, the moon and the sun. Even the earth. “What is
that?!”, I asked as I started to feel anxious but he just kept smiling and
told me that this was his own world. Well, from this point it was our world.
Every day we tried to meet and every day we could imagine and create the world like
we wanted. A world where we fought pirats like they did in Neverland and we talked to animals and I gained all kind of secrets the nature there bared. He was from another universe. He taught me everything beautiful and
the power of imagination. If it wasn’t real of course. But one day as we actually wanted to meet again, he and his family strangely disappeared. As I
asked the neighbors and my parents, they told us they never heard of their name
Cancer: You were
innocence and brutality. You were the only sanity I had and somehow nothing but
distraction of my mind. As I saw you the first time everything turned quiet and
everything turned grey, except you. You shined in every color and my heard
started bumping for the first time in years. I never talked to you, but
sometimes I watched you reading your book in the middle of the class as you
couldn’t care less about math and in the breaks you walked behind the school
building with your friends and smoked a cigarette after another until there was
no time left and you came late to almost every lesson and you smelled like
smoke but that was okay. You kind of made me like this smell. You were the giant
waves burying me every night as I realized it will never work out but you also
were the gentle breeze at the beach in the afternoon as I sat down by the shore
and thought about us - looking at each other and not even realizing what the
other one thinks.
My heart ached just thinking about you and I flee into a world of lucid
dreaming, lilac and pink toned skies with orange clouds adorning them, and I
flee into a world filled with anxiety and fear of never being yours because I
need you, but I guess you never thought about being with me. I search for
broken sea shells because they remind me of something I wished to be, a
thought, a wish, that was meant to fail from the beginning,
I wonder what I reminded you of me. Maybe I was only the boy who had math and history
with you. Maybe I reminded you of nothing at all.
Maybe I was never a part of your world.
Leo: Every night I walk up the sky. A ladder out of clouds appears in front of my window, I open it and make my way up to the sky where I will find the most bright and shimmering stars out of all. They are made out of something we human beings describe as ‘stardust’, but do you know what stardust is, actually? No, and I no clue either, but sometimes, when you look someone and you share a deep, mutual feeling? Like love, joy, or even sadness? That’s how it looks like. I know, I know, it is complicated. But, every time i look at you I hope I will see this kind of shimmering in them, because your deep, brown eyes remind me of the darkness of the night sky and every night when I climb to the stars I sit among them and watch you having the most vivid dreams. Sometimes they are happy dreams, sometimes they are full of disturbing images, so horrific that I take a little bit of the golden dust and let it trickle onto you. And when you wake up and we see each other at the bus station I see you smile, no dark circles under your eyes: you must have slept well. You know, up there in the sky is a castle, the night told me it was created for me, and it is made out of gold and silver, jewels, little opals and rubies that are illuminating the walls and window sills and the ceiling is painted and the most glorious pictures are placed on it, like Michelangelo himself visited the dream castle. And on the ground made out of marble I dance, every night. All alone, once in a while in beautiful clothes made out of silk and satin but mostly in my casual clothes, like you tend to see me every day in. The instruments play on their own and I sing to the music. Everything is shining and my heart is pumping and you do smile at me from time to time but my heart feels very heavy, you have to know. I show you, I really do show you that you are blessed with the beauty of the stars but I am afraid and maybe asking you if you need money for food in school or telling you that I like your sense of humor isn’t enough. Because I climb up to the stars for years now, the stars that do greed me once in a while, but do not love me as much as I wish you to love me. I dance alone, all alone in this castle and I cry all alone on this castle. Maybe one day, you will dance with me.
Virgo: I was working for this family my whole life, since my little body was fished out of the lake by our dearest Lord, I was forever deeply indebted to him and his family. I was happy I could for such an honorable family. I was glad that I had something that I was able to call ‘home’. A bed. Some books. Education - not the highest, but enough. And a perspective. As a person maiden I was everything that the younger woman in the village sometimes wished to be: the true hidden gem in the most respected household in the country. But there was something missing. I looked at my shaking hands as I was washing the dirty clothes of my Lord’s wife. Suddenly, the water turned red. I felt a stinging sensation on my hands and pulled them out quickly, furrowing my brows I looked at them. They bled. It felt so wrong. Those hands that already looked like the one of a 50 years old, even though I would celebrate my 21th birthday this year. There was nothing I could truly give. From the bottom of my heart. There was nothing. Out of nowhere, a light touch on my shoulder gave me a shiver. It was the Lord’s oldest son. “You, it’s late, go, get some sleep, let others finish it.” I wanted to protest - kindly of course - but he saw right through me. “You’ve done enough today. You deserve to rest - but let me help you with your hands first.” He smiled gently and his almond eyes gave me a feeling o security and warmth. “Thank you.” From this moment on, I felt devoted to the son, it was a love made out of thankfulness and pure adoration. The Lord’s eldest son did not even care about my being and the effort I did, but he was gentle and not too harsh as some people here were. In special occasions he even asked for advice. I was able to give him a piece of my views and believes and he kindly treasured my words. I cried happy tears as my love’s wedding took place and I was allowed to give my opinion on the decoration and wedding theme. My love was unrequited but it was honest till the end.
