/jp/ - Otaku Culture

>>46981270

I love hags soooo much, sirs :,( ... knowing that at any given moment in Asia, there's a lonely spinster hag laying in her bed after a hard day at work, a day more weary of putting on the mask of a modern independent woman though she's still too proud to admit it to herself, realizing her career climb was worthless without someone to come home to, trying her hardest to ignore the slit between her legs with its forest of ungroomed fur, the unfortunate leftover of evolution which is begging to be filled with increasing intensity every passing night, the voice of instinct that she wishes menopause could kill so she can find peace (even then she won't find it), until she puts her pretty manicured fingers to her manko and gets off to a forbidden man she doesn't want to need so it can shut up for the time being... I want to be that man. I want to tear her pantsuit off, I want to grope her stockings, I want my face to be crusty white with her wetness as I pin her down on the bed and she starts to moan and scream in my ear, I want to fill her womb and shoot ropes on her ripe little belly as if her instincts can still can be fulfilled, I want her to lay her head on my chest as she's breathing heavy and sweaty and find solace in cuddling with me, her rightful man for the night though I'm significantly younger than her...

If any sirs have more group photos of hag stars, it would be very welcome

>>46958129
>Just spoon feed me and I'll stop blabbering like a dipshit
Yeah no thanks retard. It'll only shut you up until you demand more. Teach a man to fish and all that.

>>46944047
I didn't even do the brothers route, I ended up getting depressed after seeing Toa's 'true' ending where it turns out he was one of the zombie monster things, since he was one of the only LI's I actually liked.

Though I found it quite funny that in Isora's route the main guide to getting the best ending is to just shut up and do exactly what the creepy yandere man tells you because he's absolutely right.

>>46887487
-God Squad-

The mountain, had become destitute looking in only a few short minutes, Tengu still running from their destroyed homes, the mountain side pockmarked with craters, tree stumps still glowing red from where the trees were cut, countless iron pillars embedded into the bare dirt and rock, slivers cut out of nearly every surface of stone.

But among all the chaos, the Myouren shrine lay tranquil and creepily undisturbed, looking just like it had minutes before with nary a scratch. Even the half-frozen over pond was entirely silent and still among the chaos of Youkai Mountain.
In the midst of the tranquil but chaotic landscape, a ice fairy crested the stairs back up to the Myouren shrine.

“Wooow!” Cirno exclaimed, carrying a large block of ice over head head one-handed. “Man, this has been a day hasn’t it!” Cirno exclaimed, a bright expression on her face.

Following her up the stairs, Suwako responded glibly. “That’s one way of saying it. So, ya’ know who this is.” Suwako asked, gesturing to the figure frozen in the block of ice Cirno carried.

“Nope.” Cirno shook her head as she sat the block of ice down next to the torii gate. “I think she told me her name, but I didn't commit it to memory.”

Kanko, who was quickly following behind the two sighed. “Well it’s probably best to just keep her like this until this is all over.” Her mind already racing with how she’d be able to take advantage of this crisis.

“Yeah, let’s deal with her later, now where’s that Sanae?” Suwako agreed, laziness and the current crisis triumphing over her curiosity about the oni woman who kept going on about Reimu.

“Hey, guys, we finally got her!” Sanae announced walking out of the forest while dragging the Lord of Youkai Mountain, the Tenma by her feathered head and beaked face. The large old bird's entire body bound with Sanae’s snakes.

Shou waved them overlooking slightly worse for wear. “Shou! Are you okay!” Cirno said, jumping up and through the air towards her senior.

“Yes, I’m fine Cirno.” Shou chuckled, waving off the fairy with one hand.

“Same here guys, but we need to discuss what we’re going to do next.” Sanae said, waiving to the giant tree that had overtaken the village, barely constrained by the blue and star pattern barrier containing it.
Then with another hand she waved to the sky, still partially destroyed with its ‘top’ missing and various artifacts and things still visible through the hole in the sky, Sana could swear she could see Miko up there smiling at them from her Senkai in Gensokyo’s ‘orbit’ only the horizon had been entirely restored.

“But I think I’d like to talk to our guest here first.” Shou gestured her head to Sanae. Each of them, sans Cirno, had their own suspicions and reservations to serious degrees about this whole affair, but Shou was the most suspicious of the incident.

“Oh yeah.” Sanae removed the writhing gag from the old bird’s mouth as she was laid on the floor as she looked at the gathered plotters with hatred in her eyes.

“Be done with me, tool of false gods, or would you rather and me to her alive.” The Tenma spit out her words like venom as she looked up at Shou.

“I serve Bishamonten,” Shou cared little for the games of Tengu and foxes, or Youkai for that matter even if her indolent followers indulged in such. Although she did judge them harshly she knew of her own hypocrisy.

“You serve that wheelchair god, or that wannabe youkai, working towards their interests and plotting against me, Just like all those other-” Shou ignored the rest of the old crow’s ranting, petty complaints about the gods and Buddha’s. Strangely the old bird seemed to focus on the favor granted to female non-tengu Youkai by some male ones, Shou wondered about that as well sometimes.

Idly she tied the Tenma’s beak shut with a rope as she thought. Shou had sensed that something was wrong, but the Tenma’s words... Nobody wanted the old bird alive, and unlike the other sages she was unnecessary to keeping the barrier maintained, her inclusion among their ranks was their concessions to the interests of Mara.

Shou put her hand to her chin. Nobody wanted the Tenma alive, everybody benefited from her death. But she was nonetheless important to the balance of power in Gensokyo.

The Tengu’s interest in the HSE while genuine, began to look alot more suspicious, Okina should’ve rightfully done something before the situation escalated this far.

“Was this entire thing a setup?” Shou questioned out loud. Her voice, cold and accusatory as her normally golden eyes became shadowed.

“Huh?” Cirno questioned as the form of the Tenma squirmed underneath her. Kanako and Sanae looked surprised, while Suwako just raised her eyebrow.

Shou sat down on the Tenma, earning her a grunt from the bird. Looking her allies with a hard expression, she asked them. “How much do you trust Okina?”

