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Your name is Reimu Fuck-Mothering Hakurei the 16th, and there's an incident going on. You can tell because the author is a hack, who probably can't even make this shitty trope work, much less anything with actual characterisation, or depth. That however, is besides the point, because as was previously mentioned: Incident. Your job is resolving those probably. That still leaves the ever so pressing question however of where to start.
Deliberating on the issue, you stare into the sunrise like a badass before deciding to:

[] Get a goddamn move on, you have places to go, youkai to exterminate, there's probably a space hamster in there somewhere.
[] Sit here and look cool until someone comes along to exposit at you. Maybe the stage one boss will clear themselves by tripping on a rock if you stall long enough.
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Someone break the tie, I don't care if you voted previously, but I cant write an update until a choice wins,
[x] It has been a while since you last checked on the younger sister, and you doubt Ms Knowledge will look for you there.
classic flanfag victory
Thank you anon, very cool. Vote called for Flannister Railing.

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It was a fortunate time after all...

"This youngest of seasons had been one harsher and more resentful than the siblings of its kind that had visited the years before.
It had started as all smaller sisters had, hysterically thrashing, calling attention to itself. To this end the weathers of springtime had been wielded to disasters at her infantile hands.

Throughfuls of water had showered from the greyed skyward carpet, had dampened the place and had soaked the floors. Firm clay had lost its healthy constitution, becoming more akin to sponge-like moss. Further rain had punched pans and then potholes in the softened, weakened grounds. Day by day, two times seven-times, the clouds had given to drink.

Sickly had swelled the thirteen-times gulping earth; it had vomited at the last pouring.
Light sediments, humus and its growths had been thrown up to an ugly grey-brown broth that had flooded over everything. Sands and heavy things coming within the barf had punched away anything in their way, leaving fields with scars and houses as pathetic bumps. Rocks and detritus had stayed on as a painful blanket after the floods end.
The living earths had been washed away.

The season had matured over the forthnight and its violence had grown derisive.
For seven days it had bored the wicked winds from the bare mountains. Bare they had been apart from the high and wide quartz monuments decorating their inanimate ridges and their testaments of lives bygone; the wilted corpses and bleached and dried bones of strangers and therebetween those of comrades had lain scattered.
They had blown the tarnished remainders of the grounds they crossed away as dust, but Sand and small things had become hurting missiles. The homes that had yet survived became a trapping for the poor environmental refugees when the wild air had punctured their shelter's openings, ripping them open and ripping them, those inside, apart.

At last she had denied the consecrated grounds and their sorry people sustenance. The sunlight had not touched their skin, skies smothered by a thick bloated blanket. In a show of spite restraint no
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[X] That at the icy nails clawing the newborn had been roused awake.

Cirno origin story confirmed
[x] That at the icy nails clawing the newborn had been roused awake.

Death will not have this one. Not today.
[X] That at the icy nails clawing the newborn had been roused awake.

Posted on Cirno day, eh?

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File 157837514861.webm - (3.53MB, 1616x908, yue ni odoru.webm) [iqdb]
♫: https://youtu.be/0rVqj8PGTXA
[オメガリズム - Omega Rhythm (UPLIFT SPICE)]
Lyrics: https://releska.com/2015/11/23/omega-rhythm/
Music Collection: https://mega.nz/#F!1BdBzIKZ!bhLzijfM3iyphpueDOKf0g

A tale of fools and lovers.

Open to critique, criticism, and praise. Mostly praise!
(I'm kidding, you can say whatever)
Comment kindly!

Histories of Yatsugatake, a Suika backstory short: >>>/shorts/2180
THREAD 1 >>65260 THREAD 2 >>65548
THREAD 3 >>65922 THREAD 4 >>66462
THREAD 5 >>66845 THREAD 6 >>67429
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[X] Keep the “night” up by crafting moonlight.
[x] Keep the “night” up by crafting moonlight.
[x] Keep the “night” up by crafting moonlight.

