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weirdmarioenemies · 14 days

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If you're even vaguely familiar with Kirby, there is no doubt in anyone's mind that one of the most iconic abilities is Parasol. It's a unique ability, it gets a ton of merch, and it's cute, to boot!

But when you think about it, there's not a whole lot of enemies for Parasol, is there? There's a lot of enemies that hold Parasols, there's the Parasol itself, which may or may not be sentient, but Parasol doesn't bring a wide variety of enemies to mind like, say, Fire or Spark might.

Believe it or not, there actually are a few enemies that give Parasol that neither HOLD a Parasol nor ARE "just" the Parasol...but they're wholly exclusive to a few games, and have not had a proper reappearance in the games since the SNES era. So, let me introduce you to all of them! Maybe there will even be some you like, or wish would come back!

But first, an honorary mention...

Name: Parasol (Kirby's Dream Land)

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land

You know it, you love it, it's...Parasol?!

That's right! Before it became the ability we all know and love, Parasol actually debuted in the same game Kirby did, which you might note did NOT have copy abilities! Like Waddle Doo and Sir Kibble, this is a classic example of an enemy that had an ability based around it, rather than vice versa.

I want to talk about specifically its iteration in this game, which is a bit different compared to future entries. First off and most noticeably, its appearance is wholly different! The hood is smaller and shaded but with no discernable pattern, the handle is thinner and the hook itself looks more rounded! Secondly, all Waddle Doos and Dees will let go of their parasol once they land, with none spawning while holding them or keeping them when they land anyway.

And another thing: you can't even dang inhale them when they're being held! The Waddler in question will be swallowed, but the Parasol will drift away or, in the Extra Game, even hone in on you! I told you they were debatably sentient! It actually does that in a few future games like Kirby's Adventure, but not nearly as commonly as it did in the original Extra Game. So strange!

OKAY OKAY time for what the post promised you now I promise. Hold my hand (and your Parasol) as I take you through The Parasol Enemies That Time Forgot:

Name: Floaty the Drifter

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 2

"Floaty the Drifter", not to be confused with Floaty the Cell Core, is such a wonderful name. "Floaty" would already be a sillily obvious name on its own, on par with names like Flamer and Chilly and Cappy, but adding "the Drifter" makes it even moreso. Is that its species? Its title? Is Floaty an individual? Probably not, we see multiple of them in the same level and often, and this is not like Vividria where it's canonically an individual that just so happens to be fought in pairs for gameplay, but it's funny to consider. Imagine if they followed through with other enemies, like "Spikey the Poker", "Burnis the Scorcher", "Elec the Trocuter"…

Floaty the Drifter actually acts as the main provider for Parasol in this game, wholly replacing the titular object itself except for when Kirby uses it. On its own, it doesn't do much floating OR drifting, instead hopping around in its own little world, kind of akin to Cappy, but it lives up to its name when a Waddle Dee holds it, in which...it will just act like a normal Parasol! Wholly and entirely. Even when dropped, it flies off rather than initiate its normal grounded behavior. I think I've heard some of them fly at you when released, but I can't think of any instances of that, and that's still a Parasol behavior anyhow.

As you can tell, Floaty the Drifter's claim to fame is in its unique design, bearing a single mischievous eye and a stark green coloration only seen in artwork. In fact, despite being a one-off mook, this would even grant it its own role in the anime!

Floaty the Drifter, or just "Drifters" as they're called here (I guess it is a species!) are bought by King Dedede in the episode "Escargoon Rules" to attack Escargoon and his mother after presumably being "I'm With Stupid"’d all day. I did not watch the anime! According to the wiki, they're about as fragile as you'd expect a swarm of umbrellas to be, as while they swarm towards and wrap around victims, they are easily KO'd by Fire and knocked away by Kirby's own Parasol ability.

You might be wondering why, exactly, Floaty the Drifter even has one eye in the first place, considering that its role is largely the same as Parasol. To answer that, we'll have to move on to the next creature to feature:

Name: Jumpershoot

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 2

I bet you never expected an ability like Parasol to have its own, dedicated midboss, did you? And such a sophisticated one, at that! It's even one of the few Kirby characters with toes, for the freaks in the audience!

As you may have guessed, Jumpershoot and, to a lesser extent, Floaty the Drifter are both based on the kasa-obake, perhaps one of the most ubiquitous yokai! And this is despite not really ever having appeared in folktales, if ever. I was always under the assumption that the kasa-obake was a tsukumogami, an umbrella after it had lived for 100 years, but apparently even this isn't set in stone, either!

Jumpershoot first appears in Big Forest, the second world of the game, and guards Coo because...some reason! I don't think it's ever mentioned why the Animal Friends are kidnapped, they kind of just are! And as for Jumpershoot, does he work for King Dedede? Dark Matter? I don't know how employed midbosses are. Mr. Frosty is on the Halberd once.

Our favorite umbrella attacks by jumping and gently falling towards the ground, then makes a rapid, Tornado-like spin around the room that, after a bit, repels attacks! Then, rather than dropping Stars, he throws his own sandal at you that you can shoot back at him! Don't worry, it regenerates, so you don't have to feel guilty for robbing him of footwear!

I really really like Jumpershoot. And apparently, so did Shimomura, because he reappears in Kirby's Dream Land 3, acting much the same but with more detailed sprites! He's such...a cool character, you know? You wouldn't expect a Parasol midboss to be a yokai, of all things, especially one that acts so rowdy! I love him!

Sadly, as much as we'd all love to, there is no game where you can play as Jumpershoot. Tragic, but true! But...you can get a taste, a crumb of its rapid spin attack by having the Parasol ability while riding Coo, which makes Coo spin around invulnerably just as he does! And while he would later find himself joining the foray of midbosses abandoned after Kirby's Dream Land 3, Parasol Coo still appears in Kirby Star Allies, so his soul is still with us...

