The morning smashes you on the head and cracks your eyes open. It's a feeling you're intensely familiar with — the result of far too many drinks at the shithole down the street. You sit up and rub as much crust and haze out of your eyes as you can and silently praise the curtains keeping most of the intruding light out of your bedroom. The alarm clock reads 7:02. It's early, but apparently you were too drunk to wash your mouth out whenever you made it home. Now your tongue feels rotten and all you can taste is stale alcohol and ass. You breathe into your hand. It doesn't smell much better. You can't fall back asleep like this.

But when you throw your legs over the side of the bed, you become aware of slow, faint breaths that are not your own. You turn carefully behind yourself to the blonde head of the woman who had been sleeping next to you the whole time.

Holy fuck. You've had a barren run of it these past several years, so you can't help but feel impressed with yourself for hooking up with someone in a bar. But this is also way more awkward than you want to deal with this morning. If only you could remember the actual hooking up business. Maybe if you take a good look at her face, you could figure it out. . .

You hover closer to see, but her looks stop you cold. She's cute for sure, but there's definitely something that's... unsettling. She's hunched over into the fetal position, her slim shoulders barely sticking out of the blankets. Her face is round, just slightly tanned, and flawless even without the touch of makeup. There's just enough fat in her cheeks to where you'd like to pinch them, and she snores gently through tiny nostrils and pursed lips.

In conclusion, she looks just a little young, doesn't she?

Some women are that way though, and many even consider having a babyface to be an attractive feature. Yet as you look closer at her small form obscured by the blankets, you feel less and less convinced that this is a woman at all. Carefully, you lift up the covers to settle the matter once and for all.

Shit. Shit.

You are no expert of fe

“I couldn't care less about it.” You stop to take a bite of the pasta. You're not the best cook, but you're good enough. Maybe whenever Momiji returns to Gensokyo, you'll fill in as the cook. A sobering thought. “But I do care about the people who work there, more or less.”

“Well, aren't you just the sweetest?” Momiji flashes you a sly smile. “The girls have a great father looking over them.”

“Hahahah, no.” You shake your head with disgust at the wolf tengu.

She allows herself a quick chuckle. “Isn't that basically how it is? I know Cassie and Lily basically adore you. And Rylee...” she trails off. “Well, she's the rebellious one, right?”

“Nah.” You pause to think about your employees. You suppose they're all good people at heart. Even Rylee. Still an asshole to you though. “They're all big girls. They can take care of themselves. And if they can't, I'm sure as hell not going to.”

“But you do!” Momiji shivers, retreating further into her hoodie. “Lily said you saved them all from all kinds of shit. You're like their hero.”

“Sure, if you consider underpaying employees heroic. I didn't do jack shit.” You wonder exactly how much Lily told her. Not like it's a big secret, but you didn't think Momiji and Lily talked much outside of work affairs.

The wolf tengu pulls her hood up and retreats to your room. “I'm heading over to the bed. I'm just a little tired.”

At this point, it's a waste of your breath to tell her that it's not her fucking house. You sigh and pick up the plates, throwing them into the sink. A quick rinse does the job, but you should really get to washing all your dishes completely before you run out. Another time.

Momiji rests her head limply on your pillow, trembling under the covers. “Man, it's really fucking cold.”

“I feel alright. Are you sick?” You don't bother waiting for a response and immediately slap your hand on her forehead. She has a fever. The wolf has a fucking fever. “How do you even get sick?”

“Like most peopl

I'm thinking of writing something else and am looking for feedback. Even if you don't read this story, if you're interested in seeing more writing by me, feel free to share your thoughts. Right now I have a shortlist of the following things I could write:

[] A /th/ story involving an incident in Gensokyo featuring spell casters fighting it out.
[] Reviving my /sdm/ story, A Ruby Red Cotillion >>/sdm/59874
[] Reviving Violet Sky, a noir story: >>/others/37032
[] Reviving DiM, an /eientei/ story featuring scientific study of youkai, >>/eientei/22420
[] None of the above (insert idea here)

Additionally, I'd like to know if you would be willing to read anything other than the choice you've selected. Alternatively, you could rank the above choices in order of preference.
[] I'd read the others.
[] I'd only go for the one I voted for.