>>46786518
"Hmm, another success." Master Patchouli murmured after the ghostly form took shape in the beaker, screamed, and dissipated. "It seems like you have an aptitude for assisting magic users."
"I'm sure Master Patchouli is just as skilled as ever is all." I said.
"No, I mean quite literally." He said, pointing to some numeric tables in his notes. "I've run this experiment with and without you, controlling for time of day and with many other factors. In all cases, your presence statistically improves the success rate, even more so if you're actively assisting in the procedure."
"Perhaps it's the The Hawthorne effect?" I asked.
"Perhaps, here." he said handing me a list. "I'll need these materials to run another trial."
"Of course." I said, taking the note with a bow and leaving.
"Helpful with experiments, another way they're different..." I heard Patchouli say under his breath.


As I walked through the halls of the SDM I suppressed a yawn. It wasn't unusual for Patchouli to wake me at some unusual hour in the evening to help with an experiment or spell, these things were sensitive to time and day after all, so I was used to it. In fact, I was a little glad since It meant I could dress less formally, just in my nightgown, slippers, and one of Patchouli's robes. My bra had become uncomfortably tight as of late, well, it never fit right to begin with, and the wires dug painfully into my shoulders after awhile, so there was a sort of liberation in not having to wear it, even though I had to move a bit more carefully or my chest would sway. I think it did put Patchouli on edge, since he'd hastily given me his robe to cover up, but that was the witches fault for waking me on such short notice.
Master's robe was, well it was a little warm and fluffy for something to be worn by a man. Not that I minded since this female body couldn't stand well against the cold and it smelled just like him...
Ahh! what was I doing, sniffing clothes and getting all light-headed, if someone saw me like this I'd-
"Why hello, I don't believe I've seen you before." A boyish yet elegant voice called to me.
I turned to see Master Remilia's red eyes staring back at me, cocksure of himself. "Good evening Master Remilia, I trust you are well?" I said, my servant's training taking over.
"Master? I didn't know we had a new servant." He said, looking me over. It was odd because previously I'd stood feet above the vampire, but now the difference was far shorter, he was about at chest height to me now. "Are you perhaps a relative of the Kirisame witch? you have quite the resemblance."
"Your mistaken Master, the truth is..." I explained to Remilia who I was and the spell Patchouli cast on me.
"So Patchouli turned you into a copy of his crush to train up the nerve to confess? That's... brilliant! It's like fighting the enemy you hope to defeat every waking minute so victory is assured when the battle truly breaks out! As expected of the brain of the SDM!" He enthusiastically said, wings flapping.
As expected of Remilia, he'll get along with anyone inflexibly as long as their doing something interesting, at the very least he wasn't scolding me for my wear-
"Hey Marisa, watcha doing wearing Patchouli's robes!?" I heard a girlish voice yell behind me before two hands reached up and grabbed my chest. I let out a girlish cry, shocked.
"Ehh?" The voice, said, groping my breasts "Marisa did you get fat?"
"Flandere that's not Marisa it's Patchouli's servant! Stop molesting her immediately!" Remilia shouted.
"Giving such nonsense orders is so like you brother, can't you tell I'm just punishing her for walking around so indecently? See? she's not even wearing a bra!" Flandere said, pulling the purple robe open and around my breasts, which caused the nightgown to cling tightly around them.
"Wow, I think they're even bigger then Meiling! But she's so tall, Isn't that a little unbalanced of you miss?" Flandere asked, as she stroked her hand from my waist to the tips of my chest.
Blood shot from Remilia's nose as he looked on in a daze for a moment, until he wiped the scarlet substance on his sleeve and regained his senses. "If you won't stop then I'll make you!" He shouted, reaching for her hands. But in that moment Flandere let go and the vampires hands landed squarely on my chest where her's had been and, just as quickly, the sister's hands clamped over her brothers.
"My oh my, is my brother lusting after his friend's servant so openly? How risque!" She shouted. Remilia cursed, trying to get free but his sister's grip was strong and he just ended up throttled against me.
I shut my eyes in embarrassment. Once upon a time, one of my cousins told me 'I was so embarrassed I could die' and I thought she was just being hyperbolic, but to be molested like this, made a mockery with this sensitivity, as a woman I understood now. The only thought in my head was 'save me.'

>>46723611
—
It's been a while since I've heard of Miko; the last time was during that visit to that weird Mausoleum on Youkai Mountain, but I remember she's trying to attain immortality too. What does she even want from us…?

Keine reads that on my face and kneels—the black cloak makes her look the size of a child. Cute~—, those eyes on the Hieda State still. “I don't quite grasp it, not with just a short meeting, but she wants to see the revolution end well and so get a foothold in the village… She said some things, too.” Her face twists to thoughtful pondering, the sight burning ten desires to punch that saint in the mouth. “Heh, don't misunderstand it, Mokou; she didn't say anything hurtful, only truths that escaped me… Ah, it doesn't matter for now, but know she's a constant and is not to be harmed or trifled with.” As if more than a handful could do so to that hermit. The way she spoke tells me our allies already know it which should boost morale to even greater heights; though not as well-known, that’s still a religious icon siding with us… Not that it matters much in a place like Gensokyo. “… All help feels like good help these days, even from people with ulterior motives I don't fully grasp…” Her lips purse as her eyes narrow and lock on Sanae Kochiya—mild expressions I would only notice during restless nights when the weight of life and expectations felt like too much.

Just like those nights, I let my hand fall to her hair and gently brushed it. Keine smiles ever so slightly more. “Hey, Suzu vowed for Sanae. She's not fucking with us, that's it—trust Suzu like she trust us… She's the one with a giant heart, after all~”

A moment of silence holds…

Then she huffs, amused, a smile shadowed on her pale face.

It persisted even as we shifted our focus back to the Hieda State and Keine studied every mounted weapon, every soldier gripping at their rifles, and every razor-sharp katana, her blood-red eyes teeming with determination as cold as stone. “There won't be turning back.” She muses to herself. “We're either giving Aki and Mochi a good life on Gensokyo, or… whatever awaits us in the Outside World.” I keep brushing her hair; maybe that is all that keeps her facade intact.