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Picture: The idiot
Or more accurately, the Fool. 5 feet tall. Covered in a long overcoat to protect himself from winter showers and cold winds. Posture, slightly hunched over and furtive, as if he was trying to hide from something. Dark hair. Dark eyes. British-Italian ancestry. A forgettable face in the crowd. Eyes often glued to a book, out to nowhere, or onto his phone. Oliver Smith, born in around 1960, somewhere that didn’t matter, and to two working class parents.
A shy and furtive boy, he made few friends in school, often bullied by children with their native cruelty and lack of care. Joining a local university in 1980 managing to keep himself from being expelled after an unfortunate incidence involving a woman, several packets of pre-cooked pasta, a jar of peanut butter, a large stuffed bear, and the University’s residential plaque of its founder. Graduating in 1985 with a Bachelors in Business and Management, he joined the British civil service.
At first, he was hopeful for a change in his life; childhood was a bust, university was a failure, perhaps this would be the time when his fortunes changed, and he could gain the popularity and friendship he so wanted?
His hopes were dashed. His grades and achievements were low to begin with, and his shyness and inability to be prosocial crippled him. Slowly, his acquaintances and what tentative friendships he could make left him behind, either transferring to another department or promoted away. His inability to read the mood and properly gauge the exchange of favors and ideas meant that he lost out in office politics. His mediocre skills did him no favors, leaving him as the man in the background when others had time to shine. Attempts to fit in failed in awkward silences or anxiety, further driving him into isolation. He threw himself into other forms of entertainment. Books. Late night movies. Tv shows. Daydreams where he was the hero, with all he ever wanted. Fantasies. Tentative attempts to write down his own day dreams, hopes of being an author. And ignoring that his life had struck a rut, and younger coworkers were rapidly being promoted beyond him. His coworkers now viewed him as ‘that old man that’s always there’.
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apparently the first one had some errors and he couldn't figure out how to delete/edit in time.
Soooo is this not a cyoa or are we gonna get votes soon

seems like, half done or something
did it died

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Main story threads: >>>/border/28011 >>>/border/28877 >>>/border/29707

Previous side story entries: >>>/border/29391 >>>/border/29511 >>>/border/29748

Camp Fijr Dhwa
2330 Hours, 280620XX

You are Lieutenant Adin Sylla, officer in the Kenyan Army Infantry 9th Rifle Battalion and former head of security for Camp Abu Shok, a refugee camp, located in war-torn South Sudan. Over the past two days you have also managed to become a Director for a mysterious Asian multinational known as Clear Sky, and is currently working under the supervision of what you have confirmed to be a fox demon (with extraordinarily fluffy tails) from the Orient who goes by the name of Mae Indigo, and have engaged in the first real offensive operations in your entire life. You have also witnessed your boss literally tearing apart a janjaweed ambush with just tooth and claw, and have wiped out a government convoy just to steal their shipment of arms as a side job from escorting Red Cross employees to camps for their free labor.

As shady as Clear Sky's actions are, the employees themselves are even shadier. Aside from Indigo, many of the mercenaries you've met are monsters of one sort of another, and consume human flesh. According to what Indigo told you they are magical beings from a magical land, facts which are not exactly reassuring as witchcraft isn't something really wholesome in your country. Apparently the company's revenue source is also magic-reliant, so you are not exactly surprised at the sheer amount of supplies and material they have brought to the camps and towns under their control.
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[Coin Flip] Smell the black tar of the audience in the air, and commence a predatory performance.

“We’re going in. Plan D.” You say to Tenshi, “The enemy should be disposed of before they reach Kokoro.”

“Nice! My favorite one of your plans.” Tenshi could hardly contain her mirth. She’s already drawn her sword and taken up a fighting stance.

Ahmed calls out from below, “Go ahead, I’ll hold down the shop. Just make sure you don’t let too many through at once. My setup can only handle so much armor at once.”

“We won’t fail.” You say with deliberate bravado. Your hands are rather clammy and sweaty as you shift the SV-98 into a comfortable position. Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes, and let your menreiki senses flow into your head, carrying aloft emotions from this city.

I really wish I didn’t have patrol duty. Fucking hate it.

Casual spite, not nearly enough to be true hatred.

“I hope that fucker Ibrahim chokes on his money and dies.”

A lot of hate, but not the sort you're looking for.

“Why did we have to lose our village like that?! I demand an answer, God!”

