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bewitching quiet
The special kind of knowledge found in youth.


Previous thread >>59947
Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/theater

-

There really wasn't much to the errand.

The library was almost entirely empty. With no upcoming exams and the senior class all but gone from the school, only those who were legitimately interested in reading stayed behind after class. In a modern society like ours, that meant just a handful of people sitting here and there. It also meant that I found the person I needed to talk to right away.

The girl with a soft and melodious voice smiled as she handed me the form I needed to fill out. I wasn't sure if it was out of habit or genuine politeness. Funny that I hadn't ever noticed her before. I didn't usually spend time with underclassmates but redheads tended to stand out. Still, I felt that there was something more than her than our routine exchange may have shown. Or maybe I was just hopeful. I guess I did prefer girls with a little devilish streak in them.

There wasn't much of a chance for small talk. I had what I needed and she made no effort to prolong the encounter.

I didn't get a chance to go on the offensive either. A tug at my arm cut that plan short quickly.

“Oh, it's been a while,” I said, failing to think of anything cleverer than that.

She silenced me with a finger pressed to her lips. Urging me silently to follow her, Patchy led me to one of the vacant study rooms at the back of the library. It was the kind of place that would normally be full of students poring over books so that they could do their assignments. Predictably, with the virtual end of the school year, there was no one around.

“I see you've moved up in the world,” she said flatly, closing the door behind her. It was almost eerily quiet in the small room. If it wasn't for the small window that allowed us to see into the library, I would have felt that I was in a different place altogether.

“How have you been?” I asked with a smile. No point guessing what she mea
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[x] See if Tenshi is free.

Man, I hate to pass up on Yoshika, why you do this
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Ok, back and starting the writing now. Looks like no surprises to be had. New thread and all soon.

>>61247
Then maybe you should have voted for Yoshika.
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>>61249

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hammer is a treasure
The boldness and beauty of youth.


Previous thread >>59459
Character blurbs: www.touhou-project.com/others/theater

--



The night life in a city usually peaked the closer it was to the weekend. In the middle of the week only the more hardcore pleasure-seekers and miscreants stayed out late and partied. I was lucky to count myself among their number. I had no problem waiting until it got dark and the seedy underbelly of the city really came to life. I didn't run with too excessive a crowd so I was sure that the little money I had would more than cover the price of admission for a night of fun.

I alternated between sitting at a park bench and walking around aimlessly, observing the transition from day to night. Small businesses closed first. Then came the salarymen in a zombie-like stream from their offices to the train station. Then people like me started appearing. People looking for a good time, walking with a special someone or looking for that special someone – sometimes willing to buy their company for a little while. In the side streets and back alleys, tough-looking types would also appear. It was best to steer clear from them as they often passed the time in cruel and unusual ways.

“Do you want to go there tonight?” I overheard a conversation between two university-aged guys wearing flashy clothes and way too much cologne. I was walking just behind them, trying to make up my mind on where to go.

“You mean that new nightclub? Dunno, it might be a bit too... uh, libertine for my tastes. I heard that a lot of weird stuff happens in the VIP room.”

“Don't be an idiot,” the first said with a coarse laugh, “that's just good marketing on their behalf. They want people to spend a lot so they make a buttload of cash. It's just a normal club.”

“Still, I heard that you can't even order your own trick, they pick for you.”

“Well, the club's name is Desires,” the first guy laughed again, “I think it's kind of cool that they
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[x] Keep things impersonal and go meet another character at the library.

Time to see what tangent we stumble upon today.

Gotta say 10+ readers or so isn't a bad amount for something not a big /th/ story (though last I checked, there weren't any really active)
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Okay, there's the sixth and I'm free to write. So doing just that. New thread and all.

>>60831
This, without a doubt, is the largest story on the site ATM. Which is sad. There should be more activity everywhere. I'm not sure how many people have posted here exactly, the number was just an estimate. But yeah, though new blood is always nice, I would be more than happy if those people voted more often.
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>>60834

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gtb1a
Prologue: Dancing Days

Her song wakes you up. The guitar tickles your spine. The drum measures out the beats of your heart. You listen. The singer is different, the instrumentation.

