[Magical Girls, Female Lead, Cozy Everyday Life] Fu Yunyouyi transmigrates into a world of magical girls alongside her childhood friend, who is less than 1.4 meters tall. The world is full of danger, and the two of them lose contact. But no matter what, she'll find Neng Dai Jimingzi, the girl who can be her therapist, mother, daughter, childhood friend, XXXX, and life mentor all at once. [We'll definitely meet again. For that, I'll give up everything I have.]
... Years later, when Fu Yunyouyi finds Neng Dai Jimingzi, she asks, "So, can you cut off your mother-daughter relationships with the other magical girls?"
"There's a big problem with the way you put that... It's true that they all treated me like their mom while you were gone, but they aren't my daughters. It's like... Cape Horn and Dota aren't the same thing, you know?"
"I'm only asking if you can cut them off."
"..."
"Let's leave that aside. I need to go to the senior high school."
"But Jimingzi, weren't you sent to middle school in this world? What are you going to the senior high school for?"
"I'm in middle school, but I have to go pick my daughter up from high school."
"?"
I'm so angry! Why did I have to see this book right after getting my nails done? #(Crying)
Nana's Rui... What did you add to the book... It's making me so hot... ❤️
I also want to... Become a magical girl...
If you're going to write about a Lolita mom, you can't just write about a Lolita mom. You have to write about the morning light, climbing up her messy chestnut hair, the soft strands clinging to her forehead damp with a thin layer of sweat. You have to write about her whimpering as she snuggles into your arms in her half-asleep state, her arms wrapped around you with a childlike dependence and an unquestionable possessiveness. Write about her wearing an obviously oversized apron, standing on a small stool, clattering as she prepares breakfast, the sizzling of the spatula and the fried eggs mingling with her off-key, cheerful humming; write about her curled up in a corner of the sofa reading in the afternoon, her toes dangling in the air, the two cat patterns on the toes of her socks nodding in agreement. Seeing how tired you are, and worried about you coming home, I jog over to take your bag, look up at you with eyes full of joy and understanding, and say those magical words, "You're back, you must be tired." Her voice is sweet and clear, yet it carries the unwavering determination to write, smoothing out any wrinkles. When she's angry, her slightly puffed-up cheeks look like she's holding a pine cone, but she explains things more clearly than you do, writing about how she secretly saves money to prepare gifts for you. That expression, a mixture of shrewdness and shyness, seemed to be guarding a world-class secret. And when you were by her side, you finally understood that what you longed for was not to be relied upon by someone naive, but to be able to recognize a soul in this vast and lonely world. She held up a patch of clear sky with her petite body. With her clear, unblemished eyes, she reflects how you deserve to be treated so gently. Lolita Mom is such a miracle; she is both the entire spring you want to protect and the flower-filled roof where you can rest peacefully.
First of all, I am not a lolicon. Secondly, she's as gentle and considerate as a mother. She's a little girl who could be my mother. A little girl is in the most beautiful years of her life—that cute and beautiful face, that tender and melodious voice, that innocent and pure smile, that petite and delicate body. I love her cheeks that puff up slightly when she's angry, and I love her pretty face that blushes slightly when she's shy. A little girl is in the most beautiful years of her life, just like a newly blooming flower, so delicate and beautiful. Everything about her is so wonderful. Just seeing her smile can sweep away the fatigue of the day. Gently hugging that petite and delicate body is like holding the most precious treasure in the world. I'm not a little girl fetishist. I just want to poke her pouty and cute face when I see her. Hearing her voice instantly energizes me. Thinking of her smile makes me smile. That's all. I'm really not a little girl fetishist. I just like a little girl as my mother. The morning light crept up her tousled chestnut hair, the soft strands clinging to her forehead damp with a light sheen of sweat. Half-asleep, she whimpered and snuggled into your arms, her arms encircling you with a childlike dependence and an undeniable possessiveness. In the morning, wearing an oversized apron, she stands on a small stool, clanging and clattering as she prepares breakfast. The sizzling of the spatula and frying eggs mingles with her off-key, cheerful humming. When she comes home, she runs over to take your bag, looks up at you, her eyes brimming with pure joy and understanding, and utters those magical words, "You're back. You must be tired." Her voice is sweet, yet carries a certain unwavering determination that can smooth out any wrinkles. When she's angry, her slightly puffed cheeks resemble a pinecone, yet she explains things more clearly than you do. And when she secretly saves money to prepare a gift for you... That expression, a mixture of shrewdness and shyness, seemed to be guarding a world-class secret. And when you were by her side, you finally understood that what you longed for was not to be relied upon by someone naive, but to be able to recognize a soul in this vast and lonely world. She held up a patch of clear sky with her petite body. With her clear, unblemished eyes, she reflects how you deserve to be treated so gently. Lolita Mom is such a miracle; she is both the entire spring you want to protect and the flower-filled roof where you can rest peacefully.
It feels like the money that the little girl named Kinai works so hard to earn is perfect for an unsuspecting, delinquent magical girl to use to play marbles.
Why do all magical girls have magic, and why are all the female protagonists female? This is so formulaic and stereotypical! 😡 Has the author ever been a magical girl? Some things are written randomly and based on assumptions. 😡
I heard there are women here who could be my mother, Char Aznable.
Could you write more? This is the only way I know about magical girls.
In this era of economic downturn, I feel more at ease keeping my money in Nari's hands than in a bank. #(Crying)