This would be the end of the road for Jumpershoot, in terms of games, but luckily for Jumpershootheads, he would make one final appearance in a piece of Twitter art, joining a medley of other monsters by spooking Channel PPP! He's still got it!

Sadly, this wraps up the Jumpershoot section of this post, and thusly we have no more Dream Land 2 Parasol enemies to speak of. But don't worry, we still have more parasolic beasts in the next title...

Name: Sasuke

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 3

Although Floaty had a cute design, it's rather appropriate that the enemy that replaced the Parasol of Kirby's Dream Land would itself get replaced in Kirby's Dream Land 3, isn't it? But Sasuke is no mere living umbrella!

Sasuke's design might bring to mind Bumber for our veteran readers, and its behavior is much the same! It drifts down slowly and steadily, and starts walking back and forth on whatever block it lands on, just like Parasol Waddle Dee, but its hat never detaches, so it will never not give Parasol! Personally speaking, though, I think Bumber is MUCH more cute and memorable...sorry, Sasuke! At least you will always have Naruto to confide in.

Sasuke also made an appearance in the anime, where he's built a lot more like Lololo & Lalala. Here, he draws a gun at King Dedede and Escargoon, an

Name: Klinko

Debut: Kirby's Dream Land 3

The oddest Parasol appearance in both looks and functionality, and our final Parasol giver, is Klinko! It looks like it would give Cleaning if anything, with its hat reminiscent of a besom! It doesn't even drift down slowly like every other Parasol enemy does at some point–in fact, while it hops around, it doesn't share any traits with the Parasol ability at all, and is the only Parasol enemy like that! So, why does it give Parasol, then?!

The answer is: it's not wearing an old broom, but actually a straw umbrella, because it's based on yet ANOTHER yokai! Shimomura seemed to think yokai were the future of the Parasol ability, and who wouldn't!

The amefurikozō, unlike the kasa-obake, has a bit more concrete lore, being children that appear in and sometimes cause rainfall, hence why they wear straw umbrellas. This is true of Klinko, too, as it appears in cloudy stages or stages with heavy snowfall! Its Japanese name, Kinko, might also suggest some relation to the separate yokai Yukinko, a child associated with heavy snow, which could also explain its tendency towards icy levels.

It's easy to see why such an unparasolic enemy would not be used any further, but I kind of like them more for it. They're an anomaly! Sure, this is essentially just Floaty the Drifter's hopping behavior, but the lack of any other Parasol attributes than just wearing an umbrella really make it stand out to me! And that's the beauty of these enemies—the longer Parasol goes without any new enemies, the more these guys will always stand out, and that's wonderful, I think!

What do you guys think? Is the time right for some of these guys to make a comeback? Is Parasol better with the limited enemies they use now? Or should they make new ones? Tell me! I can't do anything with your suggestions but I have nothing better to do than read them!

#parasol #floaty the drifter #jumpershoot #sasuke #klinko #kirby #kirby enemies #kirby's dream land 2 #kirby's dream land 3 #kirby's dream land #kirbys dream land 2 #kirbys dream land 3 #kirbys dream land #funky friday #mod tweeter #dont ask about bukiset #correction i forgot to make to this post: floaty the drifter CAN launch towards kirby (though doesn't explode)#but the ones that can are so rare that they might as well not exist

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beatcroc · 2 months

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a year!!! as of today i have now been drawing these funny little pizza freaks, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for!!! an entire year!!! i wanted to do a nice group shot/lineup of everybody to compare to when i first started trying to draw them because oh boy were they bad. i never even posted most of them anywhere because they were so bad. but im posting them here, now, to see how everything's changed/evolved.

this is probably the hardest time i've ever had trying to figure out how to work with a style, but we got there eventually; i'm pretty happy with the handle i've got on everybody now...dont let ur memes be dreams. lots of unimportant journaling and idle thoughts abt it below.

older pics

the first one is the VERY first time i drew them, before i thought i was going to actually have any interest in drawing them [lmao]; it was just the one isolated image, for my friendserver, to illustrate the funney message, so there was no attempt to make it Good or actually understand anything going on w/ the designs or style.

second is the original run of practices sketches to start trying to figure them out for real; done after i started having ideas for the comics and such and realized oh god maybe i am actually gonna draw fanart for this. [again, lol, and lmao.]

third one is the first pt art thing i posted on here. there were a couple weeks of sprite studies between this one and the previous image. the one on the top right wasn't part of that post i just threw it on as space filler; i'd intended to shift to doing Sprite Redraws But Stylized to explore tings more, but that was the only one i did. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

individual characters

peppino: by far the hardest dear god. bro what ARE your shapes how DOES your face work. jesus christ. everything i have trouble with this style for, peppino has it in excess. i draw in polygons! i need consistency! and that is the last thing this kind of style is concerned with. they are made of squarshy clay and i do not understand how to mold them. i was really hoping trying to learn this game's style would GIVE me that kind of flexibility for fun exaggerated facial expression but i don't think much came of it in the end 😔. anyway on the bright side all this means once i got peppino figured out a little bit everybody else clicked way easier.

fake peppino: honestly i never did anything with him on purpose except for how his eyes work + the perma-smile thing. i figured ok hes supposed to look weird and off model so whatever happens with him happens. and it did. and it kept happening. it is still, in fact, happening.

noise/ette: somehow, for every bit that peppino was the least natural thing i've ever tried, these two worked pretty much right off the bat. i still don't understand it, seeing as pretty much all the things at play for peppino are also at work for them. i think the new sketches are actually a little worse than older ones but not enough that i care.

gustavo: really funny bc i drew him on model twice and just went 'okay, cool nice, easy, um. he doesn't have any fucking legs?' fortunately he was the only one i had a strong idea for how to stylize him [square] and it worked exactly as i was hoping so wahoo.

brick: is an animal and therefore 5000x easier and more natural for me to draw/stylize than anything else in the cast. that is Just a rat bro. i can draw a rat.