The territory is strange. You know the shape of it.

"Dancing Days," the Stone Temple Pilots cover, pipes over the tinny bus speakers, one right over your dreaming head. The sound is just louder than the rain pattering on the roof and against the windows. You can't ignore the song, but you try to focus on the rain. It anchors you in time.

You are moving to your new home.

You feel the slight but distinct weight of your medication in your pocket. Not now. Not yet.

You pass the last hour of the ride in a silent haze. If not the song, the constant lurching of the bus as it pulled into stops hardly several blocks apart would have shaken you awake. It's needless how many stops there are; you almost wonder if the route itself is mocking you.

Your memory is coming in fits and stops now, struggling against the rain and cold; the sharp smell of old whiskey, the color and angle of the sun. A much-loved copy of "Houses of the Holy" playing on a well-worn player seated on her front porch. The nature of that last smile.

Her shrine broken. Her name profaned.

The bus rattles to a stop in front of a looming apartment complex, its sides stained with exhaust and rain and time. A sign out front reads "Land of Enchantment Apartments -- Y. Yakumo, Proprietor." A dim "Vacancy" sign juts out from the second story, lit in the only bright colors on the block.

You shuffle off the bus, past the mother and child, past the snoring old man, past the business-suited man reading a new hardcover, "A Crown of Swords," with great intensity. You step into the rain, immediately soaked. A bored busman hands you your luggage, a single modest piece with a sleeping bag tied up top, and waves you off. You're not even to the door when the bus rides out.

A chime over the door rings your entrance to the smoky little front office. There's a pair of little yokai he
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[X] Let them in.
Yeah, sure.
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[X] Tell them to come back later
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In my opinion, it may be good to keep the brain-eating but change the heroin addiction to a dependence on medicine to counteract the effects of eating brains. Magical prions, yo.

[X] Tell them to come back later.

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——you rouse.

Another dreamless night.

You lie in bed a while, staring up at nothing, thinking of nothing.

Lacking senses. Lacking orientation.


Time passes.


You sneeze, and notice yourself.

Sniffling and sighing, you drag yourself out of bed, stepping into a pair of bunny slippers. Pink, white, and fuzzy, they were the first thing you’d bought for yourself when you had finally moved out of that glorified basement of an interception base, resolving never again to suffer the indignity of cold floors in the morning. You throw on a bathrobe, too, garishly floral, and stuff your nightstand pistol into the left pocket, suppressor poking neatly out of the hole in the bottom.

Yawning, you trod over to the washroom, where you take a single look in the mirror, and immediately give up on the idea of trying to fight the bird’s-nest tangle claiming to be your hair. You have no plans of meeting anyone today, anyway. Still, you go through the rest of your morning ritual, brushing your teeth and washing your face, letting the cool water wash away the last remnants of drowsiness.

Sunlight peers through translucent curtains, lending a pleasant early-morning glow to the cream-walled apartment. You take a quick detour through the kitchen, emerging back into the living room already munching on a cheese sandwich.

You are just about to flick on the television, when your doorbell rings.


The peep-hole shows … nobody?


You stuff your mouth with the cheddared toast, freeing up a hand to keep your pistol behind your back as you cautiously open the door …

… the hallway is empty. There is a small parcel lying on your doorstep. A cursory inspection reveals a brief message, scrawled in permanent marker:

ENJOY!
—SACHA

So it was from Molchanoff. You set it down on the coffee table and sit down to unwrap it.


——your breath catches in your throat.

It is a mug. On its side is emblazoned a familiar black-and-gold flash, gaudy and glorious.

You hold it up in front of yourself, sinking backward into the sofa. Sinking backward into a wave of emotion, despi
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[X] Stay here; cover Blue-One’s landing and RV with your stick.

No reason to rush out and get ourselves killed.
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—not when I'm behind the wheel anyway.

