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Gensokyo. A land that houses many anomalies and other conundrums that are enriching to the eye of those who wish to see it. The mysteries of this land is closely surrounded by a magical border that is loosely maintained and guarded. Though the overseers of such a border may say otherwise.

It is because of this lax security did certain “things” leak out of the border. Catching the eye of a certain group of men and women alike to these anomalies. They’ve recorded every major event that came out of the border. Detailed it into literature, visual entertainment, and audio relaxation. Spreading Gensokyo’s major events to those who wished to see what lies beyond the beyond. This was all done over the course of many years. Those who wished to explore further had come across a means of doing so years ago. However, not many have come back out with good news, those who made it back with any news at all told tales of how dangerous traversing the landscape was and discouraged anybody from entering it.

At least, not entering it unprepared…

With the years passing, more and more outsiders managed to cross the border and into the land of Gensokyo. A small amount automatically turned away from either the overseers or the border itself rejecting their entrance. But those who did make it through had to find a means of shelter, food, and income. The Gensokyian wilderness was not going to let it be easy.

There are stories of the outsiders who had managed to make it past all of the tribulations the land had thrown at them, paired up with groups or factions like the shrine on the border, the pharmacy in the bamboo forest, the underworld, or the mansion in red, and had eventually managed to settle and adapt to living to the quirky and fickle circumstances Gensokyo had to offer to those who wished to live there.

These are not the stories of the heroic or desperate actions these outsiders undertook to secure their new lifestyle, nor are these the stories of survival and harsh situations they overcame to continue living.

These are the stories of the outsiders who had managed to secure their new lifestyle, and their hosts being faced with the real
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[x] two horned

Suika has been absent from this site for far too long
Calling votes in favor of two horned loli.

Looks like we'll be hearing her tales of drunken woes. Or maybe the reverse...
Are you still around? I really like this

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If you feel you need to improve, post here!
Snow fell in sheets in the cold village streets. In the dark of night under the snow coated willows. When all the good little villagers had their heads on their pillows. One lone figure had her head held high as she strolled by the river. She strode through quiet night without a single shiver. The youkai was not dressed for the weather, but she had a destination in mind. With her supernatural resilience she was making good time. There was something in the air, under the shadows of the trees that night. She was oh so full of cheer, as she went by the roads covered in white.

Soon she found herself in the forest of the lost. She looked for something between the bamboo stalks layered in frost. A humble little home, hidden away by snow. The youkai brushed off her head and gave it a throw. Inside the home came a loud yelp. Woken from her sleep the resident cried out, “Help!” The disembodied head gave a stern glare as her body followed inside. The home’s resident could be called a human if one wanted to misguide, but in truth she was a youkai.

“It’s midnight, what the hell are you doing in my home?” Said the human like youkai, half surprised and half annoyed. Then she sneezed, too quick for the severed head to avoid.

The dullahan put her head back on her shoulders, “You missed our last meeting, by the lake that’s always getting colder.” She looked at the loup garou who seemed to be falling over. “Are you sick, or do you have a hangover?”

At these words the bedridden woman took a deep breath, and shouted, “Werewolves can’t get sick! I refuse to believe it, not one bit!” She spoke with a raspy voice. All this left the rokurokubi with no choice.

“It’s true that youkai don’t get illnesses that affect the body, but you’re only a full youkai once a month unlike everybody.” With a frown, then a shrug, she had decided and would not tug. “You can’t come to our end of the year party. Maybe things would be different if you were more hearty.”

“Wait, I can still come, I’ll tough it out. When I show up tomorrow you won’t have any doubts.” The werewolf pleaded, but it was to late, her friend had already r
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I forgot a picture so have a random banki.

Sorry. Half asleep. Thought it was a different thread. Didn't intend to respond as if you.

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On the first day of Christmas some author gave to me...
One lazy joke!
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On the fourth day of New Years some author gave to me...
Twenty-nine days of sillies...
Twenty-eight days of lies...
Twenty-seven days of truths...
Twenty-six days of guesses...
Twenty-five people triggered...
Twenty-four hours waiting...
Twenty-three paranoid readers...
Twenty-two contest entries...
Twenty-one early drunkards...
Twenty readers total...
Nine teenage mutants...
Eighteen legal lolis...
Seventeen years tsundere...
Sixteen kisses flying...
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On the fourth day of New Years some author gave to me...
Thirty years of this site...
Twenty-nine days of sillies...
Twenty-eight days of lies...
Twenty-seven days of truths...
Twenty-six days of guesses...
Twenty-five people triggered...
Twenty-four hours waiting...
Twenty-three paranoid readers...
Twenty-two contest entries...
Twenty-one early drunkards...
Twenty readers total...
Nine teenage mutants...
Eighteen legal lolis...
Seventeen years tsundere...
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On the actual day of New Years some author gave to me...
Thirty-one days a-punctual!
Thirty years of this site...
Twenty-nine days of sillies...
Twenty-eight days of lies...
Twenty-seven days of truths...
Twenty-six days of guesses...
Twenty-five people triggered...
Twenty-four hours waiting...
Twenty-three paranoid readers...
Twenty-two contest entries...
Twenty-one early drunkards...
Twenty readers total...
Nine teenage mutants...
Eighteen legal lolis...
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Here there be skilled writers!
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Quality shitpost.
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It's always cold on Nameless Hill.