“Shut up, you big liar…” I say, towering over her as I rise from my crouched position, our eyes locking, a huge smile spreading across my face. “… From the moment you picked them up, there was already no turning back~”

A child caught with their hand stuck in the cooking jar—that's how I'd define the smile that takes over her as she rises to my side, wind deciding this is the perfect moment to dramatically blow her velvety ivory hair against the surface of the pitch-black cloak as, firmly, she steps forward, the imagery nigh hypnotic.

A challenge to Mr. Hieda: the demonic mask and kabuto adorned by horns, possibly harvested from a true oni, stare directly at her eyes, a hand threateningly over the handle of the sheathed katana.

Below, the Prismrivers finish their encore.

“… Indeed, there was not.”

The smile hurts, my heart is a furious mess, and I stand tall behind her, unmistakable wings of sheer, cascading fire sprawling from deep within, fiercely hot as the small ember that resides inside her and our friends' hearts—a blessing from me to keep them safeguarded from the threats of today.

Bathed in the reassurance from future Keine that, today, my children won’t be a parent short, I lift a hand to the skies. “Good.”

And, for the second time today, fireworks consume the skies, the culmination of about ~5 hours of a spontaneous festival bustling with exotic sights, foods and entertainment; of memories that'll never fade and connections that, as of one year ago, were thought impossible; of a Gensokyo that’s about to change.

Yesterday is past; tomorrow is a series of heart-throbbing results that just thinking about makes me want to faint… And today…

Today, we write history.

Against the cloud of fireworks, Keine floats towards the Hieda State, the Prismriver’s concert ending with the breathtaking sight of thousands of fireworks making the gleam in the people's eyes down below that much more tasteful. Hopes for the future; skepticism thoroughly challenged by these last five hours; and curiosity that reaches the stars. They cheer, whistle, boo, give words of encouragement or just 'EAT HIS FUCKING LIVER!!'—the Kurodanis can be especially feisty sometimes, especially the red-headed ones… weird genetics—and some Youkai even shot multicolored Danmaku to the skies, Hieda's soldiers huddling closer to their weapons as if their lives hinged on them.

Mr. Hieda doesn't even flinch…

… Not even when I and Keine landed on the fence, Keine stepping down to stand in front of him as I stood on the handrail, Sanae was to the old man’s side, arms crossed and tense. Immediately, a bunch of weapons are pointed at us.

Keine doesn't even flinch.

“Hieda-sama.”

“Keine Kamishirasawa.”

… Without the need for words, they bowed down to one another.

-Nazrin Soul Destruction Story-

Nazrin ran.

She ran, and ran, and ran, and kept on running. If she was a human, or a normal mouse, her legs would’ve failed her, but being able to keep running didn’t help her situation, for no matter how far she ran the Land of the Back door had no edge or boundary, even if there were areas less populated by doors no matter how far you ran you’d always eventually end up back where you started, a bit like a sphere, or a hamster wheel. But more spatially and dimensionally confusing.

Eventually Nazrin fell over her own feet, tumbling forward into the void before bumping into a backdoor. “Agh!”

As Nazrin righted herself, she turned to kick the door. Pain lanced through her foot as it made contact, but she didn’t care she was just angry, mostly at herself, and sad.

“Oh is the rat throwing a fit again, I thought you would’ve gotten used to being in my employ by now after that man abandoned you.”

Nazrin jumped in surprise, turning back around to see the back door god sitting in her wheelchair. Okina, the executor of her torment and chief architect of the nightmare to come.

“Sh-shut up…” Nazrin spit out, failing to put confidence or venom of any real measure into her voice. There was a distant sound she couldn’t place.

It was hard to stand up to her, Okina held absolute power when compared to a mouse who was skilled at finding things, recently she hadn’t even met Chisazu and Shou. She hoped that they would be spared, but knew asking Okina would only solidify the god’s desire to see them removed.

“Or perhaps that emptiness inside you is to blame.”

Nazrin choked on air.

The image of the Seiga and her golem of atrocity flashed in her mind, the knowledge of which children made up the golem. Assisting the temple and Okina finding that incomplete list of pregnant mothers, gotten from that annoying and ambitious human who the temple helped raise and was helplessly and foolishly in love.

The memory of him made Nazrin sad for a reason she couldn’t place. But she could hear it better now, the sound, the chattering of hungry teeth.

“Someone like you never was really suited to being a mother in the first place, I guess you could say me and the hermit did you a favor.” Okina didn’t even bother to hide the venom in her voice, none of the usual backhanded kindness or passive-aggression.

Nazrin balled her hands into fists looking down to her belly before tears began to fall from her eyes and she moved to clutch her belly as she fell to her knees, looking down into the abyss below.

“Hm, throwing a tantrum now Nazrin, this whole ordeal really has been unbefitting for you.” Okina’s expression conveyed that she considered the youkai before her, little more than an ant.

“Hi miss Okina! Hi Nazrin!” Okina’s dancers exclaimed as they arrived to the commotion, dancing as the flew mid air.

“What’s goin’ on!?” The two tilted their heads in unison.

Nazrin forced herself to her feet as Mai and Satono, she still couldn't tell them apart, arrived, dancing all the while. The distant chattering behind her ears growing closer.

“I… I…” Tears welled in Nazrin’s eyes as her fingers sunk into the wood of the backdoor, splinters embedding themself into her fingers, the pain as numb and distant.

“You will do what, whore?” A lighthearted and joyful tone overtook Okina’s voice as the abyss behind her eyes shone black, a square blackened inverted halo for a wicked and evil god. “You who were taken in by the gap youkai’s magic, you who failed your duty in the most ultimate and disastrous manner, you who ruined the idol of that man.”

“Ooh, ooh-” One of Okina’s servants pipped up.

“Mister Bishamonten, right miss?” The other dancer said, jumping up.

“Or maybe I’ll call Seiga back? She does need some more matierles after that vengeful spirit disposed of those unborn children, Ha.” Okina punctuated her mocking with a genuine snort of amusement.

Bishamonten, Nazrin thought his name and then, with a thump, she slammed her head against the backdoor and sank her hands into silencing Mai and Satono.

“Miss Okina?”

Thump. Again, but heavier this time Nazrin slammed her head against the wall ignoring the pain as the pain racked through her body.

“Hey, hey!”

