Previous thread: >>24655

[X] Since she's offering I'd like to share some of the latent worries caused by today.

Although I don’t want to burden Wriggle with my worries, getting them out in the open should help. “It was just crazy today when Reimu kicked the door off of its hinges. She looked far more menacing than any youkai and started making various accusations about Miss Keine. Most were rather crude, and Reimu also threatened her with some 'secret' that she knows. Father and Mr. Yaguu arrived to stop her from doing more, and she left saying that Keine's position was created solely to spite her. If what Reimu said is right, the more it seems that the biggest thing trying to subvert the order of Gensokyo is the better part of the council. Those old fools… have they no respect for history?” There goes the water and the shampoo… oh that feels nice. I don’t know how I’ll manage to wash my hair myself now that I’ve felt how Wriggle does it.

“I’m not really sure about all that, but I know that Keine isn't someone who'd abuse her power… or looks,” answers Wriggle. “I think Reimu was just driven to say those things in anger. Cheer up though: the village has a bright future since those old men won't be around forever, and will be replaced by people with more sense, like you.” Now she's moving to the back... ah, that feels so nice.

“Wriggle, that really feels nice. I can't think of anything else to say that doesn’t come off sounding cheesy…” I say. I really can’t say much else; something like 'I don't know how I could have lived without this' or something equally worse would ruin the moment. I think I've cleaned up everywhere else as Wriggle rinses me off. I stand up to let her sit down.

“Yuki, could you wash my back now? I'd ask you to do my hair, but with these, it's better to be careful,” Wriggle says, pointing to her antennae. I nod and start working the soap into a lather before I try my best to replicate what she did. Leaning into my hands, she says, “Yuki, don'

You breathe deeply, enjoying the fresh wild scent of storm-tossed atmosphere. The rainbeat tempo upon the porch awning has subsided to a gentle rolling patter, and a stiff, clean wind is pushing the clouds away. You tap your empty teacup against one knee and sigh discontentedly. The stifling, humid heat has been banished at last, but it brought a restlessness you can't quite shake.

It's furtive and quick, an annoying, jumpy energy that flits from excuse to excuse, every single one saying "get out of the house." You've had no luck with your research as of late – the primary energy loop needed to power a Goliath-size doll simply refuses to stabilize – and the other potential energy source -

- you fling the damn teacup across your lawn, watching it bounce and skip as it rolls across the turf. Every time you walk into the laboratory its staring you in the face, and you just can't stomach it anymore. You've never resorted to that crap. Never will. But...

You stand and stretch languidly, enjoying the simple act of moving. When magic – magic! starts to seem like work, it's a bad sign. You need to get out and get some stimulation.

"... what," you query the rain-drenched lawn uselessly. Post-rainstorm isn't the ideal time to tromp around the Forest for reagents; the cooler air brings out mosquitoes by the zillions, in the shade. Shops in the Village will be open, but you don't feel like shopping, just...

"Rrraarrgh," you whine, rubbing your hair with both hands. Men clustered under shop awnings, talking about nothing, leaning against railings and enjoying the brisk, cool breeze running down the village streets – that's what you'd be most likely to see. No, want to see. But won't. They'll be inside smoking and playing pool or parcheesi or whatever the hell they do, shut in their little smokey smelly dens of drowsy dumbassery.

You sigh again, throughly irritated with yourself. Why do you want to see the Village looking just-so? You don't kn

Who the hell is Sekibanki of the Willows? She's the gal in the left picture, obviously.

Not only is she the protagonist of this dumb story; she's a generic youkai like you and I. What, you're not a youkai? Wow, your life must suck!

Sekibanki is a traditional creature: she thinks she's better than everyone else, and if someone tries to tell her otherwise, she'll retaliate with swift violence. Just like everyone else in Gensokyo. Her cynicism and short temper earned her a bad reputation amongst her peers, and many await the day when karma catches up to her and exact rightful retribution... in time.

This story begins in an ordinary day like any other...

"Boy, I sure do want me some noodles!" Shouted the dullahan all of a sudden. "I don't know why I am still hungry, because I ate breakfast just an hour ago, but I guess I'd better go to that sparrow's stand, even though it's at the other end of the Forest, and I could simply go home and prepare some instant noodles myself!"