gerome: i think the funniest one here. the most drastic and least necessary change imo. i was gonna have him be really small at first, like smaller than the noises, but then i just... didn't. he's just peppino-sized now. also i gave him like. actual human facial structure, which is funny bc in most cases i'd do anything to avoid, but it works well for his being A Rock to give him some angles and definition like that+ to differentiate his vibe from the rest of the cast who are all very squishy. also since he is essentially Just A Head it's good to emphasize that too ig.

john: i only drew john a couple times but he gets to be here because i like him. and because most of the stuff i applied to gerome was readily applicable to john, though i did try to keep him a little more uncanny because he is a Huge And Lanky Freak. i hate that he is barefoot btw but idk how to make his color balance look right with shoes.

pizzahead: i did not want to put him on here honestly but i Have drawn him a handful of times and more importantly i didn't know what i was gonna do with john's pose if i didn't have him there to be glared at. the only thing that's different with him is giving him wider-bottomed pants, which i got from when i tried to draw these guys in clone high style [i never posted that one either][i will eventually]

snick: he gets to be here because 1. he's like 6 lines 2. i like him and 3. ive scribbled him a few times offhand and it went pretty well

misc

there are some guys missing because those are guys i didn't draw enough [or at all] to have gotten comfortable with them. sorry

i would have Liked to shade these but for the time being i have accepted that my grasp of light/shadow has decayed to the point im not going to be happy with anything i try there, so For Now i am working on my presentation with flats i guess. gerome has a shadow only because he's shaded like that ingame and looks naked without it

anyway if you are still reading [hi?] i get to shamelessly plug now. i'm over the hill of my pizza run now, and while i still have plenty of things i want to make here, most of the bigger more in-depth ones have passed. pizza tower was the first thing in THREE YEARS to get me out of my oc groove to doing fanart, and once i am done with my ideas here i will be going right back to it. if you like my art or how i write characters/interactions you should check out my oc/webcomic blog @jamverse . i can't promise people who like pizza stuff will be terribly into my designs, but i can guarantee i treat my guys with the exact same sort of tone i handle the pt guys with. and hell, i've mentioned it a few times before, but like 70% of my characterization for fake pep is just copied off one of my characters, so if u are going to miss him... he will still be there in spirit >;p

and if you dont care about any of that and are still reading thank you anyway. actually making these comics + seeing how shockingly well-received they've been has done a lot for my confidence, and for seeing that my kind of stuff IS something people enjoy :')

#pizza tower #peppino spaghetti #fake peppino #gustavo and brick #the noise #noisette #pizzahead #arting #pizzaposting

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harrysfolklore · 1 year

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Someone throwing something onstage and it hits bandmate yn and he gets all upset??

here it is! this was previously posted on patreon, if you want access to my work earlier and exclusive writings, SUBSCRIBE HERE

BANDMATE!YN MASTERLIST

ask me anything | masterlist | likes and reblogs are appreciated !

Harry loved performing, and now that he gets to do that alongside with his girlfriend, he loves it even more.

His shows are known for being a safe space for everyone, a place where they can be whoever they want to be, dance the night away, meet new people and if they’re lucky enough, get some advice from their favorite singer or get him to catch something they throw on stage for him.

All kinds of stuff were thrown on stage for him and his band: flags, stuffed animals, crocheted flowers, signs and sometimes even phones, but lately his fans were fond on throwing water on stage, with the purpose of starting a water fight with Harry.

Harry didn’t have a problem with his fans throwing stuff his way, in fact, he quite enjoyed seeing what they come up with, but he surely wasn’t fond of them throwing water on stage because it made the space all slippery and easy for him or anyone on his band to fall. Some fans caught up that he didn’t like when they did that, being able to tell it by the serious face he makes when he notices it, but some decide to turn a blind eye and do it anyway, and that was tonight’s case.

The band was on stage halfway through their 8th of 15 shows in Los Angeles, adrenaline running through their veins as they performed Medicine, Harry and YN had a tradition of singing the second verse together so she always moved towards where his mic stand was set to share the microphone with him, and every single time the action made the fans go nuts. Tonight wasn’t the exception, as the second verse approached, YN moved to where Harry was already waiting for her, but she failed to notice the wet surface that made her slip and fall, landing on her elbow and cutting it open since she was wearing a tank top for the night.

“Shit,” Harry let out on the microphone as he hurried towards his girlfriend, not caring about the fact that he stopped mid song and everyone in the arena was looking, “Baby, are you okay?” he grabbed her face looking for an answer before he noticed her bleeding elbow “Of course you’re not, fucking wet floors, they should know by now throwing water is not the goddamn thing to do.” he spoke again, fans on the barricade could faintly hear him and the anger on his voice was evident, along with his sour expression and furrowed brows.

"I'm okay H, I just need a quick bandage and I'll be good to go," YN said as she got up from the floor with Harry's help, looking at her elbow for the first time and noticing that her injure was worse than she thought.

"Nonsense, I need to take you to the hospital, this show is over," his face was as serious as the tone of his voice, proper upset that his girlfriend got injured because of some careless fans.

“You're being irrational now, we're not ditching the show when there's just two songs left, let me get bandaged up so I can keep playing, and go back to singing or everyone will be upset," YN scolded him as she walked to the stairs to get off the stage, a medical crew was already waiting for her for a quick check up

"Fuck everyone."

And regardless of a crowd of more than 20,000 people waiting for him, he followed his girlfriend off the stage, stood next to her as the medical crew cleaned and bind up her elbow, luckily the injury was pretty superficial and no stitches were needed, however, Harry was still pretty much upset and worried.

"Once we get up that stage again you're going to wipe that angry face off and we're going to play the last two songs as if nothing happened, okay?" YN scolded him again, she was bummed about getting hurt too but she wasn't going to let him take it out on his fans just because a couple of them were the reason she got injured.

