I’m on my bed, fully clothed, and I cannot remember how I got here. I don’t know if I’m sitting up or lying down, or what is wall and what is ceiling. When I try to turn to my side, the room twists like a funhouse around me, the bed tilting like it's intent to slide me right off it. Am I alone? I think so.
That's my phone, the bright square of light. It lays on the sheets beside my face, and I grab it. Her name is right there. It's intuitive, too easy to find.
It rings three, four times, and she picks up. “Jude?” She's sleepy. I woke her.
“I’m sorry Michelle,” I slur, and I mean to be sorry for disturbing her, but she seems to assume that I’m apologising for much more than that.
She sighs, “I know you are, and I’m sorry too.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. Are you drunk?”
“Uh huh.” I should likely be sorry for that too.
“Where are you? Why are you drunk dialling me?” She doesn’t seem annoyed with me, concerned, hopeful, maybe, so I tell her the truth, “I miss you.”
I assume maybe I’ve passed out or somehow hallucinated this entire exchange because she's not responding, but then she sucks in a lungful of air and her voice trembles, “I miss you too, I wish you were here right now.”
“No, I was a bad boyfriend.”
“You weren’t.”
“I was the worst.”
“Not always.”
“...It's hard being on my own.”
“Yeah, for me too. Every single day has been horrible.”
I feel the kind of crushing, exaggerated sadness that I only ever do when I’ve had too much to drink, like I’m tumbling into a pit of despair so deep that the sun will never warm my face again. I can't think of a good reason why I have done this. “Sometimes I don’t want to go to Berlin,” I tell her hoarsely.
“Yeah,” she says, then hesitating like she wants to choose her words carefully, “You know that you don’t have to go, though.”
“I dunno.”
“You could stay in Dublin if you wanted to, It’s not too late. If the thought of leaving makes you too sad.”
That sounds deeply depressing, but being on my own is depressing too, and then I’m so frustrated that I fear I will start crying or something, “I can’t think.”
“You’re just drunk, but I think you’re saying this because it’s what you really mean.”
“Maybe.”
“I love you,” she says, and I hear her sitting up in bed, struck with urgency, “I haven't stopped feeling the same way about you, I still love you, and I want you to stay, if you're even considering it at all then that means-”
“Alright,” A group of guys pass by on the road outside, boisterously chanting some tuneless song and I’m conscious that I, or whoever brought me in here, never closed the curtains. I don't want other men to see me like this, and yet I'm unable to move.
“‘Alright’, as in, you’ll stay?” She says hopefully.
“No, like, that I heard you.”
“I think we’re supposed to be together.”
I wonder if she really believes that. Do I believe that? Maybe. “Mm. Maybe I’ll stay,” Sleep pulls at my eyes, which now rest unfocussed on a shimmery patch of sand outside the window. In the distance the waves roar against the shore, a lullaby. Sleep encroaches the corners of my vision and begins to suck me under.
“Please,” she says, really crying now, “I don’t want to be on my own. I’ve been imagining you finding someone else and falling in love with them and it makes me feel sick.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
A sniffle, “No?”
“No, I don’t ever think about other people, just you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Never ever ever. You're my girl.”
She sobs gently.
“Shell, I think I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not, you just made a selfish decision. You can still fix it and make it okay.”
My eyes are too heavy and the world is too weird and dizzy looking to keep them open, “Will you forgive me?” I manage with the last of my energy, but I’m too sleepy to listen to her answer. I pass out in three seconds, the phone warm in my palm, the speakers buzzing gently with the sound of her voice.
In the blinding light of the morning, though my head pounds and every colour and pattern is an assault on my senses, before doing another thing, I grab my phone from my pillow to see new messages from Michelle. I don't read any of them.
Hey.
I type.
I was really drunk. Disregard anything I said, I don't even remember what we talked about.