Sekibanki, craving for some quality nourishment, decided to take a shortcut through the Forest of Magic to reach the Human Village before noon. At that moment, a flock of cute little dolls came flying at mach speed from nowhere, holding many big and heavy bags that had to be carried between six or seven dolls each one. Because of this, the dolls were practically out of control, and when they saw Sekibanki and Sekibanki saw them, it was already too late to change directions for either of them.

"Look out! Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

"Oh shi- Gah!"

The impact was so strong, Sekibanki's head snapped from her neck and was sent flying. At the same time, the dolls accidentally let go of the bag and spilled its contents, burying the dullahan under a mountain of watermelons on sale.

"Good heavens, I think we beheaded her!" Said one of the dolls.

"Oh no, is she alright?"

"I don't know, why don't you ask her, Shanghai?"

"Ehhhh!? Why me!?" Shanghai whined.

"Because you're the most popular!"

Part 1: >>26223
Part 2: >>26539
Part 3: >>26829

[-0-] Attempt to talk her out of it. She's just like a child, so she can be reasoned with.
-[-0-] There are, of course, times when only force is sufficient to deal with a child. She forces your hand if proves reluctant to listen to reason.

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Now, you're willing to give the doll just one chance to listen to reason, to put the knife down and step away. Slowly, you begin to speak in an attempt to make her listen. "Now, Kyoto, just put that down. Mystia isn't dinner, so you can just put that away—"

Thunk.

This time, the knife descends on her neck, and you see it slice all of the way through. Time stands still as you watch Mystia and her shaking eyes as the neck begins to split in two, slowly sliding off until it hits the floor with a wet thud.

You stare at her body for a few seconds, not believing that it just happened. Sure, the doll had cut out her tongue, sliced her neck open once already, but you didn't think that she'd go so far… "This… doll… Kyoto…"

The doll in question turns to you, smiling happily as her blade drips with blood. "What is it, birdie? Are you staying for dinner when Mamaw gets back?" The innocent look on her face almost stays your hand.

With one more look at Mystia's body, though, you let your instincts take over.

Before you can blink, you're standing in front of the doll. It doesn't even open its eyes up in shock when you wrap your claws around it. A furious scowl grows on your face as you look at her wooden expression on a face made of fine china. It is quite fitting, considering the name of the doll.

However, you don't care. Squeezing tightly, you feel the body begin to crack under your hand. You could give her a nice, clean death by just slicing her open. You�

I am a new writer, do give me some feedback on my first story posted here. I was inspired by the "Being Meiling" thread (Keymaster you are a great writer!).
--

I felt an extreme heat overcoming my body, I couldn't breath and my heart beat heavily. My body felt like it didn't exist and all I saw was darkness. I felt... like a ghost. A spirit. I felt like a god.

Suddenly I fell and I lost consciousness. When I came to, I could feel my body again. I heard a girl talking to somebody outside the room.

I sat up and looked around and noticed an old room and, albeit cluttered, was very well cleaned. Curious. Funny, I always saw Marisa as a messy person. Wait, who's Marisa?

I stood up and walked out of the room. I saw a blonde haired girl in a black outfit with a large skirt and she wore a large... hat. She held a broom and was talking to another girl wearing a red and white sleeveless dress. She seemed pissed, presumably at this peculiar girl in black.

I took a step forward and the girl at the door noticed me. She glanced at me and looked shocked. The other girl in black turned around and her eyes opened wide. It was at this moment in time I realised that I was very much exposed.

I quickly took a step back and hid my body from these strangers. The girl in black regained her composure, though still blushing, said, "Y-Your clothes are in the closet, in your room." I wasted no time in returning to the room and finding my clothes.

As I changed into my clothes, I wondered who those people were. They looked so familiar, their voices, their clothing. I passed it off as a deja vu and finished getting dressed.

I walked back out to see only the girl in black, sitting in front of a table cluttered with a large assortment of things.

"Hello!" she said, as if we were good friends, "So you finally decided to wake up, huh? I was wondering how long you were gonna sleep in my bed."