"Okay, but everyone can expect a lecture about throwing water tomorrow, that's for sure" he kissed her lips quickly before they went back to the stage, and even with an injured elbow YN still delivered a great performance like the rock star she is.

taglist: @cucciolafaerie @eleanordaisy @sunflowersndpeaches @golden-hoax @alienorknight t @daydreamingofmatilda @sunflowervolume66 @vanteguccir @ivyproblems @ayeshathestyles @stylesmygucci i @gimsaysay @rosaliedepp @dontworrysunflower @milfrrynation @manifestrry @iceebabies @harrystylesrecs @pleasingrryyy @harianaswhore @leadmetogarden @abeanontoast @grapejuice-rry @vrittivsanghavi @msolbesg @tati813 @sad1esgf @ivegotparticulartaste @eviesaurusrex @itsgabbysblog @theekyliepage @gumballavocadoharry @watermelonsugacry @be-with-me-so-happily @a-strange-familiar @reveriehs @musicforcinemas @rafeyyyyy @tinydeskwriter @noooovaaaaa @tenaciousperfectionunknown @mxltifxnd0m @rach2602 @balletdancerry @b-reads-things @juiceboxrry @lomlolivia @itsgigikay

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blingblong55 · 9 months

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It would've been sweet- Alejandro Vargas Rodolfo Parra

In which you and him were in a relationship and he(alejandro) leaves you for his ex, Valeria Garza. Rodolfo is the one who mends your broken heart.

F!Reader, angst?, cheating, civilian!reader, fluff

Based on a request: need a part two of "it wouldve been sweet" with rudy and reader becoming a thing (if youre not already writing it) feel free to write it however you want, I just NEED it

A/N: Will be short:)

1 year, that's how long it took for Rodolfo to reach out and help you heal. He didn't want you to jump from one man to another, so he gave you time and space to get over Alejandro and then think of him as the potential 'one' for you. He was always around though, never too far from you just in case you needed him. There were times when he didn't mind it if you used him as a rebound but part of him just stayed away so you could see him as more than a rebound.

One day, 2 years ago, he bumped into you. "Oh shit my bad- Rodolfo?" you looked at him and he gave you a small smile. It was no coincidence he was in that market at that time. "Oh, hey R/N, i-what are you doing here?"

"Have some groceries to get."

There was an awkward silence until he spoke up. "I'm sorry, about Alejandro, you don't deserve to be left like that."

"It's okay, I got over it, so...how are you?" you tried to stir the conversation away from Alejandro.

"Great, hey um..would you mind if I came over some time and hung out? like just the two of us?-as friends of course." Do I really want to friendzone myself?

"Yeah. Wait I mean...no I wouldn't mind it you can totally come over-sorry was that too forward of me to just agree?- I'm rambling, aren't I?" You laugh a little and look at the trolley.

"I'm glad he didn't make you change that part of yourself," he paused and looked at his watch, then back at you. "I...um..I always admired how fun you were to be around and how positive you are."

"Thanks."

An awkward conversation led to stuttering messes of late-night conversations. He gave you back that old you, the one you lost when the guy you once loved snatched it from you. Now, all you do is walk around town with him, making jokes and creating even more inside jokes than necessary. From one conversation to lying on green grass, holding hands and laughing together.

There were times when all he wanted was for you to be open, to talk to him about any and everything. With Alejandro, instead of sitting down and talking, he'd make up by having sex with you. Rudy was not like that, he genuinely wanted to listen to your side of the conversation or argument, there were times you two would sit down for hours over coffee and talk all night long. From crazy theories, the existence of humans, and the most random animal topics, to your feelings, how your day was, did you eat, did you like him as much as he likes you?

That was the difference between them, Alejandro wanted just sex and a relationship he can rely on if he has to settle down. Rudy was clearly not like that, he waited patiently, wanting for you and him to feel something real and genuine. As days turned to months then 2 years, it is safe to say that you have moved one from Alejandro and have fallen in love with the only one who knows which smiles you are faking.

Today, as Rudy and you went on your weekly date, Alejandro saw you. He saw how you leaned on Rudy, how you laughed and looked at him. It was then that he realised he had something so pure and so beautiful. He and Valeria broke up...again. It was over you. This was so regular he knew she would be back in his life once more.

"I love you." You tell Rudy, eyes showing how drunk in love you are. It made Alejandro's chest ache, those were the words that were once exclusive to just him. He had to know a few things. Was he better, does he love you, does he kiss you like he did, does he know all the sweet spots?

"Ay, Alejandro!" Rudy calls for him as he notices him standing out of the open building. "Oh, hey Hermano." What a fake smile he gave. There was a reason behind Rudy calling for him, to make him jealous and to make him realise you had moved on and were doing so much better. Nothing that Rudy has done is because of coincidence.

Tags: @liyanahelena @9erfume @anonymuslydumb @johfaam0

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magicalbats · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 9: Lactation

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 8971

Afab!reader, noncon, mentioned/implied abduction, lactation, milking machine, medical kinks, injections, human experimentation, breast expansion, breastfeeding, possible body horror elements depending on how you want to look at it, general horror/ psychological horror themes, let me emphasize again that this is VERY non consensual

A/N: okay, this one is dark. It might be upsetting or uncomfortable to some so PLEASE read the tags and pay attention to your own comfort levels before clicking the read more. It’s Dottore and you should expect the worst, so honestly just multiply that by 5 before you make your decision to read or not ndkvndke

⭐

You were hand selected from a group of other women and girls. Neither the oldest or the youngest, you’d fallen somewhere in the middle. It had been a diverse selection, ranging in size and shape, and even physical maturity, but he chose you out of all the rest. You’d watched him summarily dismiss the matrons standing in line with little more than a glance, outright scoff at the ones who hadn’t even hit puberty yet, as if they disgusted him, and then wave off the girls who were thin and malnourished. It was impossible to tell what he was looking for at the time, especially when it had come down to you and a few others who were healthy and ripe; old enough to be of marriageable age but not so on in years that your bodies were showing signs of aging yet … but you’d long since come to realize the answer for yourself.

