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File 136567104812.jpg - (443.25KB, 900x900, ba0ef1454a9ccccb355ae8a78d88753a.jpg) [iqdb]
It's cramped in here.

Really cramped.

The ceiling is only tall enough for me to crouch or crawl, and the room is only wide enough for me to lie down in it sideways. What's more, the walls, floor and ceiling are all cold, rough stone, meaning my knees and feet are permanently full of shallow cuts, and I hit my head on an outstanding bit of rock more often than I'd like.

I'm a bit clumsy.

It's hard to move around in here, so I don't clean it up much. I like it like this, though, it's cozy. I sleep in a cluster of blankets to a side, which as far as I'm concerned, is the best way to sleep. The little piles of trinkets and books don't help much, either. Children's toys, writing implements, all kinds of stuff serve to clutter what little space I have. They're mostly stolen, and I often have to toss some out to make room for more. Sometimes I dig to expand, using my claws. I don't think they were made for it, though; I keep losing them. It hurts, but I heal pretty fast, so it's fine. I wish I would remember to get a real tool for digging already.

I say claws, but really, they're not much. Some youkai have awful long ones that come to a point, to rip into flesh really easily. Not mine. Mine are just like a human's, except sharper and harder to break. Same for the teeth.

I'm something of a half-baked youkai. I don't even like the taste of human.

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Yea it's a damn shame the dude is so bipolar, his story is great.
Please people, if you're going to talk about other writers in someone's thread, make sure they're at least kind words.

New thread here:

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Because /underground/ could use some stories actually focusing on the SA characters.

“The flames of Old Hell sear body and soul alike.”

The green-haired judge proclaims this with a solemn expression, an alarming postscript to my life’s verdict. Beside her, a buxom redhead, the one who brought me here, shifts uncomfortably. The enormous scythe she wields bounces from one shoulder to the other.

“...Is that supposed to reassure me, Your Honor?” I manage to respond, sardonic tone a poor mask for the cold wash of daunting fear I feel. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it? I might have committed some sins in my life, I admit that; but were they bad enough to warrant burning my soul into a metaphysical crisp?”

My voice cracks on the last word, surprisingly- I’d never been one to care about the state of my soul before, but I guess some shift in priorities would be warranted.

The soul’s all that’s left of me now, after all.

“It was intended as a forewarning,” the judge says, eyebrows furrowing in a frown. “So that you would not be wholly unprepared for your next place of spiritual residence.”

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The thread is dead, that's what.

Please sage in these situations, good sir. Otherwise you get a bunch of angry people who expected an update.
This would be occasion for an even more protracted complaint on the overzealous application of sage, but.

Omission was intentional; asking for status probably does fall into "discussion directly related to the story" and writefag here seems to be sufficiently dedicated for a poke to have a chance of some results.

I'll look stupid if he doesn't respond, now.
>I'll look stupid if he doesn't respond, now.
Over 6 month have passed and he still hasn't returned.

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My body jolted and tried to spring in the air, but two hands were holding my shoulders down. I struggled and kicked my legs out to try and escape from the restraint.

The sharp pain that exploded in my toes put a stop to that. “Ow…”

“Calm yourself, Alice. Everything is fine.” Pandemonium’s resident maid spoke to me in a stern but calming tone.

Looking around, my surroundings weren’t as I remembered. The field of shattered crystal and open sky had been replaced by the primary colors of my room.

I was lying in my bed, snugly tucked underneath my blanket. I could feel the soft touch of pajamas against my skin and actual bandages wrapped around my injuries. Yumeko was leaning over me, gently preventing me from flying off in a panic. After I ceased my struggling the maid slowly allowed me to sit up.

Why am I- Everything was aching. What happened to- My body felt like lead, but I couldn’t just lie down. Is everybody- I had to get up and go! There’s no time to- A whole chunk of the forest had been destroyed! Please please please don’t be- My new family was-

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[X] Shield; or, if possible
-[X] Guardian
[x] Swords

Ties are fun
Okay, calling the vote here (feels so strange doing this). I’m going to keep up the self-delusion that this story has become wildly popular and assume all these votes are legitimate, mainly because as far as story-changing votes go, this isn’t one of them.

If you’re voting more than once, please reflect on your actions and consider your role in a pseudo-democratic community. See you with a new update soon™.