"Your bed?!" I said

"Of course! Where else could I put you? You were having such a bad feve

This has taken far too long. I offer a wall as an apology

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[ ] Regardless of your enmity, Yukari was a worthy opponent. You must at least show her the respect that is due to the valiant dead.


You're just too tired right now. You feel like telling Marisa to go away, or simply to collapse on the ground. Your head sinks as the twin demands of worry and weariness exact their price from your tired limbs.

Yet not even your state of exhaustion can make you ignore the sudden irritation of small but insistent prodding to the side of your head. You turn to confront it, and are met with the perfetly sculpted head of Shanghai. The red-dressed doll regards you with concern evident from her elaborately painted features. She lands on your shoulder, reaches up and pats your head, as if comforting a child. Somehow this sensation feels extremely relaxing, awakening a soft, warm feeling within your chest.

And where there is a doll, there must be a master. Out of the corner of your eye you see the blue-red puppetmaker kneeling down beside you.

"Hello Sigurd, nice to see you again." You turn your head to meet Alice's warm smile. Her cheerful expression is quickly replaced by a concerned look as she sees your tired expression and ashen features. The dollmaker sighs softly and pulls a small napkin out of some hidden pocket in her dress.

"You look terrible though." She shakes her head as she starts wiping the grime, soot and ash off your face. You feel slightly taken aback by this sudden gesture of kindness. Maybe you have become too used to dark and intense emotions of late? In comparison this is but a small thing, yet you feel grateful from the depths of your heart.

"Aye, fair dollmaker. Fierce was the clash-of-spears, deadly the dance of spells." You calmly speak in reply. "Fire flared, stars sparkled this day. Steel and sorcery clashed, wielded by worthy warriors, we who fought beneath the gaze of Odin." Alice smiles slightly at your words and tucks away the napkin into her dress. The dollmaker eyes you critically for a few seconds, then she sighs softly, produces a clean napkin and con

Previous: >>25129

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I was past the point of no return.

Marisa entrusted herself to me wholly and, for better or worse, it was my responsibility to deal with her. Even though the turn of events were still hard to explain or rationalize it was still my actions that had directly led to them. As I silently held her closer I couldn't justify what I was about to do as something that was wholly outside of my control. Events bigger than me shaped my reality only partially, I always had the choice of dealing with them in different ways. Even if I couldn't change things I could at least perceive them differently. Little consolation that it was.

But that, too, was a pointless thought.

The impropriety of the situation wasn't lost on me. I didn't let any one emotion win out in the jumble that was my heart as I silently kissed Marisa on the forehead. She looked at me expectantly, the mere promise of my touch enough to make her breath quicken. The passion was physical, driven by need and lust rather than any emotional entanglement. This made things both easier and harder to rationalize. Her body pressed close to mine, greedily seeking my attention and affection.

I pressed back at her. My hands moved down from her neckline and hovered toward her chest. Modesty was one of the first casualties in the scenario, along with any hopes of detached reasoning, and Marisa cooed softly as I unfastened what little remained of her clothes. The feedback she gave me guided my actions. Every twitch and throb was a direct result of a caress or grope. Aural response accompanied the tactile output; Moans, groans and quiet panting all escaped her lips.

Though the objective was to help her I couldn't help but feel a good as well. The mostly naked girl gave herself wholly to me and entrusted her body to my care. Feeling her modest but girlish chest was outright fun – a gentle pinch of an erect nipple was enough to cause Marisa to let out the sweetest of cries. She was shamelessly lacking any composure and that emboldened me to make the most of the situation. I fondled delicate

Part 1: >>26223
Part 2: >>26539

[-h-] …Do as she says. What can you do that she wouldn't simply shrug off, or worse?

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Quietly, you stare at the form of the girl lying on the ground in a pool of rapidly expanding blood. Her breath hitches as she sucks in air, her damaged lungs unable to suck in enough air to satisfy her desire. The urge to disobey Wriggle’s orders is strong, stronger than anything you've felt in quite a while. With Mystia's ruined body in front of you, so close and so fragile, your instincts and morals scream at you to run and comfort her.

As great as the desire is, though, you know that you cannot follow through with it. Wriggle is much stronger than you, and is quite insistent as to what you do now. You have no idea how she might react if you go out of your way to even so much as comfort the girl. So, you slowly fold your wings down and follow after the girl.