Libra: “My dear son, what are you looking at again?”, the father asked as he washed the dishes. They just finished breakfast. His thoughts being interrupted, the boy blinked before turning to his father. “I’m sorry father, I will help you instantly.” “You know, looking out of the window every day isn’t good, you will lose your sense for reality.” The son thought about this statement the whole day and the day after and even the day after that. “Why should I stay inside and help my father with his work? I am a living being after all. After all, I…I do feel as well.” The wooden boy went to the window in his bedroom and saw the neighbor girl, picking some flowers, probably for her ill grandmother. Once in a while when he was allowed to go out for a walk he chatted with her a bit - she was bubbly, but after all very soft and kind. Some people were fascinated by him, some told his father he should sell him to a museum or let scientist examine him, in the end no one knew how his father made the wooden boy come alive. And then there were people that were deeply afraid of him, calling him words like ‘monster’ or ‘accident’. “Oh my dear son, do not listen. You may think a little bit too rational sometimes, but after all you just came to live a few months ago - you still need to learn and learning is one of the most common, human things on earth.” Yes, that indeed was true, but his father never saw what was going on inside his wooden heart. He was feeling like everyone else did. He wanted to help others, he wanted to socialize, but every time he gave, no one wanted to give this mutual feeling back - the feeling of someone special by his side was just too good to be true. This neighbor girl was the only one daring to talk to him and she even went picking flowers with him. The wooden boy was kind, talked politely and with his natural charm a fairy blessed him with the night he came alive, made her feel comfortable - the girl became special to him. One day though he saw the girl kissing a for him unknown boy. “What..what is that kind of feeling?”, he asked irritated and his father answered with the word: “heartbreak”. The wooden boy went to the shore a few days after that and with a wooden boat he made his way to somewhere else. “Pinocchio, where are you going?”, asked the sea concerned. The wooden boy did not know. “I guess I am made out of driftwood”, he answered.
Scorpio: We sat by the shore and the setting sun let the world look even duller as it already was. His eyes searched for a fixed point, somewhere at the endless horizon, he always did that. Somehow, he never seemed to find one. Sometimes it got really quiet among the both of us. But it was pleasant. There were the crashing waves, the endless screaming of the sea gulls and the howling of the cold, hard wind. But it was pleasant. Somehow everything was pleasant. He was there and every inch of my body was filled with a vivid, magnetic feeling, I wanted to get closer to him, but I never knew if I wasn’t already close enough. I was attached. Attached by one accidental, simple stroke of his warm hand when we walked through the city, attached by his deep, blue eyes and every time I looked at them I felt as I was jumping into ice cold water. He had a last drag of his cigarette before throwing it to the waves. They devoured it. “What are you looking at all the time, are you searching for a fixed point?”, I asked simply and watched the cigarette swimming on the surface. He smiled shortly, lowering his eyes, before they moved to me. And it was quiet again. This pleasuring silence, and I knew he thought about something. There was something odd about his stare but in a good way. He smiled again before answering. “There’s no need for that, when you already have one, isn’t it.” I was too scared to say something, I was too scared to ask if it was me. Because I knew that he was mine fixed point. This love was like waves pulling me closer to the muddy ground, but I loved the coldness of the sea because he himself was the warmth that greeted me when I made it back to the shore once in a while. I really wanted me to be his everything, just as he was mine.
