Bawwwwww Fest

Little Red Riding Hood retold by Palmeros

I cried.

-----

Focus of the day:
New story Touhou Apocalypse Awakening:

Chapter 1 began: read it here.

The story talks about exactly what previous post has discussed on.
I think I will update this quicker than I do with Yamaxanadu.
(Cause I think it is good, and because Ruro.)

Blerg... new story~

I had this small idea for a truly new original story that isn't another Origins style.

Special conditions: This works on Gensokyo is a place that has its own environment, time and even seasons, time passing is an illusion here, progress is an illusion in itself because the seasons change.

Plot:
In a somewhat unmentioned passing of a future, what may seem like 20 years later passed, but in Gensokyo, the equivalent of around 1 year barely passed since the UFO incident.

Humanity has been consumed by a great disease, genetically engineered to consume the sanity of all man and the ability to think, no human has been spared. Its true identity is unknown, nor is it known who was the culprit, but on a survivor which dropped to Gensokyo after what appears to be one year when Gensokyo's population needed to be checked by 'Yukari's Spiriting Away Team'... Yukari realized something grim....

There are no humans she can grab within Japan's distance.

The Spiriting Away Team, like the namesake, is Gensokyo's team of Yukari's extended network of servants living in her gap universe which takes away humans from around Japan during specific times of the year to replenish the population. When the servants reported "there are no people in Japan" Yukari worries, and reports to Reimu.

At first like all known occasions Reimu didn't care... until Yukari mentioned... "Imagine, someday you are gonna have to learn how to speak English..." Her spine shivered... "No way", "Yes, you will..."

What say we go solve this situation?

With Yukari's help, they traveled out, the world however, has already left the reigns to the wind, dark skies and tumbling storms, crushed buildings and empty streets...

What happened to humanity is an enigma, and although Reimu and Yukari is immune to the disease, tagging along Marisa and Nitori and just in case Gensokyo correspondent doctor/medicinal advisor Eirin would have to rely on the timebomb method. Only a small vial of antivenom has been extracted from the survivor which they caught earlier, that small vial can save one of the people tagging along. It wasn't sure if Kappa are immune, or that Lunarians actually should need to fear, but Marisa is 100% human and capable of the disease.

In a ruined Japan, they march, looking for survivors.

Suddenly like a jolt, a foreign presence emerges...

She has a tall black hat, with two eyes attached to each side a small frame of a body, yellow frogs attached to a black and red blouse and a dark orange sleeved inner dress. She rode a giant frog towering and dwarfing all of them ahead...

"Greetings... my name is Kowasu Yarimo, I am the Anti-God of the lands of Japan..."



What has happened... will be unfolded.

Thoughts

My thoughts on this is somewhat bleak, so I will refrain for now, please watch the whole thing:

Educational Pretention Post

A bit late in the story, but what I wanted is a black and white sepia photo so yeah.



They say with age comes wisdom, with wisdom you learn, a lesson is learned when you die, and that lesson is life.


I agree to disagree.


More so because I am a faggot, but mainly because there is everything to disagree about it.

I mean.

Don't you think so?

You see, things change, as human wisdom does indeed evolve and involve with time based constraints. Think about it for a moment, your grandpa probably thought the good old days were the best, when in fact it is really not.


My grandfather was born in 1901, it was before WW1, and it certainly wasn't the good old days, truth is better than fiction in this case. The year was 19xx sometimes, the weather was harsh and electricity was nada, back in a time when they still relied more on candle in a lantern and oil lamps, they used to not have Honda Civics and Kawasaki motorcycles, they had to walk.


My ancestor took a ship or some horse cart I dunno which because at the time there wasn't a digital journal and books were too expensive, so are notes to write on. The rain was heavy, and mud slosh, the days brings nothing but charred skin and smell of fresh animal shit in a farm somewhere in the lower parts of China, which back then was still all Communist about it 100%.