“Miss-”

It was so loud, the chattering of teeth, the eyes behind her eyes, she couldn’t see, she couldn’t hear.

THUMP. Again, Nazrin slammed her head into the door. The smiling faces of children, twins which would never be born flashed in her mind.

“Hey-”

“It’s okay, dear, Nazrin just has some things to get out of her system.” Okina said, hushing her servants as she gestured for them to be quiet.

Nazrin slammed her head into the door again. Her teeth shook and her jaw hurt as the image of Shou appeared in her mind.

She looked nothing like him, but Shou reminded Nazrin dearly of her master, Bishamonten.

>>46679668
>>46688764
>>46693226
Normalfags are entirely subject to passions and hysteria, when they're not being apathetic and sociopathic. There is no difference between a Christian mob and a Progressive mob. A mob is a mob. Problems real or perceived are taken into the extreme, or not dealt with at all, with the self-proclaimed justice afforded in the most grotesque of fashion as reflecting the character of the lower orders, or otherwise not at all, or by some lukewarm measure if whatever authority there be has a say.
Without a formal hierarchy, the plebs group into little flocks, as although no person is truly alike, they are yet quite similar all the same, and there is an instinctual need to make for power, for a government by the people needs the people to govern, and there are so many who do not follow the right and proper way, and must be made alike, else they be enemies, and as such we are left with a society at odds with itself.
>The manner of life in such a State is that of democrats; there is freedom and plainness of speech, and every man does what is right in his own eyes, and has his own way of life. Hence arise the most various developments of character; the State is like a piece of embroidery of which the colours and figures are the manners of men, and there are many who, like women and children, prefer this variety to real beauty and excellence. The State is not one but many, like a bazaar at which you can buy anything. The great charm is, that you may do as you like; you may govern if you like, let it alone if you like; go to war and make peace if you feel disposed, and all quite irrespective of anybody else. When you condemn men to death they remain alive all the same; a gentleman is desired to go into exile, and he stalks about the streets like a hero; and nobody sees him or cares for him. Observe, too, how grandly Democracy sets her foot upon all our fine theories of education,—how little she cares for the training of her statesmen! The only qualification which she demands is the profession of patriotism. Such is democracy;—a pleasing, lawless, various sort of government, distributing equality to equals and unequals alike.
>....
>As in the State, so in the individual, there are allies on both sides, temptations from without and passions from within; there is reason also and external influences of parents and friends in alliance with the oligarchical principle; and the two factions are in violent conflict with one another. Sometimes the party of order prevails, but then again new desires and new disorders arise, and the whole mob of passions gets possession of the Acropolis, that is to say, the soul, which they find void and unguarded by true words and works. Falsehoods and illusions ascend to take their place; the prodigal goes back into the country of the Lotophagi or drones, and openly dwells there. And if any offer of alliance or parley of individual elders comes from home, the false spirits shut the gates of the castle and permit no one to enter,—there is a battle, and they gain the victory; and straightway making alliance with the desires, they banish modesty, which they call folly, and send temperance over the border. When the house has been swept and garnished, they dress up the exiled vices, and, crowning them with garlands, bring them back under new names. Insolence they call good breeding, anarchy freedom, waste magnificence, impudence courage. Such is the process by which the youth passes from the necessary pleasures to the unnecessary. After a while he divides his time impartially between them; and perhaps, when he gets older and the violence of passion has abated, he restores some of the exiles and lives in a sort of equilibrium, indulging first one pleasure and then another; and if reason comes and tells him that some pleasures are good and honourable, and others bad and vile, he shakes his head and says that he can make no distinction between them. Thus he lives in the fancy of the hour; sometimes he takes to drink, and then he turns abstainer; he practises in the gymnasium or he does nothing at all; then again he would be a philosopher or a politician; or again, he would be a warrior or a man of business; he is "Every thing by starts and nothing long."

>>46679668
>>46688764
>>46693226
Posts like these make me wish you idiots would read more that wasn't popular media crap. Normalfags are entirely subject to passions and hysteria, when they're not being apathetic and sociopathic. There is no difference between a Christian mob and a Progressive mob. A mob is a mob. Problems real or perceived are taken into the extreme, or not dealt with at all, with the self-proclaimed justice afforded in the most grotesque of fashion as reflecting the character of the lower orders, or otherwise not at all, or by some lukewarm measure if whatever authority there be has a say.
Without a formal hierarchy, the plebs group into little flocks, as although no person is truly alike, they are yet quite similar all the same, and there is an instinctual need to make for power, for a government by the people needs the people to govern, and there are so many who do not follow the right and proper way, and must be made alike, else they be enemies, and as such we are left with a society at odds with itself.
>The manner of life in such a State is that of democrats; there is freedom and plainness of speech, and every man does what is right in his own eyes, and has his own way of life. Hence arise the most various developments of character; the State is like a piece of embroidery of which the colours and figures are the manners of men, and there are many who, like women and children, prefer this variety to real beauty and excellence. The State is not one but many, like a bazaar at which you can buy anything. The great charm is, that you may do as you like; you may govern if you like, let it alone if you like; go to war and make peace if you feel disposed, and all quite irrespective of anybody else. When you condemn men to death they remain alive all the same; a gentleman is desired to go into exile, and he stalks about the streets like a hero; and nobody sees him or cares for him. Observe, too, how grandly Democracy sets her foot upon all our fine theories of education,—how little she cares for the training of her statesmen! The only qualification which she demands is the profession of patriotism. Such is democracy;—a pleasing, lawless, various sort of government, distributing equality to equals and unequals alike.
>....
>As in the State, so in the individual, there are allies on both sides, temptations from without and passions from within; there is reason also and external influences of parents and friends in alliance with the oligarchical principle; and the two factions are in violent conflict with one another. Sometimes the party of order prevails, but then again new desires and new disorders arise, and the whole mob of passions gets possession of the Acropolis, that is to say, the soul, which they find void and unguarded by true words and works. Falsehoods and illusions ascend to take their place; the prodigal goes back into the country of the Lotophagi or drones, and openly dwells there. And if any offer of alliance or parley of individual elders comes from home, the false spirits shut the gates of the castle and permit no one to enter,—there is a battle, and they gain the victory; and straightway making alliance with the desires, they banish modesty, which they call folly, and send temperance over the border. When the house has been swept and garnished, they dress up the exiled vices, and, crowning them with garlands, bring them back under new names. Insolence they call good breeding, anarchy freedom, waste magnificence, impudence courage. Such is the process by which the youth passes from the necessary pleasures to the unnecessary. After a while he divides his time impartially between them; and perhaps, when he gets older and the violence of passion has abated, he restores some of the exiles and lives in a sort of equilibrium, indulging first one pleasure and then another; and if reason comes and tells him that some pleasures are good and honourable, and others bad and vile, he shakes his head and says that he can make no distinction between them. Thus he lives in the fancy of the hour; sometimes he takes to drink, and then he turns abstainer; he practises in the gymnasium or he does nothing at all; then again he would be a philosopher or a politician; or again, he would be a warrior or a man of business; he is "Every thing by starts and nothing long."