This is not a numbers vote, meaning that I won't go with what has the most votes. Since it's a commitment to write and do a halfway decent job I have to feel comfortable doing another story. I've been at this long enough to know that things won't work out otherwise. I want to have as much feedback as possible before making a decision and gauging where interests lie will be really useful. I'll see about writing more as interest and my schedule permits, so I'm not saying that I'm never going to do the others either.

Chime in wherever, no matter what other vote there might be in the story. Or talk to me on IRC. Just let me know what you think within the next few days.

And now, back to the regularly scheduled story.

-

A double rainbow of youth.
Previous thread >>62099

New Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/moretheater.txt
--

The rest of the lunch hour went by in relative quie

[x] Roll with it and play it cool

You can feel the goosebumps rising on your arms as you do a double take. A part of you wishes that it's just your vision failing you, but nope. Your vision is as clear as ever. Aya prods you from behind, waiting with a confused expression. She questions you with her eyebrows, raised up high.

A deep breath calms you down. "Okay Aya, my parents are waiting at my door. Just ignore them and follow my lead."

"What does that mean?"

"Never mind. Just be quiet for a bit and follow me." Unloosening the top-most button of your shirt and popping up the collar, you slick back your hair as much as you can. You would usually never do this in front of your parents, but that's what you're hoping your parents think. One step. Then two. You walk up to your parents, not looking them in the eye and declare, "Excuse me, but I think you have the wrong apartment."

"But isn't this–" Your mom starts to say before you quickly walk past her, attempting to ignore her. The apartment keys jingle as you unlock the door and fling Aya inside as quick as possible. You're about to close the door when your dad says just one thing.

"Taro." He curtly announces with no emotion in his voice.

Instinctively, you turn around to look. But when you do, your father is staring at you so bluntly that it forces you to turn away. Damn it! You were caught by such a simple mistake!

Before you can stop them, they charge into your apartment without a single word. You are utterly helpless as they size the rooms up in a succinct look. Your father shakes his head in disgust, bringing his hand up to his forehead. "It's wrong." He says with his unwavering voice. He was always difficult to place, but you could best describe him as rigid and coarse. He never failed to show his disdain... no matter how little or great it was.

"What is wrong?" You hesitantly ask, dropping the pretense of being someone else. You smooth your collar down and button it back up. Your hair, too.

"Everything." He doesn't look even the slightest b

You can feel an odd sensation coursing through every nerve of your body, transmitting erratic signals from every fiber of your being. Strange, you are unable to trace the origins of why every axon in your nerves are screaming out for mercy, wrapping your body in such unpleasant turmoil. Perhaps it is the pharmaceuticals that you have only recently discovered were sugar pills. Perhaps it is the lack of sleep locking your cranium in a metaphorical sleeper hold.

Perhaps it is because you bashed your head onto the edge of the cold metal table and subsequently lapsed into unconsciousness. You're hedging your bet on the last option but really it could have been a magic spell, for all you know.

Hmm. What did you know, exactly? A faint wave of panic flashes through your body and you inadvertently reach for your medication, twisting the plastic white cap of the orange container open. A full second passes before you drop the cap on the table and set the medication aside, knowing full well that the pills contain nothing but a rather dense concentration of fructose.

You keel over, paying your dear respects to the scattered mass of newspaper articles sprawled all over the floor. Swallowing your saliva, you dab your forehead with the front page of the local newspaper, smudging your face with stray ink. As your vision clears, the headline, “Diplomatic Relations with... (cont.)” underneath the latest celebrity scandal briefly enters your sight before the sweat smears the title away.

