LOL. Ye Aulde Desuchan /temp/. :)

>>64
KING DO WITH ROZEN MAIDEN

>>67

Sorry King, you're gonna have to wait your turn.

Delicious.
>>19
Plastic Eraser? I came buckets.

More please :D

This was amazing. Please, writefag, continue.

You know what would be FUCKING EPIC? Moar. Moar Gunslinger Maiden would be FUCKING EPIC.

The setting sun gently stroked the room, filling it with an orange glow. The room was a simple one; on one side stood a bunk bed, the top bunk covered with green sheets, the bottom blue. Along the opposite wall stood a dresser, adorned with stuffed animals of all sorts, standing in the shade. In the center was a simple circular table, upon which were the instruments for serving tea.

“Do you really just drink your tea with so little milk and sugar?” Souseiseki asked as she watched Shinku sip from her teacup.

“Yes,” Shinku stated as she set the cup and saucer down. “My sense of taste is rather weak, so in order for me to taste the appreciative value of the milk and sugar, I must pour in quite a lot. It’s such a tiresome thing to do when it takes only a few sips to drain a cup of tea.”

“Besides, I like the taste of tea by itself.” Shinku mused as she took the tea pot and gently refilled the cup.

“Hey, I heard you killed a lot of people today desu~.” Suiseiseki called from her place atop the bunk bed, absently reading a magazine.

“A lot is an understatement kashira~!” Kanaria exclaimed as she recounted her own view. “I couldn’t really see at first, because the blinds were in the way, but when they were blown away, I could see a bunch of bodies kashira~!”

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Excellent stuff.
Desu is a bit...violent, isn't she?
Oh, and I lol'd especially hard at the thought of Desu asking Gin how to dislocate someone's arm. :D
Bad move.
As always, you deliver pure awesomeness.

>“I will go to Suigintou and invite her to come.”

OH SHI---

Spent shell casings fell upon the floor, their clatter breaking the silence that came between the violent releases.

“One, two, three…” Suigintou counted as she pulled the trigger, “Four, five…”

The firing range was empty, save for her. There was no indicator of time, the fluorescent lamps above casting long shadows that never changed. A pile of spent casings lay at her feet, testimony to hours spent firing, never ceasing, never resting. Behind her were several spent boxes of ammunition, a single unopened canister left.

Downrange was a paper dummy, its body blown through with holes. Despite hours of practice however, the centers of the head and chest remained relatively unscathed.

She emptied her magazine upon the paper makeup, watching as the gun’s upper casing spring back, empty. Still, the head was clean, but the very center of the body had one hole.

Suigintou slammed her hand against a red button on the desk before her, furiously seething all the while. As it came forward its place was taken by another, undamaged dummy.

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>>56
This story fucking rules.

>Just to let folks know, the "Tea Time" Thread at Desuchan has the latest updates.

This definitely does not.

srsly.

The air was stifling, threatening to crush her lungs with its icy grip. She could feel no heat within her body, yet with every exhalation came that fine mist that proved she still lived. Her gasps were rapid, uncontrolled, maddening. Tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving a trail that bit into her flesh, yet were mere pinpricks to the pain that assailed her.

The warm ichor dripped from her hands, the last evidence that a man once lived. Each drop silently hit the floor as a spent casing, a shell that had lost its purpose. She dressed in that crimson spray, the fine mist still pervading her space with its copper taste.

The world no longer existed; there was nothing but herself and the man. This man she could no longer remember yet could recall, could feel upon the tips of her fingertips, the light glance of the voice, the half recalled smell, an unforgettable face.

Within the reflection of her monochromatic eyes of red and green knelt an older man, upon his face the lines of harsh living and troubled decisions. Deep within those gorges upon his face ran streams of blood that flooded downwards, soaking his own coat.

In the reflection of those eyes he was smiling. An honest smile of the purest kind, a smile that could be only given by a man who was truly happy, truly glad.

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Last edited 08/11/23(Sun)12:40.

“So what are we going to do, brother?” She asked, looking up to me with needy eyes.

“I have other duties to attend to, sister.” I informed her, unsure of what to do. “I cannot have you with me all day, so I shall leave you in the care of a Blessed Teacher.”

“A promise is a promise, brother.” She informed me in a low, perturbed whisper as I escorted her.

“This was a promise made without my consent.” I sighed, reluctant to continue.

“Are you sure this is the right one, Zerachiel?” She asked that doll that constantly clung to her. “For he is not at all what I thought he would be.”

