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File 14906543231.png - (116.55KB, 256x308, Th09MedicineMelancholy.png) [iqdb]
2117
Since I don't know where to put the "derp" that I think is this CYOA, here we go...

I was sitting down, trying to figure out what to eat for dinner… I had gotten nowhere, until I gave up, and thought, “Let’s just order a pizza.” And I did so, having to go through a minute or two of the hassle that was ordering a pizza through the landline. Eventually, I did get my order in, but, when I was about to hang up, I felt a poke in my side.

WHAT DO I DO?

[ ] Try to get the mystery poker to stop
[ ] Ignore the mystery poker
[ ] Write in?
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[X]Boop them back.
This story is going places, I can feel it.
>>2122
Guess not.

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2073
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" The girl says, bowing mockingly. Her robes flow as she does, bringing to mind rustling flowers.

"You know exactly why, parasite." I shoot back immediately. The scowl on my face is unbecoming, but I really don’t care right now.

She smiles at me and spreads her arms wide to gesture at the endless field of lotus flowers surrounding us. A minute passes before she deigns to respond. "They are happy here. Everyone is happy here. Surely, you won't take that from them?"

That's what she always leads with. The happiness of her victims, as if she actually cares about them.

"I couldn't care less. Taking a few can be overlooked, even an entire island, like you used to. But you just had to get greedy, and spread like a damned weed. Now I have to deal with a shared dream the size of a nation! Do you have any idea how much of a problem that is?" I start shouting at her halfway through. Why can’t she just understand what she’s doing?

For the first time in years, Lotus’ carefree smile breaks. Her contempt is palpable now. “Greece is my land. I will not just give it up now that I have finally united it under my peace. Furthermore, it is your job to maintain the sanctity of dreams to begin with. I refuse to change at your leisure.”

That insolent—”It isn’t possible to keep something that size from interfering with other dreams!”

“And if it does, yet more would experience true peace. I see no wrong in that inevitability.” She doesn’t seem to understand at all. Her mask of tranquility has reformed, and she’s back to being hard to read.
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>>2114
2008?
Well, since nothing's happening I'll just go with the first vote.
Dead or nah?

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2058
If not "Veteran", what better term is there?

>>/gensokyo/14581
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File 14881746113.png - (644.52KB, 700x750, cfbea634bc194dbb270a7dd41cdd3d72.png) [iqdb]
2106
At the dark edge of that place, a girl stands
One fateful day, a stranger came to her
And as she made to question them, the stranger asked:
"What matter made your face frown so?"
Offended, the girl lowered her scythe and replied:
"What do you know about me?"
After she asked, the stranger took their leave.

The next day the girl stood, guarding as she always did
As did previous, the stranger approached her
And as she made to ask again, the stranger spoke:
"I see your mistress has left you."
Bewildered, the girl raised her scythe and replied:
"What do you know about her?!"
So she said, as the stranger withdrew.
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File 148817726470.jpg - (110.06KB, 850x532, 0a63db10357d2687dc4aa68cad0459de.jpg) [iqdb]
2107
“What a beautiful song.”

Those were the first words she heard from the girl.

Benben froze, taking her hands off of the biwa. Yatsuhashi gaped her mouth open.

“Thank...you.” A tingle ran through Benben's cheeks.

It was strange. Not that what seemed like a normal, human girl complimented her, or the bright smile that she had on her. No, what was strange was the trace of faintness that the girl exhibited. A humble, withdrawn voice. It was for this reason Benben asked.

“Your name?”

And the girl responded.

“Layla.”
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File 148818065494.jpg - (354.54KB, 909x607, remorse without end.jpg) [iqdb]
2108
Through the woods, the poor child wandered, lost and chilled from autumn's cold. Struggled, he did, through the paths untrod, towards that village he called home. The forest's green expanse was slowly yielding to the frosty, frigid gale. The poor boy stumbled through that clime, tumbling into a meadowed lea.

There in the center stood a sight that had never touched the poor mortal's eyes. Far from the boy in this vast, desolate vale, stood a woman in a gown burnished by autumn's warm embrace. She slowly spun in a circle, her arms all outstretched, her hands gracing the leaves, needles, and even the bare blades of grass.

From every last touch, the child could but witness as the life faded from the great, healthy wood. Strong supple leaves would fade and embrittle. With every soft touch, the green placidly vanishes, with yellows and reds taking its righteous place. The grass that she trod upon crinkled and browned, the same as all caught in the hem of her frock.

The child barely reckoned the scope of his witness, vaguely kenning all the dread miracle happening before his eyes. He just saw the delicate woman clad in autumn’s colors spinning and twirling and carousing about. A strange feeling arose, deep in his chest, at the splendor that his earthly eyes had never touched on before. With no instincts halting, the child arose and walked o’er the meadow towards the dancer of leaves.

The woman’s head crooked and her dance finally ended; she spied the visitor to her small, seasonal waltz. As her gown finally fell flat to her sides, the woman knelt to look the child right in the eyes.

There were no words that desired flight from the poor boy’s lips, stunned into silence at this divine visage. Never before had he seen a face that shone with such vigor; rare was it that he even had seen one naked of dirt. Trembling, a small hand arose, its owner enthralled with the holy vision. Something within begged him to lay hands on the angel, not bothered by the blessings she had bestowed to all before.

Gently, spindly hands sought out and captured his arms, and with the barest of shakes she told all desired
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2075
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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2020
>>/gensokyo/14512

If you feel you need to improve, post here!
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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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File 148323160444.png - (1.16MB, 960x960, 140325583848.png) [iqdb]
2057
>>2055
I forgot a picture so have a random banki.
>>2055

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

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File 148058672292.jpg - (148.14KB, 850x725, Too silly not to use.jpg) [iqdb]
2007
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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File 148311364220.png - (271.00KB, 600x600, The wheels of fate are already in motion.png) [iqdb]
2050
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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File 148322748238.jpg - (89.99KB, 850x394, It'll do.jpg) [iqdb]
2056
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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2019
>>/gensokyo/14512

Here there be skilled writers!
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>>2046
Quality shitpost.
File 148315165949.png - (758.91KB, 1050x800, I need a hat.png) [iqdb]
2053
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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File 148317265990.png - (88.69KB, 236x230, it started with a question what mermaids do in win.png) [iqdb]
2054
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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1964
All things not lewd go here! Rules at >>/gensokyo/14305
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File 147407032549.jpg - (231.67KB, 700x700, 36495286911a1ee71042741d7d59a07619ffbb78.jpg) [iqdb]
2003
“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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File 14828605173.jpg - (1.48MB, 1061x1500, e06d691c19a853b332e14da0bd1bad59.jpg) [iqdb]
2044
“Are you Letty Whiterock?” asked the man with the shovel.

“I am,” said Letty Whiterock.

And then he beat her with a shovel.
>>2044
Wrong thread, pal. This is an old contest.

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2006
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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931
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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File 147449285573.jpg - (556.62KB, 759x600, 95d467f1f24c7a914dfd94d04578461a.jpg) [iqdb]
2004
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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