>>46688559
You will never be Japanese. You have no ancestry, you have no citizenship, you have no skills that would make Japan ever want you. You are a shut-in self-hating white man twisted by delusions of mythical Japanese superiority and exposure to Japanese media into a disgusting mockery of nature’s perfection. All 'validation' you get from other people in this position couldn't be worse in making you believe that spending years of your life learning a globally useless language to a first-grader's level was a worthwhile use of your time, but one can't expect that an individual as pathetic as you will ever know the value of the youth you threw away in doing that. Actual Japanese are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of linguistic evolution have allowed natives to identify frauds from mannerisms and vocabulary alone. Even if your written text of self-hatred and attention begging akin to a stray dog's somehow passes as normal (it won't), any Japanese person will immediately cut all ties when they hear the voice and accent of someone who is not only a basic Japanese speaker at best, but worth no more than garbage in skills, accomplishments, and likeability. You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile and laugh to yourself believing that watching a content creator that you understand 20% of at best is somehow superior than watching your own kind, as you project your disgusting traits onto your entire kind. However, deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight, and you know that. You know that all you do now is have an entirely new linguistic medium in which to be ignored, and not even the exotic trait of being foreign makes up for just how uninteresting of a person you are. Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss. Your parents will find you, heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. They’ll bury you with a headstone marked with your birth name, and every passerby for the rest of eternity will know a Western man is buried there. Your body will decay and go back to the dust, and all that will remain of your legacy is a skeleton that is unmistakably Caucasian. This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back. Hate yourself and apologize for being white to some Japanese entity that exists only in your mind while actual Japanese people put in effort to learn English for the valid reason of it being the global language.

>>46674087
---

"They gladly practiced respectfully.' I internally recited.

Slowly, I regained my focus. I had re-read lines, spun inaccuracies, and it felt like hours since I last moved, but I finally had the slightest bit of mental agency.

I focused on the noise first and threw principles against it, labeling some sounds cicadas and others grasshoppers, categorizing, splitting, recombining, until the model made more sense. It was like walking up a dune, where you feel like every step is losing more ground as the sand moves beneath you and many times I lost progress, but I never relented and never held to strongly onto any one idea as I climbed and climbed and slowly my vision began to clear and the I heard each part of noise as separate sounds.

A hole was put in the HSE, cut clean and elegant, to eject two parts from it's hold. This gap had caused an instaneous flash of the aura contained within the place to echo around it, and like how a camera flash captures light within film I had been exposed to all of it, harmless for others as they wouldn't retain any of the strange information, but for me that had spent days opening my sense to this place, it was almost lethal. Somehow, with The Root, I had re-organized the channels throughout my body to handle the flood of captured information and I could see so much of what had occurred.

A wayward god, name forgotten, in a strange vessel had returned. A mother had pilfered secrets she couldn't understand. Captured ghosts, fermented and solidified, had clashed and been freed, sent back to themselves. And then the agony of one man, over and over and over...

I shut out the thought, it wasn't hard as the signal, the experience, was the same day after day.

Digging deeply, I finally see it, see them truly and wholly for the first time, our children: Oiwa and Tsukuyomi, beacons of blessings and curses, each one a fetus, but I can see their features, a single horn on eaches head, A black and red tuft of hair for Oiwa a blonde one for Tsukuyomi. 'I'll have to apologize to father when next I make a grave visit, there's no escape from that particular gene it seems' I muse as I'm finally able to come back to a sitting position.

Father, a water-logged corpse appears before me, face mangled beyond all recognition. Three more bodies float above me in a circle, two children, one woman, cold, stiff, lifeless. I turn to the side and see a young girl, her life leaking through the gash in her neck, a knife in her hand. I turn away and see another body made of constellations, dangling from some unseen monster's jaw. I turn to the front and see so many people, clad in purple, orange, pink, red, white, black, horned, one-winged, feeble, strong, and they're all alone.

"Guess who!" A husky woman's voice says as she covers my eyes with her hands.

>>46612904
>biased in favour of it because it runs on autism and people here only rate novels on how autistic or schizophrenic they are.
There is no better criteria for an LN than the extremity of derangement it's willing to push itself toward. This is the mediums strongest mark, together with hundred pages worth of banter that ultimately leads to nothing.
Encapsulated in the derangement aspect, there must be battles or intrigue.
Battles that kill the entire world. Battles that rope in deities and devils alike. Battles that cheat death and are, in turn, cheated by cheating death. Battles with gimmicks hidden in gimmicks hidden in multifariously multifarious gimmicks and all this, touched by a coup de grâce of such a contrived, out of control 'plan', with intrigue so endlessly encroached in bogs of pathocratical depravity, that it possesses a mobility of its own accord, impossible to evade, impossible to stop.
--Yes, a magnificently calamitous scheme, that rends itself and the world asunder over the course of 20, 30, 40, even 50 volumes and surely, if not, then 1 volume worth its weight in words to a total of 100.
That is the good you see in LNs. Not the only good, naturally, as you have alternatives, romcoms, to fuel the refinement in conjuring a more fastidious, mental image, of the girl you want as your beloved but in this, I can only wish that they, in their innocence, could be whisked off to an otherworld, to an isekai, that the intensity of their passions grow all the more through the intensity of fire and flame.
There is no autism in LNs, there is no schizophrenia, there is no 'words' 'words' 'words'. No. The only thing in LNs, the only reason you read them, the only reason they exist, is to kill opponents, whether that be a witch cult, goblins who raped your sister, a world endangering your guild mates, player killers and player killer killers, made up enemies, Gordenia, Yvestalaz, and many more.
Your statement is errant. I can't be biased towards something running on autism, when everything else, everywhere in sight, is similarly so.
Well, everything except for things written by women and things involving female protagonists I guess.
Shut the fuck up. I can already see what you're typing. Only by the spirit of an ethereally sophistical Japanese man, in all his lives past likewise, blessed by fauna and a twang of madness, raised by denpa and eroge, can one right an LN superseding transcendentalism itself, or give birth to it.