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A mini-sequel to “Tenshi is in This Story”

The king loved endlessly his little spouse, and she loved him from the bottom of her heart in turn.
Such a thing as that was bound to end in upheaval.

—Flourens Delannoy, “Fairy Tales & Myths,” paraphrased

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Now that this is done, there hasn't been anything worth reading on /underground/ for a while.
I understand why, but I still find it a shame.
Are you saying this is my fault? I'll rip your arms off, man.
File 135521012116.jpg - (63.29KB, 300x449, Sorry for such a neckbeard joke.jpg) [iqdb]
I can't say.

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You are Satori Komeiji.

You have just awoken, and are currently snuggled down inside your bed-covers, with no part of your body extending outside of your cocoon of warmth, as is fitting for a sleepy satori. You feel comfortable, safe, and sated.

It is dark in the bed.

You slowly realise that your memories of the previous night are very clouded; the only thing you remember is that yesterday was your birthday.



The input parser for A Text Adventure understands both complex and basic commands. A basic command consists of one action, usually a verb or verb plus object; a complex command is a string of actions. Entire plans that encompass a series of reactions to possible outcomes of previous actions are beyond the computing power of the input parser, and will be ignored.

Examples of basic commands:
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>Give birth

I wonder if it's a boy or a girl.
Commit sudoku.

Our writers are running away from the writingfield! Shamefur Dispray!

Damnit HY...

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Where it ends.

※ ※ ※

Lanternlight flickered across the pale flat panes of her cheeks as he turned.

The charcoal-black flagstone grated under the soles of his boots. Walls dark glistered alight. The flame winked then flashed as it caught more oil. A huff of hot air came out between the shutters, reminding him how chill otherwise was the black hidden place. The boy lowered the lamp to the floor. Brass clattered on the rock. The small person on the chair gave him no favour of startling. Still she sat, still and ever still, her bare toes suspended inches from the ground; gagged and bound and helpless. An image of pity, but there was none of that left in him.

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Sage, you shameless nigger.
Waste of time.

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Sometimes, something else happens.


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Just want to say: ~incest ~so wrong ~ so right.

(yes I know I am using "~" wrong, bite me)
[X] Why not? A game'll pass the time 'til she's movin' again.
File 134828751349.jpg - (60.38KB, 640x480, 558d2c0fc490617bcf56ed6cd3da3e2e.jpg) [iqdb]
New thread: >>10609

All right~

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You are Parsee Mizuhashi, a Persian (hashihito) who became a bridge princess (hashihime) for the sake of a wicked pun, although it's also likely that it actually goes the other way around. You're no longer sure which is which.

That's it, though. While the whole Hell - Hell whole? - knows you as the sulky, jealous overseer that tends to that fancy bridge yonder, they tend to overlook your single passion in this dark, musty place: cracking awful puns. You could even say that it's more than a mere passion interest to you, considering that your species and/or your cultural identity is somehow based on a play on words.

As usual, today's not a very exciting day to guard the sole passage between the surface world and the Old Hell. Even though you're going to turn away any coming visitors anyway, you can't help but feeling a bit lonely being here by yourself. Sometimes you just wonder if you and the bridge you're guarding are separated at all, both of you having to stand in the middle of nowhere for all eternity.

Well, you then quietly assess, the bridge is probably better than you, since she can't feel angry - nobody crosses her anymore, after all.

And there's no "have to" on your part to guard the bridge too, you further thought. This is a self-imposed task you're placing on yourself, isn't it? If you want to, you can totally go to the surface or deeper to the Old Hell. Maybe you should...

[ ] ...go higher, find that spider and insult her mother.
[ ] ...go lower, find that oni and see if she'd like to play card games.
[ ] (Write-in*)

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[x] Both!

Rule One: Every time you take a shot, you have to take a shot.
Given the number of shots, you'd die of alcohol poisoning long before the hell bullet'd hit you.
[x] play a danmaku drinking game. What could possibly go wrong?

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>Calm. Like you could go to sleep like this.

Soothing. Relaxing. Calming. This is what it feels like. For some reason, you almost forgot what it was like to receive a hug when you were on the brink of collapsing. It's not long afterwards that it dawns upon you, you're really tired. All this running around, worrying, screaming, both your body and your mind have reached their limit, and they need to shut down and rest. There's more you want to do, but after a while of struggling, you submit to the feeling and decide that you can do this stuff when you're not feeling like insanity is knocking on your front door. The hug is just so nice, you can't help it; you drift off asleep without much warning, wondering how long this period will last before your life is turned upside down yet again...