“Fine, I relent.” I mutter in annoyance. “I will abandon my daily duties to spend today with you.”

“It’s a good thing you gave in.” She commented in an eerie manner, like how a master would praise his slave. “Otherwise…”

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“This is delicious!” She gleefully announced as her fork moved in for more.

We found ourselves at a cake shop in the upper part of the city, brought here by one of the many carriages the church kept on hand. It was a rather popular restaurant that I had passed by several times, but never bothered to visit. I was provided proper fair at any church, so there was no need to patronize such a place.

Taking a forkful from my own slice I admit my own contentment. “I am glad you like it.”

I peered around us, finding a few stares here and there amongst the throng here for lunch. After all, it is rather rare for a Paladin to visit any sort of pastry store, or any store in general when not on Church business; even more so for him to be enjoying cake with a child. Despite these stares, and the probable questions that arouse from these stares, I didn’t mind. This was official church business after all, even if it was just pleasing a child. So I told myself.

“So, how old are you Claudia?” I ask, a bit turned off by the taste of such tart sweetness. I guess the taste of Spartan food will never tire to me.

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His eyes momentarily glanced towards me, and in place of hate was fear. True, honest born fear.

He fled from us without a word. Claudia was quickly upon him, and I following suit. I am unsure whether to call this fortunate or not. By mere chance we found a child, but simultaneously I was unfit for battle; I lacked my full set of armor, wearing only my breast plate and pauldrons as a symbol of my status, and I knew not of Claudia’s own abilities. No one knew of our location should we be overtaken; this could be a trap, but still we had to give chase to our quarry.

This was something that had to be done, as was our duty.

Our chase led us down an alley, the height of the buildings shielding us from the guiding light and leaving us in shadow. There we cornered him at a brick wall that had blocked off his escape. He turned to us snarling, desperation and hesitation within the depths of is eyes. He was nothing more than a child, alone and afraid.

Claudia moved to attack him, but I restrained her with a wave of my hand to obstruct her path. I wanted to avoid conflict as much as possible. These children needn’t suffer. Not if they can be taken quietly.

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I nodded, but did not do so. Her hands gently caressed a blue mist out of the body, a substance lighter than air and more chaste than any angel. Callously condensing the fine mist into a glowing orb with her bare hands, she drew the orb into her heart. I immediately felt the urge to retch, but I held it within. It was disgusting, but something necessary. So I told myself.

“Delicious.” I heard her mutter in that silent alley.

I watched atrociously as she continued looting the corpse, manipulating it in most gruesome ways. She began removing the bones from the body forcefully, not at all concerned with subtlety or neatness. Fresh blood splattered all along the ground and alleyway walls as she worked diligently, first beginning with the limbs, lovingly removing every single bone. She then moved onto his rib cage, ripping the entire thing free with a single heave. She then went about removing the pelvis and spine, the sound of flesh being stripped from bone making a horrible noise. She finally ended with his skull, skinning it and scooping the brains out.

Throughout this I watched as the body of a boy was turned into a lump of flesh and a pile of fresh bones. As disgusted, as outraged, as perturbed as I was, I could not look away. No, all I could do was watch in titillation. I felt disgusted. At her. At myself. At the boy. I felt numb.

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“How much do you love your brother?” Her smile sneered from the darkness, the crimson upon her face reflecting in the pale moonlight.

I willed my body to move, but I was only met with pain. I looked down to my body; despite the clockwork armor I wore blood was streaming from the segmentations. My legs felt like deadened lead, my arms screaming out in pain whenever I attempted to hardened my hands into a grip.

Despite this pain my own attention was not to I, but to those around me. My eyes were immediately drawn to Claudia’s broken form.

“I love my brother.” A frail voice echoed in the light that echoed across the path.

Her clothes were bloodied, ripped and torn to shreds by the blood that had escaped from her body. Despite that she was trying with all her might to raise herself, her pained gasps trying to draw in air. I could see all over her lithe body flowing wounds, mortal wounds that would kill anyone else.

“Claudia, stop it!” I try to reason with her, trying to keep her from killing herself.

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This foe assaulted us without our knowledge. Such a surprise attack can only lead to victory for our foe’s side. There’s no way we could win. The best we could do is have Claudia escape while I held our foe.

She confronted the smiling foe, and with will she morphed the bones that she held. “My love for him is greater than God himself.”

With that declaration the bones in her hands took their final shape; the spine in her right hand transformed into a segmented blade, its edges saw like and form wicked; the ribcage in her left hand compressed in form into the shape of a shield, fit for her size.

