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Worthington's Wondrous Writeshop: New Story Up!

Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 5:14 pm
by Worthington
EDIT: So i'm going to go with the accepted practice for fanfic writers here and turn this thread into a library for my fanfics, with oneshots being posted here and bigger stories being linked.

Table of Contents

Katawa Roadtrip
Pouring Rain
A Song of Ice and Cripples


First post on this account. I've been lurking here for god knows how long though. Instead of doing some actual work on MY game, I ended up listening to Make Love by Daft Punk and then somehow ended up writing this fanfic. Apologies for the crappy quality; it's rushed and not proofread. Feedback is encouraged, welcomed, and given a hug and some cookies. Anyway, I hope you can tolerate, and perhaps even enjoy, my first piece of writefaggotry ever.

Pouring Rain

It’s pouring rain outside Yamaku tonight; soft, warm rain that lands on the pavement, marking it with an odd assortment of speckles and freckles. The clouds heave and sigh, letting go, preparing themselves to not be clouds and just be water once more; water that will return to the skies and be the same clouds again, but different.

Despite the soft spring weather, a chill begins to creep into my bones. I’m sodden, and without my jacket the thin material of my shirt can not halt the invasion of the droplets. We should go inside; the dormitories are not far by any measure of the word.

But we stay. Her and I. Two people in a world full of people, standing amongst the rain. She’s looking up at the sky, feeling the rain fall onto her face: the little people splashing and breaking and turning into more little people.

And I. I’m looking at her. Feeling her presence around me, leaving me with a warmth and contentment as encompassing as the chill of the soak in my clothes. She raises the tiny stumps of her arms, hidden by my much too large jacket, to the air as if to embrace the rain; welcome it back to the Earth after a long trip away from home. The unknotted sleeves of the jacket sway around, making me smile the slightest of smiles; a half, no, quarter grin that is barely there but expresses so much. Just like hers.

“I want to paint it,” She breaks the silence that didn’t need to be broken. I don’t mind. I let the silence stretch on a bit longer, taking in the words. Then I fill the pause that has been growing;

“Paint what?”

She turns to me and looks at me with her eyes. Her eyes to my eyes. She flaps a sleeve;

“All of it. Everything. Life. Life is a painting. Many of them. All in a row; just jumbled up. Every moment can be something beautiful if we stop, but no one can paint it all. Too many moments to fill, too many ways to paint them.”

The smile gets wider; first mine, then hers.

“What is it, Hisao?”

“Life is a painting, that doesn’t need to be painted. We paint the moments with our lives, and life paints our moments. And then people meet people and paint together, until it’s all one big mural that doesn’t really make sense, but does at the same time,” I tap my foot against the wall we’re leaning on, the mural that she painted, the mural we spent the day against with the fireworks, the mural that we have spent the day with every day since, “and it’s beautiful.”

For a moment we both stop. She looks back at the sky, and I look back at her. Everything is as it was. But the painting grows;

“We should get back inside, the rain’s had enough of us, I think.”

She nods and we start walking. She moves to me, she presses her body against me and wraps the sleeves of the jacket around me, tying us together. I can feel her wet, messy, auburn hair against my cheek. I can feel her breath on my neck. I can feel her eyes opening and closing, drinking in the world. I can feel her heart beating against my arm, a strong healthy heart that made my heart stronger too. I can feel her around me.

It feels good.


She’s sitting on my bed, legs folded under her, wearing a sweater that threatens to engulf her. I drop a towel on her head.
“Dry off. You’ll catch a cold.”

She raises her armlets in an exaggerated way. I laugh and start mussing up her hair with the towel. She squirms and tries to kick me away with her feet, but I grab hold of them and start tickling. She’s giggling uncontrollably, seeming very much not like her, but more like her than I’ve ever seen at the same time.

“Hahahaha…Hisao….haha…stop…hahahaaha…can’t…breathe,” She rolls over, but I don’t let her go. I stop tickling her though. Her feet are remarkably soft for someone who uses them so much.

She cranes her neck back towards me;

“Can I stay here tonight?”

I nod gently. She yawns.

“I’m tired.”