“I once had a bird. It was the most beautiful,splendid bird I have ever seen, never ever had mother nature created such a beauty again. Once in a while, your eyes catch something so oddly beautiful, you just have to capture it. With his bright and shimmering feathers as it sat there on a branch. As it preened it feathers, I slowly crept up on it, taking my camera and took a picture. It stopped as it heard the clicking noise, but did not flew away. I had the feeling it looked at me, saw right through me. At this moment I thought this bird was new. A new species. I could give it a name, this majestic creature, I could make it my own. From this moment on I investigated all my time observing the time, drawing it, noting down some of my newest observations and thoughts to gain as much knowledge as I could get. But next to it desire to fly all the time, it sang. Often and passionately. Maybe it called a mate. Or some other bird of its species, male or female - it did not matter. Another thing I noticed was, that it was not a timid animal - no, in fact it liked to present itself - but it really had no place to stay. In fact, it rode down the wind, like it was searching for something. A nest? A mate? Sometimes I was scared, because the bird disappeared for days, but it always came back. Somehow, it always came back, but I could never be sure. One day, I was sick of it. ‘Goddammit, for the sake of science, do it!’, I did shout at myself and captured it. It was hard because of it sharp beak. I put it in the biggest cage I could find, I made my home as realistic as the actual forest it lived in. Excited it flew around its cage,a little bit nervous and scared, but over all very confident. I loved this unique, vivid bird, and it loved me as well. It answered me with some of its sing sang once in a while and it even dared to get closer to me. But something changed. The bird slowly started dying. There was no singing. No flying. No chirping. It lied on the ground, breathing heavily, it was exhausted. Moved and concerned by the picture in front of me, I opened the cage, carefully lifted the bird up and lied it down on the window sill. As I came back the bird was gone. I never saw it again.”
Capricorn: As a florist I am deeply devoted to any kind of plant and the act of making
them grow, creating a bouquet of flowers, nature itself - as I was a kid I
already felt like Daphne the nymph in the wood ,the green surrounding
me soothed me, I found peace in the nature. Well, as I was 22 years old I got
the idea to open my own flower shop - much to the liking's of my parents. I
wanted to create something absolutely new: a flower shop with a touch of the
unusual, kind of unique, maybe something that you won’t find everywhere.
I wanted to do black flowers.
My parents told me a thousand times that this would ruin me, an idea meant to
But of course, they couldn’t stop me. Years later I opened my flower shop at
the end of the city, it was small but cute and my flowers sure caught the
attention of passengers and after a while I had some customers trusting me and
buying my creations and flowers. But no one really seemed to appreciate the
black ones. “They are..ahm…different, honey”, my aunt said as she
visited my shop. “You really think that people want them? Flowers are
meant to look good, make one happy and let the room look friendlier. This is…quite
the opposite.” Before I couldn’t even respond a young man looking at small
plants in one corner of my shop interrupted me, apologizing before speaking:
“I see them as exciting. They draw attention to them and have something
unique, maybe something that not everyone understands.” He smiled plainly before
laying his eyes on me. “I’d like black roses. I need for a special
occasion.” I nodded. I’ve never seen him before or even nearby but I did
as he said. From this moment on he went to my shop every two weeks, only to
order some new black roses, he usually was quiet but once in a while he dared
asking me questions. A little bit odd sometimes, he was a bit cold, but
otherwise kind of magnetic - I don’t know why. One day he stopped coming. After
maybe a year. The year he disappeared was also the hardest year for my shop -
my grandmother died and I neglected the shop to the point where I was close to abandoning
it. It survived in the end, after they saw the rosaries I did for the grave
more people gave me and my shop a chance. One day, as I was visiting her grave,
I crossed a grave I have never seen before. I read the name out loud and
wondered, before I gasped in shock and almost let the watering can fall down.
Black roses were placed in front of the tombstone, they seemed old, almost
rotten. I wondered if it was him laying six feet underground.
Aquarius: I was just watching. I saw her dancing on the other side of the room, like she was in a dream. The fluorescent light touched her skin softly and all I wanted was to talk to her. But I could not. I was not able to. Sometimes when she went to bed and suffered from nightmares - which she got pretty often - I started stroking her hair and she would sleep tightly and calmly eventually. When she forgot to pack her lunch I would carefully put it in her schoolbag and when she forgot to make her bed after waking up, I gladly did it for her once in a while. “Thank you, darling”, her mother would say. “But mom, that wasn’t me”, was her constant response. Her mother would smile then and lightly shake her head, but her daughter was going insane with her mother not believing her that she didn’t even touch the sheets till 7am. When she came back from school I listened to her soothing voice, humming to the songs that her phone played. I admit, I am not really fond of the music today, but I could get used to it, after all I was an open minded spirit, right? I just wish I could be with her and walk her to school and carry her books and pick flowers with her and all the stuff that she writes in her dairy - yes I admit yet again I read it once in awhile when she decides to write something down. But then I was afraid. I did not know how these things worked out. I mean, for me, things like love will never turn out again, but I was always a bit special when it came to occasions like those. Me, falling for a living girl? I was at the attic almost for 5 days before I decided to visit her. I listened to her calling a friend and she told her that she hated flowers. Hating flowers? Well,I guess I can cancel picking flowers with her now out of my imagination. And she complained about not having anyone for Valentine’s Day. I know, this girl would never ever notice me. Hell, she didn’t even believe in ghosts. But after all, that was the only thing left on earth that mattered for me - this strange love. So instead of flowers I made myself useful and I placed a jar with three fireflies I was able to persuade into being a gift for only one day in front of her door and happily she told her mom about a mysterious admirer. I know, I know, really cheesy. But that day I strangly fell asleeo. As I woke up I saw a bright, white light. Maybe it was my time to go.