There was no such thing as good old days, not even when they crossed the borders to Thailand, passed Myanmar, and entered Malaysia, on a hot spring day possibly when there is nothing but the humid weather and the disguised liking of port officials that took the last of their gold coins and threw them as 'citizens' to an inferior country in the 1930s or so. Life was harsh, as it was unforgiving, my ancestors did not have money, grandma possibly stayed in a small house, grandpa worked till he was 50 to get his big break and owned his own business as times finally proceed to the 'good old' part. Wisdom sure tells you otherwise, good old is sign for good and you are old.


Daddy was a good boy, born after a family of baby boomers and labourers and youngest to the lot, after some 2 brothers and 8 sisters. They aren't really close, but their memories were when they born in between the war, when the Kempeitai would execute their murderous intent on the disloyal to the rebellious in Malaysia during the Japanese Occupation that they now try to deny from ever happened. There was yet again, no good old days here, it hasn't begun.


Daddy was a boy in the town, a small one then in the island of Butterworth, to him, Penang Island just a boat ride away was a paradise unfound, unreachable. What he held close to him was a picture of grandpa, in a frame with his extended family. My uncles and aunties that he cared and loved for. Life was hard, after the war, homes were burned and towns were decked with freshly burning fires and honor left asunder over a nation that was claimed by the loss of war. Then, sometime later, the British help her back on her feet, and in 1957, a glimpse of the good old days finally appeared.




My father was a young boy by then, and finally he did have a chance at life, one that was so fragile and shakeable had it been a dream, he certainly would jolt awake with a light snap of a finger beside his ears. Even full grown men could cry at the loss of this fragile moment. However, it was 1958, and he was enrolled as a student in a college, after a late year in the high school then, which was good old CLHS. (I am a graduate there, as are my sisters). Life was finally good, and there was hope in his eyes when I look back and see the photographs of him posing beside his brand new Volkswagen Beetle, which was a new fad then, it was the sports car of the generation, to be able to afford one is like saying "Living the good life" as Kanye West is with his 600 bhp Lamborghini Murcielago.



(Picture unrelated, but the image is relevant somehow, our porn filled industry and life guided by everyday news of shameful activities and all that in the news for all to see.)

So it came to me, in 1985, I was born to a family of 4, and I am the only son. It was beautiful, life is finally good for my family, as life is complete, a heir as needed, and a life to look ahead and beautiful to cherish for all their living years.


However, I suppose like what I said earlier, and again, and again...my good old is bound to come later, the good old that my grandfather, my grandmother, my mother, my father, my sisters have struggled to find, we are yet to get there, I am too far away.


When I think about this, I curse the very being that made me, but I too cherish that very being. I cherish my family when I think about how fragile one can simply dissipate just like history passing.


When I remember about this blog post sometime tomorrow, looking back perhaps expecting some deep seated reply, I would shed a tear or two, or maybe I won't. My good old has yet to arrive, and I am doomed to see through the hardship that is life.


In this modern age, I no longer have to rely on shovels to dig up coal, like my grandfather did, or rely on lanterns and run from the Japanese soldiers and their bayonets like my family did carrying my father who was still an infant then. I merely have to enjoy what was already reaped, but it is a close reminder, that the good old was won over by sheer effort, sheer will, sheer survival instinct that we have lost, in this generation barely a century in distance.


As I struggle through this day and age of paperwork, grey area justice, as with mommy and daddy struggling to stay together after 30+ years of marriage, I think about the good old days. I know, in my heart, that the good old days exist, in my memory, they always will be.


I walk on, to find my own good old days.


I hope you do too.

LOL no more NSFW stories

Well, with new policy changes at Shrinemaiden being made, that meant no more NSFW stories.

I am eager to publish it still, so I guess TFA would have to do or I will do so at my other forum.

Look forward to the stories guys.

Latest story is....

Pellet poop.

Yeah, it is MINORIKO'S SCAT PARTY!