"Ah...she fell asleep." You say this shortly after noticing that Satoko became rather comatose. Even shaking her a bit doesn't seem to wake her. She's really out of it.

"Leave her be, Souya... she needs the rest." Alice walks over and picks Satoko up from her chair after you stand back, and takes her upstairs into a bedroom, presumably. You just stand there, feeling quite helpless in it all, like there's really nothing you can do about it, and you're merely forced to watch those you care about suffer because of it. Such an empty feeling. "You know, that was pretty brave of you." Your attention is regained when Alice seems to have come back down from upstairs.

"Huh? Oh... uh, thanks. Why do you say that though?"

"Hugging someone out of the blue like that, especially someone like Satoko. I don't think even I could have done it myself." You look down towards the floor a bit.

"I don't really think that's true... you care a lot for Satoko, and she just... really needed that, I think." After a short moment of silence, you feel Alice's hand rest on the top of your head.
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"We need some paper over here!"

"I'm comin'!"

"The printer here's acting up!"

"Where the hell are the reporters?!"

"Is it lunch time yet?"

"Why are there chips all over the floor?!"

"There's no trash can around anymore!"

"Someone get the nurse, I think he's about to throw up!"
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Well there you go, as promised. Hopefully these two "true ends" or at least good ends will fulfill a few people who felt Clockwork's plot was a little too grimdark.

If anyone needs anymore loose ends tied up, just gimme a call.
Very nice. Now this is what I was talking about. I can't choose which one I like more.

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All the bullets you want? Now you're excited, too! The warmth inside of you feels all tickly, and it jitters all around just like her warmth does, but you can feel another warmth coming down from Aunt Koishi, and keeping all the bubbles in you from pouring out. It makes your chest feel all tingly, and hot, and you just feel all... all...

You feel all good, and your warm feeling runs all the way up your arms and out your hands, and the bubbles dance all around your fingers. Aunt Satori's warmth slides around her arms, too, and it tickles you like Mama Okuu's feathers. Mama Okuu's feathers...

Shiny, glittery, sparkly black, and very soft. They feel extra warm when Mama Okuu puts her big, big wings into big, big hugs. The feathers are big, too, big and kind of like really pretty leaves with the branchy part that gets all scritchy and scratchy at the end when she picks out her old feathers so that you can play with them! Sometimes you can see the softy feathers under those, the ones that curl, and tickle...

"Kouji, dear," Aunt Satori says in a whispery way, "open your eyes."

Yes, Aunt Satori! You open your eyes, and...

So pretty!

It looks just like Mama Okuu's feathers do! Sparkling and black, and big, and it even has the little scritchy part! It floats right above your hands, inside a little ball of all the warmth that Aunt Satori helped pull out of you. When you think about it, it spins, and points, and lots of the little, even softer feathers from Mama Okuu flutter-fly around it. This is your bullet? It looks so nice!

"Yes," Aunt Satori nuzzles against your hair, and it feels so nice you giggle. "It's a wonderful first bullet."
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Stop acting like the authors owe it to us to write. They don't. Neither you, me, or anybody else is entitled to a single word these authors grace us with.
Dude, you're overreacting. What I meant to say is that if he already felt like this after a month, he could have posted the same now. If he only felt that wya after three months, well, nothing to be done about it.

I certainly don't think anyone is forced to write here, but I think people would have preferred to hear about this sooner rather than later.
I'm inclined to agree. Don't feel like writing? Sure. I've been there. I write, and I know how it feels to juggle external expectations and internal desire. There's tension there. But at the same time, it's also a matter of basic courtesy to let us know sooner rather than later. As a reader, I'd like to see you continue this story, but at your own pace, and without worrying about the audience. Just let us know ahead of time that the story is dropped to be picked up later (or not), or that you're working on other stuff, or whatever. You don't even have to apologize or prostrate yourself or justify yourself or anything; you might feel compelled to, but you shouldn't. Even a simple, one-sentence notification ahead of time is better than months of silence.

And, I know it's hard. I know you'd rather avoid it, because it's unpleasant to fail to meet your own (and others') expectations. Again, I've been there, and it sucks. But it's an enormous weight off your chest if you just go out and say, "I can't do this right now. I'd rather move onto other things," than worry about for months, because I know you've been worrying. And the longer you wait, the harder it gets.

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