Well done, well done, and merci. I enjoyed it--actually, there are some thing about this that make me wonder if they were points of fanservice aimed specifically my way. Funny, if so. I think you "got" Kokoro well and approached her character in a nifty way, and I also quite like how Taichi's character arc as it were has gone so far. Setting details were a nice touch too. With how this ended, I wonder whether you'll do anything more with Kokoro again.

So, did you like writing it? I know that when you were starting up the process it was like pulling teeth.

>>41287
>Funny, if so.
This was supposed to be a (somewhat) personalised prize; a gentle touch of pandering was apposite!
>I think you "got" Kokoro well and approached her character in a nifty way
Writing "youkai-like youkai" is definitely a kick, definitely in a body part... even if Kokoro never struck me as a particularly youkai-like youkai, by the series' purview. Nevertheless, I think it lent the piece that extra inch of novelty to elevate it above "just" a porn short. I think.
>how Taichi's character arc as it were has gone so far
As mother, as son with the sacred prostitution, eh? Just the clientele's shifted...
>So, did you like writing it? I know that when you were starting up the process it was like pulling teeth.
The start was an oof, for causes we discussed. No template for Kokoro in my head = mental roadblocks upon the slightest essay at constructing a scene/sequence of events. No sequence of events = no idea what the character ought to act like to facilitate it. Vicious circle. Well, but I went and did my homework, (re)READ THE FUCKING PRINT WORKS, read up on Japan's strange historical crossover of performative arts with prostitution, and something did emerge.

Thereon out, it was pretty fun. More vanilla-esque than most filthy smut I've done in recent memory, which helped things along, too. Truth be told, I had no idea Taichi had a crush on Kokoro until he, well, did. Always a funny feeling.

It was interesting as well to experience how my fiddling with illustrations fed back into the writing process. Which it did, to a surprising degree. There is potential there, perhaps.
>I wonder whether you'll do anything more with Kokoro again.
Not the pumpkin bun? Not even? Really. REALLY!

>>41288
Pumpkin bun if you want, I'm just remarking on the promise at the end here!

For me, I specifically just wanted to give you something challenging. I'm happy you wound up enjoying it.

It's always the Koishitfags...

>>41275

Least insane Touhou fan.

Here's a tip: when you make a thread, especially in /at/, give it a title. An untitled thread in /at/ looks like a certain type of unsavoury spam this board has gotten multiple times, which led me to entirely avoid this thread, until I noticed on the main page that it was still up after several days and had gotten new replies.

The season changed, and with it a festive atmosphere fell onto the village once again. The usually tranquil streets flooded with busybodies buzzing to and fro, their attention captured by the amusing games and mouthwatering smells that came their way. Powerful voices peddled their wares and attractions from their garishly decorated stands, amidst the hubbub of a colourful crowd that wore their best kimono for such a momentous occasion. This was not the first time Jin had lent his youthful strength and skills as a handyman—that is, he had hauled the heaviest pieces of lumber all over the town for days—to the elders in charge of the arrangement of these festivals, yet the quiet feeling of accomplishment he felt at the sight of his neighbours enjoying the fruits of his hard labour still hadn’t diminish in the slightest. The excitement was almost palpable in the air, so much that it felt like static over the young man’s skin, raising the hairs on his tanned, well-defined arms.

Nowhere was this more evident than at the stage erected at the central plaza, where the Prismriver Sisters had just finished their latest concert. From Merlin’s energetic horns to Lunasa’s heart-wrenching chords and Lyrica’s skillful keys; the trio’s melodies had captivated their audience for hours. Yet it had been the most recent addition to their merry band who had fascinated Jin the most. Raiko Horikawa’s percussion was, objectively speaking, not as prominent as the performance of the other members, but even someone as (self-admittedly) uninformed about musical theory as Jin could tell that it was the steady beat of her drums what turned the Prismrivers’ otherwise cacophonous sounds into the catchy tunes everyone enjoyed. The raw energy behind every pound of her batons shook the whole town, and rung deep through Jin’s ears until he could feel it inside his own chest.