READ IT ALL IN HERE

Lean on me, when you need a friend.

Help me. click on this.

The reason is simple, it actually helps me a lot if I win the stupid contest.




After this...

Now, I begin by telling you a tale of friendship.

Recently, a man who has two daughters walked on the streets. This man, he has no friends, nor does he need one, he has come far, alone.

He was married 7 years ago, 1 year later, his wife divorced him and he was left with a burden of a job that is going little anywhere. In the eventual outturn, he was left with the two daughters, they are twins.

This man doesn't need help, so he says.

He has been alone, he doesn't need someone who is not going to stay by his side. He walked with his daughters to the bar, where he works. His daughters have no proper education, it is expensive to put them through school, so home ed it is. Strangely, this man is also a home ed once.

Today, he met his least favorite customer, a hobo who always doesn't quite pay the correct amount, his name was Daniel.

"Good evening Daniel, how's your day?" The man asked, his daughters smiling from behind the wooden bartable.

"Gid, goody jo. I'll earlier found dem' jems, fallen out the truck like dhey were dumped rite there. Wanna see?" He hushed over, showing a small bag which contained inside...diamonds!

Authentic ones, no shit ones, it is diamond 100%

The man showed him, and by God, the bartender (our man) was shook.

Slamming the sides of his table, he demanded to know where did he get those.

"I found some overturned garbage near me place, dhey city councils don't giv fuck dhere' no more, ya can dig all yer want and I dug mine out. Go get sum, shiny stones me keep an' near." The man said, putting a dollar on the table for his usual whisky shot.

Our man was not amused, he is excited, he should go now, he knows where this hobo lives, and he should dig his own treasures. 'The hobo is so dumb he doesn't even know what diamonds can sell for!'

{the next day}

Quick as he can, he took the girls to the bar, it was not yet opened.

"Girls, stay here, papa will be back in a few hours, there are snacks inside the fridge and the TV is on, you can get some proper food and pizza from last night, I heated it up already so do whatever you like, but don't leave the bar okay? Papa has got something to do. I love you." Papa did indeed have much to do, kissing their foreheads, he locked them inside and went to where the hobo lives.

"Yo, Daniel" He shouted when arrived.

At a corner, just as he was looking by, Daniel laid down and looked like he suffered a heavy wound to his shoulder, seemingly slashed.

"DANIEL?!"

"O...bartender! My usual please..." Daniel joked, he was in a lot of pain.

"What happened? Who did this to you?"

"Sum men from the gangsters...dhey smelled me trail diggers, took the shiny stones...cut me up sideways. I'm glad I have more, I...."

"Ok, I get it...please...are they gone?"

"Yeh, I said I never found none, but they didn't believe me anyway."

"Are there more? I could use your help finding them."

"Sure, down there, the tires there...that is where I found dem." Daniel choked a reply.

Without caring much, bartender decide to go treasure digging.

Indeed he found his bag of diamonds, another few more. Happily he proceeded upwards and away from the hobo, carrying the diamonds.

"Hold...bartender...aren't ya gonna go fer help...me is bleedin' like a soaked towel 'ere" The hobo asked, concerned.

"Sorry, Daniel, if I ask for help, they will get eagle eyed over these shiny stones."

"Them man are gonna get too if you don't put them back where you took dem." Daniel protested.

"Don't worry...I'll be long gone out of Wimbledon before they know." Bartender said. left he did, for Daniel to die.


____________
(later)

The weather is cold, and he rushed back to the bar.

Approaching, he could hear gunshots.

"Oh no...Trella...Sonia!" He rushed in, only to see masked men raiding the storage.

Two child corpses hung by the bar table, and the men looked up to see bartender, with the bag in his hands.

"hand that over, bub." The masked man said.

"What have you done? YOU KILLED MY DAUGHTERS!" Bartender rushed at them, getting shot at in the legs instead as he collapsed, spilling the contents of the dirty bag of diamonds.