A lone coat rack stands tall amidst the blotchy newspaper sheets. Or perhaps it only looks tall because you are lying prone face-down in ink print. Nevertheless, you grasp at the base, searching for foundation to hoist yourself upright. Your legs wish to cooperate but are too clumsy to be useful. Just when you manage to stand your knees wobble and you gash your shirt sleeve on the coat rack's hook, obliterating the hem of the cuff. No matter.

The world teeters as you stumble toward the armchair, only coming to a full stop as you haul your body onto the shabby piece of furniture. You've come to. With regained motor control, you wheel yourself over to t

An experimental story at the last minute for the >>/gensokyo/13978 contest. Please, vote or ignore at your leisure.

-------


You're tired. Absolutely exhausted in fact. You probably would've just collapsed immediately if it weren't for finding her.

Yes, her! She's right there in your peripheral vision, you see her, and she sees you. Maybe. Your vision is rather blurry right now.

You have a strong feeling to interact with her. But just what action to take?

[_] FIGHT
[_] TALK
[_] RUN
[_] OTHER? (Specify)

“Hey, uh,” you call out, heading to the kitchen with your plate. “Remember when I told you about that one website about Gensokyo?”

“Yeah.” Momiji is already washing her dishes, her baggy jacket sleeves pushed up to keep the cuffs from getting soaked. Her ears are in full view. Apparently she took her hat off at some point. Whatever. “Wasn't it a load of bull?”

“Not really.” You dump the plate on top of hers. She gives you a good scowl for that. “Come to the computer whenever you're done.”

Looks like you're past the point of no return. It is about time to introduce her to the shitpool known as the internet. And within the darkest, most vile crevice is the fuckfest that is Touhou-Project.com.

You pull up the “How to Survive on THP” post and await Momiji's arrival. When Momiji exits the kitchen, she hops on your spare chair and rolls it to the computer, wheeling it next to you. “So. What am I looking at?”

“Maybe you should read first and find out before asking stupid questions.”

“Wow, thanks, big help man.” Momiji squints at the screen, flicking her ears.“What are 'emoticons'?”

You try not to let her ears distract you, instead focusing on... something else. “What do you think?”

“I don't know, that's why I'm asking you, shit.” She pinches at the bridge of her nose, frowning.

“Just don't use them.”

“Okay, whatever. So this is a forum, right? Looks like a place where people gather to write about... 'Touhou' whatever that is.”

“Nah. Forums have usernames. THP doesn't have usernames, so it's just a place full of anonymous people posting stories, images, and comments.”

“But this person has a username.”

“No,” you shake your head. “That's a trip.”

Momiji blinks. “What's the difference?”

“Random letters and stuff after the name, dunno.” Fuck, man. She's really testing your patience here.

“Uh huh. Sounds like a load of shit.” She steals the mouse, scrolling through the rest of the thread. “Butthurt?”

BGM: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N4qzII8hse4 (Organ Smash)
… It’s been a few days since Patchouli Knowledge has chewed out Yukari Yakumo. Exactly one week ago, Yukari had brought in yet another gappy, which she personally blasted into Misty Lake.
The Hakurei Shrine is still in lack of a shrine maiden, something that has been weakening the barrier for quite some time. In fact, people have gone missing from Gensokyo… several key figures, in fact.
Aya: “We regret to say that the investigation into the disappearance of Remilia Scarlet has failed to turn up any leads. Furthermore, we have seen a cluster of new people in Gensokyo, each with a personal letter from Yukari. She claims to ‘need a shrine maiden and some investigators.’ Currently, the prisoners are being held at Rin’s office.”
Aya: “Although I think the darned shrine maiden replacement snuck off again. A few of the fairies have reported seeing her making a beeline for the Hakurei Shrine.”

