Katawa Shoujo Forums

Blank Mage wrote:If you haven't played The Stanley Parable yet, please do that immediately.

*I had the idea of some creepy otaku sitting outside their window for the sex scene. "The HELL are you?!" "A Hanabro.... so moe..." "LEAVE!" "Haha, Misstep." "SHUT UP!"

Truly a fantastic experience, although the narrator in that is far more cool and quick witted. Which honestly, would be a fun idea to see executed, the stanly parable narrator in Katawa shoujo, hm.

Anyway, read through your stuff initially and was prepared to comment, then I saw blank and the words oatmeal and figured any further commenting would just drive you into deep insanity, so waited till I felt it was neccasary.

I don't belive IT is necessary for you, but for me, because I have to express my unbridled love for that latest one shot and why It made me almost tear up. It's a yes from me.

On a side not, English controlled assessment back when I did it, was perhaps the most revealing part of my educational life. My english teacher decided I was a psychopath, pretty rightly, becuase my piece was about a rapist-murderer. (And probably a nazi if we want to make it even worse)

Mirage_GSM wrote:Well, that was fun.

Mirage liked my work! +1 self esteem

Mirage_GSM wrote:it might have been more of a challenge to find out what's happening without it...

I tried writing this thing in prose. It didn't work. At all.

Blank Mage wrote:If you haven't played The Stanley Parable yet, please do that immediately.

Been there. Love that game still need to play it for the entire duration of a tuesday, though.

Blank Mage wrote:I had the idea of some creepy otaku sitting outside their window for the sex scene. "The HELL are you?!" "A Hanabro.... so moe..." "LEAVE!" "Haha, Misstep." "SHUT UP!"

Damn, why didn't I think of that? That's a good idea.

Feurox wrote:the Stanley parable narrator in Katawa shoujo, hm.

Stand and deliver! Your fanfic ideas or your life! Everybody keeps having better ideas than me in my own thread

Feurox wrote:figured any further commenting would just drive you into deep insanity

Please comment. I need feedback read: give me attention pls, so lonely ;_;
Also, I'm already insane. Driving me deeper into insanity is not an issue, so feel free to say whatever crazy stuff you want. Just keep it on topic, I'd rather not have any Cookings in this thread.

Feurox wrote:I have to express my unbridled love for that latest one shot

Aw, I feel warm and fuzzy now. Thanks

Feurox wrote:My english teacher decided I was a psychopath, pretty rightly, becuase my piece was about a rapist-murderer. (And probably a nazi if we want to make it even worse)

Okay, I may be insane, but even I'm not that insane. I may have to agree with your English teacher, there How many marks did it get? 18/20 for me.

Bit late to the party, but that last piece of absurd fiction was absolutely brilliant. This ranks up there with Munch's self-insert fic for making me actually laugh.

Well, I have been playing far more Cloudbuilt than could possibly be healthy.

Bad news: I'm pretty sure I nearly gave myself RSI.

Good news (maybe): It gave me a new one-shot idea!

***
A Personal Inferno

I can’t make sense of any of this. I remember hearing upon waking up to this room that I was undergoing “epidermal replacement” and that I would be “woken up soon”. I don’t understand.

The room itself is Spartan, containing only a laptop on a desk, a window showing only clouds and a… a hospital bed, containing a small, solitary figure. A little girl with awful burns covering her entire right side, her head nearly bald but for a few strands of long, dark hair that cling to her scalp.

This room is where I return after my excursions… I’d say every day, but I have no idea of the passage of time in this place. It’s where I come to rest, to think and to try to understand. It’s what’s outside the room that I have yet to grasp.

Every time I leave, I enter a world on fire. I don’t know why, but I see images of things I can hazily remember… a stuffed bear… a toy car… a black cat… all burning. Sometimes they scream, too. I can’t always make sense of what they say, but it sounds like they want me to run. Or find somewhere safe. Or they just scream a name. I think it’s my name, but I can’t be sure. It’s all so muddled right now.