”My love for brother Vincent surpasses life and death itself.” She cried, her body encasing itself in bony armor.

“Thank you Sister Maria for lending me your bones.” She muttered, praying. “I am the bone of my sword. Sister Maria is the bone of my shield.”

“Oh, so your love for him is so great?” That smirking figure commented, almost laughing in a maniacal manner. “Then you’ll find that my love for my family is stronger than yours.”

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Heavy forms, laden with rain. The clouded the sky, eclipsing the sun with their darkness so that no light could pass. The pinprick of water, the light drizzle of rain tapping upon the wooden frame as it rocked gently along the road.

I sighed as I looked out upon the dreary forests, covered as they were with the decaying foliage of autumn.

An armored man upon horseback passes by, ever so lightly inching his way past the coach so as to cover a more advantageous view.

Upon the window’s reflection I can see myself: a pallid, wretched girl. A girl of honey brown hair and blue eyes that could do nothing but cry as he father wasted away before her. An ugly girl that everyone called pretty, a stupid girl praised for such high learning, a wretched girl known as elegant. A girl dressed in black and red, the clothing of mourning.

“Alice.” A voice calls. “Don’ look so down.”

I turn to look at those sitting opposite from me. A portly middle aged woman dressed in the way of a nurse, a woman who was responsible for my upbringing and my development.

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"Inquisitor Cabal, we're here." A murky voice announced, bringing me back.

My eyes snapped open, revealing my transparent reflection in the glass. A raven haired woman stared at me, floating amongst the countless people outside. Her cold eye judgmentally stared at me, search for defect, for failure.

“Broken. Dirty goods. Failure. Disgusting. Kill yourself.” The figure that was my reflection spoke.

"Inquisitor?" That same voice asked, the murkiness gone.

Silence. Thoughts. Past. Go away.

I turned to the other door to find it timidly open, a young man whose eyes gleaming with fearful unease standing before me, waiting for my arrival.

"Let us begin." I answer back.

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At the head was a small frame, standing before the corpses of the two men that had been standing guard. In the darkness it was difficult to see little more than its outline, the shape of a small girl. Trailing at her hand was a crude doll. Unlike her, I could see it perfectly: A crude rag doll in the imitation of a young girl, its ugly stone eyes staring at me, neck caught within the knot of a noose.

Stop him. Stop him. Don’t let him take it.

“Give me the bag.” Her tiny voice demanded amongst us.

Before I could reply, the coroner beside me responded mindlessly, despondently. “Give the mistress the bag…”

He snatched the satchel away from me, sprinting towards the girl to hand it to him.

“Stop him!” I ordered, but there was no reply.

I looked to those beside me, they too entranced like the traitor before me.

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“You killed Franklin!” She spat back, only to cough up blood, her body shaking involuntarily. “It’s cold…”

Kill her. Be done with it. Stop wasting time.

She was right, it was cold. I glanced up momentarily to the sky as I finished reloading the first revolver, beginning to work on the one in my right hand. Small flakes of snow were descending from the clouded sky.

“Snow? At this time of year? Strange.” I mused to no one in particular. “We don’t need to do this. I can shelter you, feed you, warm you. There’s no need for you to die. We can help one another.”

Trails of tears began to dot her cheeks as the first flakes fell upon her prostrate form, curling up upon her bag and foci. “No, you’re lying. Franklin was always right, adults always lie…”

“Well then, you won’t mind if I ask you a few questions? Good children never lie after all.” I reply, snapping the cylinder of my revolver shut. “Why are you so desperate to get that bag?”

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I watched her enter the room, her gorgeous, body-length brunette hair shimmering in the light. She slammed the door shut with her delicate fingers, and she stormed across the room in a manner that made clear she was upset.

"I can't stand it, desu~! Why must they always pick on me, just because I'm new, desu~? They're all bakas, desu~!"

As she said this, she clenched her fists and scrunched up her beautiful porcelain face. I felt something move inside my heart. Or was it my pants? In any case, I got up from my desk and moved towards her.

"What are you doing, chibi human? I don't need any comfort from a chibi like you, desu~!"

She spoke harshly, but as I moved closer, I could see her soft cheeks were blushing bright red. I touched her cheek lightly. She squeaked, brushing my hand aside and moving back. I smiled and moved towards her again.

"Suiseiseki" I said softly, caressing her face. Her cheeks were as bright as her right eye. Her eyes were gazing into mine.