The villager, however, had a suspicion that it wasn’t just Raiko’s musical skills what set his heart aflutter. The drum tsukumogami’s chosen human form was, in the words Jin had heard his boss whisper to his friend at work, an exotic stunner of a beauty. Several furtiv

The dark draped itself heavily over everything in the room, shadow on shadow obscuring the limits between objects, people, and nothingness itself. The moon had been full that evening—resplendent by any reckoning—but wind and cloud had acted as smoke, turning its luminosity into a slight pallor in the dense blacks of the night sky. Further filtered by the paper at the nearby window, the dregs of moonlight only served to add texture to the thick silk that enveloped them.

She sat up on the futon and rested part of her weight on her elbow and shoulder, keeping her face turned towards where she knew the window was. Otherwise lost in her own thoughts, she was nonetheless vaguely away of a tingle that would come and go, that would brush against and ripple across her naked flesh. It was a liminal sensation appropriate to the lack of form around her. She felt as though she had come close to death without realizing it, though that was clearly an absurd notion for her. Her heartbeat was as muted as her breathing but they were clearly there—clearly hers.

Still she felt as if she were just discovering herself; the movement of her palm and fingers in the dark felt unreal; the tingle came and went and remained unexplained. How could she figure out much in the dark? Any answers she might find could only prove themselves true in the light, if she endured. Endure what? Drunk on the dark, she felt too cowed to make a noise and affirm that she was still in her right mind.

After all, she had sought out the dark. She had left her home when the clouds began to gather, taking trails through the bamboo forest that were only known to fairies, youkai and herself. Since she knew those furtive trails as well as the back of her hand, there was no chance of her getting lost. She made good time, arriving at the outskirts of the village before too long. Lamplight came from a few homes but the streets were dark and mostly empty, allowing her to take a more direct path to her destination. In her audacity, she had even come to knock upon the front door!

Had she not heard a quote from a book long that women possess great mystery within themselves? That they were be

The immortal lay down, keeping her eyes up on the dark ceiling. Thin clouds must have come across the moon, she reasoned, as the light dimmed but not to the previously oppressive degree. She closed her eyes although that was something of a performative act. Sleep would not find her easily. She was aware of the presence beside her, of the warmth that radiated from the other human. She was hyper-conscious of that reality; her ability to forget that fact had been stripped away from her a few months after Keine had come to see her.

She had run into him on her way back from seeing Keine one afternoon. They exchanged a brief, austere, greeting. Nothing else happened. A few times after, the same thing happened. Once, when she had taken Kaguya to see a village festival from the margins, she spotted him in the distance. She was sure that he had seen her as well.

Over time, she became conscious that they spotted one another with more frequency. Neither was making an attempt to change their route, to force their meeting. Of that much she was sure. So why…? Perhaps it had been Keine who set things in motion: she had moved on so swiftly and so without lingering regrets that the other people in her life got caught up in her wake. Always with a simple nod, with a measured look in those clear eyes, he greeted her.

That scar, that teardrop … she thought of it whenever she spent more than a week without seeing one another. It seemed to be proof of a compact between them. Had that moment of near death deprived her of part of her life, the ability to forget? Her immortality did not seem quite so flawless anymore.

Sleep felt near enough to interrupt her recollections for the time being. A surge of activity in the mind and, later, the body postponed the inevitable a little longer. She thought of the first time that they met alone. No one had set up a meeting, they simply arrived at the same spot near the outskirts of the village at the same time. Neither had any real business there. They had just been drawn to the spot, drawn to one another. He had begun to speak but then chose to say nothing, casting instead a long glance at her that seemed to see her clearer than she saw herself.

https://twitter.com/DiisukeHan/status/1594705312027934722

He might actually be working on it.

>>41235
Gotta postpone it until Touhou 19 releases

>>41256
broooo what? that's actually huge.
only time will tell if he can keep up the motivation to work on it tho

>>41171
Shut up, the man had a question.
>>41170
Which game?

>>41136
yeah its slow but alive, most recent translation is yuugi, kaguya, yumemi, nue, suwako and seija i think. that's for eratw. dunno about k but i see the git still being updated

This thread is a time capsule. Cool that it's still up and the eragames are still being worked on to this day.

https://wiki.eragames.rip/index.php/Main_Page

[x] In the end, he made her wait.

Put some courtliness into it. Is it so much to ask?

[x] He gave into his—but mostly her—urges.
Don't spurn a fellow awoo; this is for the sake of peace among wolves.

[x] In the end, he made her wait.

awoo

He had the gods of the sea, no doubt, to thank for this.