Walking down the steps, you realize that the walls were not entirely featureless. Either due to her presence or with some as of now unknown magic, Wriggle had summoned or lit braziers that now line the walls. At the level you are at now, the walls seem to be made of actual stonework. The moment you descend below them, though, the walls turn back into the rough rock that you are familiar with.

The whole time that you follow her, though, you curl your hands at the sight of her neck. How easy it would seem to be to just leap forward and cut it open, letting the blood spill out of that pretty little neck of hers… However, you stop yourself from giving into that anger. After seeing what she had done to Mystia, what could you do that would even have a chance at being effective?

"Good. At least you can be trained…" Wriggle herself barely turns your head back as she leads you through the dark room once more, turning back towards the entrance to the lower burrows. "Or are you merely seething in anger at the sight? I wonder if perhaps you have something that i

[x] Defend the youkai

"Marisa, calm down! She didn't hurt me." I step closer to the magician, trying to put myself between her and the youkai.

"I-I'll just take my leave of you guys.." The spider starts to creep back up her thread.

"Wait, please." Alice's calm demeanor diffuses the situation. "I don't ask you to prove your innocence, but if you could help us for a moment, I'm sure my friend over here will abandon her 'blast first ask questions later' attitude. Is that acceptable?"

Everyone in the room nods all at the same time, as though puppets on strings. The doll master is certainly an interesting woman in more ways than one. She clears her throat before continuing.

"I won't ask for much. Do you know anything about a beast or the earthquakes around here?"

The spider puts a hand to her chin. "I don't know about a beast, but the quakes have been coming from some fighting in the tunnels. Apparently some of the underground's more rowdy inhabitants have been challenging some newcomer. I can walk you to the Ancient City if you like. They'll be able to give you more information."

We agree, and follow her through winding tunnels. The pace is slow and the atmosphere is that of a hostage situation. Marisa seems tense down here. I wonder what has someone so carefree so worried? Alice on the other hand is cool and collected. Her face isn't smiling, but her mannerisms are as polite as ever. On the way, the spider introduces herself as Yamame Kurodani. We all trade names with her as well, but the air isn't exactly amiable. She doesn't seem as nervous around me though, so I approach her.

"I'm sorry about this." I whisper when I think Marisa isn't able to hear. "I've dragged you into this."

She gives a slight smile as we continue through a tunnel. "Not at all. You are the one that saved me. I've fought that magician before, and I'd rather not repeat the experience. Besides, I'm the one who appeared before you, and I know most humans aren't willing to trus

Part 1: >>26223

[-y-] I don't know what I am. Part human. Part bird. Part doll. None of them. All of them. Less yet more. To define myself, to attempt to encapsulate my entire being in such few, superficial words is a fool's venture, for none of us are merely the sum of our parts. If nothing else, then I will accept but this - I know not what I am, save that I am I.

------------

Taking her words to heed, you glance down at yourself, and the hands that are by your side. One that is still clawed and wicked, glinting in the light that leaks through the trees. The other is wooden and dull, not reflecting any light at all.

One part of it is alien, and one feels natural. Yet, at the same time, both are wrong. They are not your hands. This is not your body. You did not choose this. Instead, this was chosen for you. This is not how you want to be. This is the life you are forced to take and endure.

Then again, how is that any different from what you have always been? Your life before this was dull and dreary. It may have been safe, giving you enough money to keep a roof over your head while saving up for a rainy day and your retirement decades from now, but was it truly a life for you? Were you truly alive back then?

That life was not the one you wanted, either. Idly, you drift back to your own childhood, of what you wanted to be so long ago. What so desperately you wished to be real was not, and so you found yourself drifting on a path to mediocrity. It was not the path that you desired and aspired to, but it was the one you were forced to walk.

And now it comes down to a decision. Two paths that you can walk. You can succumb to the beast that you are now, to the primal urges to rip and tear guts large and small. All the same, you hear the song in your throat telling you that is not the only option. An embrace of the elements could be sought out, if only you so asked them to take you in.

However, at the same time your conscious proved too strong.