"Should'da have listened, dis' is property of Boss man." The man said, and proceeded to tie him up.

"Ugh...please...don't kill me...I...am...sorry. How did you know...I work here?" Bartender trembled, could not move a muscle.

"We don't, we saw someone dug our shit up, then same bugger visited your bar, we followed him, consider yourself unlucky we decide to come over for a drink today and oh...the rocks too. where are the rest of it?"

That is when a familiar sound came about.

A knock on the door, and a hobo came out from the shadows.

"Ey, don't shot you guns...I'm just here to return ya goods." The hobo said, blood still wet on his coat.

"Daniel!"

"Ah, so you guys in cahoots..."

"Yes, we are...kind sir, let us go, you already had dem' kids lives bloodied your hand, enough bloodlust satisfied fer der day, God bless ya not to do more. I have your stones righta here...spare us."

"You are gonna save the hide of your bartender?"

"Oh yeah, I haven't paid him yet for the drinks. He can't die yet." Daniel smiled.

"AHAHHAHAHAHA...this guy is priceless, guys..." snatching the stones from his hands, the masked man continued to laugh as his lackeys joined in, and left the place.

"Yer hides a'saven bartender...I am sorry for your kids tho." Daniel came forward, still bleeding and looking dazed.

"Why...after I didn't save you?" Bartender asked.

"You have my tab opened for so many years...I just thought I should settle the tabs before I am gone' I think you make der best pours of Kenny's anyway" He referred to his favorite stout.

"No...Daniel, no..."

"Move on, bartender, there will be another hobo from the down a'comin for your pours...just make sure to keep dem' doors open." With that, Daniel whispered his last breath, the cold and the cut have doomed him.

"Please...no...." Bartender cried, and held his friend, whom he doesn't even know his last name in his arms.


_______________________

Time passed, and another snowy day from that year came about.

A hobo hopped into the hopeless little bar, still with the nostalgic rot of wood scent that is incomparable to modern bars with their techno music and blasting noise... this one plays a simple one.

"Lean of Me - Michael Bolton" Bartender said, looking at the Hobo idling at the jukebox left in the eighties.

"Good song dis'" he paused "any reason for playing it?"

"Yeah, one year ago, I found a friend here, and leaned on him when I needed it, he just never leaned on back..."

"I see, sorry fer yer lost." The hobo understood well, he must have seen his fair share of the unkind world.

"What' ya been havin?" The hobo asked, the menu he meant of course.

"Kenny's, my friend loved it, and its on the house."

"Oh...really? Thanks man."

"You can lean on me." Bartender replied, smiling.

+++++++++++


Touching story no?

Religion does not equal blind worship.

Recently, I have come across a rather interesting Pakistani film that was shown to me in a small little Pakistani mamak stall late at night. I become curious as my eyes caught the very scene of a woman asking a man "Why do you not help the innocent?" The man himself, is an old scholar of the Islamic Ways, a perfectionist if you will of his religion, a writer of truth and understanding through religion and inspirer of his brothers and sisters under God.

This man, a Maulana if I recall, is very old and wise. In his response to the woman, he says: "A boy as he should not practice music and art, for it is not Islamic is it not? Why do you not understand that in our Islamic society, we must search for understanding that certain things are meant to be avoided?"

This, a flashback to the earlier parts of the film followed:

A man entered a courtroom, realizing several hundred eyes looking at him in fierce contempt, urging him to do something he normally wouldn't do. He is about to declare his divorce from his woman, said woman is the woman who talked with the Maulana later in this film defending this man who divorced her.

The man did nothing instead, standing before the judgment panel, he made no oath, nor swear his divorce, instead, he asked, if he may be pardoned without such conditions, to practice music and arts as his career?

Indeed, lo and behold the men in the court who stood against him, pointing fingers.

"Traitor!" "Devil's child!" "Impure!" "Dirty Swine!" "Coward of the West!" "Infidel!"

