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Newbies, your stories go here. Read the rules at >>/gensokyo/13738
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Isn't it sad, THP? ;_;

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Newbies, this is where you put your entries. Be sure to read the rules at >>/gensokyo/13629
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It seemed like the perfect break. I had to get out of my city; she had a job nobody in hers would take. I’ll admit, I’d have been suspicious of the payout, too, if she hadn’t paid up front for a business-class seat on a flight there. The job itself was simple enough: break into some old bat’s retirement home and scan some research notes from its library.

There was a catch, of course—there’s always a catch. This one’s was ‘old bat’ being more literal than you’d think. In the sense of ‘centuries-old vampire’. Because vampires are real things that exist and own opulent, non-Euclidean lakefront properties, and so are wizards with wizard libraries and wizard research notes and very strong opinions about intellectual property.

And that’s not even getting started on the neighbourhood.

The upshot is—the client stuck my phone with some sort of magic red metal, so now I can Crosslink magicrap just like regular circuits. Not sure on the utility of that back Outside, but you never know. I mean, I didn’t when I took this job, and look where I am now.

Uh, and that would be hanging from the ceiling, having narrowly evaded a giant laser-turned-breaching-charge out of sheer luck.

A pointy black witch’s hat flies in from the rain, on the head of what is presumably therefore a witch. Shaking herself off from her stint outside in the dark-and-stormy, the witch immediately takes to raking books off the shelves and into a sack of the kind that would have indignant burglars crying about ‘reinforcing the stereotype’.

Observing for a moment, I decide the wisest course of action would probably be to get the hell away before the librarian shows up.

As I clamber—still on the ceiling—towards the newly-installed egress, however, one crucial difference between East Point and the Eastern Wonderland makes itself apparent: back Outside, people don’t bother looking up, because back Outside,
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Veterans, this is where you put your entries. Be sure to read the rules at >>/gensokyo/13629
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In retrospect, I really shouldn't have expected robbing a palace in Hell to have gone smoothly.

Now, there's a lot I could say about how Sully and I flew to Japan, smuggled an open four-by-four into Gensokyo (and how we found out about that place is another thing entirely), drove underground, and broke into this 'Palace of the Earth Spirits' (a place I'd have loved to explore more but for, you know, the shooting and everything), but I'll just cut to the part where we were driving said four-by-four back out, my satchel loaded down with-

Well, let's just say it was something that'd leave us sitting pretty for a long, long time to come, yeah?

Anyway, you wouldn't think you could easily drive a car around inside a building, but whoever built the place really, and I mean really, went all-out here. I'm talking hallways you could fit a tank in with room to spare, something Sully was taking full advantage of as our ride squealed through the tiled hallways. While that crazy old son of a bitch drove, I was taking wild shots with my pistol at the people chasing us.

Now I've dealt with a lot of crazy stuff in my time, but I don't think they hold up to a woman with a giant orange rod stuck on her arm and raven wings carrying her through the air, and that's not counting the fist-sized Eye of Sauron she had on her chest, and also there was her cape with stars flowing on the inside? I was too busy being terrified of the freakin' laser beams she was shooting out of that arm-cannon to get a better look. In comparison, the little redheaded kitty-girl flying next to her and pitching fastball skulls at us just seemed tame.

"Incoming!" I yelled, ducking just as one of those flaming skulls smashed against the back of the four-by-four and exploded, face-meltingly hot blue fire rising high for a split second. "Holy crap!"

The key word was in comparison.
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“She knew about this, you know,” Lyrica whispers. They sit huddled by the safehouse windows, four in a row. (Not under—they learned that rule the hard way, when the missiles tore through the last rest stop. No windows, no hats.)

“Who did?” Reimu asks.

A long time ago (a week ago), Lyrica's smile was sly and quiet. Today it is filled with teeth. Reimu thought Merlin would crack first across the three of the sisters, Merlin with her boundless energy tumbled into restraints, but it is the thinker Lyrica who is the closest to faling over the edge. She can hear Lyrica during the nights, when they're pretending any of them can sleep—Lyrica, muttering at the walls, creaking louder than the floorboards, with plans and plans and nothing to execute them with.

“Layla,” says Lyrica. “Layla knew about this, I mean. She told us stories.”

And Reimu is the last of the Hakurei at the moment, keeper of the Shrine, guardian of the Border (and you sure did a bang-up job of that this time, didn't you, dear), but it's dark and she's tired and she's spent too many hours already cooped up shoulder to shoulder to a girl who's only barely on this side of real, so she snaps, “Told you stories about Gensokyo and an army of clowns?”