After that humiliating selection process and the equally invasive exam that followed, your world receded to a fine, pinprick of existence that consisted almost exclusively of cold metal equipment and him. Sterile and unpleasant, he touched you with impartial hands encased in powdery gloves while he conducted his preliminary experiments in the cold laboratory where he kept you like an animal. When not on his exam table or hooked up to strange, whirring machines that you did not understand the purpose of, you were securely locked inside a cage in the corner. You’d been foolish enough to think it somewhat nice and even comfortable at first, since it was bigger than the one you’d had to share with all the others after those masked deviants took you from your home. He even provided you with a blanket so you wouldn’t catch a chill and expire before he was through with you — or so he’d said — but the appeal had quickly faded. It was impossible to stay optimistic when you'd been in here so long that you were even starting to forget what the outside world was like.

You couldn’t tell how much time you’d spent there, unsure if only several weeks had passed or if months had flown by without your noticing. It could have been either, and he never responded when you asked. He never said anything to you, only at you. The Doctor in the frightening bird mask. As cold as any of the steel equipment he touched you with and just as silent as the machines, he merely conducted whatever trial or objective was on the schedule for the day and then left. You weren’t even sure if he had a name, but if he did you certainly didn’t know it.

He’d also never asked for yours.

The Doctor called you ‘Specimen’ when he bothered to refer to you at all, sometimes murmuring instructions to the exceedingly rare assistant that would stop in from time to time to help him with tasks. Either to get you hooked up to another set of plugs and monitors, or to strap you down to the table for him. You were much too scared to actually struggle or fight but it seemed to be the way of these things, so you allowed them to secure leather straps over your ankles and wrists without a fuss. He never hurt you beyond temporary discomfort when he’d take stabbing metal pincers to your breasts and notate the measurements with a low hum, or slip an uncomfortable metal device inside your cunt to spread you open. This, you could accept. You tried to tell yourself it was probably still better than what the others were experiencing, wherever they were, and the pain never lasted long anyway.

But then came the day where he wheeled a small tray over after already securing you in place on the chilly metal slab in the center of the room, and you just caught a glimpse of what was on it. Needles. That wasn’t so strange. He took blood samples from time to time, to do what with you had no idea, but … these syringes were full of something. A mostly clear fluid that looked only slightly murky in the glaring overhead light. He was going to inject you with it.

You understood this on an intrinsic, innate level of comprehension but still maintain your obedient silence while he putters around with whatever else was on the little tray. It’s not like he would have explained anything to you even if you’d asked. It’s only when he finally turns to you and wipes a cold, faintly clinging swathe over one side of your breast do you start to realize that something is not quite right here. The smell of antiseptic floods your nose all at once and you gasp, jerking against the bindings holding you down.

It’s no use though. The leather is entirely unrelenting no matter how much you anxiously jostle your wrists, and all you can do is lay there, watching with big, frightened eyes, as he thoroughly wipes the area clean. It was so chilly in the lab that your nipples were already stiffly coiled but the one he’s clinically wiping down with that damp cloth seems to pebble to an even finer point that makes you whimper low in your throat. The Doctor had touched you like this before, many times in fact, so you didn’t understand why your body was reacting like this to him. Almost like it knew something you hadn’t yet realized …

When he brings the first needle close to your tit you panic even though you try not to. But he merely clicks his tongue at you, murmuring something under his breath about behaving as he reaches out with his other hand to cup the swell of your breast and still you. Your toes curl at the sensation even as you anxiously shake your limbs, so scared and wracked with uncontrollable shudders your chest heaves under his hold but he doesn’t even give it a moment's pause. One second the sharp needle is arching through the air on a sure, steady trajectory, and the next it’s sinking deep into your flesh.

A hurt, gutted little moan escapes you, hot tears flooding your eyes while you watch him swiftly depress the plunger. It only takes a few seconds for the syringe to empty and he leaves you wildly gasping for breath when he withdraws it from the skin before turning back to the tray.

You can’t process any of it as he sedately moves around the table to come up on the other side and repeat the process. It’s like you’re suffocating, looking up at him in horrified confusion and disbelief. What the hell was he injecting you with?

“Wait …” It's little more than a timid mouse squeak.

Softly tutting at you, The Doctor quickly wipes the area down with a second antiseptic wipe and then bends over your chest to bring the next needle close. “Hush now, Specimen. I’ve got you.”

The sharp point pricks into the meat of your breast and he lets out a low, faltering breath as it sinks in. You lurch on top of the table, too restrained to actually pull away, but it does little to stop you from devolving into hysterical, heaving gasps. You didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand. But if your frantic reaction concerns him in any way he certainly doesn’t show it as he straightens up, eyeing you from under that horrid mask for a long moment before humming a brief sound.

“Perhaps Specimen needs a sedative for today. We don’t want you hurting yourself carrying on like that, do we?”

Chuckling faintly at the way you wordlessly squawk and shriek, he steps around you again to dig in a drawer on the far side of the room. You’d never admit it but you were so gripped by wild, mindless panic, very nearly choking on it, that you’re almost a bit relieved when he returns and injects another shot into your pinned arm. Almost immediately a false, manufactured calm starts to wash over you and you readily relax into it, happy to let your mind drift off rather than be forced to face the reality you were living.

*~*

The next day finds you strapped down again, but this time with the upper half of the table propped up so you could sit. You’d woken up sore, your chest aching so fiercely it made you wince and seethe each time you moved, and having the weight of your breasts settle without any support like this was just making it worse. If you could have brought your hands up to elevate them and lessen some of the pressure you would have gladly done that but your wrists remained locked next to your hips.

The Doctor takes his time giving you the usual examination as he always does, checking your temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, etc until he finally gets to the end and sets his clipboard aside. You cautiously watch him reach out then, twitching when he tentatively prods the underside of one breast with a blunt knuckle. He doesn’t miss your reaction even though you’d tried to conceal it, scared of what he might do with that information, and he noises a brief sound of interest as he brings his other hand up as well.