“Yeah, me too.”

I flop onto the bed, causing her to bounce a little. I rest my head against the pillow and she rests her head against me, wrapping me in her arms, more or less.

“Hisao, can you read me a bedtime story?”

“Huh?” I’m a bit taken aback by this unusual request.

“I haven’t read a book in a while. Emi doesn’t have much time for reading. Neither does anyone else. Reading to me, anyway, at least. And if I try to turn the pages with my feet it hurts my neck and my eyes and then I just get sore and have to find someone to give me a massage. But I like reading. Reading and writing. It’s like painting with words. But Emi’s always off running. SO can YOU read ME a bedtime story?”

I let out a small chuckle at her impromptu speech, “Yeah, sure.” I reach over for the book I keep on my bedside table. There’s always one there, even though I’ve stopped reading as much since I took up writing. I begin reading aloud, but after about 10 minutes, she starts to fidget, and she lets out a yawn; the smallest of yawns, but I feel it.

“Don’t you like this story?”

She lets out another yawn, a bigger one this time, “I do but….it’s so looooong.”

A smile replaces the smile already on my lips. Funny how she does that to me.

“Well, I’ll tell you another story. Once, there was a boy. The boy was very sick, and because of it, sometimes the boy was very angry. The boy was taken away from his old life and put into a new life, and the boy was still quite angry,” Her eyes have closed now, but she’s still awake.

“I think I’ve heard this story before. I don’t mind though. You tell good stories, Hisao. Everyone always likes your stories,” She’s struggling to keep the tiredness out of her voice.

“Well then I’ll keep telling it: So in his new life, the boy met many people. And they were all nice people. So the boy was a little less angry. Then the boy met a strange girl. The girl confused the boy, but he liked it. He liked being confused with her. And slowly, the boy stopped being angry, and the girl and the boy were confused together,” She’s fallen asleep against me. I can feel her deep breathing, just like on that day. I stop talking. I wrap my arms around her and bring her in close. I lean down and brush some hair out of her eyes. I kiss her softly on the head. “And the boy loved her very much.”

And we fell asleep like that, wrapped in each others arms.

And outside…

It’s pouring rain outside Yamaku tonight.

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 6:49 pm
by Leotrak
Teeheehee ^_^ Very cute scene you pictured here :) Therefore, I like it too much to nitpick (ok, ok, I'm also dead-tired, but who cares) :P

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 7:00 pm
by Worthington
Thank you kindly for the feedback. This story is very different from the stuff I usually do, I generally gravitate towards the darker, grimmer stuff; but for some reason I felt like expressing some sentiments I've kept locked away for a very long time.
Also, I was reading the Prologue of Numbered Days before writing this, it's what made me write a Katawa Shoujo fanfic.

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 7:29 pm
by Mirage_GSM
Very sweet.
And it doesn't really need any nitpicking either.

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 7:41 pm
by Worthington
Does it need a diabetes warning?
The lack of nitpicking is getting to me, man.

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 8:16 pm
by Nits
Worthington wrote:Does it need a diabetes warning?
The lack of nitpicking is getting to me, man.
Okay, here's some nitpicking:
She nods and we start walking. She moves to me, she presses her body against me and wraps the sleeves of the jacket around me, tying us together.
How the hell does she manage that?

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Sat Sep 10, 2011 8:21 pm
by Worthington
Put on a long sleeve shirt. Now pull your arms inside it so that the sleeves dangle but your arms are still inside a bit. Now swing your arms towards each other, as if you were clapping. If you do this next to a person, you'll produce that effect.

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2011 9:41 am
by DaMan65
This was a good read short but good.

I haven't actually stumbled onto the fan fiction forum in a while and the title caught my eye.

Honestly I can't think of any criticism for it you should write more its very good

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2011 10:57 am
by scott1and
This was a nice wee cute story and I must say, despite being short (which isn't really a bad thing) I really enjoyed it. Even if you dont write any more of this story, seeing some more like this would be a nice read :mrgreen:

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Thu Sep 15, 2011 10:10 pm
by Worthington
Well thanks for all the feedback. I don't think there's a way to continue this piece, but i'll definitely write some more. Probably something with a plot and conflict and all that wholesome narrative jazz. Or maybe just a short sweet fluff piece again. Depends how i'm feeling.