“We weren't from Gensokyo,” Lyrica hisses back. “None of us are. I was just going to ask—” She stops, looks away, lips twitching, and Reimu has the sudden feeling she's gone too far, like maybe she's spent so long watching Lyrica at the precipice that she forgot her own feet were there, too.

“I wanted to ask if you wanted in, but forget it,” Lyrica says. We'll get our things back on our own. Come on.”

She leaves the safehouse, shoulders high until the moment she crosses the doorway and she has to watch her back again (the difference between pride and stupidity). Her sisters follow behind her, single-file, like students on a field trip—Merlin first, then Lunasa, who pauses at the l
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I didn't mean to kill her.

I didn't mean to kill her.

I didn't mean to kill her.

I repeat this sentence to myself, trying to convince myself that it is true.

It was an accident. It was a fit of insanity. You didn't expect it to kill her.

But you know none of it's true. It might have only been for just a second, but you did mean to kill her. At that moment, every fiber of your being wished for her to die.

Let's go back a few years to the day we met.

The afterparty for my brother's wedding.

My little brother had always been more successful in all things than I had been. My grades were above average; he was an honor student. I had a few girlfriends through highschool; he had girls swooning over him. I just finished my internship as a programmer for a local big-name software company; he just finished law school and practically skipped straight past his internship and is on his way to starting his own law firm.

He now had a beautiful, loving wife, and I was still looking.

Or so I thought. And then I saw her.

Long, flowing brown hair. Hazel eyes so beautiful that I could sing. And her smile, bright and cheerful, yet honest.

Now, I'm going to be honest. I didn't hate my brother, or have any bad feelings at all about him for his success. For most of my life, I just wanted him to look up to me. And, despite everything, he did. I just wanted what was best for him. Sure, it was sometimes despiriting to see him succeeding so vibrantly where I had merely done okay, but I truly loved my brother, and I'm sure he loved me as well.

Which is why no one thought it was strange when he reluctantly peeled himself away from his loving bride for a few minutes to catch up. After all, we had both been quite busy, me with my internship and him with intense studying for his bar exam. We had a lot to catch up on.

It was while we spoke, filling each other in on what we'd both missed of each other, that I saw her. Laughing and sharing stories with a few other women I don't recognize.
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I feel like this isn't even a short, more like a just right. Many stories would benefit from this kind of brevity. Rumia was cute, we fucked a dog girl, some other stuff happened. What more could you ask for?

Congrats on finishing, you are the THP 1%.
Was a good run, congrats on completion

Yeah, about that...

New thread: >>/th/182940

Moving boards because this isn't really a short anymore.

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is something that was supposed to become a story

a story it became not

so here I am, reposting

because I originally deleted it because it was supposed to become a story, but then it did not become one, but the thread was still deleted, and now no one can read it, and this board is slow anyway, so someone might appreciate the activity, and I am a huge butt face

‘Scuse me while I sort out the formatting.
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File 142655891485.jpg - (166.26KB, 600x792, 2b0f1e2388c62aa21fd90cb1a1a9347e.jpg) [iqdb]


And yet that's all she wrote (if my resumed silence and the bold HERE ENDS weren't telling enough). I hope whoever, let's say, commissioned this is satisfied, and once again I apologise for taking so long to wrap it up. With this out of the way, I don't think anything else remains to be said.
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Sorry, you lost me.

Anyway, looking forward for the next update!

>I hope whoever, let's say, commissioned this is satisfied,


>and once again I apologise for taking so long to wrap it up.

No worries.

>With this out of the way, I don't think anything else remains to be said.

Thanks for the story, YAF. See ya later.

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There was a tree behind the shrine
As long as she remembered,
Through every tick of passing time
And every last December,
And since she was quite self-aware
That written were her seasons,
Hakurei Reimu said, “It’s there -
That tree - yes - for a reason.”

She pondered long and pondered hard
Of what the tree could mean-
Of what her author (curse that tard)
Intended to be seen-
Was it a symbol? Metaphor?
A meaning tucked away?
To force the readers to think more
On what he had to say?
A piece of pure pretentiousness-
Or worse yet, maybe not,
But rather there to start a mess
Of convoluted plot,
So she followed the cues her well
-known intuition sent,
Declaring “I’ll show them all hell
Who forged this incident”.

Through violence and terror
She made foes tremble for ages,
Ignoring every error
As she smote through six long stages
Of cards and signs and bullet balls,
Of other painful things,
Of girls who were transparent walls
And wannabe god-kings,
Of CG-animated halls
And tiny girls with wings,
Until at last she stood to face
The foe that she had sought,
Some asshole with no sense of pace
Who hammered keys a lot,
And tried to bash his head in
To relieve her sleepless nights -
Only to learn, to her chagrin
That he wrote all the fights.