The words were hard and anger, it hit his heart like the hammer of God itself, dooming him to stand before his audience.

Come then, return to the woman talking with the Maulana.

"You quote the words of God as though they are your life, life itself is of more meaning."

"Little lady, I have spend much time in prayers for God, I have searched long and wide and spend all my life looking for those answers that come from him for us, I assure you, that it was due and just judgment that your husband now is forced to stand trial for his idiocy."

"However, the heart to practice music and art is not wrong."

"Interpreted nowhere indeed in the Quran that it is wrong to practice music and arts, but then, God has his ways for this man, for before the great Islamic Court, all is just and defined." He replied.

"It is easy for you, convenient even to sit here and praise Him, when there is a man waiting to be saved from his wrongdoing. This man, my husband, is now facing charges for a victimless, wrongless crime! He is to be stoned for the act of practicing music, to sing in English on the streets of Pakistan!" The woman asked desperately, before taking a breath and says, "Why won't you help him? You say you are a man of God, yet how can you turn a blind eye towards an innocent man?"

"I have my prayers to do for this evening, I would appreciate if this conversation ends here."

"So do I, wise one, and today, I will make it clear to God himself, that this man, sitting before me here has all the time in the world to praise Him, yet he doesn't have the time to save that one man whom only have him as his last hope." The woman replied.

She left, dejected even, slamming the door behind her.

_______________

The next day, on the junction of judgment, the court orders for the appearance of a special guide, a Maulana, a scholar of Islam to come before the witness stand as a guide.

"Tell me, Wise one, what do you see in this man, is he sinful for his acts, and that our judgment set for him is correct and just?" The prosecutor asked.

"No, he is not."

"Why so?"

"God loves us all, there is no way He would condemn a simple man to death simply by practicing his love for the musical arts."

"Is it not in Islam that such things are forbidden?" The prosecutor continued.

"An interpretation of God's word. A wrong one simply as such. I will now quote two of my books' parts, one of which includes the very thing he is charged first handedly, his attire that is deemed not Islamic, and his music deemed unholy before the One."

He took a breath and continued.

"Look at us, all dressed alike, in the image of a wise man, a stupid scholar as I to dare dream coming close to Nabi Muhammed, the Messiah himself, I am poor in judgment. I gave my prayers each day without fail for the past 80 years of my life, since the day I known how to read, and completed the Quran by the age of 15. I am consulted, reverred even by men and women, whom seeked my words as guidance, yet I failed to guide myself away from selfishness."

"I take a quote from one of my books which I written but have forgotten to give any deliberation to, a book of words merely in guise of the teachings of God's ways, yet I failed in my duty. One such part (quoting from a psalm), is music. Tell me, my student as you are, how many of the true miracle workers are there whom are sent by God?" He asked the prosecutor, whom is also a student of the arts of Islam.

"There are 4 known miracles workers, wise teacher."

"Correct, what of their miracles then? Muhammed was the Quran of which he crafted, Jesus from which he sacrificed but came back to life, Moses who parted the sea in two, and of last, David, what did he have?"

"He slew the Goliath."

"Music, not violence. How can we be so wrong as to interprent the arts of music being wrong, when it was God himself whom guided David to play the music so beautiful, that even as he sung, the mountains and animals before him wished to gather and join him in united harmony? How can something so beautiful by UnGodly? I ask you, that he sang his prayers so beautifully to praise Him?"

He turned to the man being prosecuted.

"You are one of my students before, of the words I taught you, what had I mentioned on attire?"

"That it must be Islamic."

"What is Islamic then? Tell me, O wise men of this court gathers abundantly, do I look in Islamic attire?"

The men unitedly said yes, to his long robe in green and a sash that hangs by his neck as well as a black woven cap for prayers.

"A God so great, so kind, so beautiful as to create this universe which we harvest and live off from, we quote him as giving us His image. Yet we single out His image as we did. We strive to come a UNIFORM! HOW ART PATHETIC WE ARE!"

