[Fanfic, multiple series] A Little Sack of Drabbles, 1-50

Foreword: These drabbles are also up, and probably better formatted, on Ao3 here. This is more or less just an archive. I'll dump drabbles in batches of 50 where possible/sensible. I'll also try to put some basic tags (series, characters) in the titles of the individual drabbles so they're easier to sort through.

Fire: Change and motion. (Touhou, Patchouli, Koakuma)

The last snows are melting; Spring has not been waylaid this year. The mansion is buzzing with fairy maids, armed with dusters and enthusiasm for the great spring clean.

“Koakuma,” she calls. “I can’t stand this dust. Come, bring those books. We’ll read in the garden today.”

It’s unexpected. But she’s feeling strong as of late. The last year was a busy one; the adventure has done her good. Even an unmoving witch must change.

The sunlight is still weak, and cold: a fine excuse for tea and cake. She shivers, but only slightly, and the afternoon passes in peace.

Water: Silence and purification. (Touhou, Patchouli, Koakuma)

“Stay still. Don’t speak.”

The path of knowledge is infinite. It is a truth known to monks on their mountains, and witches with their cauldrons.

Mountains, unlike cauldrons, do not explode.

It is beneath a witch to wash her familiar. But while knowledge is infinite, forgiveness is not. She has grown fond of her little librarian.

“Are you not going to join me?”

“I know better than to bathe with a succubus.”

“Darn. Can’t blame a devil for trying.”

Koakuma giggles, and slides into the water. Cauldrons are all well and good, but nothing is better than a hot bath.

Wood: Life and awakening. (Touhou, Patchouli, Alice, Shanghai Doll)

“Good morning, Shanghai.”

Patchouli greets the doll as if it were alive, and directs Alice to a chair. A cup of tea is cooling on the table for her.

She doesn’t greet every Shanghai doll. Only the original. There is something more about that doll, something her stronger sisters lack.

Surely, that doll will wake up soon. She wonders if Alice knows. Maybe not. As witches go, she is almost a child – playing with childish toys.

Patchouli sips her tea, and keeps her silence. The joy of discovery is sacred. It would be rude of her to ruin the surprise.

Metal: Wealth and abundance. (Touhou, Patchouli, Meiling, Remilia)

There are few things more pathetic than a vampire with a chipped tooth.

Meiling presented them with little red envelopes for the New Year – a scattering of coins from the lowly gate keeper. None of them had any use for money, but it was the thought that counted.

“I thought it was chocolate!” Remilia complains, nursing her tooth. “It’s fashionable to give out chocolate coins this time of year!”

“Yes, yes,” Patchouli says, stroking her friend’s hair. “Look on the bright side.”

“Mm?”

“At least the coins were bronze. If you paid her more, she might have given you silver.”

Earth: Foundation and immobility. (Touhou, Patchouli, Marisa)

She’s set in her ways, because they work. A spell she can’t control is worthless; she chooses what is tried, tested, and true.

It’s why she cannot fathom Marisa – a wild witch who scrambles clumsily through every adventure, improvising furiously and grinning all the while. To her, the present is everything; she rushes headlong into the horizon, because the night sky will not wait.

Of course, her sticky fingers are a problem. But she’s convenient nonetheless. Even an old, hidebound witch like Patchouli has to experiment from time to time.

And she could hardly ask for a better lab mouse.

Sun: Activity and offence. (Touhou, Patchouli, Sakuya, Koakuma, Remilia)

In her bones, she is tired. Her library, a place of silence, is full of chatter; one witch can talk for an hour, but three can talk for a day. The witches’ council is in session.

Sakuya brings them tea and cake; Koakuma scurries back and forth, delivering whatever tomes they request. Even Remilia visits – mostly, she claims, to keep Marisa where she can see her.

When it is over, the stillness feels empty, disquieting. She sleeps early that night.

For once, her slumber is a deep one, and though her throat is sore, she does not wake up coughing.

Moon: Passivity and defence. (Touhou, Patchouli, Koakuma)

A weight atop her body. Hands around her wrists.