“I’ll tell you anyways,” he said,
“Just what you sought to know,
I’ll not torment you ‘til you’re dead-”
-He told, rather than show -
“To know why analysis failed,
Just listen close to me-
‘Twas there to make the world detailed.
The tree is just a tree.”
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lol that was really good ^_^b


Please don't do that. Go read >>/gensokyo/6052.

If you're new here, follow the instructions in >>/forest/28235 to get up to speed.
I quite liked it. Good work.

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This story is a Christmas special for GDiY. You can find the first thread at >>1265 (and the current thread at >>/th/182940).

Merry Christmas, and enjoy.


The hot fire fills my body with warmth as I sit near the fireplace, relaxing after a long day of work shoveling the roads while watching snow lazily drift toward the ground through the window.

Yes, a window in Gensokyo, and I'm not even in the home of a village noble! I'm still not quite clear on how Keine managed to afford this thing. She may be the village guardian, but from what I've seen, that's more or less a volunteer role. All of her actual income seems to be from teaching, which unfortunately doesn't pay much more than it does in the outside. She gained a few new students after it became known that she was housing an outsider, mostly noble brats fascinated by the outside world, but attendance isn't nearly as universal as it was in the outside world, with most children either spending the day working for their families or learning a specific craft. It's unfortunate that a basic education is somewhat of a luxury, but unfortunately there's not much that can be done about that. Without the technological advances we've had in the outside world, it just isn't feasible for someone old enough to work a field or swing a hammer to not do so.

But, as unfortunate as the education situation is here in Gensokyo, this window sure is lovely. I take a sip of hot tea as I appreciate the view. As I set down the cup, I hear the familiar soft rumble of the front door sliding open. Since this is about the time I was expecting Keine to return, I turn to greet her. Instead, however, I'm enthusiastically greeted by Rumia.

Carrying some sort of evergreen tree.

The whole tree, mangled roots and all.

"Uh, Rumia, what exactly are you doing?" I ask, confused. "What's with the pine tree?"

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Truly, Gensokyo is singing with Christmas Spirit.
it went every well, all things considered (HavinG Flandre and Okuu in the same place)
I feel the need to state the obvious that it seems as if that ending is relevant to the main story in some strange way.

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In this thread, I will post various shorts and mock documents, such as the Omake I've mentioned in the past. Though only loosely related shorts go there as any that are closer related to a story will be in the respective story thread.
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Silly me, getting all fired up when I haven't even tracked down Shiro yet. I hope he hasn't gotten himself drunk off of... whatever it is they drink. He should be waiting near or at the crossroads. Now that I think about it, there might not be much material left this late in the night, at least nothing on par with those two. I'll try to politely convince Wriggle to spare some time since her outfit was definitely well made.


I get to the crossroads, and find Shiro waiting with his camera, his fur a bit rustled. “I don't think it'll be much longer, so you can get back to what you were doing before the night ends.” That seems to appease him, and we head over to the booths as it's where the people are. I hear some talking down the road to the Hidea residence, though, so I start following my ears. This could be something interesting.


As we turn the corner, I spot none other than the hero Arthur. There's no mistaking him, not with that red hair and odd clothing. Yuuka definitely has good taste, though I still think Yaggy was better looking in his youth. A small girl is riding piggyback on Arthur's shoulders, and she holds on when he notices me and turns around. “Ah, Miss reporter. If this is about an interview, could it wait? I don't want to keep Yuuka waiting and I know Alice's getting impatient.”

I nod while taking a closer look at Alice's outfit, a blue yukata but with various designs on it. “Who made Alice's outfit?” I ask, figuring he got it for her.

Alice speaks up. “I did, though I had to visit a tailor for some minor corrections. I also made Hourai's, despite how inappropriately she's trying to wear it.” She points to a small doll in one of Arthur's pockets wearing a well-made red yukata. The doll pulls out a sign saying “Why can't I show off what little I have? It's bad enough she gave me tiny-” before Alice yanks it away. I giggle at the comical little display.

Arthur sighs. “Miss reporter, I'll try to free up some time and meet you somewhere away from Yuuka. I don't think she'd appreciate you coming by.” It'
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Note: This will be canon; it happens during the same Christmas as the earlier Christmas short.


