/jp/ - Otaku Culture

Once, not too long ago, in a sleepy, forgotten island in a distant sea, there was a village. This village worshipped strange idols, disembodied heads of non-eulcidian geometry from which one could sometimes hear fearful sounds, cries both human and not, of distress, agony and rapture, and from which a mysterous eldritch power could be felt. A wind constantly flew from these idols, as if the air itself feared their presence and tried futilely to escape, a wind of madness that carried with it the minds of all men and women foolish enough to live near them in an unending frenzy of terror and madness. All of them, that is, except for a single old man, who spent his life sitting at the base of the idols, and laughed. At others, he laughed, as if their very existance was nothing but a joke. At all things, he laughed, as if there was nothing in this world but a gigantic farce. At himself, he laughed, as if his own existance was the punchline. Certainly he himself was mad, a madness so deep it developped into a deranged sanity none could understand.

There one day came a young man, full of knowledge and confidence, who came across the madman, and the madman's laughter grew stronger than it ever had. Nettled, the young man spoke.

"And what, pray tell, amuses you so? What do you see that I do not, that I know not? What could someone like you have to teach me?"

The old man's cachinnation only grew stronger. As the young man was about to dismiss him as a madman, he finally spoke, calming his guffaws.

"What could an old man like me have to teach you, indeed? A man such as you could not possibly learn anything from me, yet I will and I must try, for you will not understand."

"Then speak, elder, and I will keep an open mind."

And the old man laughed.

Let's all take it easy

I can help because I am in the same situation.
Someone please help.

>>9916414
I knew somebody would say that. Please good sir, read the fine text

My personal hypothesis on the idea has always been that Patchouli is a registered Librarian of Time and Space. Giant magic library filled with every book that has ever existed and is constantly updated with new books as they come out? Yeah, sounds like a serious knowledge-time-space hole to me.

It might also explain her construction of Sakuya's watch, but whatever.

The general explanation I've heard is that Patchouli, although she's a fraction of Remilia's age, is still far better educated and tutors or advises Remilia on matters of the mind.

>>The Gensokyo That Floats in Outer Space

Tell me, how easy have you taken it today?

>>宇宙に浮かぶ幻想郷

Is your body ready?

>>8545548
The tag is 指輪物語

I'm disappointed that the ディスクワールド tag has only two posts.

Hey /jp/, i've been sick for 5 days and only taking paracetamol twice per day, how close i'm from gensokyo?

I love all touhou

And the old man laughed.

"Oh, no... It's Reimus all the way!!"

And the wind blew. And the young man laughed. And the old man laughed.

And in the village, a young boy tore away at his laughing mother's womb with his bare hands, all the while chanting in a demented scream:
"'ri! 'ri! Yu'kuri shee'teh y't'enneh!"

"But then," the young man's voice asked, independantly of his trapped, terrified and dying soul, "what holds The Reimu?"

And the old man laughed.

"Oh, no... It's Reimus all the way!!"

And the wind blew. And the young man laughed. And the old man laughed.

And in the village, a young boy tore away at his laughing mother's womb with his bare hands, all the while chanting in a demented scream:
"'ri! 'ri! Yu'kuri shee'teh y't'enneh!"

Reality is collapsing...

This is true Gensokyo.

>>6785397
This is as accurate as a map of gensokyo will ever be

Not really a wallpaper, but still Yukkuri.

In the beginning there was only Suwa, a territory encompassing some 400 square kilometres and centred on the village of Natsuzawa. This was the heartland of the state that would later be known as Gensokyo. Situated in the midst of the dreary range that stretches from the Nagano to northern Yamanashi, the Suwa countryside has rarely attracted visitors. It possesses no distinctive landmarks. The rivers that cross it are sluggish meandering streams that lack the grandeur of the Rhine or the Danube. Monotonous forests of birch and fir covered much of its surface. The topographer Nicolaus Leuthinger, author of an early description of Suwa, wrote in 1598 of a 'flat land, wooded and for the most part swamp'. 'Sand', flatness, 'bogs' and 'uncultivated areas' were recurring topoi in all the early accounts, even the most panegyric.

The soil around much of Suwa was of poor quality. In some areas, especially around Natsuzawa, the ground was so sandy and light that trees would not grow on it. In this respect little had changed by the mid nineteenth century, when an English traveller approaching Natsuzawa from the south at the height of summer described 'vast regions of bare and burning sand; villages, few and far between, and woods of stunted firs, the ground under which is hoar with a thick carpeting of reindeer moss'.

Metternich famously remarked that Italy was a 'geographical expression'. The same could not be said of Suwa. It was landlocked and without defensive natural borders of any kind. It was a purely political entity, assembled from the lands seized from pagan Yamato during antiquity and settled by immigrants from France, the Netherlands, northern China and England, as well as the Japanese lands.

Oh yes. For once I don't have to go on some irritating family trip. My easy is maximum.

Once, not too long ago, in a sleepy, forgotten island in a distant sea, there was a village. This village worshipped strange idols, disembodied heads of non-eulcidian geometry from which one could sometimes hear fearful sounds, cries both human and not, of distress, agony and rapture, and from which a mysterous eldritch power could be felt. A wind constantly flew from these idols, as if the air itself feared their presence and tried futilely to escape, a wind of madness that carried with it the minds of all men and women foolish enough to live near them in an unending frenzy of terror and madness. All of them, that is, except for a single old man, who spent his life sitting at the base of the idols, and laughed. At others, he laughed, as if their very existance was nothing but a joke. At all things, he laughed, as if there was nothing in this world but a gigantic farce. At himself, he laughed, as if his own existance was the punchline. Certainly he himself was mad, a madness so deep it developped into a deranged sanity none could understand.

There one day came a young man, full of knowledge and confidence, who came across the madman, and the madman's laughter grew stronger than it ever had. Nettled, the young man spoke.

"And what, pray tell, amuses you so? What do you see that I do not, that I know not? What could someone like you have to teach me?"

The old man's cachinnation only grew stronger. As the young man was about to dismiss him as a madman, he finally spoke, calming his guffaws.

"What could an old man like me have to teach you, indeed? A man such as you could not possibly learn anything from me, yet I will and I must try, for you will not understand."

"Then speak, elder, and I will keep an open mind."

And the old man laughed.

About waking up in a land where it is obligatory to take it easy.

>>5317788
Sample size is boring too.