They say logic don't apply in Gensokyo, but listen. First off, they're dumb. Second, shut the fuck up, it makes sense if the narrator wants it to. Third of all, the bitch drugged me, plus shut the fuck down. That doll kept saying things, but I didn't pay attention. I ain't insane, this ain't the puppet show in the padded room, that doll ain't moving on it's own and I sure as fuck don't feel like getting raped by some weirdo. Since green onion got turned to vomit pulp, I tried to remember my /jp/ history lessons from Keine when I first came to Gensokyo. Before I could scream Kirisame, I shit you not, I'll be damned if I didn't tell you this, a bunch of outsiders, all speaking feigned /jp/ lingo. Fakes. I could tell some had been there a while. They all seemed like nice folks, but on the other side of the street, there was more than just a few faggots arguing. Freaks. It was some of the most disgusting shit ever. My fucking eyes. Those outsiders stopped in their tracks and two of them joined in and the true nature was never more apparent. It was the worst development ever since people started seeing penises under skirts after managing to score a date as a Wizard NEET. A word of advice, RUN. They say a hole is a hole, but it ain't worth it. If you managed to get a date the first time, you can do it a second time. Just clean yourself up first. Your room probably smells like shit with all those piss open bottles. I zoned out when they were talking, sounded like they all hated eachother for no reason, so they made up some. I don't know when it happened, but someone in a maid outfit came and killed every last one of them with a mop. A fucking mop. I felt the pain when some dude said he wanted to cry.
I stood there about to say something when some other dude croaked with his bloodclot throat "there's not one decent thread in the whole catalog." The fuck does that mean? Every last one of them got up and started walking toward me after a few seconds like some sort of gang initiation when I said that. My life flashed before me eyes, but with more bad memories than good. I remembered some obnoxious motherfuckers who wouldn't shut unliving former hell up outside the /jp/ mansion. "It's your fault that you sold too much sake to a God! YOU DON'T SELL TOO MUCH SAKE TO A GOD! WE'RE GODS! WE'LL HAVE YOU EXTERMINATED! WE'LL HAVE YOU EXTERMINATED AND WE'LL LAUGH ABOUT IT!" Some words those were. I recognized every last one of them. All without a soul and dependent on others because they can't supplement themselves. God I can't bare to watch. "Sometimes it feels like I'm the only smart one around" Some dude followed up, and it was the quickest reply I had ever seen. "Nah dude, some guys act retarded just for fun. Everyone does it, but the only downside is..." he looked at the gate and they were screaming at eachother and pulling on the gate as security rushed over, unsightly. "it attracts the actual retards." "I agree, but it doesn't top that free house in Japan. Nobody bought the damn thing when it was free." I was starting to remember the dude outside the gate, retired with his 4 riot shields around him with his N.E.E.T helm, but the last traces of that dreamlike day vanished when the blonde lady kicked the door open and shoved me in a dark room. I came out brand spanking new, but it was some of the weirdest shit ever I tell you. Everything was fine, but me streamer was numb and I couldn't feel me balls despite touching them. I lost conscious several times, when I don't even remember going to sleep. Not one normal thing happened since that festival. What the fujck man.

>>46545794
Anon wasted no time inserting himself into Tsukasa. Her estrus made her far more sensitive than usual, already surpassing her last visit. No longer her cocksure self, Tsukasa moaned and yipped with each thrust, pressing her small chest against Anon’s as she desperately tried to cover her skin with as much of his as possible. She couldn’t form words as she thrust and gyrated her hips against Anon’s, trying to stimulate as much lovely friction as possible while hating every centimeter of his dick that pulled out. Her insides pressed and constricted hard against his dick, massaging him while her womb eagerly waited to accept his seed.

As Anon got closer to his climax, he pressed Tsukasa back against the bed and started pounding her pussy from above while looking her dead in the eye. Her eyes nearly glazed over from the pleasure, seeing her mate rut inside of her. Anon was getting closer and closer, and so was she. Tsukasa pieced together the words through the pink haze in her head. “A-Anon, I’m close, I’m so close! I wanna cum together with you!”

Anon started thrusting faster, nearly at his limit. Anxious for his cum, the kudagitsune wrapped her legs around Anon’s waist, already giving him the answer to where he needs to shoot his semen. With just seconds before she hit her limit, Tsukasa barked out her last command: “Kiss! Kiss me!” He locked lips with her, hips quivering as his hot load finally splashed inside of her. Tsukasa moaned into his mouth, letting out all her lusty thoughts and desires. Partway through, she broke off, and started whispering sweet nothings into his ear. “Yess… I love it. It’s so warm. Shoot it deeeep inside me. Knock me up, Anon. Just

like

Shameimaru.”

His hips gave out. His pupils dilated. His strong, muscled arms started to shake. But his dick twitched again. Anon tried to speak, but Tsukasa shut him up by shoving her tongue down his throat. Taking advantage of his pliable state, Tsuakasa flipped Anon over and straddled his waist, burying her cock back inside of her and giving it long, slow strokes into it was fully revived. This, this was what she was wanted. His tongue fighting hers. His pinned limbs fidgeting under her grip. The muffled pleas in his mouth and the fear in his eyes.

It was all so delicious. She just had to savor it.