If you folks'd care for it, I could give this another swing or do something with the material I've got down, but in these formative updates I think I've given off some wrong impressions and it's veered off somewhere I'm not really sure I'm able to handle.
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>>61747
Come to IRC, talk to some lazy old experienced writers about how to plan CYOAs and give it another shot.

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Good day, dear readers! Are you in the mood for a clusterfuck of a crossover by a virginal sacrifice brand new author? Be gentle with me. Criticism is appreciated though! this has to be a bad idea for a first story that's why I'm staying anon

I notice that there is a distinct lack of crossovers (at least, I'm having trouble finding them via story list). I'll assume that's because they can be generally obnoxious, author-serving, and horribly executed. I'll try and avoid that. Tell me if I fail. Really, tell me so I can hit myself and scrap it all. Until then, time to make the biggest clusterfuck you guys have ever seen!

If all goes well you might see some more of me. If I make any blatant mistakes please inform me of them!

- - - - - -

Everything looks white.

You look around. Nothing but white looks right back at you, if shapeless, immaterial color could "look". You seem to be some sort of shapeless, formless being, as trying to move, feel, or otherwise utilize any sort of a body proves futile after several attempts. On that note, how do you know how to move a body?

The white and your ponderings as to the situation are both interrupted by a sound. A hole opened up to a material, real looking hallway to your left. You consider this to be a vast improvement over absolute nothingness, and will yourself towards it. However, you find yourself unable to pass through, only capable of moving your view to its edge. But hey! Moving! That's nice. Good job, you!

Through the rectangular hole is a long hallway, with no visible end. It's lined with doors and entryways of widely-varied types, shapes, colors, and so on and so forth. A single being who looks, for lack of a better word, generic, is standing before one, pulling small circular objects from through it. Seriously, you can't even tell what gender they're supposed to be.

Closer inspection reveals that these objects seem to be bubbles of some sort, each containing miniature structures. Models, perhaps? What fun! They aren't ships, but it stil
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[X] You don't hear much in this direction. Some birds chirping, other assorted sounds of wildlife, and the sounds of what seems to be a small, slightly dated village.
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[x] krrzt Fede... zzt.vessel. ...o you read? This is Zol- ksssht -atrol number bzzzzt, please resp...
A rescue mission? I'm in
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Yay for more votes. Thank you.
Calling it for peaceful village sounds.
Writing now.
Debated putting spoilered out maniacal laughter down here for a solid 10 minutes.

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il_fullxfull_280486888
Through the reinforced windows you can see a bright speck of light in the sky.

A research space station, one of the finest achievements of humankind. Space has been conquered. Living in it is trivial. Transportation seemed to hit a practical cap on speed just under 0.8c and even instantaneous teleportation over short distances was something under development.

And then, a mining digsite on a complete backwater moon of a gas giant in Epsilon Eridani hit on something new. Something completely off of the periodic table of elements that you're familiar with- and before it could be given a name, a proper name that wouldn't be easily confused with something else, some yahoo of a politician back on Earth called it plasma. And the name stuck, much to the scientific community's collective disappointment.

Plasma opened up all sorts of new advancements in technology- it's among the most energy-dense materials in existence, it bonds with organic compounds in interesting and new ways, and it has all kinds of potential uses.

Shipping plasma any significant distance for research would have taken over a decade, and that's not always practical. Besides, your corporate overlords wanted results, and they wanted them fast.

Humanity had constructed twelve large space stations outside near-Earth orbit prior to the massive undertaking that created the one you're now shipping to.

The ship awoke you from cryogenic stasis two days ago. And now the pilot, on final approach, makes an announcement. “We are now on final approach to Space Station 13. Please secure any and all belongings.”

You yawn, reach up to the hook above your berth, and detach the satchel from its resting place. In the next berth over, you hear a faint honking.

That sound has baffled you for the last two days. What's making the honking noises? And more importantly, why won't they stop? Forty-eight hours of nigh-uninterrupted mysterious honking can drive people mad.

Then the ship thumps against the station, and it rocks as the docking clamps engage.
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[X] ???, Random Job
The box!

The box!

The wonderful, wonderful box!
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Wonderful mystery box wins.