The icy wind howls over the bare hilltop with nothing to stop it. I tug my scarf tighter and blow warm air into my mittens in an effort to stop shivering. But standing with my back to the village, I can imagine that I'm all alone, the last living creature in a world covered in beautiful, toxic dust...

...on second thoughts, it's just really, really cold. I hunch my shoulders, grit my teeth to stop them chattering, and stomp off toward the mountain.

The trees at the base of the mountain are all bare, twisted skeletons of dead wood clawing at the sky. The Kagiyama shrine is forlorn and empty, its once-noisy residents long since departed. And once I've passed all that, and the path starts to climb up the steep slopes of the mountain itself, the wind returns with a fury. I stick to the leeward side of every tree and boulder I can find. It's not much, but it's still better than flying.

"Halt! You are trespassing on tengu grounds! State your business or begone!"

I wonder if wolf tengu have fur under their clothes? The cold doesn't seem to be bothering them. Then again, their clothes are bulky enough they probably don't need it.

That's what I need. Better clothes.

The grumpy guards repeat their warning. I scowl, or try to, and wordlessly brandish the slip of paper I got from Seija. The guards eye the paper warily, then me. Then they glance at each other, nod once, and leave me be.
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The languor of the lakebed is tranquilizing this time of year. The chill in the water would cool a surface-dweller to the bone. For those that reside in the lake, it is a none-so-subtle reminder to retreat to the depths and seek the safety of the nooks and crannies that are etched into the waterlogged surface. And, for those that are too bold, or too belligerent, to heed the numbing kiss of a deep-winter frost, then the sheet of ice etched upon the surface calms the sometimes-torpid waters and separates the water from the air.

The land-dwellers who so often frequent the shores of the lake in warmer times have long since vacated, save for the odd, confused few that revel on the frozen ice. And, those that swim without a dream of touching the skies are denied even that dark and dreary vision that typically clings to the horizon when snow visits. Ice covers the lake and, save for the peculiar few, the result is a peace oft missed in the summer months.

And so is found, deep beneath the ice sheet and the water surface, a young youkai, her fins idly flapping as she rests on the rocks of the lakebed. Scattered about her dark abode are small containers, filled to the brim with stones polished to a shine. The light that trickles down to this section of the lakebed is weak this time of year, and the normally sparkling piles of stone have lost most of their luster.

The youkai, a mermaid, shows just as much life as her tail lazily whips back and forth as she rests on the muddy bottom. The underwater weeds drift back and forth, a few sweetish slipping in and out of the folds that drift about. She eyes them for a little while, wondering if it is even worth the while to expend the effort to catch the little fish. The chase would produce quite the distraction caused by the endless winter days and nights. They quickly vanish beyond the confines that define her home, and she goes back and closes her eyes and instead listens to the soft, wiggling chorus of the distant schools.

Carp slowly float near the surface while loaches lurk in thrushes and trout putter alongside. On the bottom, further down than the mermaid's dimly-lit home, are the catfish and snails that
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All things not lewd go here! Rules at >>/gensokyo/14305
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“I hate winter.”

A chill spreads through my heavy clothes. The crunching of snow underneath me echoes in the forest as evening gives way to night. Snow seems floats down from the moonless sky without end onto the bare branches of the forest trees. I didn't expect the meeting to go on so long, and in the end it just turned into a party. I'm not against a good party, but if I had known I would have taken a scarf. I wave goodbye to the mermaid as I leave the lake. How can she stand living in the lake at this time of year? It's hard to believe she doesn't turn into an ice cube. I shake myself out of my thoughts with a shiver. The snow is light, and the cold is bearable enough to make it home without stopping at the village. I haven't visited the village since the incident last Autumn. I didn't cause as much of a ruckus as certain youkai. The incident's events have blown over, but I'm not in the mood to visit such a place tonight. I'm still considered a youkai by some, at least half of one. Yet, in the darkness of the new moon I'm just another human.