There are several routes that I can take when I leave. All of them are burning, but they are all distinct. One has blue flames, ones that I know to be hotter than any other, but they are sparser than in the other places, manageable. One has flames that burst through a wooden floor, unpredictable, yet oddly familiar. One is almost wholly composed of flames, ones that are admittedly cooler than in any other path, but the constant burn is almost too much to bear. The last… I can never see the flames, except for a few flickers in the smoke that chokes the way forward.

Despite the horrors and the pain that I endure in each of them, whenever I make my way through a part of it, I can feel like I’m making progress. The previous part hurts less each time and I navigate my way through the flames with greater skill the more I try. The pain always becomes too much for me – even in the smoke, I feel pain, the clouds stinging my eyes and scorching my throat when I breathe – so I return to the room before I can reach the end, but I can feel myself getting stronger.

More than that, though, I wonder if this world is more than just a hell for me to exist in. I wonder if, perhaps, there is a message in all of this. From what I heard at the start, I could be imagining it all. Maybe this is my literal trial-by-fire, so to speak, my personal inferno. Perhaps the sparser, blue flames indicate a resolve to overcome whatever obstacles block my path, taking them on one at a time. Perhaps the desolate smoke is a manifestation of my hopelessness, my desire to stay in the room or take the easiest way out. I can’t say for certain, but my outlook seems to be changing as I keep going.

Tomorrow, I’m taking the path of blue flames. I think I’m nearing the end of it. I’m certainly getting more restless as I progress, perhaps getting closer to being “woken up”. Maybe that’s my way out. I just hope that I can take that little girl with me. She seems so alone here. She’s never awake, though. Maybe she’ll never wake up.

There’s one last detail I recall that stands out. Every so often, I see not things, but people, a man with cropped hair and dressed smartly and a woman with hair like the little girl’s. I don’t know who they are, but I cry when I see them. They don’t seem to do much, just look at me, sometimes with this sad smile, sometimes crying themselves, sometimes with no expression at all, but still an air of melancholy. I wish they’d stop looking so sad.

I wish I could ask them why.

I shouldn’t delay my excursion any longer. There’s no reason for me to stay here and I hope that I may reach the end today.

I have no excuse for taking the easy way out.

Well this was... strange. I'm a bit confused. Is this supposed to be some meta Wreck It Ralph type thing where all video game characters wind up in the same hospital? Sorry if I totally missed the point (it happens a lot).

HipsterJoe wrote:Well this was... strange. I'm a bit confused. Is this supposed to be some meta Wreck It Ralph type thing where all video game characters wind up in the same hospital? Sorry if I totally missed the point (it happens a lot).

Not quite. I'm going to have to explain quite a bit here, so bear with me.

The idea here is that the narrator (Hanako, if you hadn't guessed) is currently in hospital post-fire and is recovering, but unconscious. The thing she experiences while unconscious is sort-of an allegory for her recovery, with the different paths I described being different emotional states and attitudes she may adopt during the process. The actual meaning of those paths I'm leaving open to interpretation.

The idea is almost wholly taken from Cloudbuilt, wherein the MC (Demi) has been hospitalised after suffering severe injuries during combat in a nondescript war. The levels in the game represent her attempting to try and understand what she went through and how her own mental state has changed, with the different paths representing different interpretations of her situation (I highly recommend the game btw).
Not sure where you got Wreck It Ralph from.

Wreck it ralph.

Wreck it Misha; Hisao can be fix-it Felix.

Ahem. Had the honor of reading this before the post because I'm inner circle, but I personally found it pretty straightforward in terms of perspective but certainly very challenging with the whole colours thing. It's not written badly or anything it's just a very hard concept to put forward in general. Though like every other one of your oneshots I enjoyed it.


Also I spent about an hour making a really dreadful image of raplh as misha and hisao as felix, for it to reach 1 am and my laptop to die so. Maybe another time.

Like I said, I probably had missed something. In this case, the fact that Hanako was the narrator completely went over my head. The whole disassociated conscious was apparently too subtle for me.

HipsterJoe wrote:Like I said, I probably had missed something. In this case, the fact that Hanako was the narrator completely went over my head. The whole disassociated conscious was apparently too subtle for me.

It... it was?

Blank Mage wrote:

HipsterJoe wrote:Like I said, I probably had missed something. In this case, the fact that Hanako was the narrator completely went over my head. The whole disassociated conscious was apparently too subtle for me.