"Why so, O wise one?"

"We sought to deny God, the moment we thought of Islam and God, the moment we look at how wide this universe He created, of the creation of life such a miracle cannot be denied. Yet, look at us, dressed all the same, in an attire no more than threads upon which He gave, to warm us in the cold, to dress us in modesty. We, whom are mere students under Him for eternity and beyond, before His great eyes, and wisdom as wide and endless as the stars above the skies...we sought to dress Him! We sought out to put a UNIFORM for God, what have we done wrong?"

"This is the Islamic Way."

"But is it God's way? You see, we have lived so long we forgot, we forget the very teachings, for all of us are equal in his eyes, we sought to believe in material things designed to reach for God."

He then turned to the room.

"Before we are Muslims, we are man, under Him. Before we are dressed alike, we are only man, I have seen men who drank wine, smoke and even embark a journey of lust and pleasures. He calls himself a man of God, he dressed like us. Before we can all be Muslims, ask yourself, what is the difference in we and him if we are only dressed alike?"

"In the end, we are only copying the look, but not the value."

"That which God created, music and art, that which we created, the uniform that we wear. How pathetic are we to even think we are doing things His way."

He stepped down from the court panel, and proceeded out the court without hesitation.

The court adjourned.

++++++++++


Well, that was lenghty, but one thing remains however, is that the ending was somewhat sad. The court pardoned the man, but the man was beaten to death almost in the end of the story.

Given how, the important note here, is that the Maulana, the wise man said something as simple.

"If we all call ourselves Muslims, Christians, Buddhists, etc. Do we really practice what is preached? Or do we just follow what they told us?"

Blind faith does not a religion makes.

Wow! A man that surpasses the great Fritzl?! UNPOSSIBLE!

I realize the same post is posted in Sankaku Complex, but no worries, what I am about to post here is a commentary extended from there.

"A man who was found to have confined his daughter from the age of nine onwards, keeping her in sexual servitude and violating her routinely for some 25 years has been arrested.

Not content with this incestuous reign, he had then groomed his son as his successor, having him create a harem of his own four daughters, aged 6-20, as well as take advantage of his sister.

The man, Michele Mongelli (64), a scrap metal merchant, first imprisoned his daughter when she was only 9, keeping her locked up in a gloomy room with no electricity for 25 years.

She was not allowed out except in her father’s company, and was denied a proper education.

He apparently only had full sexual intercourse with the girl when she turned 16, after which he slept with her regular.

At one point in 1994 she got loose, but when she reported him he claimed that she was deranged. Psychologists investigating concurred, and so she found her way back into his clutches.

He also cultivated his son Giuseppe into becoming head of his own incest clan, having him use his four daughters, aged ranging from 6 to 20, in a similar manner, and even had him have sex with his sister.

Police launched an investigation using covert surveillance which soon captured evidence of the treatment one of his eight-year-old daughters at his hands: “Dad, get your hands off me. You are a bastard, stop it.”"

Shouldn't you be surprised? I mean I would, this is totally wrong. As much as I like to watch Kiss x Sis and the sort of incest related material, such things are just barbaric. In the recent year, we have received a lot of these, it was as if society just suddenly began to dug up all these skeletons in the society closet. It is just almost seemingly unreal.

Together it comes to mind to ask, is fatherhood even clean anymore? How can we, as the male species continue to hold our head in pride with the oncoming waves of beasts like these? What happened to love between man and wife? Has society degraded to such a point that we are looking at this to be the future of the function in having a family?

Are we devolving? Is God a part of this?
Yes, again, let us look at one of my earlier arguments:

It is a perception that more evil occurs in the world than good. Good things do happen, but just unnoticed. It is easy to notice things that one would call wrong or evil, because it affects your emotions stronger than good things. The feeling of hurt and pain is stronger than the feelings of good and pleasure

The perception here, is that we are always almost certainly in pain, exactly what is it now that we looking at? Is morally so, that God allows such insidious act out of free will, as it is also fate as some may argue that slaves will be slaves, and there are beasts amongst men because there needed be? What is the plan then? I believe, the question always lies to look on the bright side of things. However, brightness dims, and so does darkness spreads.