Re: Pouring Rain

Posted: Mon Sep 19, 2011 7:32 pm
by Mr. Wang
Alright, since I'm an avid reader and writer, I suppose I'll take the time to provide some comments.

"But I like reading. Reading and writing. It’s like painting with words."

This quote made me smile so much upon reading it for some reason. It seems oddly philosophical, but in a "Rin-sort-of-way."

The beginning was very philosophical, almost maybe a bit much to make me cock my head and go, "Huh?" But... given that this is Rin, and Hisao being influenced by Rin, this isn't necessarily a bad thing.

You've painted a good scene (no pun intended), and your attention to detail in some places in establishing the moment is nice, especially the beginning. It makes use of good imagery, and vividly tells us what happens in a pleasing way.

After the scene of the two watching the rain, it sorta progresses a bit faster than the first half of the story, and lacks the attention to detail of the first. Of course, given that this is dialogue-heavy here, I'll let it slide. And the ending was very sweet, I'll say. For a writer of "darker and grimmier" things, this was a good read.

Re: Worthington's Wondrous Writeshop

Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2012 9:43 am
by Worthington
So I was reading a Dance With Dragons today and realized how similar some of the physical disabilities the characters in ASOIAF have are to the ones in Katawa Shoujo. Also, fair game, contains a lot of A Song of Ice and Fire "jokes" (pssh, like I can make jokes), and a tonne of ASOIAF spoilers. You have been duly warned.


A Song of Ice and Cripples

I close the gargantuan book with a thud and drop it on the pile of similarly gargantuan books. It lands with a reverberating thwump that sounds like a fat man
taking a shit for the first time in 3 days, or perhaps mortar shells signalling the impending feminist invasion. I can almost hear Kenji pissing himself in the next room. Eyeing the pile of doorstoppers on my table, I take a small moment to gloat.

I have just finished the first five books of the ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ series.

Fuck, what do I do now?

Watch the TV Series? Wait, I already did that.

“FUCK, YES, I KNOW!” I yell as I press triangle to fistpump the air with my excitement boner, “I’LL GET CRISPY-TAN TO READ IT SO I CAN TALK ABOUT IT WITH HER! SHE LOVES BOOKS!”

Perhaps this will provide the opportunity I need to dance the no-pants tango with her.

“HAAAAAAAAANAAAAKOOOOOOOOO!” I run at her while throwing the heavy books in her general direction. Luckily, my aim is complete shit, or else she might’ve gotten a concussion or something.

“EEK! H-HISAO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” She yells out in fright, jumping off her beanbag and lying on the floor, covering her head with the novella she was reading.

The sight of it makes my blood boil with rage.

“GET THIS WEAK ASS SHIT OUT OF HERE!” I kick the book off her head like a professional golfball player and thrust “A Game of Thrones” into her hands.

“W-what is this?” She looks at the book, then at me, inquisitively.

“You like books and shit right? This is a good ass fucking series of books.”

She sits up, and flicks through the pages, “W-what’s it ab-about?”

“It’s kind of fantasy, but not much magic and shit. Lots of political intrigue, good shit,” I pause for a moment, recalling a character that reminds me of Hanabananahammock, “There’s a character in this that you can relate to. Sandor Clegane. Kind of an anti-hero, but he always does the right thing. He’s a pretty cool character.”

“W-what makes him r-relatable?”

“Well, he’s afraid of fire because half his face was burned off by his insane brother and no one can look at him, including the girl he likes, because he’s a fucking deformed monstrosity.”

Hanako begins to tear up, “Y-you’re a g-goddamn asshole, Hisao!” She throws the book at my head and runs off crying.

Unlike me, her aim is fine and it hits me right on the forehead.

“Ow,” I rub the point where the book hit, then pick up the rest of them as Yuuko comes around to check what happened.

“I came around to check what happened. What happened?” She asks nervously, like everything else she does.

“Holy crap that was redundant. Whatever, I just tried to recommend some books to Hanako and she ran off crying.”