Time for fun!
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Alright, I recognize the setting, which brings me to ask: who are we going to killRobust first?

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Sometimes, a world simply cannot go on.

A world cannot exist without mana, the lifeblood of everything. There is nothing that is not made up of mana. No matter the world, no matter the people, no matter the level of technology, mana will be found. Some worlds produce it naturally, some require "generators" to supply mana, usually by drawing mana in from the sun with "Recievers" and spreading it across the planet. These Receivers are usually in the form of large trees with roots spread throughout the planet. There is one such world in which the tree is dying, and another world whose very fate is tied in with it.

This is a story of two worlds, connected by one man and his dream of a better life.

####

"Fuck!" I shout. I'm standing in the middle of a prison cell, completely stripped of my weapons. No guards have been down in this area in almost an hour and I'm getting restless. It would be different if there was another prisoner for me to talk to, but no one has answered my calls. I know that I'm alone, no one lives long in one of their prisons.

This couldn't even be called a proper cell. It's just an alcove with metal bars and door. No bed, toilet, nothing. I press my hands against the bars, there is a slight give on a couple of them. "Heh, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," I laugh. These prisons are old, likely from the Second Era. These bars have likely been here for three hundred years now. Judging from the lack of rust and wear, I figure that they're made of Mithril.

The cement floor around the bars is broken and loose. Kneeling down I pull on one of the bars and it slides towards me. "How the hell did I not notice this sooner?" I ask myself. "Oh, right," I chuckle, "I was distracted by that cute guard." After a couple minutes, I manage to dislodge one of the bars and slip between the gaps. "Good thing I'm a skinny bastard." Though the spacing of the bars certainly didn't hurt either. The bar I dislodged is a decent length and might be useable as a weapon. I'm not c
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[X] Talk to Ran, Chen, and Momiji about…
(X) Their world
(X) How they got to this world
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[X] Talk to Ran, Chen, and Momiji about…
(X) Their world
(X) How they got to this world

We need to understand how they got here if we want any chance of getting them home.
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[x] Talk to Ran, Chen, and Momiji about…
[x] Their world
[x] How they got to this world

I am allergic to decisions.

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Winter is Coming
Previous Threads:
Thread#1 >>46636
Thread#2 >>48127
Thread#3 >>55514
Thread#4 >>56617

----------

“I’ll go alone,” you tell her calmly. With a deep breath and clear mind, you make your way to your friend. She already has a rather large sundae in front of her, but has barely eaten any of it. “Hey there, Cirno,” you say quietly, but just loud enough for her to notice you.

“Alex?” She turns her head slightly, just enough for her to see you from the corner of her eye. “What are you doing here?” She quickly looks around, probably for Utsuho, and you do the same. You smile faintly as you notice that you can’t actually see her anywhere.

Making sure you have her attention, you say, “You seemed pretty upset by what we said back there.” Cirno simply goes back to staring at her ice-cream silently. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m not mad at you. Disappointed? More than a little. But, I don’t want you to think I don’t like you anymore.”

You stop to let her respond, which takes almost a minute. “I know. You’re way too nice to let something like this ruin a friendship. But, the others…”

“Don’t worry about the others,” you interrupt. “If they have a problem with you later, I’ll talk to them. But, I think they’ll be fine. I’m pretty sure that like me, they were just annoyed by how one-sided it was.” She actually looks up from her ice-cream now and looks at you with watery eyes. “I know you like to win, but what’s the point if you just wind up upsetting everyone else?”

“I need to win though,” she mumbles dejectedly. “My dad’s a really talented MMA fighter and my mom was a track star in high school and college.” She pauses to shovel a large spoonful of ice-cream into her mouth. After swallowing she continues, “Dad looks down on me
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[x] Oh, hey, they have a cat. Play with the cat.

Always get on the pet's good side.
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[x] Oh, hey, they have a cat. Play with the cat.
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[X] Oh, hey, they have a cat. Play with the cat.

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Eirin hands you a cup of tea, and gestures for you to sit down, across the small table from her. “Thank you for your time, Meiling.”

