❀| Doki'ed Dump [Doki Doki Literature Club]

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based off my headcanon of all mcs in games where their personalities are determined by the player are self-aware. how self-aware and whether or not they have admin privilege fluctuates.

this is, once again, a relatively old piece. i made this last-minute for a contest on the ddlc amino, so that hopefully serves as an explanation for the extremely rushes ending. this kinda sucks, but it also has the idea i'm proudest of so far? my feelings toward this are p wack?

also warnings for;

- glitchy gore

- self-awareness crisis™

...

It was the third stage of the cycle yet again.

There was Monika, sitting across him and arms crossed over the only desk left in the otherwise empty room. Behind her, he could make out the endless, dark void outside the windows, countless masses of code running up and down in a chaotic order. The green of the letters and symbols, he soon came to realize, eerily matched Monika's emerald-colored eyes. The small smile on said brunette suddenly seemed unsettling, almost sadistic after all that had occurred, when he averted his gaze back to her.

He should've been more scared, he knew that. After all, as Monika talked on and on about all those horrible things she'd done in order to win the player's heart, right there, in front of him, was a murderer. In his eyes, it didn't matter that the other girls had really only been walking bundles of preprogrammed personalities and masks hiding a wall of code. They'd still been not only his friends but Monika's as well. Even if he knew that they never were real people, that he had also always been only a game character, they gave him a joy of sorts that he greatly treasured. He knew the game's script would never let him do so, but if he could, he would thank them for forever. He'd give them lives worth living, eternal happiness, beautiful memories and everlasting friendships.

He scolded himself for even hoping once had snapped out of his reverie. He'd never get to that blissful point. All the pain and sorrow they had to burden was his fault, after all. He once had the chance to save them, but he made the wrong decision and now, he's made a sick, twisted world out of what used to be a normal dating simulator.

He could still remember the days when it was all cutesy and lovey-dovey, the only real 'disturbance' being petty girl drama. Of course, his memories of those times were only when had gained his self-awareness. Unfortunately, they weren't really that great.

...

He had been doing his homework at 3 am when he first realized. One moment he'd been panickedly looking over his essay to make sure it met the teacher's usual standards, the next his attention was instead on his bedroom's only window. His mouth was agape as he stared at the view outside. It wasn't the usual pitch black sky of the night. No, there were paragraphs and paragraphs of symbols moving at the speed of light instead.

"This can't be real."

He almost tripped himself as he scrambled over to the window. Maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him again. It wouldn't be the first time this happened, especially on those early mornings when he'd been running on caffeine for the past 21 hours. If he could get closer and see anything but whatever the heck that was, then he'd be able to calm himself with the assurance that it was all a crazy illusion. It had to be, right?

Gripping onto the wooden pane, his eyes frantically searched for twinkling stars, bright streetlamps, swaying trees - just anything that wasn't those cursed letters and numbers - to no avail. They were still there, silently taunting him as they traipsed about the expanse. He tried to squeeze his tired eyes shut for a mere second,  then open them up again. Those countless lines of gibberish were still moving about, as clear as the hot blue sky of any sunny day.