>>2144

"...Why?" I ask.

The pale girl shrugs, cocking her head. "She was on fire and looked exceptionally angry with me, so she was probably a bad person."

"That... is actually not bad thinking at all," I admit. "Still, Mokou's weird and also immortal so basically it's okay to kill her in a fight, but-”

“what the shit was that” says Mokou, sitting up as those holes in her head regenerate remarkably quickly.

“Should I shoot her again?” Altina asks.

“No,” I say immediately, eyes flicking between the smoldering phoenix and the not-quite-right girl training fingers on the former. “No, don't-”

Altina shoots her again, a flurry of blue lasers bursting from her fingers, blasting Mokou's face clean off. I cringe as the woman flops down again.

>>2144
>>2145

Sunshine beats down on my head as I glower at the ashen remains of my stand. There's quite a bit of roasted forest all around me, but the Rabbit Fire Brigade stopped the worst of it. Small comfort for me when I'm gonna have to rebuy, oh... pretty much everything I owned, but, y'know, hooray for trees.

All this because I didn't turn off the stove.

Nice going, me.

I cover my face in my hands. "Ffffffffffffffffffff-"

There's a whumpfh of someone landing nearby.

"This one's not my fault," Mokou says, strolling up to study my wrecked business.

Old, wrinkled eyes stared back at seemingly younger, brighter ones; both of the two knew that this simply wasn't the case, but appearances are hard to ignore. Even to a youkai such as her. Or, perhaps it could be said that it should be the case. He was old — very old for a turtle. And, likewise, she was young for her species.

The young turtle of graying hair, and the old kappa of vibrant youth. An odd pair to consider as anything but elder and youth, though one would have to assess who to call which.

The great turtle that had long played the part of caretaker of the Hakurei wasn't sure what to think of the one that looked as young as his charge. Not when she was making eyes at him, or so he thought. In truth, being a turtle, he wasn't attracted to the features of any resemblance to a human. Flushed cheeks, a cute face, perky breasts and a sweet ass were all things she had in spades, and not one of these things truly appealed to him. Much like humans react to a dog, the old turtle could recognize these assets of hers from an outsider's perspective, but wasn't attracted one bit.

"No."

The aqua eyes turned downcast, and the kappa let out a held breath, as if that breath contained all of the hopes that she held. She did what she could to refrain from trembling or crying, but he saw that lip tremble once or twice. He knew.

As she turned to leave, Genjii sighed. "Wait." Before those eyes could once more fill with hope, he said, snuffing it like a candle, "I don't return your feelings. ...Well, that's not quite right. Thing is, you're a pretty young thing, but I'm just a turtle. And, well... none of what you have is any more attractive to me than a dog is to you." Quickly changing gears before she could think too deeply on that, he added, "Besides, even ignoring that: I'm old. I've lived a long life. All the way to the point of doubling the age any turtle should be reaching."

He didn't think it would work, but he had to at least try talking some sense into the girl. Sure, he'd take a thick, lustrous

>>2129

I dislike this on a level I didn't realize I could dislike fanfiction. Congratulations.

>>2131
Would you say it was...shitty?

>>2132

Absolutly not. It's very well done.

[X]Boop them back.

This story is going places, I can feel it.

>>2122
Guess not.

>>2114
2008?

Well, since nothing's happening I'll just go with the first vote.

Dead or nah?

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.

“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.”

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. The child slumped and

[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

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 retreated. And so she sta

>>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.

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...

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...

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...

>>2046
Quality shitpost.

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.

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 prowl the surfa