Simultaneously, he nudges both of your tits to lift them slightly but not actually support them, and you hiss through tightly clenched teeth. You were already starting to feel lightheaded, a bit nauseous. The deep ache you felt was so close to being unbearable that you can’t help but react even when you know he’s only going to turn it back around on you.

“My, how interesting,” He murmurs to himself, sounding really quite pleased with this result. “You’re already this tender, Specimen? It must be working even quicker than I thought … looks like I made the right choice when choosing you for this experiment. Aren’t you happy?”

You want to ask him what experiment, desperate for any information at all, but you bite your tongue, already knowing full well he wasn’t going to explain anything to you. All you can do is helplessly watch as he pokes and prods, and paws at your chest until you can’t hold it back any longer and stinging tears track a wet path down your face. Your chest was so sensitive and sore it felt like he was jabbing you with blunt knives.

Softly laughing under his breath, The Doctor lifts his hands a little higher and just brushes over your stiff nipples. You choke at the instant, blinding sensation and jerk back against the table so hard it clatters in response. It was all you could do just to keep drawing air into your lungs. You were so oversensitized it hurt!

“Please,” You somehow manage to grit out. “Stop it!”

“How precious,” He purrs, low and mean, as he takes delicate hold of the hardened buds between thumb and forefinger. Just holding them for the moment but even that is enough to make you writhe in place, thrashing against the bonds as much as you physically can. “You know, this is the kind of feedback you just can’t get with animal test subjects. All they do is scream and bleat, but you …”

He leans closer — so close the curved beak of his mask almost touches your face — and you suck in such a ragged, threadbare gasp that it seems to claw at your throat on the way down. Trembling like a leaf now, you just stare at him. Fixated on the spot where his eyes should have been. You can catch only a very small glimpse of the corner of his mouth like this, and you’re more than a little unnerved to find he’s smiling. Delighted. Pleased.

You just shake even harder.

“Isn’t it nice that we can communicate like this, Specimen? You can beg me for mercy and I can laugh at you for being stupid enough to try. Why, if I suddenly find myself feeling generous I could even attempt to have a conversation with you.” Pausing, The Doctor appears to give that a moment’s consideration only to softly click his tongue at length. “Probably not, though. I doubt you have anything of interest to say.”

Before you can even think to respond or formulate a convincing argument for yourself, he abruptly pinches down on your nipples and you shriek. Jerking back against the table only makes your tits bounce and pull at your sore teats where he’s still got them squeezed between his fingers, fresh tears welling behind closed eyes. It was easily the worst thing you’d ever felt. Even worse than the barbaric looking contraption he’d wedged inside your cunt and used to stretch you open when he first brought you here. You’d thought nothing could compare to that discomfort but you were now realizing just how bad it could really be.

In this manner he spends what feels like many agonizing, endless hours just toying with your breasts; tugging and pulling, and twisting, until the sharp sensitivity somehow exceedes the threshold of comprehension in your mind and dwindles to a dull, mostly numbed but still aching throb. You’re distantly aware of it but too strung out to give it voice anymore. You barely even register the sound he makes when he finally breathes out a quiet sigh of satisfaction and pulls away, leaving your chest screaming in the aftermath. All you knew was that he was stepping away, leaving you to the agony …

But then he comes back, and a broken little sob bursts out of you when you recognize the two needles in his hand. Whatever this experiment was, it didn’t look like it would be over any time soon.

~*~

The next few days continue in the same manner, repeating the same process over and over again until you almost start to become acclimated to it. The Doctor visits you once in the morning to make note of your vitals and jot down whatever remarks on his clipboard before leaving you to waste away in solitude until midafternoon. Another round of vitals and more note taking, then another session of having him paw at your chest until tears were streaming down your face and, finally, another shot in each breast. He leaves you for the rest of the day until his final check in late in the evening when he makes his final notations and then secures you inside your cage for the night. It all would have been rather humdrum at a certain point except …

Except that by the end of the first week you start to notice certain changes in your body. You’d thought it was your imagination at first, just a result of the injections and all the brutish pawing he insisted on doing for no reason you could conceive, but your breasts were in fact getting bigger. Swelling to the point that it was noticeable and you couldn’t write it off as a mere flight of fancy. Even worse though was the way your nipples had likewise become puffy and constantly stiff, like they were in a perpetual state of arousal. It was all very strange, to look down at your own chest and see yourself looking like that, but The Doctor was nothing if not pleased.

He marveled over the results to no end, constantly remarking on how well you were reacting to the treatment and muttering under his breath that it wouldn’t be long now. You didn’t dare to ask until what, really not sure if you even wanted to know, but it’s not as if he would have told you anyway. Utterly helpless, all you could do was try to grin and bear with it for as long as you were able to, hoping that this trial would soon come to a close.

But of course you’re not quite so lucky, and at the start of the second week he suddenly introduces double dosages of that mysterious substance he was injecting you with. Instead of one in both breasts, you now got two in each and with that increase so too do the results start to speed up.

Your chest is not only growing bigger, you're more than a little horrified to realize one day, but heavier too. Initially you think they’re one and the same, and you were feeling jittery panic over nothing. But then you’d touched them, lifted them in your palms to lessen some of the strain, and it had occurred to you that your tits weren’t just filling out … they were swelling with an internal pressure, like something was building up under the skin and the resulting inflation was forcing them to expand. You couldn’t make any sense of it. Not only did you just not understand what was even happening in the first place but you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around why he would do this to you. What was his goal? Were these really the results he’d hoped for, or had something gone wrong?

Trying to tell yourself you were still likely faring better than any of the others you’d shared a cramped little prison cell with or any of the women you’d stood in line with to be evaluated like livestock only goes so far. It soon becomes especially hard to consider your situation a lucky one when the daily breast massages steadily turn into a truly tortuous experience. Where you’d once been simply too sensitive and tender, there was now the added sensation of having too much pressure without any way to relieve it. You sob all throughout these little sessions now, groaning and heaving against the exam table while he squeezes and pinches, tugging on your raw teats until you’re sure you’re going to lose your mind. It gets so bad that even after he leaves you to your own devices you find yourself rubbing your chest in a blithe attempt at easing some of the constant ache there.