I already visited Mother and Father yesterday so I can look forward to relaxing with a nice book today. No Aya to pester me, no work to do. A nice moment of pea-


“Momimomi, are you theeere? Hic!” Oh hell… can't that drunk of a Oracle stick around on a day like this so she can be drunkenly insufferable around someone else? Well, I remember reading that Christmas is a time of tolerance and forgiveness… so against my better judgment, I'll let her in.

“Hey I hope you don't have no plans, as I have none since Junny's spending Christmas in the outside and I can't even drop by Yaggy's without catching flack from those limp dick elders.” She rambles on my shoulder as I lead her in, hoping she doesn't puke on the floor. I take her over to the couch as I get a glass of water and a bucket; this isn't the first time she's been here like this.

I set them by the couch before checking on dinner: a decent sized turkey, yet another rather recent import to Gensokyo. I figure that by cooking this thing I can have enough food to take care of both lunch and dinner at the same time.

“Momimomi! Why is there no TV?! Hic!” Damn it, better go and see what she wants.

Well, there's no vomit all over the place so that's a relief. I explain, “Aya, you know I don't have one of those. I have more productive hobbies, such as reading and Shogi.”

“But that's boooring! How else are you supposed to watch soap operas?” She is so childish at times, especially when she’s drunk; it’s hard to believe I'm the younger one. Even Hatate acts more mature than her.

“Someone whose love life could qualify as one and who runs a newspaper shouldn't be saying such things.” After hearing no response, I turn and see she’s passed out. I adjust her position so that she’s comfortable and able to easily reach the bucket. Until she wakes up, I’ll read a nice book and check on the turkey when I need to.


Dinner’s nearly ready and
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This is a redux so to speak of Yuki and Wriggle's first meeting, as I feel I have the ability to do it justice myself now. (Post >>/forest/22945 )

No picture due to having used up most of the fitting ones.


Right, I open my book to the page with wind magic as I leap into action through the nearby bush, but what I saw was... something stunning.

A girl that looks about to be my age, legs that are slightly slim but also toned and cute and up to a hairless... oh my.

She's completely nude; I’ve seen a few nude girls in those Tengu Porn books Kamui has, but the real thing is just so much... more. Next are some subtle but clearly feminine hips, then what looks like a cute behind. And above which is a soft, flat stomach. Once my eyes pass that, they're quickly drawn to a pair of breasts, modest, cute, but definitely there. They're topped by small pink nipples.

My heart’s racing from this sight. I look upwards to a very cute face with bluish green eyes, green hair that’s short enough to be a male’s but looks lovely on her and... antennae. ANTENNAE!? She’s a youkai... but a cute one at that. And she just noticed me! Quick, quick what should I do!?

Okay... focus, calm down. Turn around so you don’t end up thinking of... NO! “Ah... I apologize for intruding, I thought someone was in trouble... I’ll be going now.” I say as I pick up my book and walk out with as much dignity as I can muster - not very much.

Right after I leave I hear her say, “Um... apology accepted.” That’s a relief. So far so good as I follow the path away from that spot.

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A thread for things.

WARNING: RAMBLING AHEAD! PLEASE IGNORE! (or don't, if you prefer)

Some of these things will be incoherent and useless. Some will be story ideas I'll eventually write. Some will not likely get written, but might be interesting or useful to someone else.

My goal here is to organize my thoughts into something coherent enough to use. By which I mean probably incomprehensible to the sane.

There may be puzzles ahead for those of you who look for puzzles.

Now the part where I post shorts.
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Probably looks good with the Darkish style.

You know what’s great about manhunts?


They. Fucking. Suck.

Unless you’re some uncatchable criminal or the gloryhound after her, you’re in for a bad time.

Say it’s 1920 in Boston and you own a deli or whatever. She comes in, orders a pastrami sandwich, and not ten seconds later, Hell itself plows through the walls of reality right into your shop. Naturally, she animates your entire stock into some sort of meat behemoth, fully capable of laying into a Fifth Circle devil on its own.

Oh, you don’t understand what that means? It’s kind of a stupid system that works differently for heavenly and hellish forces and dammit, quit distracting me! It’s like a five on the Richter Scale as far as geographic impact.

So anyway, Mega Meat has it out with a few weaker devils, the building collapses, and the owner gets steaked through the head. Kind of a shitty way to die, that. So then, his confused, pissed off soul goes to be judged and he gets to go back into the cycle. That’s how it works, right?


Dunno if you know it, but you should if you ended up here. No? Really? Ah, that sucks. Well, the system isn’t really workable with some people. They’ve hacked out their karma or mortality or whatever. They wind up as these dead zones where the gears of reality stop running reality and turn into a taffy factory of imprecise non-stuff.