“You’re getting careless, Mistress Patchouli.”

The little devil’s hair hangs like a bolt of crimson silk as she sits astride her master. Tonight her lips are ruby red.

“Yes, yes,” the witch says dismissively.

Koakuma leans in. Her scent is sweet and heady, her smile an invitation. “What would you do,” she asks, “if I kissed you right now?”

“Find out.”

The librarian blinks; her resolve falters. “You’re too good at this,” she complains.

Patchouli smiles. It’s dangerous to play games with a devil.

But only if you’re scared to lose.

Acoustic (Touhou, Reimu, Marisa)

Under the moon on the shrine’s veranda, she feigns sleep in the cool summer air. The sound of laughter and the clatter of mahjong tiles echoes; the party will continue for hours yet.

Wood creaks. Footsteps approach, soft and deliberate. She keeps her eyes closed. Somebody sets down a beer mug. The sound of shifting cloth. Long silence.

Marisa’s fingers stroke her hair.

If Reimu opens her eyes, she’ll pretend she’s drunk. Marisa can be tender, or she can be honest. Never both.

The party goes on; the moon is high. And they tell wordless white lies upon the veranda.

Echo (Touhou, Kyouko Kasodani)

There aren’t many yamabiko left in the world.

When she calls, the mountain answers. A trick to make her feel less alone. She shouts her welcomes loudest, with a smile: come, she says. Speak. Show me a voice that isn’t mine.

She surrounds herself with voices, with mantra, with sound. She repeats, and does not yet understand: the world of dharma of is filled with light. She, too, wishes to be full.

But echoes can only exist in empty spaces; she has been hopeless from the start.

She calls, and hears her answer, from the empty spaces in her heart.

Scratching (Touhou, Komachi, Eikishiki)

“Sit down, Komachi.”

The only sound is the nib of Eiki’s pen making its way across the page. She doesn’t look up. Occasionally there is a rustle when she reaches the end of a page and begins another.

The problem with a woman who sees many sins is that she knows many punishments. There is a rhythm to her writing: calming. Soporific. Like the sound of water. Komachi knows that if she falls asleep, her real punishment will double; this is just the preamble.

The only sound is the scratching of the pen – and, eventually, a slow and gentle snoring.

Thunder (Touhou, Kyouko Kasodani, Ichirin, Unzan)

Her tail droops; her head bows.

“Please don’t report this to Byakuren-sama!”

Ichirin folds her arms across her chest. “Lady Byakuren will hear of it herself, I’m sure… I’m only here because Unzan wanted to come.”

The air crackles with impatience. The show must begin.

“...Okay! Cheer for me, Ichirin!” she says, and is gone.

“Is this really okay, though…?”

Unzan isn’t listening. Thunder sounds as Raiko strikes the drums; as the concert begins, he raises one great fist, index and pinky extended to the sky.

Choujuu Gigaku doesn’t know it yet. But they’ve found, by far, their biggest fan.

Pichuun (Touhou, Marisa, Reimu)

She lost again.

She lost again, and gave her friend the bottle of rice wine she’d been saving, and staggered home to lick her wounds.

She lost again, and had to laugh about it, because she didn’t see it coming until it hit her.

She lost again, and she told herself that danmaku comes from the heart, and if she just understand Reimu’s patterns, she can figure out what’s in her head.

She lost again, and she doesn’t mind it, because every loss is a little victory, and every collision brings them closer than they were before.

She lost again.

Subwoofer (OJ, QP, Syura)

“Syura, you wanna hit the karaoke box after school?”

It wasn’t that QP couldn’t sing. She could definitely sing. You couldn’t stop her singing, no matter how much you wanted to.

She knew the lyrics. She even knew some of the notes. She wasn’t bad in music class, and had a rare passion for the trombone.

She just, well… she was a dog, and her hearing was not like other people’s. She sang in octaves that the human ear could only hear on a technicality.

Syura hesitates; QP’s tail wags. She knows what she’s getting into.

She does it anyway.

Rattle (OJ, Suguri, Hime)

The bones of the Earth are creaking, Suguri says. She is strangely indulgent about earthquakes, as if they were her favourite grandchild; they remind her that the planet beneath them is a living thing.