It... it was?

Yeah, re-reading it now, it comes in loud and clear. I probably should refrain from commenting on Fridays after my brain has shut down.

Loved the narrator fic. I actually laughed out loud at one point. Brilliant. Also really liked the Saki and Hanako one,though for different reasons obviously. It was very well written.

AntonSlavik020 wrote:Loved the narrator fic. I actually laughed out loud at one point. Brilliant. Also really liked the Saki and Hanako one,though for different reasons obviously. It was very well written.

Thanks!
Positive comments are always nice to have. Glad you liked my writing!

Exams now being over, I managed to get something written in between playing unhealthy amounts of Dark Souls. Fuck Blighttown, it is the worst

Thanks to ChaosSummons01 and Blank Mage for feedback while writing.

Without further ado, commence the words!

***
Sour Note

Standing outside the door to the living room, I can feel my nerve starting to fail with every passing moment.

Come on, Ikezawa. If you can’t even open the door, then what makes you think he’ll ever take you seriously?

I try and clear away the doubt in my head. Maybe Hisao hasn't been as forward with his feelings as I’d like, but I can't say I've been any better. Besides, he's always been kind to me. He was there at my… party… he tries to make me feel comfortable and he’s never once tried to ask about my scars.

I should try and have a little more faith in him.

Just as I finally reach my decision, I hear noises coming from the room in front of me. I take one last deep breath and get ready to make my move.

---

I open my eyes groggily, completely bereft of energy.

For a while, I simply lie down lifelessly, staring at the ceiling as I review the events of the morning in an attempt to organize my thoughts.

We went to walk to town. My heart nearly gave way. We came back. I took my pills. I slept.

I can only remember each period of time as a snapshot, but the timeline is clear enough. The memory of the girls’ faces as I struggled to stand is an unpleasant one, stinging my feelings harshly.

If I look at the ceiling hard enough, I can imagine the tile edges and small dimples of the ceiling in the hospital. That thought alone is enough to make me sit up and try to pull myself together.

I scratch the back of my dishevelled hair, glancing around the room. Lilly and Hanako are nowhere to be seen, and the television’s turned off.

The clock above it says it’s pretty late in the afternoon. The noticeably reddened sky outside the windows confirms it further.

I turn and pick myself off the futon, swaying slightly as I put my arms out for balance. I suppose I’d better go look for the girls to see if they’re… all right…

I turn towards the door just as it slowly opens. The person on the other side is the last I expected to be up and about.

“Hey, Hanako,” I try to say with enthusiasm, but it just ends up being a murmur.

She’s certainly looked better. Her outfit is creased, her hair is even more dishevelled than mine probably is and it looks as though she’s been crying.

“H-Hisao…”

She takes a deep breath, and, before I can formulate a reply, quickly steps forward and wraps both her arms around me, burying her face into my shirt.

I can feel her tears there, too.

---

Hisao’s chest is warm, and I can feel the lightly-toned muscles there as I sob into his shirt.
I wish that I was able to better appreciate the sensation.

I thought you were going to be strong, Ikezawa. Where’s all that resolve gone, huh?

I want to tell the voice in my head to shut up, to let me cry in the arms of the boy I’ve fallen in love with. Of course, I can’t do that, but I manage to ignore it a bit.

As I cry, I feel Hisao gently reciprocate the hug I’ve forced on him, placing one hand on the back of my head and the other around my shoulders.

I wonder if he’d hug me tighter if I wasn’t crying.

“It’s okay, Hanako. I’m alright,” he whispers soothingly, starting to sway us both. I’d love to believe him, but after this morning, I’m not going to take that chance.

We stay like that for a while, my face buried into his chest and him rocking us gently side-to-side. Neither of us speaks, but I’m almost happier that way.

Eventually, the tears start drying up and I pull my head back to look him in the eyes. He smiles warmly down at me and I start to feel myself being lost in his relaxed expression. I smile back.

Maybe he does love me… smiling like that…
He has to…

Slowly, I move my hand over his chest, trying to feel his pulse and looking down at it as I do so. I realise that, for some reason, I’ve done so with my right hand, the scars touching lightly over his off-beat heart.