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ok so i was feeling nostalgic today and started thinking about how my first time going through ddlc was so i’m making a post about it lol
buckle up this is going to be a long one
so i first heard of the game when it first came out in 2017, which means i was like… 12 years old?? so definitely should not have been watching it but what can ya do. anyway i’ve seen the title in a bunch of yt videos which described it as a horror game, and i was intrigued bc… 4 cute anime girls? how is that a horror game. i was too much of a scaredy cat to actually download it on our family computer so i watched some ddlc playthrough in yt. and i was so bored throughout the first half of act one lmao. i think i mentioned it before but when i first encountered the game i wanted to go the monika route, and i was so disappointed it wasn’t an option (until later on when i realised why it wasn’t an option). also the yt video i watched went down the yuri route and look, i didnt necessarily have a problem with the shy girl character type, what i did have a problem with (and still do to some extent) was how the shy girl is always portrayed in anime. i was definitely a shy person growing up, so seeing the traits that had caused me so many problems be considered adorable and desirable kinda irked me the wrong way. so yeah, first half of the game i was pretty unimpressed. i didn’t dislike it, i just thought “i’ve seen these character archetypes before, i know how this is going to play out, i’ll just wait until the other shoe drops”. and oh boy it did.
i remember that scene in sayori’s bedroom to this day dude. this is probably embarrassing to admit, but i honestly believe that scene changed the trajectory of my life. i live in a very uneducated country on the subject of mental health, so i had no idea on anything surrounding it. i’ve heard the term “depression” before, but it was only brought up either in a joking way or in a way of saying someone is too far gone. which is obviously not the case, but that’s how it was usually used back then in my environment. so to see a character that (even if i wasn’t as emotionally invested in bc of how tropey they were at that point) i liked talk about how they struggle with it was a very eye opening experience to say the least. it’s kind of funny thinking back, but i really was like “huh. depression is actually a real thing people can go through. and it could also be something people i care about have to go through. and something i could go through.”. it sounds dumb when i write it down but that was srsly how it was.
then act 2 happened, i don’t really have much to say about act 2 bc throughout the whole thing i was just uncomfortable and unsettled, which is definitely what act 2 is supposed to make you feel. natsuki was now somehow the most normal one, i didn’t like yuri even more now bc she was now also weirdly obsessive, i knew monika was up to something i just couldn’t wrap my head around what. a moment that stuck with me a lot during act 2 was the whole “can you hear me?” thing in monika’s second writing tip, bc wow this girl knows something and is also very clearly trapped by something and WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?? i literally had no idea where the story was going so the reveal hit me like a truck.
act 3… what to say about act 3… i was so mind blown you don’t even know. remember that i was like 12 at the time, this was my first ever experience with the media breaking the fourth wall. and from what i remember i had an… interesting viewpoint on it. i think there are two ways to interpret monika’s self awareness. first up is taking it under the context of the story, basically knowing that she isn’t actually self aware but for the sake of the story following along with the idea that she is. second one is taking it under the context of the behind the scenes, so you understand that she isn’t actually self aware but you can’t ignore it and just immerse yourself back in the story. it’s a risk the creator takes with breaking the fourth wall, bc the second interpretation usually ruins the idea behind the media. i had the second reaction to the awareness reveal. and i think it gives the game an entire new meaning, one that probably wasn’t the original one but i’d like to talk about it. the only thing i was able to think throughout monika’s monologues was : “oh crap. she thinks she’s self aware but in actuality she is programmed to kill her friends. she isn’t free from the script, she’s still following it. the creator just made her think she is aware but actually, she is just as much of a puppet as the other girls and she doesn’t even realise. she’s trapped in an even worse way than the other girls. bc she thinks she is free”. which, is definitely not what dan was going for, but i gotta say it is ten times scarier.
and then sayori goes through the epiphany too and then monika deletes the game and the credits roll but i was so flabbergasted by everything before that i couldn’t even form thoughts through act 4.
so yeah 12yo me was not only struck with the realisation that feelings are real things (thanks to sayori) but now also the thought that just because you experience something that could be 100% real to you doesn’t mean it actually is (thanks to monika). needless to say this game changed me as a person.
damn this was a long one, i apologise if you read through all of this lmao
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for the writer ask
💭🚦💛 💌
💭 What inspires you and your writing?
this is a real marketing major-ass answer (from your local marketing major), but i love sharing knowledge and telling stories. writing’s one of those things that’s a bit of a compulsion for me—i’m always writing something. i took a five-year break from fiction writing before i stumbled ass-first into fanfic last year, but even in those years when i was focusing on my career, i was writing guides and trainings and a ton of other stuff—just not anything fun, lol.
writing is also so cathartic. sometimes i set out to tell a specific story, but at other times, a particular emotion gets me in a vice grip and i have to put it to words before it’ll go away. my stories tend to wind up as emotional dumping grounds as a result.
i don’t write things pulled directly from my own life, but there are bits and pieces of myself and things that have happened to me scattered throughout stuff i’ve written, and usually when i’m about 75% of the way through a piece, i’ll realize it’s absolutely related to something i’m currently going through. funny how art works that way, even when you don’t intend for it to.