It defies the Natural Order or whatever their damn excuse is. They have some sort of autocorrec
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Ran Yakumo prided herself on the ability to remain calm when stressed. Being the shikigami of Yukari Yakumo required that she be able to handle anything. Sometimes that might mean she had to deliver messages to the powers residing in other Border Worlds. Other times, she had to take a trip to an Outside city because her master was having a craving for a particular kind of ice-cream. Such was dealing with Yukari.

Today’s duties were a bit different.

While she was loath to admit it, Ran was on edge. This was not something she had experience dealing with. Her mind, normally a force to be reckoned with, was currently occupied with worsening her already frayed nerves. It had decided to calculate all of the ways things could, would, go catastrophically wrong.

As such, she was throwing open doors with a bit too much force and not bothering to close them as she crossed the Yakumo residence. She had already taken far too long to fly back from her reconnaissance and time was of the essence.

“Good morning, Ran.” Yukari was seated at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in one hand and the day’s copy of the Bunbunmaru in the other. “It seems to be a rather slow news day.”

“Lady Yukari! There’s an emergency! The Border is-”

Yukari sipped her coffee. “I know.”

Naturally, she would know immediately, Ran thought. That was no doubt why Yukari was awake so early in the day. After all, it would not be inaccurate to say that Yukari Yakumo was the Border.

“What are your orders, master?” Ran’s shikigami training had engraved those words into her instincts. That ever-persistent question helped to calm her mind, to give a sense of normalcy.

“Please have a seat, Ran.” Yukari’s tone was even and calm, but her voice had a certain authority. Ran found herself seated through no power of her own.

Yukari stood, making her way into the kitchen. “You seem stressed, Ran. Would you care for some tea? Of course you would.”

“Lady Yukari, I-” Ran’s words caught in her throat as
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Shameimaru, they say. Your wings are beautiful, they say.

Yes, she says. I know, she says.

Aya is tired.

Still, she pays the sycophants no mind, for the fools know nothing of romance but cheap witticisms and many, many colloquial phrases used to seduce female tengu aplenty. Shameimaru, tired as she may be, can only smile wistfully as she must bear with yet another toadie sputtering out verbatim: “your wings are beautiful.”

Aya is tired.

Her only solace is the man, the human, peering into the stuffy room, casting a watchful eye towards her direction. Shameimaru relents, dropping a casual blush-and-smile, coyly lowering her eyes. The rest of the bumbling fools swoon, clamoring for Shameimaru's attention, arguing for whom the smile was for.

It was for mine personage, cries he who had the talent of being less-than-tactful. Shameimaru sighs. She would never offer her blush to he who crowed that her breasts were "admirable assets" for the village.

Nay, for the answer can only be I, exclaimed he who knew the most platitudes. Shameimaru had adopted the policy of nodding her head at specific intervals (when the man ceased to talk, which happened rarely) and critically rousing herself in a similar fashion to a student keeping awake in lecture.

You filth, one says.

You cheat, another says.

Let us abate this quarrel, screams one in the crowd. Nevertheless, they squabble, whether it be squabbling over squabbling or rioting over "he who truly received the smile of Shameimaru." Only but a spectator to the uproar, the man, the human, winks and disappears from the windowpane.

Aya, amidst the chaos, smirks wryly.

The female tengu, gathering into a small coalition of sorts against Shameimaru, collectively scowl at the commotion and glare at her, petulant in their jealousy. Shameimaru sighs once more. In their envy, they fail to realize that Shameimaru would much rather be in their position – they who are out of the spotlight, away from the crux of the drab, faux-oriental room, out of the mockery that the tengu call a "ma
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Himekaidou sweats profusely; she was unprepared. She may have erred.

Leaving a couple of documents behind at Aya's home, she went to sneakily grab them before her paper is distributed in the morn. She catches the time – Aya shouldn't return until after the matchmaking is done. This is an assumption. The door swinging open may be an indication that her assumption is wrong.

“Have you returned, Aya,” Himekaidou speaks to the door, “Pay myself no mind, I'll be here but for a minute. I've documents to reclaim.” She eyes the clock, two hours early from the matchmaking. “But a shame, Aya! No luck with men? I hold you no envy beca–”

The documents slip to the floor.

Aya, propped up by her partner's arms, blinks. Her dress lay unsashed, barely covering skin unfit for public eye.

“Um,” Himekaidou stutters, “have I intruded?”

“Mayhaps,” the man sheepishly answers.

And then Himekaidou did the mile-walk to the door, wordlessly shutting the door with a click. She dare not look Shameimaru in the eyes.

Ten paces away from the residence, a calm yet horrifying realization hits her: she forgot her documents.

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