“I don’t think that’s all you did, Hisao.” Jesus Christ, even her chiding sounds nervous.

“Well you’re fat and have saggy breasts and greasy hair.”

As I leave the library, I now notice it has a different smell then when I entered.

It smells of tears.

Me gusta.

“Fuck, I need someone else to read these books! BUT WHOM?!”

Shizune walks by me, I briefly consider it for a second.

“lol no, how can she read if she’s deaf?” silly Hisao.

I know just who can appreciate these books.

“LIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLYYYYYYYYY!” I roar as I barrel roll into the tea-room.

“Hisao.” She responds softly, politely, unperturbed by my antics.

“Hey, Lilly, you like knights and stuff, don’t you?”

She giggles softly, “My my, yes I do. I always enjoyed those stories as a child. How did you know?”


She laughs, “You’re a strange one, Hisao.”

“Ain’t I just. Anyway, I got these books that I just finished reading, and they’re really frigging great, would you like to read them so I have someone to fanboy
out with?”

Lilly purses her lips, and the slightest frown crosses her face, “I’d love to, but are they available in Braille?”

“Oh, shit, err…no, I don’t think so. But…well, I could read them out to you, if that’s okay?”

“My my, that’s very sweet of you Hisao. I’d love to, but I do have something to do rather soon, so I’m afraid we’ll have to do that later.”

“Oh, err, sure, no problem,” This is actually going pretty well though.

“For the time being, why don’t you tell me more about these books?”

A thought crosses my mind, “Sure. There’s this one character, Maester Aemon, he’s probably the oldest and smartest character in the series. He’s the last known member of a royal bloodline that was overthrown in a revolution, but no one killed him because he’s part of the Night’s Watch, which takes no part in wars or politics. There’s also this one girl, Arya Stark, who fled as a refugee because her house was at war with the King. She’s really strong and independent. They remind me of you.”

“My my, aren’t you a sweet talker.” She giggles.

“Maester Aemon is also blind, and later Arya is blinded as part of her training.”

“Well,” She pauses for a moment, “I’m not quite sure how to take that. In any case, I must be off now. I’ll see you later, Hisao.”

She leaves the room.

Fuck, did I blow it?

Ah, well. I gather my books and walk outside, only narrowly avoiding being crashed into by a charging wild Emi. She runs into a wall.

“Ah, ow ow ow.” She gets up, clutching her head.

“You almost crashed into me, you crazy loli bitch. Good thing my boner deflected you.”

“Eh, Hisao?” She notices me and grins her idiotic grin, “WHASSUP!”

“A day that is getting progressively worse, and a headache that is following suit,” I say, as I rub my temples to drive out the infuriatingly high-pitched voice from my mind.

“Whatchu got there Hisao?” She asks, snooping around my stack of books.

“Sheafs of paper with printed words on them, binded together. They’re called books. They’re for smart people. In this particular series of books, there is a character that’s a lot like you.”

She smiles idiotically and bounces up and down on her demonic cyborg hell demon legs, making an irritating clacking sound, “Tell me, tell me, tell me!” she shrieks.

“His name is Bran Stark. He used to be cool and climb things, but then he fell off of a tower and broke his back. Now his legs are useless and he’s a stupid cripple that whines and gets carried around by a retard who is cooler than he is. The retard’s name is Hodor. All he says is Hodor. Bran’s not poplar, but he’s always around and gets in the way of cooler characters. For some reason he’s really essential to the main plot so he’s kind of unavoidable, it’s really annoying.”

“THAT SOUNDS COOL! IT MAKES ME WISH I COULD READ!” She runs around cheerily, for no goddamn reason.

I leave.

I spy the art room.

“Rin might appreciate fine works of literature,” I muse.

I kick down the door and power thrust inside, “RIN TIN-TIN BIN DINGALING, HIGH FIVE!” I hold my hand out expectantly.

“Hello, Hisao.” She states nonchalantly.