Hime is less enthused. She found it enchanting at first, but her favourite mugs broke in the tremors. She has enough trouble finding usable crockery in this house as it is.

Still, it seems a shame to miss an opportunity for mischief. She catches Suguri in a kiss, and asks: “Did the Earth move for you?”

Suguri says nothing. But the answer, as always, is ‘yes’.

Quiet (OJ, Suguri, Hime)

Hime doesn’t believe in ghosts, but there are nights she thinks she could. For her, the early hours are too quiet by far; she misses the humming engines, the electrical ambiance of a spacefaring ship. She wonders how Suguri coped with it before she and Sora came – the silent house, the empty bed.

“Suguri,” she whispers, “are you asleep?”

It takes a moment, but her partner rolls over and opens a bleary eye. “Mh?”

“Sorry. I just… wanted you.”

They shift a little closer under the covers. In the early morning, the silence can’t be helped.

But the loneliness can.

Bells (OJ, Alte)

Let today be for us, she prays.

Let the soldiers fight somewhere else. Let the bombs drop, let the guns chatter, let the sky darken – but not here. Not now.

Today isn’t for battle. Today is for white silk and veils, bouquets of wildflowers, nervous whispered nothings. Today is for rings, the ringing of bells. Today she will be married; today, she will be complete.

She doesn’t know it, but she will still remember this day in ten thousand years. She will remember herself, young and happy and radiant. She will remember wedding bells.

And, despite everything, she will smile.

Harmonica (OJ, Marc, Peat)

She never really considered that Peat might have interests outside of planes. He always presents himself as the Blue Crow, from the top to the bottom – it’s hard to separate the plane from the pilot.

But there are moments. Little chinks in the facade. Today she turned up to the workshop early, and caught him playing the harmonica in the pilot seat – something long, wistful, nostalgic. He’s not amazing, but he’s the kind of good that doesn’t just happen overnight.

It’s actually a little impressive, she thinks. Maybe even a little cute.

Although there’s no way she’d tell him that.

Ephemeral (OJ, Syura, QP)

The pool is too cold to swim in; the summer holiday is over. Syura’s skin prickles under a swimsuit that’s slightly too small.

It’s her second to last summer holiday. The winter is for games and comiket, the summer for the pool and QP; next year will be their last together. After that, there’ll be jobs. Deadlines. The world closing in.

Next year, they’ll have more fun. She’ll wear a swimsuit that’ll make even QP jealous. She won’t waste the time they have left. Starting from today.

The water is cold. She grits her teeth, and slips beneath the surface.

Ceiling (OJ, Alte)

She doesn’t know how much further she can go.

Her hands shake when she leaves the battlefield. The wedding band on her finger is warped from the heat of her gun.

She, too, has warped and changed. She’s no longer the woman her husband knew; she is harsher, angrier, quicker to hate.

She prays he will still love her when the war is done. She believes in him, in love, because there is nothing else left worth believing in.

But love could not stop the war. Love, like her, has limits. And every day, she comes closer to finding them.

Double (OJ, Mira)

She was old, but she could fight. She was the strongest of her hometown; they whispered that she’d been born with a knife in her hand.

But technology became greater than experience. The old ways were no longer enough. They told her they could remake her; she agreed.

She spent her ‘last days’ feigning illness. The hero of her hometown died in a hospital bed. They took her to the lab twelve hours later.

Her brother came with her. His face was the last thing she saw before the operation.

She did not know just how familiar it would become.

Claws (OJ, Tsih)

Another stray. The professor clicks his tongue. There are are so many orphans nowadays. More, honestly, than his facility can support.

He speaks to the child, brushes away her tears. Offers her a home. He is too weary for kindness, but makes the effort all the same.

Before he returns to his work he gives her a length of string, and teaches her cat’s cradle – a game from his own childhood.

The next day they find him hung, his research burned. An orphan has disappeared in the night. The future will find them watchful.

They will accept no more strays.

Alliance (OJ, Sham, Saki, Sora)

“I told you,” Sham said mournfully.