You shake your head. “It's no problem, really. Glad to help.”

Eirin sighs. “She won't even come out of her room anymore since she got that game. Even Mokou's started to miss her.”

You sip your tea. A nice, simple green tea. “What game?”

Eirin shrugs. “I don't know. I've never bothered to learn the names or the titles.”

Maybe she'd be more willing to come out of her room if more people shared her hobbies. But you leave that thought unsaid, as that would be rude and uncalled for. “You know she won't go easy.”

Eirin shrugs. “Whatever. She's immortal. Punch her through the wall if you have to.” She pauses. “Please don't punch her through the wall. I have to replace those.”

You take another drink of her tea, and savor the warmth. I've been around for thousands of years, and still the tea soothes and calms. “Alright,” you say, draining the last of the tea. “No time like the present to get started.”

“She's just upstairs,” Eirin says. “Follow the noise, I guess.”



You pad lightly up the stairs, following the sounds of battle and violence, occasionally interspersed with catchphrases you can't quite make out.

Finally, you reach the room all the noise is coming from, and you slide the door open, to see Kaguya mashing buttons on her controller, eyes glued to her massive television.

“Hey Kaguya, what's up?” you say.

“'Sup,” she grumbles.

“What are you doing?”

She groans. “What does it look like?”

Small talk isn't really getting you anywhere, is it? “Looks like you're spending time in your room, alone, playing video games again.”

She pauses the game, turns to me, rolls her eyes, and lets out a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. “Eirin sent you up here to get me out of the house, didn't she?”

No point denying it. “Yup.”

“Not leaving. So go away, unless you're goin
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>>60178
Typo, meant Lu B
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[X] We could go find Diaochan.
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Previous Threads:
Thread#1 >>46636
Thread#2 >>48127
Thread#3 >>55514

----------

10/31/2012

Remilia may not have wanted a present, but she’s going to get one! One in the form of you helping her set up for tonight that is. You grab your costume and quickly say bye to everyone before rushing out. Byakuren is taking Kogasa out trick-or-treating and Shou is watching the house. You asked her if she wanted to come, but she said she wasn’t feeling well and just wants to lounge around the house. She does have a slight temperature, but she says she normally runs hot and that you shouldn’t worry about it.

It’s a little after five when you get to Remilias home. And WOW is it decked out! She has scarecrows, fake tombstones, ghosts hanging from the roof of the building, at least five jack-o-lanterns and fake blood splattered on the windows. One of the tombstones reads, “Remilia Scarlet” another reads “Flandre Scarlet”. Some of the other tombstones look to be for members of their family. It’s a little amusing, but at the same time it’s off putting.

The normal metal knocker on the front door has been replaced with a skull themed one. You knock on the door a few times, not loudly but apparently loud enough as the door opens almost immediately. You are greeted by Sakuya, already wearing her “costume”. “Hello Alex,” she greets pleasantly. She looked surprised to see you, but quickly gathers her composure. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Well, I was getting antsy and figured I could help set up. If you don’t mind that is.” She smiles and gestures for you come inside. The interior is just as impressive as the outside. There are a few pumpkins in the foyer and on the staircase, ghost streamers hanging from the ceiling, some of the paintings and portraits have been replaced with pictures of monsters.

“I appreciate the help, Remilia is busy getting ready. So i
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[x] Go alone
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Today's NaNoWriMo Update is brought to you by "Something Completely Different!"

http://www.touhou-project.com/underground/res/13653.html#13938

I've been meaning to update that story for a while now because it's been nagging me in the back of my mind. Plus, I've been writing it bit by bit for the past week or so after updating this.

I also wanted to do something PROPER for the next update, due to it being the hundredth update and all. It feels like a big deal to me at least. So, being off tomorrow will give me some time to write something more than a page or two long. A page or two with Double Spaced lines that is...

The next update will be in a new thread too. Feel free to keep voting/ask questions/voice concerns/call me a faggot/etc.
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NEW THREAD!
>>60321

Board Pages

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