Actually to consider it, this motivational poster is a way of saying, IMO at least, the poverty of mankind, and mankind's morals that are hitting below the poverty belt as we become ever more involved in the social rat race. I don't believe in taking a slow-down to smell the flowers, but then again, are we rushing into hell. How do we see the things around us other than turn a blind eye towards it? The bad, the good, the choices that lead to good and bad, the chances that affect us. Should mankind dare to take a look, the poverty of our morality, I believe we should change somehow.

"So I just sit and wait, singing then, until the world would change"


Lest...of all...


LOL

SON...I AM DISSAPOINT

TITLE BLOG MOOD: OH YES KOGASA KOGASA KOGASA SUCK MY DICK

"SON, I AM DISSAPOINT"

Yukari: "NO KOGASA, YOU ARE NOT A PART OF THE PARASOL CLUB WE CANNOT ALLOW...EXCEPT UNDER SPECIAL FAVORS."

That was what she heard, and she feared in her head...how can this be? I am a new character right? aren't new characters supposed to be welcomed to the club and not prosecuted?

Yuka: "Well, we can consider letting you join...but there is a catch."

Kogasa knew she shouldn't have asked, the Parasol Initiation is one of vulgar means, and even worse so, is the fact that you need to sacrifice your precious thing. Kogasa is a virgin for the most case...she likes horror movies, and every once in a while she comes across those things that adults do in those movies...she always watches them. Trembling in her heart even, she lifted her skirt as Yukari patted her head. Here in this underground chamber...there is nothing left to save her from the grasp of the 3 existing members... all Mistresses...but she is not one, soon however..maybe, she will be. She just has to grab this chance and lose something...a little sacrifice for the big prize.


Yukari: "Good girl...lift it higher...oh ho ho...you are Paipan! That is so cute!

Yuka: "Tell me...is this your first time?"

Kogasa could only give a soft nod, face beet red from acknowledging.

Remilia: "See, that is why I love virgins..."

Yuka and Yukari: "Us too..."


Kogasa trembled even further as she felt the tickling of her buttocks, before Yukari's hands reached inside her panties and stroked her crotch. It became wet and she could feel every single sensation. She raised her own dress and uncovered her member, raising to the appropriate level, she entered Kogasa forcibly without lubrication...not that she needed any extra, but it hurt so bad Kogasa opened her mouth to form a small yelp. However, before the yelp could finish, she felt Yuka's stick placed on her lips, as Yuka herself played with it by stroking it, each movement hardened her member a bit more with Kogasa looking fearfully into Yuka's eyes.


Yuka: "Lick it...and put this in your mouth...don't you dare bite it or I will kill you and the club membership is off. No second chances!" Yuka threatened, her red eyes showing she is serious.


Kogasa opened her lips, tasting the salty and slippery object attached to Yuka's crotch on her tongue. The thing slowly slipped into her mouth, the softness began to slide in and out of her mouth as she lose her ability to talk. The smell horrid and stinky, musky and thick with pre-cum layering her lips and mouth inside, but she could only do it... It is all for the greater good.


Tonight, Kogasa died a little inside, this wasn't the Gensokyo she wanted to be in...all she wanted, was to scare people...why had it come to this?


She cried.


(end?)

__________


That went well
My alter ego Touhou ⑨ at Forumwarz won its own INCIT affair lol.

I play as a 25 year old American soldier whom returned from the war at Afghanistan with my dick gone from an explosion and a surgery went wrong replaced by a castrated-victims-use-only tube that is used to pee. (hence picture of a messed up faggot with no dick and a face full of war paint) My alter ego Touhou ⑨ has enough dementia to scare children away and write 3 books over thicker than Ludlum's Bourne Identity.