Closer, but this individual isn’t who you’re looking for either.

"These impure monsters must perish before they further degrade our societies!"


“Follow me.” You order, leaping across the rooftop to the nearby apartment building. “The target is northwest of us, about three hundred meters away.”

Hopping across the rooftops draws quite a bit of attention, but that only helps your plan, right? Drawing them out and closer would mean less going on Kokoro, after all. And you really don’t want her to get hurt again, lest you end up with another mask or something.

Right, that’s why you want to keep her out of danger.

“Contact.” You hold up a hand for Tenshi to stop, in a shadowy corner on the roof
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[x] Ahmed’s traps should be utilized. Split up and draw part of the group to the radio station.
[x] “Don’t worry about the killing part. They’re sinners who came after us first.”
[X] Ahmed’s traps should be utilized. Split up and draw part of the group to the radio station.
[X] “Just focus on defending yourself. We’ll talk about the consequences later.”

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You stare at the screen of your laptop blankly, watching as the 'Game Over' menu comes up. "...You've got to be kidding me," you mumble.

You had been 5 millimeters away from beating the Phantasm Stage of Perfect Cherry Blossom - 5 millimeters - and you had then, out of nowhere, been hit by a shot you were absolutely certain you had dodged.

You groan, running a hand over your face. "God dammit," you mutter, reaching out to your keyboard with the other and hitting Alt+F4.

Unfortunately, this leaves you staring at your desktop background, which for a while has been a decidedly smug picture of Yukari Yakumo.

Your eyebrow twitches, and you almost slam your laptop closed. That gap hag is not a face you want to see right now.

You'd always admired her as a character before, and been a rather big fan of her too, but seeing that smug smirk after actually trying to defeat her and failing just before you would have succeeded…

Well, you can understand why Reimu feels the way she does about Yukari now. And why 'goddammit Yukari' is such a huge meme, too.

You shake your head and take a deep breath in, trying to clear these thoughts from your brain. After a few seconds, you breathe out, feeling slightly more refreshed.

Looking up at the clock in your little room, it says it's almost midnight. Your eyes widen.

It's a school day tomorrow.

"Shit," you mutter. Looking at the desk your laptop is on, you hurriedly stuff it into the bag there, taking a quick look through it afterwards to make sure it's full. After confirming everything you need is in there, you sigh in relief. Standing up, you walk over to your bed and toss back the sheets. You've already eaten, showered, and had your dinner for the night, so it isn't too bad for you to go to bed right away. You're even wearing your pyjamas right now
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[X] "How are you taking this so well?"
[X] "How did you know who I am?"

oh wait shit wrong thread uhhhhhh

[x] "Let's just go to school already!"
o hai Mark

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Previous thread: >>63805

“Let me see your hand for a second.”

“Sure,” says Momiji, obediently raising her hand up. “What’s up?”

Wordlessly, you grab it. Momiji patiently awaits your next move, but you merely lower your head in embarrassment and interlock your fingers with hers.

“Gallagher,” Momiji says, a hitch of curbed delight in her voice. “Did you... did you want to hold hands?”

“I just thought that this was the most appropriate course of action to show you how I feel. And I didn’t want to leave any room for doubt. Obviously, if I had to say anything, knowing me, I’d just stumble over my words for five minutes straight because I’m no particular expert on articulating my emotions.”

“And you say that you aren’t affectionate?”

“I’m not.”


Then a lot of things. Many different things, though you’re unable to piece together the proper words for it. But screw proper, you have just enough to tell her what you mean. “You’re important to me. A whole lot.”

“Well.” Momiji lifts your hand up with hers and, with a gentle touch, she brings it to her cheek. The wolf prompts you to caress her—a request you easily comply with. She breathes out a contented sigh as you stroke her cheek. “If, for some odd reason you didn’t already know, you’re very important to me too.”



“We should go.”

“Yeah. We should.”

So you do, and so she does. The walk to the apartment takes about twice as long as it usually does, but you sure as hell don’t mind. It’s spring, and it’s the nasty kind of spring, but here you are, ambling along the streets hand-in-hand with a wolf tengu, wearing the stupidest fucking grin you could possibly make.