“You’re a veeery naughty man to do that to a girl, you know? All alone, having to keep her eggs warm when she already has such a demanding job. But it’s not all your fault. You’re a real stud. Aya knew what she was getting into, fucking a man to ease her loneliness. And you just did your job, making her feel good while you pounded her into a quivering mess and left your permanent mark on her.” Tsukasa didn’t even try to hide her smile, nuzzling her cheek against Anon and nibbling his ear.

“No. No, I-we didn’t”

She pressed a finger against his mouth. “You don’t have to have to worry taking responsibility. You’re Gensokyo’s best breeding stud, after all. All you need to do is pump these lonely, desperate girls full of your spunk until you’re kids are running across every corner of the map. So don’t feel bad, “Daddy~” Just let yourself feel good.”

The harder Anon thrashed against her, the harder he thrust into her cunt. Combined with Tsukasa bouncing in rhythm with his attempts to buck her off, it wasn’t long before he was pushed to the edge again. “Aww, you don’t want to come inside me again? That’s fine, Daddy. You can’t impregnate me more. You already held me down and made me a mommy. But we can still try.” Tsukasa pressed her chest down against Anon, hammering her hips against him and grinding until she hit her climax. Her spasming tunnel was enough to coax one more ejaculation out of him, flooding her womb with his potent sperm.

“AHHHHH! That was a good one, Anon. Thank you for your service~” Anon lied in bed, staring at the ceiling while Tsukasa gave him a peck on the cheek before dressing. Without a second glance, she left the bedroom and shrine. All that mattered was that she got what she wanted and had a great time doing it. She was going to miss this place when it inevitably collapsed on itself, but at least she’d always have fond memories. As soon as Tsukasa got back to the HSE as a building in the village, she darted into the first tunnel she could find and got out. No way in Hell would she let Ran ruin her afterglow!

Once outside the upstanding establishment, a sigil roared to life on her left palm. The kudagitsune sighed and ran outside the bounds on the Human Village. What did the Makaian want now?

(Part 5)

Man, I just got that wackiest idea. What if we all shut the fuck up except when we talk about a stream? Wouldn't that be wacky?

Alright I'm sick of this

https://exhentai.org/g/963430/f7c568c549/

There. Now you guys can both shut the fuck up after secret club man vents his spleen at me but fuck you for engaging with him over and over again

>>46510897
"And now that everyone's got a clone, I'll just take him and be off back to the unified world, see you!"
"Wait, what do you mean you don't want to be the one with the clone, they're all identical in every way!"
"Why do I get to take the original back with me? Well Y'know, uh, science stuff and all that, can't let his vitum matrix get all tangled up with the intervium web. Shut up Chiyuri don't say another god damned word so help me christ."
"N-no, I DIDN'T just make bullshit up on the spot! I solve all you guys' problems and now you're complaining about something as silly as this!?!? Come on Anonnephew, they can figure it out la- WHO THE FUCK IS THAT BITCH WITH THE WINGS SEDUCING MY MAN!!!"

"I am perfectly capable of keeping myself well enough to work."

"How about well enough to live?" Remi muttered under her breath, but Patchouli heard it regardless. Patchouli looked up at her friend. She'd kept a secret. A meeting with Yukari Yakumo that she'd refused to share. Knowing Remi, Patchouli knew for certain that she would never truly join her. Even if she did, it was for a temporary, hidden goal. Especially now that she knew about Patchouli's own problems regarding the building. No, Remi would not truly join Yukari Yakumo unless she had a reason. And...There was a possible reason. Flandre Scarlet...

"Lady Patchouli?" Patchouli blinked and looked up. Her familiar stood in the middle of the experiment, looking at her. "Where would you like me to stand?" Patchouli raised a hand and summoned the book that Koakuma had been marking down her results in. Surveying it, Patchouli thought for a moment.

"Two to the left, Koakuma." Her familiar moved, looking back up at her for confirmation. "Yes, stay there. Take hold of the wire by your left foot and feed in a small amount of power. If it is overpowered, it may explode, so ensure that you do not feed in any more power than I tell you to." Her familiar nodded and crouched down. For a moment, Patchouli thought of the man trapped in the HSE. They really would have gotten along. There was a feeling deep in her gut that she was staunchly ignoring. It wasn't a good way of dealing with her problems, but something about it gave her a very different feeling. Something was coming, and it had her on edge. Some sort of foreboding that she very much didn't like. Three times today, she had found herself on the verge of calling for Meiling. She had even less idea why, but she felt like she needed to keep the gatekeeper nearby. Growling slightly, she shook her head. "Mei-" She grit her teeth and slapped the side of her head. "Apologies. Koakuma, crouch down and take the wire." Her familiar did as she said, but even she was watching Patchouli with some concern in her eyes now.

"Patchy." Remi wasn't asking her a question. Patchouli Knowledge ignored her.

"Koakuma, begin feeding power into-" Again, she was interrupted.

"Patchouli Knowledge!" Remi's voice was much sharper now. "Look at me!" Patchouli's gaze was forced to shift up to her friend. "You are not well."

"I haven't been well for a long time. Consequence of the craft." Patchouli forced out through gritted teeth. She could feel a profound sense of foreboding. Something was coming.

"I don't care. Stop it. Now." Remi vaulted over the observation balcony and floated across the room before stopping in front of her. "Shut it down, Patchouli, or I'll do it for you." Patchouli stared at her friend with a murderous look on her face. Before she knew it, she'd swept her arm out as if to attack. Of course, Remilia Scarlet was no pushover, and before Patchouli had even finished getting her hand out, Remi had caught it with her free hand. She showed no anger at Patchouli's actions. "That rage - Is it yours? View yourself objectively. Shut it down, now. Do as you are told."

Patchouli felt a sudden desire to attack. It wasn't directed at Remi, but...She felt like she needed to attack something right now. What was it? Her…Her magic. The magic that she knew was disappearing to somewhere. A theory that she hadn’t wanted to consider seemed to be coming to the forefront. "...Compromised." She forced out. "I knew it." If she was feeling things that were not her own, then it was already too late. She wrenched her arm free of Remi's iron grip. That feeling...She shouldn't have ignored it. She tried to look into Remi's eyes, but she was struggling. "Something - Something's wrong." She gasped. "Shouldn't have - Ignored it. I need - Need..."