Despite their rivalry, she and Saki had joined forces to teach Sora the nature of cuteness. To gauge the enormity of the task, they’d set her a test: draw a picture of the cutest thing she could imagine.

Saki had expected a puppy. Sham had expected a bear.

What they got was a duck-billed platypus.

“They’re very cute,” Sora opined. “They have poisonous feet.”

Sham sighed. Saki patted her gently on the back. They might not agree on who was the cutest.

But they both agreed they had a long road ahead of them.

Priorities (OJ, Nanako, Kae)

Nanako’s number one desire is, always, to throttle someone. That’s just how she was made. Her brain was tweaked for aggression; being angry is as close to happy as she can get.

But her second biggest desire is for Kae to be happy. Nana knows Kae better than anybody: a big, dumb idiot who never wished ill on anybody, and got turned into a war machine then locked in a box. Where’s the justice in that?

That’s what makes Nana angriest of all. Kae’s may be a big, dumb idiot – but she’s Nana’s big, dumb idiot. And she deserves better.

Employment (OJ, Kyoko)

Kyoko took naturally to life as a librarian.

She likes the peace. The quiet. The feeling of mostly never having to do anything besides impose order on unruly books, which generally have trouble fighting back. She’s taking night classes on how to repair bindings.

Sometimes her sisters visit. She makes them little lists of recommendations in her head. Hime wants cookery books to read and then ignore. Sora likes books about animals. Nanako wants comics – instant gratification. Even now, she’s looking out for them. Still the responsible ‘mother’.

But at least she can go out for a drink after work.

Blessing (OJ, Iru)

Iru, Hime is fond of saying, has been blessed with lean muscle, sharp eyes, and a tiny brain. In the new world, the latter might be the biggest blessing of all.

She doesn’t know enough to dull her wonder. Trains, vending machines, escalators – everything is new and fascinating. There’s nothing too mundane to celebrate.

In the end, her enthusiasm and easy smile are infectious. She is friendly because she is fearless, quick to love and be loved.

She’s also quick to shoot her friends with a gun just as large as her brain is tiny. Iru is blessed – not perfect.

Flowering (OJ, Hime, NoName)

“You know, I really don’t know why Suguri insists on keeping you,” Hime sniffs.

NoName’s head looks as smug as he knows how. “Obviously, it’s because of my good looks.”

“Oh, undoubtedly,” Hime replies, with a tone that’s very low on the pH scale. “No doubt it’s your sartorial elegance, too. That plant pot is a fantastic look on you.”

“Say whatever you like. But I’ve made it big. I get to be fed and watered by two beautiful women in thigh-highs.”

Hime smiles. He must be fed and watered, yes.

But Suguri never said the water couldn’t be boiling.

Backfire (OJ, Saki, Sora)

Saki has a plan.

She already has many cuteness factors accounted for, but there’s one she’s missing – the holy grail that will elevate her above Sham in the cute sweepstakes. The plan is simple.

“Oh, Sora,” she says with a winning smile. “You’re such a reliable big sister.”

Slowly, Sora nods. In one motion, Saki achieves the coveted ‘little sis’ cute point. The world is her oyster.

She realises too late that Sora takes discipline seriously – and that if she doesn’t take her coat off indoors, her ‘reliable big sis’ will happily warm her up with a slightly hot laser.

Pyre (OJ, Star Breaker)

Fire.

The Earth is rotten and decayed; humans are maggots feeding on the corpse, killing each other for the last precious scraps of plunder.

She, too, is a corpse. She died in the procedure and they brought her back. They trapped her in a body too strong to be killed, and barred the afterlife to her.

She yearns for that peaceful darkness, and to get it, she will snuff out the stars. There’s no casket big enough for the planet, and none strong enough to contain her body.

They cannot be buried. But perhaps, she thinks, they can be cremated.

Warm (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

“I’m not doing this to comfort you. You’re just warm.”

It’s a murky night, and cold. Winter is closing in; tomorrow it will rain in fine, freezing drops. They’re used to sleeping under the stars, but chill is too great tonight, and they have to resort to the tent. Kae hates the tent. It’s too enclosed, too dark. A little nightmare.