She squeezes your hand, does a little bashful smile, and all of a sudden, you’re about half a measure from kissing the dumb girl.
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It’s a free phone, minus the fine print hidden away behind a contract, so you might as well try and weasel your way into one.

“I do,” you say. “A legal partner, and we’re sharing households.”

It’s a lie through your damn teeth, but that was the closest label you can find for Momiji, minus her being your wife. But she doesn’t exactly have any paperwork tied to her name and face, so that’s the best you can fib out.

“Got any proof?”

“I don’t exactly keep our files on us.” You sigh, pulling out your phone. “I can at least show a photo of her. Is that good enough?”

Of course, that means exactly nothing, but you’re not exactly in a place where they’d waste their time—or yours—to verify squat.

“Not really,” the man says, shaking his head. But he draws a weary eye over to the back office and frowns. “But I don’t get paid enough to double check. Let me see, and we’ll both be on our way.”

You scroll over to your phone’s gallery. The only good one you can find—if you can even call it good—is a drunken photo taken by Miji herself. It’s very unflattering: She has a dopey grin on her face while you’re busy being a corpse on the floor. You crop her wolf ears out and present the evidence to your unenthused audience.

“It’s the only one I have of her.” For some reason, you have to blab out an excuse for her. “She’s, um, very camera-shy when sober, you see, and doesn’t like other people taking her picture. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I totally get it,” says the guy, who doesn’t understand at all. But at least he’s nice enough to humor you and move on.

It’s cheap enough to get Momiji under your existing contract. You don’t have to deal with additional paperwork, and all that you have to account for every month is the extra fee for phone service.

“Is that everything you need?” James asks, ready to get this over with.

That makes the two of you.

“Yeah. Thanks. Have a nice day,” you say, exchanging your final courtesy to the man.

“You too,” he says, slouching over at the counter, probably ready to ge
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Sorry for dying and staying dead, but have a merry Christmas. Lest I get hit by a meteor, I'll continue updating throughout next year, too. I won't promise anything too fast because I'm juggling several stories at once but know that I'm still here.
It's a Christmas miracle! Hang in there, molar.

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You placed the lid back on the donation box before you slung the FN FAL onto your back. There were about 1,500 yen in donations, which was more than yesterday, but still not much.

Still, you suppose that you should be thankful. The shrine is so far away from the village that it’s any wonder that people would even bother to donate and pray.

You began to walk down the steps that stretched up to the shrine and down towards the soft sandy beach that bordered the entirety of Genso Isle. There was a long path along the beach that leads to the seaside town of Yume Village.

The day was still fresh and the sun was still high in the eastern side of the sky. On one side was the calm waves of the ocean. On the other was the thick foliage of the Forest of Magic. Travel along this pathway was long yet generally safe thanks to the series of talismans set along the fence that separated the beach from the forest.

It was part of your daily routine to make your way towards the village if nothing else but to keep close maintenance of this fence. Occasionally you would pass by fishermen stationed along the shore, safe in the knowledge that no youkai will sneak up from behind.

They were the main source of revenue and faith for the shrine, alongside hunters and a few village guards. A few of the fishermen waved at you and you saw more and more as you neared the village.

Finally, after a long trek, you reached your destination.

A massive stone wall laid before you. It was about ten meters tall and encircled the entire village. Along the side of the wall that faced the ocean was a large harbour that extended out into the waters.

You stood in front of the east gate, the steel wall was currently raised while the two guards stationed there laid causally to the side, there focus entirely on the radio between them. They lazily waved you in as you made your way through the gate.

The village was as lively as ever. The streets were full of life, the shops were open and everyone is out to live a brand new day.

And for you, a brand new day means work, again.

[] Pass by the Grilled Eel Stand, the fridge was empty and you haven’t had breakfa
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[x] There’s a contract for hunting down a pack of Kyonshi before they grow too big and become a threat to the humans on Genso Isle. Come to the Village Chief for more information. 100,000 yen.
[x] There’s a contract for hunting down a pack of Kyonshi before they grow too big and become a threat to the humans on Genso Isle. Come to the Village Chief for more information. 100,000 yen.
Well, time to hunt down the jumping dead I guess. Off to write the next update.