That’s how you eventually figure out what’s really going on.

It’s the start of the third week (you’d made it a point to keep track from that first injection) and your tits are so heavy and swollen they look like they’re ready to burst. Fighting back harsh, body wracking sobs, you desperately run your hands over them even though it’s done you little in the way of good up until now. It’s like an instinctive urge though, something deep in the primal part of your brain compelling you to massage your breasts even when it just causes you more discomfort. But you can feel something building in them and you’re half delirious with the thought that you would soon find relief if you just kept at it long enough.

The first wet dribble almost goes unnoticed. You think it’s a mistake. A bead of sweat, perhaps, or maybe even a faint little droplet of blood where your nipples felt so chaffed and sore. But when you look at your fingertip only to find a clear, somewhat thick consistency clinging to the skin, you feel faint with disbelief. Try to convince yourself that it’s not what you think it is, that you were excreting literally anything else — anything at all, but … the proof smacks you across the face when you bring it up to your mouth and take a cautious lick.

It was sweet and bitter at the same time, and more than just a bit cloying and you’re suddenly left with the crushing realization of what he’s done to you.

~*~

For the first time ever, you fight him tooth and nail when it comes time to strap you down to the table for your midday exam. It’s difficult with your chest so swollen and heavy that every shuddering movement hurts, but you still manage to hold out until he’s forced to call for backup. You feel rather proud of yourself for that up until two sets of hands descend upon you, grappling to get you secured in place, “without harming the Specimen!”, he’d irritably snapped.

It seems to stretch on for many, many minutes, but at last they manage to buckle a restraint around one of your wrists and it becomes frustratingly easy for them to get the rest. You’re left panting and heaving, shooting daggers at The Doctor as well as his assistant when they step back to sort themselves out. The younger man was nursing a bruised jaw where you’d successfully caught him with your elbow and The Doctor … you’d almost knocked his stupid mask off his face, and you regretted not being able to see him without it as he tersely readjusts it’s placement. Maybe next time though. There was always a next time with him.

Finally drawing himself up, The Doctor impatiently tugs at the cravat around his neck where it had twisted askew before barking at the other man. “Get the table up. I want the Specimen sitting for this.”

His assistant rushes to obey and you narrow your eyes at him in warning, still gasping for breath as he comes up next to you. Bending down, he reaches under the table to fiddle with some sort of lever or mechanism and then moves to incline the top half of the table, slowly inching you up until you’re left staring directly at The Doctor. He’s standing at enough of a distance that you can see his mouth under the curved beak, and you’re quite pleased to note he’s scowling at you. Good. A bit of frustration was well deserved after what he’d done to you.

“Now then,” He finally intones, low and dangerous, as his assistant reaches back under the table to lock it in place. “Might I ask just what it is you think you are doing today? I was so sure you knew better than that.”

It takes you a moment to realize he hadn’t asked you a rhetorical question for once and was actually expecting an answer. You were so unused to him acknowledging you in any way that for a moment you’re not quite sure how to respond.

“Why don’t you start by telling me what it is you’re injecting me with.” You finally spit.

The Doctor tips his head to one side, looking so much like a curious carrion bird in his beaked mask and feathers that it actually sends a chill down your spine. “Do you really think you’d understand if I told you? How ridiculous.”

Your cheeks start to grow warm, but you pull yourself up as much as you’re able to and try again. “You’re a monster! What did you do to me?”

“That’s better.” Simpering, he roughly yanks at his coat to straighten it and then strides forward. Your already erratic heartbeat picks up at his approach but you can’t pull away when he comes up alongside you and reaches out to rather disinterestedly grab one of your tits. Sharp splinters of pain immediately shoot through you and you wheeze, looking down at his hand on your chest in dull disbelief. “What I did to you is rather simple, really. If you want my honesty so much then let’s just say I’m a little surprised you didn’t start to figure it out sooner. Even someone with rocks for brains should have noticed the correlation when their body started to undergo sudden change. I mean, really. Are you that oblivious or are you just trying to get under my skin, darling Specimen?”

He emphasizes that last bit with a tight, incensed squeeze on your chest, and you outright choke when a tiny little spurt of discharge flies from your nipple. Going so completely still it’s disconcerting, The Doctor simply stares down at you for a long, tension filled moment. Then, to your reeling surprise, he abruptly lets you go.

“I see,” He eventually murmurs, tapping a gloved finger to his chin in thought. “So that’s what finally tipped you off. We’ve already made it this far in the experiment so it simply wouldn’t do to kill you now and have to start over from scratch … but we’ll have to adjust the parameters. Specimen is far too erratic to be left to their own devices anymore. Might even need to be put under permanent sedation until the final test results are obtained.”

Muttering under his breath, The Doctor turns from you to pace the room in deep consideration and leave you violently shuddering on the exam table. You didn’t want to be permanently sedated … just the thought alone is almost enough to send you spiraling into full blown panic. Although you’d welcomed its comforting embrace once you were far too alert now to willingly slip under like that. You needed to think of something. Quick.

“I’ll cooperate - -“

“Your cooperation means less than nothing to me.” He cuts across you like the crack of a whip, making you cower in place. Suddenly turning on his heel, he stalks towards you again and you can do nothing at all when he slips his hand under the heavy weight of one breast so he can lift it in consideration. “Specimen should be close to full production levels at this rate. Another day or two, I suspect.”

A heavy silence settles over the room, interspersed only by your labored panting and the nervous shuffle of the assistant somewhere behind you. But The Doctor is perfectly still while he seems to weigh the options laid out before him, his blunt thumb brushing idle circles over the straining swell of your tit while he thinks. You’re certain the waiting is going to kill you.