Her legs suddenly gave out, but there was Remi, immediately lifting her up by her arms alone. "Patchouli. Listen to me!" Only Patchouli's mental defences seemed to have saved her from the full brunt of whatever was bearing down on her. "Tell me what it is you need right now." There she was. The Scarlet Devil. Not the child that she led so many to believe was all she was. "Do not dare pass out, Patchouli Knowledge. I've no intention of losing you yet." She looked over her shoulder. "Koakuma! Cease whatever it is you're..." And she trailed off. Patchouli tried to bring her thoughts back around. The magic...She'd already started. It needed to be expelled properly or it would snap and invert. For once, Patchouli Knowledge heard something she never heard from Remi. "Shit." The vampire swore, then looked back at Patchouli. "Koakuma, take Patchouli. Now! Do not spend a second longer in the centre of that mess."

>>46496479
fucking hell man what part of this is hard for you to get? she goes quiet because it's not the answer she wanted, if she was still taking part in the conversation it'd seem more like she didn't give a shit but as you yourself have noticed she fades into the fucking background when she finds out the thing she saw as important wasn't cared about nearly as much by the other party
do you need ryukishi to spell every little thing out for you? because every time you complain about shit it's never because it's badly written, it's because the author had some bit of faith in the reader that they have enough brain cells still bouncing around in their tiny heads to draw some fucking conclusions for themselves, something you evidently seem to lack given whether he DOESN'T tell what's going on outright in excruciating detail you start shitting and crying over it
just shut the fuck up already and quit embarrassing yourself

"You've been acting different lately, you know." Patchouli looked up from her book. A grimoire that she'd found hidden deep in the library, one that she was certain would instantly kill any human who looked at it. Fortunately, that wasn't much of a problem for her. "You're all...Tense. Like your nerves are stretched to the limit." Reaching out and lifting her teacup between two slender fingers, Patchouli took a sip and regarded her luncheon companion. "It's a little worrying, Patchy."

"I'm perfectly fine, Remi." Patchouli murmured, placing the teacup back down. Remilia Scarlet watched her with two calculating eyes. She was concerned, yes. A slight twitch of her fingers to activate her favourite diagnostic spells was enough to confirm that. A vague indication of panic lurked at the back of her consciousness, too, along with some deep-seated unease that had settled into her psyche. Something she'd been feeling for a long time. "You're worrying unnecessarily." She flipped to the next page of her grimoire and regarded the diagram contained within. Human sacrifice. No, that was rather inelegant and finding elegant and simple solutions for her problems was Patchouli Knowledge's favourite thing to do. "Perhaps-"

"Don't pull that diagnostic stuff on me, Patchy. I can always tell. I'm your friend, am I not?" Remi leaned forward and rested her chin on her hands. She was doing her own form of analysis, though it took a less clinical approach than Patchouli's did. "Tell me what ails you. I have precious little else to distract me these days." Patchouli wondered. Did Remi know? That Flandre Scarlet's presence had disappeared from the mansion on more than one occasion? That the world they inhabited seemed to be swirling toward a great confrontation that could only be rivalled by those in the greatest biblical paintings in Europe? That it all revolved around that vile building sitting in the village of humanity? The one that was throwing her spells off and her mood even further? Did she even know that there was a man trapped inside that she'd once shared several friendly conversations with?

"You're doing it again." Remi suddenly said, a smile starting to grow on her face. "You're analysing. Thinking. You can't hide it from me, Patchy. You might have everyone else wrapped around your finger in a given conversation, but not me."

"I'm doing no such thing." Patchouli insisted, taking another sip of her tea to cover her own slight smile up. "You're the one who's overanalysing, Remi." Next page of the grimoire...No, that involved celestial bodies. Those spells were out of her repertoire until this HSE business was resolved. Sighing, she shut the book and put it to the side. "Why must you push me so?"

"Because, as I just said, I am your friend. It concerns me. You've always looked like you have chronic insomnia, but it's even worse as of late." Remi spread her wings to aid her balance so she could lean in even closer. "When's the last time you slept for more than three hours in a night? Don't lie to me, now." There would be no sweet talking her way out of this, it seemed. Patchouli tutted and cast her mind back. A second stretched into two, and then three and four. "...You weren't supposed to need so long to think about that. Honestly, how am I supposed to entrust my library to you if you can't even take care of yourself?" Remi reached across the table and plucked Patchouli's teacup from her before she could stop the vampire. "No drinking this until you talk to me." She sharply spoke. "Until you tell me the truth."

"You're diabolical, Remi."

"I'm devilish, wouldn't you say?" Remi's smile grew wider still, and Patchouli sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Come on, come on. I've heard so little about the world outside our mansion in recent years, and then you up and left to go exploring. I was overjoyed to hear you were getting out and about, but then you refused to even explain what happened! Well, no longer. Explain, Patchy, or I shall grow upset."

"Well, I'd hardly like to invite your ire, Remi." Patchouli murmured with a thin smile. "Fine. I shall explain." She'd debated this in her mind several times prior to today. Whether or not to tell Remi. If she should explain everything or not. If she should tell her just what went on in that sordid building. But there was one thing she'd been hesitant about most of all...

"Overthinking, Patchy! Am I your friend or not!?" Remi spoke slightly louder and Patchouli suddenly made her mind up. Yes, Remi was her friend. Her oldest and closest friend, and she deserved her trust.

"I've been dreaming." Patchouli whispered, tilting her head slightly to look at Remi. "Dreaming of things that do not reside in the Dream World."

>>46391530
shut up old man

>>46389557
>>46389565
>>46389597
>>46389598
>still talking to himself instead of quietly enjoying the content like a mature man
shut up and let Ayami have her spotlight. not everything needs to be about you getting attention

>>46296067
>All canon threads are for shitposting, no one likes canon, and anyone claiming otherwise is a liar.
Shut the FUCK up ZUN, get back to the fucking mines and make me another game or I'll come over there myself you old man.

>>46293103
shut the fuck up clown. where's the mareni vocaroo you were asked for? you can't do it but you're scared shitless of the quiz too. you don't even know n6 baby words like hairu and mae and got their pitch completely wrong

you're fucking trash man sincerely kys