It's not lonely walking down the snow covered path by myself. I've gotten used to walking in silence. This would almost be tranquil, if it weren't for the cold. In moments like these it's easy to get lost in my thoughts, take my mind off the weather. At least there are less people getting lost in the forest. Most people have enough common sense to stay away from somewhere known to lead people astray this time of year. Which means I can hole up at home without worrying about someone freezing to death lost amidst the bamboo. As the forest trees become sparse my train of thought is knocked away with a yelp by a mouthful of snow. I groan in pain, my foot snagged on a tree root covered in snow.

I suck in air through my teeth, but it just makes my mouth feel colder. I don't want to get up right now, but freezing isn't something I planned on doing tonight. I lift my head up to see a lowered hand. People don't travel this path often, it's surprising to see someone out here so late at night.

A woman in a white winter coat outstretches
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“Are you Letty Whiterock?” asked the man with the shovel.

“I am,” said Letty Whiterock.

And then he beat her with a shovel.
Wrong thread, pal. This is an old contest.

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This is how it will begin. We are a creature of sin.
This girl before us has no twin. This battle before us is one we certainly will win.

This monster leaves us in the dust. Were we metal, we would rust.
As she walks, she doesn't once glance back. She even stole our mid day snack.

Tears drip. Control does slip.

So this is her? She seems to speak only in grr.
Ahh well, playing may be fine. That will leave enough time to dine.

Such a potent power. Like under a falling tower.
Strongest generation yet. You will enjoy her later, match set.

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Warning one: This short scene is high in sexual content and low in everything else. In fact, I wasn't sure if I should post it here or /at/. It has no actual sex though, so I'm putting it here.

Warning two: It went unproofed and with zero quality control or external input because it's embarrassing to ask people to proofread what is essentially porn.

If those factors don't dissuade you, read on.


She has her frown turned to me, as usual. She insists on giving me this expression no matter how much I pamper her, but that's alright: Her pouting lips are lovable too.

She's laying on the bed, her defiant eyes directly contradicting her vulnerable position. She's on her back, fiddling with her own hands like a nervous teenager might. Her messy blonde hair is as uncared for as ever. I can clearly see the rough tips where she snipped at it carelessly with dull scissors. She deemed it bothersome when long, and it fails to cover her long, pointy ears either way.
Her scarf is nowhere to be seen. Her dress is half undone, revealing an undershirt made of the black, skintight shiny material she usually wears. By itself, it does little to protect her modesty, revealing the curve of her breasts clearly, but she's still mostly covered by the thicker fabric of the dress. The puffy detached sleeves she insists on wearing have their strings undone, as if inviting me to pull them off. She seems to think the wrists are particularly sensual parts of the body, for reasons that elude me.
The skirt of the dress is also in a strange sort of very deliberate-seeming disarray, the web of red string along the hem giving me a tantalizing view of just the right measure of her thighs. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she'd done it on purpose.

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It was the witching hour.

There wasn’t a lot of light. Oil had to be conserved and anyway she was used to this much. The scratch of feather on paper drowned out the faint night sounds from outside, and if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered.

Her cheek nearly brushed the desk, the candle night-blinded her, the wooden chair, set up in a poor position, bruised her behind. She didn’t notice. She could no longer even register the oppressive sulfuric odours of alchemy that suffused her home and workshop. She was past caring about the sea of often dangerous junk that covered every available surface – except for her working desk, of course, which was exactly as clean and clutter-free as if it’d just been magicked into existence that very moment. Her eyes were baggy, but burning with a brighter light than you’d be likely to find at any other moment for this particular witch. She wrote and drew feverishly, covering each pristine page of a thick blank book with diagrams, tables and sketches at a hand-cramping pace. Her long hair was limp and oily. She hadn’t changed from her practical, thick, worn set of gathering overalls, covered with layers and layers of dirt.
Underneath, she was literally running on fumes, having augmented her concentration and stamina several steps beyond exhaustion through alchemical means. If it had been possible for her focus to wander, she might think of Reimu’s mothering, advising her against precisely this sort of overwork. That moment, however, her pupils were dilated, her heart pumping hard enough to put her through a marathon, her mind operating beyond consciousness. The black lines raced across the pages: size, colour, consistency, texture, position, reactivity to light, air, all painstakingly written down over many tries. But this was it. It was the culmination of nine days of nonstop research, gathering, reading, searching with inhuman single-mindedness, with no food and no real breaks. The last leg.