… A few hours later…
You finally regain consciousness. You don’t know how long you’ve been out after that lady punched you in the face. You remember having confronted a girl in purple one moment, and the very next thing you knew, you were in a forest getting punched.
And now you’re in a very dimly lit office. Do they not have electricity here? And where are your captors hiding? Why were you captured? Questions swirl around in your head, lost and confused.
Wait... there’s the dim glow of a television here.
???: “This is Aya, bringing you a special news report. The wicked hermit Seiga has been dead next to the corpse of one Adolf Hitler. Her last words were, according to Nazrin, ‘The body – it’s too warm!’ We all mourn her passing.”
Aya… now that’s a name you’ve heard before. Didn’t she have some… choice words about Donald Trump? And did she just say Hitler? As you think, you hear a door open.
???: “Would you please come in? I can take the next stranger.”
… Nobody orders you around. But just as you think that, you feel something give you a strong push.
Quoth the feminine voice, â€

The arrogant and determined youth.

Previous thread >>61752
New Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/moretheater.txt

--

“You're full of crap!” Suika exclaimed, waving a mostly empty bottle at me. The weak yellow light made deep shadows, making her seem more menacing than her tone would imply. “Maybe telling me that you were forced would have worked if I didn't know you so well,” she grumbled, making the rest of the beer in her bottle foam up to the neck, “in the past you've made a big show of wanting to help broads for what you said were totally not-selfish reasons.”

Remembering that she was shaking her beer, Suika paused and finished the rest in one large gulp. Froth stuck to her lips. Almost immediately she fetched another pair of bottles, tossing me one even though I wasn't quite done with mine yet. “You may have been pressured but I get the feeling you could have walked away after a certain point. You care about this stuff, whether you admit it or not to me.”

“Well, running for vice president wasn't my idea, at least that much is true,” I told her, dodging the direct accusation. “I don't think I've changed that much, I mean, I'm here with you, aren't I?”

“Yeah, for now,” she said, eyeballing her beer intensely. Offering a shrug first, she took a large swig.

“Don't be like that,” I said. I finished my already open beer in a single swig, not feeling too great about drinking so much of the room-temperature liquid at once. It was an unspoken rule that I had to keep up and so I opened up the new bottle. “Whatever else, I'm still more or less me. Politics is boring and I get so tired of dealing with people who want to put responsibilities on my shoulders against my will. Even if I do like a few things about all that or not, I don't think it really matters. Fact is I'm still trying my best to have fun. I mean, here I am, drinking in the middle of the day in some dusty walled-off secret room that smells of old paper and mold. Not a care in the world. Save for

This is a continuation of Memories of Dire Situations and Circumstances ( >>/shorts/1862 ) moved to a new board.



Well, I suppose checking up on the other elements wouldn't do any harm - don't want to adventure off in an unknown land without knowing my limits.

Channeling my energy inward, I soon find myself in the landscape of my mind.

All around me are fields of verdant grass hills, a small creek flowing in between the mounds, and small oak trees standing upon the peak’s of the hills. Glancing around I don't notice any of the spirits in the immediate area, so I make my way towards the top of one of the hills.

As I reach it's peak I notice a small trembling in the earth, a hole appearing in the ground in front of me as I am confronted by a large creature made of rock.

As it rises from the earth, it’s giant stone hands propelling itself upwards. As I try to get a better look at it, I realize it is Terroc, the spirit of earth. Unlike the others, he prefers his natural form over his humanoid form. He stands a shocking three meters tall, his body is covered in specks of moss and iron - being a defense against monstrous forces. His forearms are lined with an assortment of gems that harden at times to land devastating punches. His three fingers don't leave much in the way of imagining how he crushes his enemies. Perhaps the most unusual part of his form is his lack of proper feet, he instead rolls around on a boulder made of different mixtures of ores. He says it helps his mobility in combat and honestly I agree.

No matter how many times I’ve seen him, he always frightens me, I think to myself. I know his personality is very docile and kind, however his appearance is that of a juggernaut.

As I stand there watching as Terroc finally rises fully out of the ground, towering over my short form he speaks, his voice deep and rumbling yet filled with knowledge. "Master, I see you have survived the dragon's attack. We were worried, you know. Poor Siara was crying her eyes out in sorrow, thinking we might h