and occasionally i just have a fire lit under my ass about an issue and i get so hot about it that i gotta compile my thoughts. looking at you, silver snow
🚦 What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.?
look, i would love nothing more for them girls (pick whichever girls you please) to have a happy ending where they kiss and are stupid in love for the rest of forever. i love reading those kinds of stories. but in my heart of hearts, i love an ambiguous ending. i like when there are still questions after the story ends. i like thinking about where things could go or how the characters will go on after the events of the story. like, shared space could be read as having a happy ending, but i don’t really think it is. and with the victors; the vestiges, well. you’ll see :0)
come to think of it, i’m not sure i’ve ever written a happily-ever-after, but i don’t think i’ve ever written a 100% bad ending, either. i read too many bury-your-gays stories and watched too many sad european queer coming-of-age films in my youth to ever be happy putting that kinda thing out into the world. i want to write about love with all its ugliness, but not despair or hopelessness. i think what most appeals to me about an ambiguous ending is that lingering feeling of hope. it’s not the same as the kind you get from a happily-ever-after, and something about it speaks to me.
💛 What is the most impactful lesson you’ve learned about writing?
honestly? how to take criticism. i took a creative writing class in high school where we had to read our work out loud and then receive feedback on it from the other writers in the class, and that did a lot for me. going into that class, i’d already been writing for forever and had won some little local writing contests and such, so i was a wee bit of a pretentious douche. but i’d never gotten real critique before beyond, essentially, spelling and grammar checks. it humbled me lol. it made me grow so much as a writer, and i could see where i needed to improve or where my head was wedged way too far up my own ass for others to follow. it also helped me recognize strengths i didn’t know i had, and that was huge. it’s easy to get into a self-doubt spiral when making creative work, and good, constructive criticism can do so much to help avoid that.
to this day i love critique. i like knowing what worked or didn’t work so that i can continue to improve as a writer and do better next time. did my themes land? did something really work, but another part fall flat? i’d love to know!! i try to treat everything i write as practice for the next thing, and frankly that’s helped take some of the pressure off so i don’t go into total Perfectionist Mode.
i know critique is kind of a sensitive topic in fan spaces, but i think that’s because a lot of people have gotten unsolicited criticism that is purely critical and isn’t constructive. but getting good, constructive criticism will do so much to help a person grow as a writer. it’s scary, and sometimes it hurts! writing is very personal for most people, and it stings when things aren’t received the way you think they will be. but i know i’ve grown more from having my failures pointed out (and, very importantly, having the good things about those efforts acknowledged) than anything else.
💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?
actually Just answered this in another ask!
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I think writing fic is mostly making stuff up, even the most canon compliant fic is technically made up and therefore not canon in the traditional sense. And with that logic all fic is made up, and I release you to go wild in your fanfic writing dreams.
Yeah like I definitely agree, it's all just a case of degrees of separation from canon - unless you're writing for the show you're not writing truly canon fic, and even some of the show writers kinda fail at canon compliance lmao.
But tbf different people have different limits for how far they'll go and in what circumstances, and we all have our different preferences in terms of canon compliance (and our own different interpretations of canon to comply to, for that matter. Like straight Hawkeye is technically more canon compliant in terms of creator intent lol but you won't catch me reading anything where Hawkeye is straight.)
So yeah, everyone should definitely write whatever fic they want regardless of canon! But I do have my own personal limits in terms of what lines I want to cross, what's more flexible vs what I can't change without losing interest, even if it's in service to an otherwise interesting scenario.
Like to put my preferences another way, I would be more inclined to write magical AU dubcon featuring a love potion or smthn as a way to facilitate trainwreck Hawk/BJ/Peg, than I would, say, write Hawkeye agreeing to that triad because he's naive enough to think it's actually a good idea, or he loves BJ so much that he'll accept an unbalanced relationship, or he doesn't think he deserves better, etc. That's not My Hawkeye.
(Actually tbf the one non-AU way I think it could work is leaning into Hawkeye quitting his career post-canon in passive giving-up-on-everything depression, maybe his dad dying to make it even worse, and BJ innocently taking advantage, believing he's taking care of him and helping Hawkeye recover when really he's just emotionally manipulating him into becoming his second wife and giving up on his career forever.)
(Or maybe if Hawkeye lost his license...? Alcoholism, or being outed could do it easily. I feel like that could destroy him enough that he'd just cling to anything anyone offered. At least for a while.)
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