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Now this is a story all about how
My house got flipped-turned upside down
And I'd like to take a minute, just sit back, men,
I'll tell you how I became the Prince of the dolls of Rozen.

In West Akihabara, born and raised,
In my bedroom was where I spent most of my days,
Surfing the Internet, fappin' all cool,
And having "traumatic events" to stay home from school,
When a little red doll with a pout on her face
Started giving orders like she owned the place.
She got in one little fight and put a rose ring on me;
She said "You're gonna be my servant now, so bring me some tea."

A few more dolls came and one should've been shot.

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'Twas the night before Desumas, and all through 4chan,
Not a /b/tard was stirring, not even The Man,
The stickies were hung by the first page with care,
In hopes that Suiseiseki soon would be there.

The /b/tards were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of boatlights danced in their heads.
And m00t in his boxers, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long Tuesday fap.

When on my computer there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the computer I ran fast as I can,
Tore open the browser, and loaded 4chan.

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Last edited 08/07/31(Thu)23:51.

'Twas the night before Wednesdesu, when all through the forum
Not a /b/tard was stirring, not even looking at porn;
The stickies were hung by the first page with care,
In hopes that Suiseiseki soon would be there;
The /b/tards were nestled all snug in their threads,
While visions of boatlights danced in their heads;
And m00t in his boxers, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long Tuesday fap,
When out in the forum there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the computer I ran like I'd boast,
Tore open the browser and checked out the post.
When, what to my wondering eyes should seem,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny memes,
With a cute little driver, so lively and ready,

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i cant cum until i hear that golden weaved tongue noise...desu MMMmMMm oh yes

Oh god yes, this story is awesome.

Delicious copypasta. :)

I fucking pissed myself laughing, great copypasta noko.

also, pigdick.

you think desus bad?
think of how furfags feel

>>70 & >>72

Same thing lol...

a little old to be born in 1980

it sucked

[20:38] <Aphex> The massive bird landed with a tremendous thud, sending melba toast well into the

stratosphere. Oddly enough, the only thought crossing James's mind was that the entirety of

Ethiopia would now be fine with the advent of melba-toast falling worldwide from space. The bird

leaned in close, staring James dead in the eye. James felt his heart freeze and leap into his

chest, and since his bladder was already empty, he relieved himself in another fashion.

[20:39] <Aphex> The bird's breath blew hot across him, and in a voice you would only hear from an

old English radio sitcom, the bird spoke. "So, you call for a good time, and don't even have the

common decency to leave me a message?" James swallowed hard, trying to force his heart back down

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What in God's name is this stuff?

>>61
A horrible creative exercise called "Storeetiem" on IRC.

Bloody horror.

>>35
Ooookay, so since desuchan just got hit with a big fat reset, perhaps we can pick this idea up again in this thread? Hinaichigo is Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz... discuss.

Oh I remember this thread. It was brilliant.
We were still kind of arguing about the cast though...I think.

>>35
On a barely related note, where can I find other such Gelphie fanart?

>>55

>We were still kind of arguing about the cast though...I think.

It seems that I didn't pay enough attention to that thread while Ye Aulde Desuchan was still alive.
Was anyone from the cast agreed upon? Except Hina, of course. :D

24'00".
Walk.
Again, I was gasping for air as I walked.
Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.
The jog/walk felt like forever.
I questioned myself, why am I doing this?
Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.
To keep myself fit?
Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.
To slim down to impress the ladies?
Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth.
Or to feel good?
I regained regular breathing.
23'30".
That was fast.

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Last edited 08/06/09(Mon)14:08.

12'00".
Walk.
A traffic light looms up ahead.
Turn?
Cross the road?
I decided on the latter.
The red man is present, but using my traffic experience I waited for any car to pass by before crossing the road.
Turn right.
I am back at familiar territory.
The route I usually use in past runs.
11'00".
I walked past a bus-stop.
A senior citizens' workout zone appeared on my left.
Fuck it, I'm no senior citizen.
10'30".

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I like this. Contemplation, regret and missed opportunities, all contained in an orderly "stream-of-consciousness" package.
Reminds me of my thoughts every morning while I trudge to work...
Oh, and keeping yourself fit while you await your entry into National Service is an excellent idea.
I wish I did the same while I was awating my call.
Moar?

>>42
This is actually the first time I use this technique of story-writing (inspired by Kinoko Nasu's style of storytelling), and despite thoughts that I botched my story somewhere in my third post, your comments made the story look like a masterpiece to me.

And yes, there will be moar real soon.

Last edited 08/06/11(Wed)15:55.