Nana doesn’t mind the dark. She almost doesn’t mind the cold. But she pretends. Kae runs a higher temperature than most. It’s enough of an excuse to cuddle up.

Nanako isn’t honest. But she’s warm in her own way.

Puppy (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

They haven’t talked about what they want out of Earth.

Kae, Nanako knows, wants a puppy. A cat would be fine, but a puppy is ideal. The thing Kae wants more than anything is companionship, and nothing can provide that better than man’s best friend.

Personally, Nanako isn’t as enthusiastic. She wouldn’t mind having another minion, but she doesn’t want something small and cute to compete with.

She thinks she’d like a house. No, a mansion. Big rooms, big beds. Maybe a skylight in Kae’s room. Possibly a butler.

And maybe, just maybe – if there’s room – a doghouse out back.

Precious (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

Some things are valuable because they’re rare. Diamonds, for example. Or that feeling when you snuggle down under the covers on a cold day and it’s the comfiest thing in the world.

There are moments where Nanako is kind, and they’re a bit like that. They’re rare because she has to fight her brain for them; she has to try her hardest to make them happen, and it’s just so much easier to be an asshole.

Kae understands. She knows that sometimes, the insults are just kindness that didn’t quite make it.

It helps her treasure the ones that do.

Fashion (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

Nanako can live with being short. It means she’s harder to hit, so it’s a tactical choice and not just hormone deficiency.

But she hates that it makes her look cute all the time. She can wear biker leathers and a chain-link choker, and she looks like somebody’s kid at a fancy dress party. Put Kae in the same clothes and she looks like a gorgeous punk rock chick. It isn’t fair.

At least there’s upsides. She might feel jealous when she sees Kae try on her new clothes. But it sure is fun to be in the dressing room.

Mistake (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

You’d think she’d get used to it – that falling sensation in the pit of her stomach when she realises that she’s pushed her friend too far, that Kae’s good temper is not infinite and she has done damage that may never heal.

Somehow, they always patch things up. But she knows how this works. Each time, it will get harder. The next argument might be the last.

She’s too stubborn to apologise, too damaged to change. She knows the end is coming, and that it is inevitable. She sees it, and cannot prevent it.

But, by god, she fears it.

Annoyance (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

Kae is a hybrid creature. Half of her is a beautiful and unblemished soul; half of her is a collection of extremely irritating habits.

She doesn’t fold her socks when she does the laundry. (She doesn’t always wear matching socks, either. The world is large and exciting; matching socks is a waste of valuable exploring time). She puts empty milk cartons back in the fridge. She eats pizza from the crust inwards.

Worst of all, according to Nanako, is that she can’t sleep with her clothes on – which wouldn’t be so bad, except she also can’t sleep without a hug.

Stream (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

Copper tinged leaves float serenely down the stream. A wooden bridge creaks under their weight, and echoes through the forest around them.

“I wonder if it’s warm enough to swim in?” Nanako asks. Her fingers dangle over the railing, towards the burbling water.

She’s testing fate, she knows. Anybody else – Hime, Iru, even Saki – would give her a hard shove right now, and send her into the river. But Kae is too nice even to do that.

Sometimes, Nanako wishes that she wasn’t. It would be nice, she thinks wistfully, to be justified for once. To be in the right.

Jealousy (OJ, Kae, Nanako, Sora)

The more Sora thinks, the more dangerous she becomes.

The less Kae thinks, the more dangerous she becomes.

Alone they are inert. Together they are brilliant. The joy of competition brings them to life. One moves, the other follows; they can always burn hotter, shine brighter. It’s a beautiful friendship.

Too beautiful. Nanako sees it, and seethes. She has always been Kae’s most important person. No-one has ever come close. Until now.

She doesn’t know if she can meet the challenge. If it’s even a challenge at all. But Nanako is seething. For once, she’s going to try her best.

Mathematics (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

“You don’t get it,” Nanako says grandly. “This is as good as life gets.”