Touhou ⑨ is a extremely messed up individual who is also a gay man, growing some 6 foot tall, he is slender, near pale white, an addiction of drugs and war games, reading war books, and eager to write a biography. He suffers from not having a penis at a tender age of 25, and heavily distorted reality view of the world through his not so eager eyes.

Touhou ⑨ is a fetish in himself, wearing stiletto army boots which he designed himself and prefer short pants that expose his entire leg which is little or very much hairless. (like pic). Take drugs like mad to subdue the nightmare known as covered by "curtain fire" and has once and again, kissed a man or sucked off a fellow soldier voluntarily while in the service. Has never been paid to suck cock, but is considering charging to settle bartop bills for drinks and booze. He is also a demented guy who thinks black hair is for sissies, and that the only way to dress is to dye one's hair blond. Hence the wig...(unfortunately his hair is all burned out due the war in Afghanistan, in which he accidentally coated Saline over his head but lived to tell the tale)


________


I am sorry...
but this is...

not very pleasant
This is not how you do it.

YOU DO NOT DESTROY THE DREAM BASTARD
THERE IS NO ONE THAT HUGE DOING IMPROPER KIGURUMI
GO LOSE YOUR FUCKING WEIGHT.

Prejudice is Good Judgment.

WHAT YOU DON'T LIKE, TELL OTHERS NOT TO LIKE IT.

because it makes you cool, you feel like you can convince a few thousand brainless subhumans.

WHAT YOU THINK IS COOL, FOLLOW EVERYONE WHO DOES IT AND DO IT TOO



So true isn't it?

I wish they knew they are not the least bit funny, much rather being idiots. You wanna show you are good at something, doing something in an image of protest etc? Do something useful. NOT BARE YOURSELVES.



A Special Note of Thanks.


Natural Ways: A story about Rumia and Mystia of Touhou and their eating habits


As per before with Nitori and THE CHAIR, this story aims with disgust and guro, the idea being that if you were to open your eyes in Gensokyo, a place filled with demons, spirits, faeries, gods, monsters and youkai, you as a human would really be on the edges of your toes in fright and pissing down under your pants in fear.


ZUN agreed, Youkai eats humans, there is nothing more simple than that, and this story sets out to imprint that image into words I write. Yet again, I have my readers to thank for, for whatever the reason they continue to read my work, whether it is my imagination or it is them who simply dare to stomach the weird and strange and gory, I thank them, from the bottom of my heart.


For which without your support, Cassie, Demonlord Pichu, Pako, Anathe, Kimikomuffin, Pedonymous, Xan (even though you largely went OMGWTF), Wrathie, Magha-Re, Drake, Gpop, Jan-san, SonicZeroX, Nintendonut888, Sol, etc the many others who read my stuff; I would not have made it far without your love, or hate.

Sincerely, from which I say, Thank you.

Update! Desu!





Just thought I should say it, there is nothing as awesome as Funkies's new blog!


http://funkiesmuzak.blogspot.com/


Watch it, cause new music coming your way!

Ahhhnnn~~~! I love you Funkies! You complete my music life!



In Other news:


Alice tries to convince Marisa to have sex with her and fails

Alice : Marisa, I come to play...

Marisa: OH NO, YOU COME TO RAPE ME AND YOU KNOW IT!

Alice: HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?! I AM...UGHHHAHAHAAA!! *blood spill*

Marisa: See? That is what happens to people who are dishonest!

Alice: What I....? UGHGHH!! *more blood*

Marisa: Alice, you all right? I think you need to see a doctor...

Alice: I am fine, this happens... often... UGHHH!! WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?!

Marisa: Who are you talking to Alice? You are beginning to scare me...

I AM JUST UGGHHHHH!!! (dies)

Marisa: Damn, I wonder how many books was that worth cleaning up her corpse.


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