Her sample this time was a thumbnail-sized frog, coloured striking iridescent blue. It sat splayed on its back, neatly vivisected with its pinkish-purple insides in plain sight. Its organs, the biggest no larger than a gr
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Mima you dick. Your cute student is crying like two feet away from you. Wake up and get a clue.
2000 years later, but I have to say that I really enjoy your writing isolex. Hope to see more from you.

And mima, please come back. We all miss you, expecially your student. Really.

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This is where the other Guardians and some important individuals get their part of their story.

Story will be posted soon.

Latest main thread the time of posting is at: >>underground/14411

Lewd stuff goes to: >>at/36385
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Living in Eientei as a medic-in-training doesn't mean that you're limited to simply being a student there - since you are a Guardian, you have plenty of lessons and practical tests in between patrols with rabbits along the way. You need to be prepared at all times, since you may have to escort sick villagers to Eientei in the middle of the night.

Other times it's a simple escort mission involving Reisen and medicine delivery, like what you are doing for today.

"Alright, Erin. For today, you'll help Reisen sell medicine at the village. Today's going to be a busy day with this long list, so try your best and lend Reisen a hand, will you?"

"Got it."

"We'll do our best!" She exclaims, perhaps a little more chipper than usual.

You and Reisen hop off the verandah and put your shoes on.

"We'll be off now!" Reisen call out, waving to Kaguya and Eirin.

"Have a good trip!"
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>cross-board linking

You need a forward slash before the board name as well as after.

Latest main thread the time of posting is at: >>/underground/14411

Lewd stuff goes to: >>/at/36385
No wonder I feel I am missing something. Thanks for the tip.

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The house remained still against the soft wind. For centuries, this house has always protected itself and it's inhabitants from the changing forces that assault it. But what it couldn't withstand was the passage of time.

The yellow hair of a matured woman shimmers in the bright sun. Her figure was standing against the wind, nine tails fluttering in it's embrace. It could be said she is admiring the scenery that lay before her - or perhaps contemplating about her duties. This woman's name is Ran Yakumo. She is a shikigami of the highest caliber. She has many responsibilities she fulfills with perfect efficiency for a mistress who seemed like she was never there. She has a shikigami all of her own, a cat named Chen. Truly, she is the epitome of maturity, diligence, and responsibility.

She went back into the house and began walking to her room, taking a glance at her mistress's room. No one was there, only empty sheets and covers.

"I guess Mistress Yukari decided to head out with Yuyuko for the day," Ran sighs, her voice hanging heavy.

Ran handles all duties that have been passed down to her. She works nonstop to get them done, trying to finish each task to the best of her ability. Even if she doesn't sleep, she will continue to work until everything is complete.

She went back to her room and sat down at a single desk. Today was a dispute between Koishi and Hata no Kokoro that needed to be mediated. She put on her half-moon glasses and read the report. Those glasses didn't do well to hide the bags under her eyes, and the urge to sleep was evident. Even so, she made no effort to skim it instead reading the report fully. She let out a heavy sigh once again, and leaned back against the chair. A brief silence settled in before a high-pitched voice rang. Ran's ears twitched as they registered the sound's owner. She got up, headed to the door and opened it. Standing there was a small figure with a red dress and cat tails.

“Good afternoon, Lady Ran!” she cheerfully greeted.

“Good afternoon, Chen,” Ran replied, letting off a sweet smile.
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Annor walked down the stairs of the granite-gray polished shrine. The downward steps were a long and toiling path, crumbling underneath the man's feet. Years of negligence had ground the paved stone to little more than a rubbled slope.

Strange, the man mused, the steps are so weathered for such a quaint shrine.

He quickened his pace, praying he would make it to the forest before the rain fell. The woods would not give much cover, but they were certainly better than the alternative.

His wishes did nothing to stop the downpour. His shoulders, however, remained decidedly dry.

“Evening, mister.” A young girl who could have been no older than twenty-five twirled her purple parasol in the rain. Her teal hair was reminiscent of the noon sky on a clear day, her azure eyes even more so. “You shouldn't be out here so late in the day. A youkai might come and eat you up, no?”

“I should say the same to you. I've passed through this road far more than you'd know.” Curious was Annor, looking into the deep maroon eyes of the young girl. Or were they crimson?

“You're right. However...” The girl giggled, delighted by no fathomable cause. “You have only the clothes on your back. I have an umbrella.”

“Even if you had no such thing, I wouldn't mind.” The man stared off into the forest. Shadows loomed precariously behind the woods. “The youkai here are dangerous. I'd feel better in a company of two.”
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A nice and sweet short. Shorts like this have a cozy feel to them.
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That was beautiful. Thank you.
Bittersweet, yet so heartwarming...

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