War is over and I suppose it’s best for me to stay at the Summer’s islands. After such a dark period we would need the time to gather around again and work up the loss of our nation. I heard about your father and I deeply apologize, telling you my honest concern. But he was a good man, he fought for the right side and for justice and peace.
After I heard that you are going to marry the oldest son of your dearest father’s friend I want to congratulate the both of you, may you live happily together.
I want to be honest and please forgive me speaking so openly about my feelings, but I think it is the best if we would stop interfering with one another from this point on. This moment we live in right now, it is hard but the right time to start things over again.
And I can not be a part of your life anymore.
Since I was young and I was ordered to be your knight, I felt very attached to you.
They describe magic creatures in those fairy tales my father told me not to read. They would make me weak, he said, I should see right in the dead eye of life. But I still read them. They helped me escaping out of the brutality of life.
And you constantly did remind me of the dreamy fantasy these books told me about. Like those elves in the fairy tale you moved gracefully through the woods, going for a walk and your soft hair would blow in the wind and reminded me oh so often of the fresh and pure snow.
I wished I would be able to vanish those feelings and memories, so I could watch you growing old, so I could see you in your purest form of the celestical being that you are every day.
You made me stand up when I wanted to leave war and flee into the woods, when I wanted to escape life. You alone made me stay.
And because I adore you with all of my being I wish you to be happy.
I will let go.
But I needed to tell you before I let you disappear out of my heart and mind.
Do not write back, im asking you at this point.
Do never change your heart.
When the kids graduate high school and part ways for the first time in all different directions and life paths, Mike and El go to colleges with hours and miles between them. They don’t get to see each other as often, aren’t able to enjoy the warmth of the other’s presence or see the other’s face when they tell a bad joke or give the other a comforting hug and shoulder to cry on when the weight of the world is too much to bear. El’s weekends are filled with tutoring kids at the local elementary school and working on her art pieces in her spare time, so Mike takes a familiar train ride every Friday evening to visit her. The first time is a complete surprise, shyly knocking on the door to her dorm room while carefully balancing a mountain of Eggos boxes in his arms. The entire night is spent quietly cuddled in each other’s embrace, munching on still-frozen toaster waffles and contemplating the mysteries of the universe. The staff at the train station on either end of Mike’s route slowly get to know him; they always ask him what she’s planning for this trip and give him a cup of coffee with an encouraging smile after a laborious week and remark on whatever token of affection he’s brought this time. One day, there’s a handmade photo album for the birthday of the master photographer herself filled with carefully developed pictures and hastily penned captions that’s fondly pored over and reminisced upon for the entire journey. Some days, there are bouquets flourishing with only the brightest of sunflowers and tulips and lilies and daffodils held in shakily nervous hands over the romantic gesture. One day, there’s a plush lion with a raggedy mane and velvety fur and glossy button eyes sticking out of his backpack—it’s her favorite animal, though she’s never said why. Some days, there’s a small cardboard box neatly taped across the top to contain the stacks upon stacks of mixtapes that he’s crafted and records that he’s picked up at the shop where he works during the week. One day, after many flowers and printed photos and snack foods and records had exchanged hands between the now-grown dungeon master and waffle-lover, there is simply a small velvet box that never leaves his hands for the entire trip as his entire frame is jittering with energy and his throat goes dry as he rehearses the words
I want an animated film with baby goddamn planets. I want baby Pluto to run away and his friends to go on a grand adventure to find him.I want little star nurseries. I want star dust. I WANT SPARKLE SOUNDS. I NEEDS IT. A LAND BEFORE TIME BUT WITH STARS AND PLANETS.