“Such fine alliteration. You seem like you would enjoy some works of literature,” I hold up the books for her to see, “You should try these out. There’s this one armed guy named Donal Noye, he’s a smithy so he’s kind of like an artist. He’s an awesome dude, he led the Night’s Watch during a battle and killed a giant, and didn’t afraid of anything,” I give Rin a thumbs up.

“A Song of Ice and Fire? Read them all.” She says apathetically.

“Oh, seriously? Woah, cool! Did you watch the HBO miniseries?”


“Cool. So, do you want to fanboy out?”


“Oh, okay. See you later Rin.”

“Bye, Hisao.”

As I exit the art room I hear a slapping, squelching sound that sounds like two sides of beef being thrown at each other, and a squealing not unlike that of a wild boar. This can only mean one thing.

“Hey there Misha!” I yell as I slide on my belly to her and motorboat her meaty thighs.

“HI HICCHAN! WAHAHA!” Misha places her hands on her hips and bellows at me.

“Wait, I’m Misha!” I yell, to fuck with her brain.

“Wait, I’m…what?”

“EXACTLY; WHAT ARE YOU?!” I jump up in her face and breathe my garlic breath at her face, “WHAT’S YOUR DISABILITY?!” I yell, like the Batman.

She begins to sob, “Hicchan! I have no disability!”

I’m taken aback, “Woah, wait, really?”

She stops and places a finger on her chin, pensive, “Wait, did I say disability? I meant anus.”

“Ew,” I walk off, disgusted, and then release I haven’t made an ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ joke yet. I hold up a book, “You’re Brienne of Tarth. Later.”

“Jesus, I think I’m going to have to start moving onto background characters now,” I scream at a nearby passed out homeless man.

Wait, what’s a homeless man doing in the Yamaku hallways?


“CHICK WITH NO HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!” I flying side kick my way into the classroom and crash into Mutou. I stand on his desk and point towards

She glares at me like she wants to cover her stump with hot sauce and razors and jam it up my anus.

“Hey, you like molesting things, right? Try out these books, they’ve got whores and rapes and sexy times. Here, catch.” I throw the softcover version of “A Storm of Swords” at her, and then laugh when she fumbles and drops it.

“I’ve got to hand it to you, you’re quite the tickler,” I chuckle at my own wit, “There’s a character in these books like you. Jaime Lannister. Liked to molest his own sister, great swordsman and such. Then he lost a hand, and now he can’t do anything except knock things over.”

To demonstrate their similarity, I open a can of soda and throw it at her feet, “STOP BEING SO CLUMSY AND KNOCKING THINGS OVER, CHICK WITH NO HAND!”

Her stare is like icy daggers, “My name is Miki.”


Suddenly Mutou gets back to his feet and like the spirit of Jackie Chan reborn punches me in the testicles so hard I fly through the door. He looks down on my collapsed body,

“Hisao, I think you and I need to have,” He slips on a pair of sunglasses, “a heart to heart.”

The power of his pun beats me into unconciousness.

“You alright?” An overly loud voice yells. I can feel a hand slapping at my cheek.

“Wuh…” I open my eyes to see Takashi’s slightly bored looking face gazing at me.

“Teacher sent me to check if you were okay.”

“T-Takashi,” I whisper with barely any strength. I can feel my impending death, but there’s something I have to say, “Myrcella Lannister. She had her ear cut off.”

“I know, man. I read the series.”

“Why…why do so many character in ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’ have disabilities like people in our school?”

“I dunno.”

“Takashi…will you fanboy out with me?”

He looks at me gravely, considering my last request.

“No, I thought the series was shit.”


I soil myself in rage and indignation and die.


I'm so sorry.

Re: Worthington's Wondrous Writeshop

Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2012 1:37 pm
by Mirage_GSM
Worthington wrote:I'm so sorry.
You should be.

Re: Worthington's Wondrous Writeshop

Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2012 2:06 pm
by Worthington
Mirage_GSM wrote:
Worthington wrote:I'm so sorry.
You should be.
I'm actually not. I regret nothing. 8)

Re: Worthington's Wondrous Writeshop: New Story Up!

Posted: Tue Jan 03, 2012 4:59 pm
by Jaksio
This Fic make me wonder how would look a sessions of Game of Thrones Boardgame with all girls?