She’s drinking something that feels like liquid fire, but they served it to her in half a coconut shell so it must be fine. She has ID now, so she can drink it. She can drink anything.

Kae isn’t the brightest person, but she can do math. She thinks if you stacked fourteen of those shells together, they’d be as tall as Nana. She’s had three already. Nanako is currently one-fifth alcohol by volume.

She doesn’t know what will happen. But she’s sure it’ll be explosive.

Dutch (OJ, Kae, Nanako)

If Kae’s not burning random objects, she’s burning calories. Her metabolism is a source of envy for her sisters.

It’s Nanako that suffers. She gets the “pleasure” of watching Kae eat four or five times a day; it’s as infuriating as it is expensive. Kae can make a fresh cream doughnut look utterly exquisite, while Nana – with her tiny body – has to count calories.

“Fwaaaa! Thanks for the meal!” Kae says. There is still cream on her lips.

“Yeah, yeah.” Nanako shrugs, but she can’t look away. For a moment, she forgets to be angry.

Until she sees the bill.

Whisky (Touhou, Suika, Yukari)

They drink together once a year, at the turning of the leaves. Already there is a sleepiness about Yukari’s face, the ghost of pleasant dreams to come.

This year, they’re drinking whisky from the outside world – smooth, mellow, the colour of sunlight trapped in a glass. A quiet, intimate kind of drink.

They swap stories of a world gone by, a world so old even they barely remember it. A world that was golden and brimming with potential. A world truly their own.

Yukari’s head nods as the night closes; together, they sleep. But only Suika awakes in the morning.

Courage (Touhou, Suika)

It is said that oni fear fried beans. That might be true.

But Suika Ibuki fears nothing. She fears nothing, not because she is drunk – although she definitely is – or because she is foolish, but because she is yearning for defeat.

Humans forgot, but she remembers. She is the deva that waits on the mountain humanity has yet to climb. The other oni have given up on them, but she still believes: one day, humans will have the strength to topple her.

It is a day she awaits anxiously, for the top of a mountain is a lonely place indeed.

Shochu (Touhou, Suika)

It’s a rowdy kind of night tonight. The liquor is fire on her tongue; the old songs, the lost songs, spring unbidden to her lips. She wants to love, or fight, or both; for once, the alcohol bites, and she is reminded she’s alive.

She feels something hit her, and she hits back. There are cries of terror and surprise as the fight breaks out, as she pummels the enemy into submission. She wonders why they don’t fight back.

When she wakes up, she wakes to a crater. Only then does she realise that what hit her was the floor.

Wasted (Touhou, Suika, Alice)

She doesn’t get along with Alice, because Alice holds back. She never uses all her power. Never tries her hardest, or achieves her full potential.

She could be so much stronger. Sure, she isn’t human, but as youkai go she’s close enough. It’s a waste.

Suika can tell she’s scared; under her cool exterior is a cowardly heart. But is she afraid of her power? Or is she just afraid to try her best and fail?

In the end, she’s a puppet. Controlled by something other than herself. But Suika knows something about puppets, and strings.

Eventually, they will snap.

Mead (Touhou, Suika)

If she had to pick a favourite animal, it would be bees. They are small, flying fragments of a greater whole; there are days she feels like that, too. She can relate.

But they show that many small creatures can do things impossible to a single large one. She sees it in bees, and she sees it in humans, although bees are smarter in that they do not divide themselves.

So when she drinks mead, she drinks with respect. It is a symbol of bees, and their power.

It also goes great with salty snacks. Bees are clever like that.

Meduseld (Touhou, Suika, Aya)

Oni and tengu rarely drink together nowadays, but for Suika and Aya, it has become a habit.

Aya is there to swap stories, and Suika is there to drink. But they are old, and ostensibly wise; they have realised what few other people know.

The beer flows; the tale unfurls. Somewhere, a detail or two gets lost. A deed gets inflated, a truth is misremembered. It is all as intended. This is the way it is done. Aya leaves with a tale exaggerated – and distilled.

It is people that make stories.

But it is beer that turns them into legends.