And I say the words, in a voice I almost doubt he’ll hear.

“I love you, Hisao.”

---

I’m stunned. The smile that I’d felt on my face previously is suddenly wiped off and replaced with a gape of pure shock.

Hanako… loves me?

I’ll admit, I hadn’t previously considered the possibility that she might have feelings for me. I almost didn’t believe that she wanted something like that. Sure, she seemed comfortable around me, but that didn’t mean anything in and of itself, right?

I want to tell her that I’d be happy to accept her love, have her as my girlfriend, maybe even that I love her back.
But I can’t do that.

I don’t love her.

My lack of response causes Hanako to look up, her expression questioning my silence. Her face quickly morphs into a mask of horror before turning to the floor.

“N-no...” she whispers, her voice more forlorn than I’ve ever heard it before.

“I’m s-sorry for g-getting your sweat-ter wet,” she mumbles bitterly before starting to cry again. I raise my hand to… do what, exactly? Whatever hollow comfort I was planning on offering, she quickly
turns away and flees back to her bedroom.

“Hanako, wait!” I’m too late, though, and I'm treated to the sound of the door slamming behind her as she retreats into her temporary sanctuary.

I stand there for a little while, mouth hanging open from my last words to her. I want to do something to help her, but I don’t know how. Instead, I flop back down onto the futon and cover my eyes with my hand.

After some time, I hear the front door open and shut. Removing my hands reveals a Lilly that’s only looking a little better than Hanako, her hair more windswept than unnaturally dishevelled.

“Hisao? Are you awake?”

I let out a small sigh before tiredly answering with “yeah, I’m alright.”

The non-committal answer doesn’t appear to help, though, her eyes closing and brow furrowing in that familiar expression of worry.

“You don’t sound like it, Hisao. May I ask what happened?”

I take a deep breath before responding.

“Hanako… confessed to me…”

That elicits a reaction. Lilly’s eyes shoot open and her mouth hangs agape as she processes the information. Had the circumstances been different, I might have found the oh-so-rare display of genuine shock hilarious.

“Are you sure that’s what it was?”

I nod slowly before realising the futility of the gesture. “Yes. What else would it be?”

Her brow furrows again, weighing the gravity of the situation against her impression of Hanako.

“How did you answer?”

I cringe a little at the bluntness of her question, but I steady myself quickly.

“I didn’t, really.”

I couldn’t say I didn’t love her…

Lilly thinks for a moment before standing.

“I’ll go and talk to her.”

“Thanks, Lilly.”

She nods once before walking out of the room, her typical grace looking to have returned to her.

What a mess…

---

I can’t stop the tears. It feels like all I’ve done since this morning is cry.

I knew it. I told you he didn’t love you, dumbass. Why would he ever consider you worth loving, you useless girl?

The voice that I’d managed to ignore while with Hisao has come back with a vengeance, and there’s nothing I can do about it other than agree with everything it says.

He doesn’t love me.

He’s always had his eyes on Lilly.
She’s prettier than me.
She’s kinder than me.
She’s richer than me.
She’s everything he could want.

He should hate me.
I’m ugly.
I’m stupid.
I’m useless.
I deserve it.

The reasons for me to have never even thought of confessing parade through my mind, mocking me incessantly as I try to stifle my pathetic whimpering. The tears that I don’t deserve to shed over myself continue to drip onto the sheets, my eyes clenched shut to try and hold them back and, all the while, my own self-hate jeers at me from behind my eyelids.

Faintly, I can hear a knocking at the door, somebody asking to be let it. It occurs to me that I locked it. I won't respond, though.

Nobody should have to watch this.

As my tears start to dry up, slowly but surely, I can feel my mind slipping into sleep. I welcome the respite, but it's not enough to get rid of my last, pathetic thought.

Why?

Damn you, Ikezawa.

Well that was depressing. To me, at least. Basically, its just not my cup of tea, which isn't surprising since I don't even like tea. Sorry. No I'm not.

Anyways, it just wasn't something I stood any chance of personally enjoying. Contrary to popular belief, I actually CAN find enjoyment in depressing scenes, but they at least have to have a happy ending. Oh well.