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You open your eyes again, but you don’t see the dark streets of the city, disgruntled passersby, or fellow drunkards. Instead, it’s the warm glow of a quiet kitchen — her kitchen. It was cozy, as was the rest of the house — distinctly upper-class, but not big enough for servants. That was her dowry, absurd as it was. When you discovered it had been the house she stayed in since she was a child, things made a lot more sense: it had never really been your home. It was the princess’s playhouse, where she could pretend.

Just like now. Washing dishes. She was good at that — cleaning. It’s no wonder why. She turns away from the running water with the most delicate smile you’ve ever seen. “Another late night?”

You lean on the wall, keeping the length of the room between the two of you. “Whatever keeps me away from you.”

Her hand on the wet plate stops for a moment, then resumes. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were an abusive husband.”

You weren’t abusive, but you weren’t the best. Long hours, late calls, and a lot of pent-up stress and anxiety dominated most of your relationship.

“Let’s pretend I was the perfect husband,” you say. “Would it have mattered at all?”

She looks back at the sink and grabs another plate. “What do you think?”

You’ve considered it, again and again and again. Where would you both be if you hadn’t become a detective? If you were at home with her more often? If you appreciated her more instead of using her as a reprieve from a hard day at work? Would you be speaking with her in reality, instead of this twisted dream? Would you still have your old life?

“Of course not,” is your answer. “You were always rotten to the core.”

Kotohime puts the plate back down, but doesn’t pick up another. “Even when we were kids?”

“I met you when I turned eighteen,” you answer. “Our parents arranged for us to be wed.”

Suddenly, she breaks out into a fit of laughter that you have to tune out. After collecting hers
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[X] Tell Sakuya that they should be wary of Keine's involvement, and leave it at that.

Outright stating Keine to be a danger when her stance is unknown to PI sounds like it would needlessly antagonise the SDM and Keine towards each other. She still is a factor to keep in mind though.
[x] Tell Sakuya that they should be wary of Keine's involvement, and leave it at that.

She's was a friend so outright throwing her to the wolves (no, not kagerou) sounds too much, but Koa's commentary on her has made me very very scared so doing nothing is not acceptable either.
[X] Tell Sakuya that they should be wary of Keine's involvement, and leave it at that.

Gotta keep it at a careful balance, even if Keine is rather terrifying.

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It’s funny to be realizing this now, but this is one of the most important decisions you’ve ever made in your life, if not the most important.

“Well, everything looks in order.” Kamishirasawa says, leafing through your paperwork while wearing a pair of spectacles. “I’ve gotten things sorted out on my end. Reimu’s been informed, as have the relevant village officials.”

“There’s only one more step.” Keine says, taking her glasses off and looking you in the eyes. “It’s also your last chance to reconsider. Are you certain that this commitment is what you want?”

You nod. There’s nothing more to say at this point.

She offers you a grateful smile, as warm as the first time you saw it decades ago. “Very well. We have one last form to fill out, then.”

Your former teacher slides the final sheet across her desk to you, the text on it printed with a precision you know most presses in the village can’t match.

A few lines that have already been filled in by Keine’s neat handwriting catch your eye.


NAME OF ADOPTEE: Melancholy, Medicine
PLACE OF BIRTH: Hill of the Nameless


Now it’s time for you to enter yours.


[ ] 20-24
[ ] 25-29
[ ] 30-34
[ ] 35-39

[ ] Male
[ ] Female
[ ] Other/Unspecified

[ ] Apothecary
[ ] Artisan
[ ] Clerk
[ ] Cook
[ ] Farmer
[ ] Guard
[ ] Hunter
[ ] Laborer
[ ] Merchant
[ ] Scholar
[ ] Scribe
[ ] Shaman
[ ] Other

SIGNED: [_____________]
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[X] Spoopy
[X] Urgent
All our options could be negative, but also could be simple.

[X] Spoopy
Except this, because I think it means a silly kind of scary.

[ ] Angry
This could be anyone or anything upset for any petty grievance so it could be as simple as someone frustrated asking for medicine at whatever time of night or a serious situation of a lynch mob.

[ ] Urgent

This could include any of the above and could just be Medicine needs something or comfort from a nightmare.

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