Beer (Touhou, Suika, Mystia)

At first, she only helped Choujuu Gigaku to pay off her tab at Mystia’s stand.

But to be honest, she enjoys it. Noise, dancing, a howling crowd – a concert is as good as a party, especially for a boisterous oni.

She scatters herself amongst the crowd, ferrying mugs of beer to and fro on many tiny pairs of legs. Drink, she urges. Shout, and be merry.

It is difficult to be lonely when surrounded by so many people.

Of course, she has a beer or eight herself. As a result, her tab never goes down.

She can live with that.

Hangover (Touhou, Suika, Reimu)

The best part about drinking with Suika is knowing you’ll get home safe.

She hefts Reimu over her shoulder like a sack of rice, says her goodbyes and begins to walk. She doesn’t sway. She doesn’t totter. For once, her bleary eyes are focused, and clear.

The bones of Gensokyo tremble as she goes, because she is an oni taking a human to her lair. She is truer, realer, in this moment than any other.

In the morning, all is normal. But she remembers. The land remembers. She was once a deva of the mountain.

Occasionally, she is one still.

Sake (Touhou, Suika)

Of all the many drinks, sake is her favourite.

True, there are stronger drinks. And true, she has drunk so much from her gourd that the flavour no longer captivates her as it once did.

But it is smooth, mellow, and easy to drink – things that don’t matter to her, but to the people around her. They feel they can party longer without being drunk, and that’s what she truly appreciates.

Because there’s one thing she knows about parties: little by little, people hit their limit. They disappear. Sake stems the flow, but…

Sooner or later, she is drinking alone.

Zapoy (Touhou, Suika)

They say she’s dishonest, for an oni.

In a sense, they’re right. She’s pretending to be something she’s not.

Because, of all the oni, she understood. She understood the human’s tricks – their ambushes, their slyness, their dishonour – were just another form of strength. Strength of mind, not strength of arm.

Knowledge, she found, corrupts. It made her a little more human. A little less oni. She can see the possibilities, and drinks to forget them.

She still wears her fetters, though they broke long ago. She is always drunk – because she fears what she could do, if she were sober.

Servant (Touhou, Patchouli, Koakuma)

Patchouli’s job is to create and solve problems. Or, in other words, to be a witch – although certain witches create more problems than they solve.

Koakuma’s job is similar, but different. She creates order where there is chaos, and chaos where there is order; by her hands are the books of the library subjected to the ignominy of alphabetical order, and by her hands does the occasional juicy tome find its way into the wider world.

In the end she is her mistress’s servant, and shares the same noble goal. Ultimately, they make life interesting – if sometimes a little short.

Frog (Touhou, Suwako)

Better the devil you know, she told them.

Her followers, evidently, disagreed.

Her iron rings were laid to rust; her name was stricken from the shrine. But behind closed doors, hands were being shaken. Deals were being made. Curses and miracles, asked for and delivered.

She slept deeply. The world changed.

They say that if you heat up the water slowly, a frog will stay until it boils. She knows frogs, but she isn’t one. The world around them was running dry. Gensokyo beckoned.

Two big gods. One small pond. The splash they make will be the sound of progress.

A/N: Well, there's your fifty drabbles! Currently, I have 80 drabbles scheduled, so there's 30 left to do. How I work out the number is: for every donation on my ko-fi, I write one drabble. For every milestone on my ao3 hostings of stories (example: 100 hits, 10 kudos, etc etc.), I write a set of 10. So far, we've had 48 ko-fi donations, and we've passed 3 milestones -- 100 hits on Tales of a Warless World, 100 hits on the Drabble Sack itself, and 10 kudos on the Drabble Sack. Note: for the hits, I'm doubling the hits between each milestone, so the next will be at 300, then at 600, then 1200, etc., just so I'm not trapped in infinite loops of writing new drabbles, getting more hits, and then needing to write more drabbles because I got more hits. I did two bonus drabbles to round it out to 50 so I could post it on blogspot cleanly.

Thank you for all the people who supported my ko-fi or viewed/left kudos on Ao3, and who continue to encourage me to do drabbles <3