At the foot of the Youkai Mountain, where wise men daren’t go, there was a big lake. It was called the Misty Lake with infallible accuracy, for an impermeable fog swirled milkily ever and always over the waters. Currently, however, it was locked in a dishonourable duel for its name with the summer sun, which, having singed the clouds off the sky previously, now turned its glare on the terrestrial lookalike. From afar, the Lake appeared as though steaming.

On its shade-less shore, in a tiny bay, somebody who hadn’t known better had built upon a time a no bigger pier. It was short, rickety, so close the water’s surface the flimsiest breeze could cause your boots to slosh for the rest of the afternoon and, on the whole, given a wide berth by fishers of sensible persuasion. The man occupying it today, simmered by the summer rays, knew, however, a secret.

You could take off your boots and leave them on the bank.

But for this stroke of genius he would’ve been mighty discomfited to sit where and how he was: on the pier’s far end, trouser-less legs over the edge, lazily milling the water. His name was Mondo, and he was a fisher. Or he could’ve been a fisher, perhaps of even some success, had his life turned differently and the land of his birth contained reservoirs with less self-possessed inhabitants.

A specimen of which was, at this very moment, half-clambered over the pier and Mondo’s naked lap. Her name, in turn, was Wakasagihime and, quite despite it, she was in obvious evidence a mermaid. This was tenable by the lower half of her body idly finning the murk: scaly and iridescent, in the heights of piscine fashion, from aforementioned fins up to where an amazing, toned behind could, Mondo was rather positive about this, otherwise have been found.

Of her upper half, he had a poorer view – due mostly to Wakasagihime’s flowing, seaweed-green kimono cloaking its back, while her lush frontage was squished, less than abashedly, against his own. Her pale, princess-slim arms hugged his tanned waist with surprising – or perhaps not – strength.

Wakasagihime murmured something loosely i

(Image cropped from https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1929642)
(I'm not sure how well this one fits the theme, but I wanted to contribute something and this was the best I had.)

The sunset never failed to stir Futo’s brash heart. The brilliant oranges and deep reds felt much like the heat and passion of fire. There was comfort there, in the warden that sheltered her, in warmth and ash, from the terrible image of Buddhist icons.

Sadly, she’d brought no oil nor torches on her trip out of the human village. No tools to conjure that glowing guardian again. It was perhaps just as well, for the the evening had done nothing to calm the sweltering heat of the day. But still it left her a bit on edge, given that she followed a Buddhist stooge into the wilds. Admittedly, one with lovely shoulders and an alluring butt to which her blue and white dress clung. Even the gold-and-brown tabard-the kesa-did little to hide any of it. The angry pink cloud accompanying that Buddhist, she could do without.

In absence of her incendiary tools, Futo’s eyes kept wandering to the sunset, as if she could conjure its flame for comfort. Or usher the day to a sooner close, so that she could bathe in something other than her own sweat. The stooge-Ichirin, she ought to call her-had personally invited her for a drink. Alone. Why? Why with her? They had fought alongside one another, certainly. In fact, the nature of their alliance had made it all… oddly intimate. She had allowed Ichirin to possess her, and taken control of Ichirin in turn. But they had fought against one another far more often, even after that whole ‘perfect possession’ incident!

“Thanks for your company, Unzan. I’ll see you back at the temple.”

Futo blinked. She looked up. Ichirin waved the angry cloud away. The cloud rumbled in response but, after trading some whispers she couldn’t quite process, the he billowed out and drifted off. Ichirin glanced only briefly to Futo, but didn’t even bother explaining, before she turned and resumed her march. Now, Futo’s mind rac

I think Kaiou/Fukutsuu Okosu may be either dead or just gone from art. His website is gone and his twitter and pixiv have been inactive since the start of 2020. What a shame.

This story, like all your others, gets the fap seal of approval from me. Many buckets were filled.

Captcha: HeRMiT5

You have a very unique style, and a talent for writing exceptionally engaging smut.

Mokou's story with that school aide milked buckets of cum from me, and this one has been no different. Thank you very much, count me among your group of avid readers.

Blessed captcha thread: WiLyOkUU54

I love reading how Sekibanki slowly succumbed to her perverted desire. And the Chimata cameo was really cute. I hope she appears in your stories more often.