“Dimitri!” He abruptly snaps, startling both you and his assistant, if the tiny yelp behind you is anything to go by. “Prepare the machine immediately. I know just what to do with this one.”

*~*

With your hands secured behind your back, you’re led from the enclosed section of the lab you were usually kept in and into a different section that housed far more complicated machinery than you could reasonably process. You’d never seen so many different kinds of knobs, buttons, circuits, control panels, hanging wires and thick cable power lines in your life. Half of it you hadn’t even known existed until being brought here, but your relative familiarity with the banks and complicated components in the other room did serve as an effective baseline to at least understand that what you were looking at was far outside your sphere of comprehension.

Even the tall cylindrical machine The Doctor’s assistant pulls you up to is so far beyond anything you could reasonably wrap your head around that you have no idea what it was supposed to do. You feel a bit like an oblivious sheep being peacefully led to the slaughter, but there wasn’t much you could have done about it even if you did know what was happening.

Leaving your side, the assistant scurries over to the control bank and starts to fiddle with various levers on the panel, evidently fine tuning the parameters of the output as the strange machine starts to sputter louder. You momentarily consider making a run for it, weighing your odds of escape with your hands tied behind your back, but then The Doctor steps up behind you and takes a pinching hold of your elbow to give you a brief, teeth rattling shake.

“Did you know,” He says rather amicably, at complete odds with the rough treatment. “Mammalian births are some of the most successful in nature. Even putting aside mankind, they’re among the most common class of animal and for good reason. Tell me, Specimen. Do you happen to know why that is?”

You give your head a mute shake, a little too unnerved to play this game with him, and he barks out a clipped, humorless laugh. Yanking on your arm, The Doctor drags you closer to the heaving machine until the sound of it seems to swallow you whole and set your guts to vibrate. Suddenly finding yourself more scared than you’d ever been, you instinctively try to backpedal but he all too easily holds you in place.

“It’s the milk, you silly little nitwit. It promotes growth and development, in addition to a wide variety of benefits to brain functionality.” Grinning a sharp, eager smile under his mask, he reaches up with his unoccupied hand to tug at a clear tube sticking out of the machine. Your mouth drops open when it jerks loose with a loud, forceful suck of air but nothing comes out, not even a peep. You were starting to have strong suspicions what this machine was used for and yet — you didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t believe it.

Turning to you again, he holds up the open ended tube piece and tauntingly waggles it at you. “Now, answer me this … do you have any guess as to what happens to developing infants if they’re denied that very milk they need to grow? Say, in the instance of the untimely death of their mother?”

Your stomach lurches with an intense, sinking feeling of dread. You did not like this line of questioning and what it would suggest any more than you liked the aggressive shucking noise coming from the machine. Surely you were misunderstanding something and he didn’t really mean what you thought he did. “I — I don’t know. I don’t understand - -“

You cut off with a frightened squeak when he gives your arm another tug to drag you closer, nearly pulling you stumbling right into him. Your heavy tits bounce with the sudden motion and bring fresh stabs of discomfort with it, but you’re much too focused on The Doctor to get swept up in the pain. It was all you could do just to stay on your feet instead of collapsing in a dead faint. You’d never been so terribly frightened.

“They don’t grow.” He hisses, sharp fingers digging mercilessly into your skin. “Not to their full potential, anyway. All the amino acids, antibodies, vitamins and minerals they should have gotten from their mothers milk … gone, just like that. I’d ask you another question but it’s obvious you don’t have the intelligence to even follow along so allow me to spell it out for you instead. A colleague of mine runs an orphanage. Some of the children she takes in are quite young indeed and there is a noticeable difference between those who lost their parents early in development and those who did not. The ultimate goal of this experiment was to determine whether or not a reliable production method could be used to — fill in the gaps, so to speak.”

He leans down then, putting his face close to yours, but you just stand there, staring up at him in wide eyed terror. It was like he was speaking a foreign language now, every other word so bizarre and incomprehensible that it may as well have been complete gibberish. But somehow you still grasp enough of the meaning to be afraid. You still tremble uncontrollably when he tips his head, and suddenly his breath is intermingling with yours without his mask in the way to block it.

“And lucky you, our first test subject. Such a resounding success too.” He purrs in a soft, velvety croon that makes your spine snap straight. “Even I wasn’t expecting to see these results so quickly. If only you could have just had the sense to stay nice and docile for me … oh well. It doesn’t really matter now does it, my darling Specimen?”

You force your constricting lungs to expand, sucking in a harsh, stuttering breath, but he just nudges your right up against him before you can think of something to say. Your blood instantly turns to ice when you feel his coat brush against you as well as the body heat coming off him, and frantically try to twist away. It was much too late though. His hold on your elbow was as good as iron and he now had you standing close enough to the machine that he could direct the suctioning tube towards your chest. So gripped with terror, you desperately try to angle away from it to no avail and you outright shriek when it sucks your nipple up and seals to your breast with a deafening loud schuck.

Throwing your head back, you scream up at the ceiling until your throat seizes under the stress and you trail off into a gutted, hollowed out groan that seems to echo off the walls. The pressure is so extreme on your swollen, sensitized teat that for a wild moment you actually think it’s going to pull it right off. But when you sway unsteadily, nauseous and sick, then chance a look down, immense relief washes over you when you see the tip of your breast very much intact. That doesn’t make it any less painful though, and you viciously seethe through your teeth as you watch the suction pull at your nipple, stretching the pliant flesh to the point that it hurt just to look at it.

But then, to your groaning horror, you catch a brief jet of milky discharge getting sucked out of you to disappear up inside the tube and whatever it was attached to. You understood perfectly now. This was a milking machine. A horrid creation of The Doctors, no doubt, and it was so powerful that even when his hand falls away it stays suctioned right where it was over your teat. To your surprise, however, the sharp discomfort you’d first felt quickly starts to recede into a dull thrum under that constant pulse and you can’t quite stop yourself from issuing a low, faltering sound of relief. There was still an immense amount of built up pressure inside your breast but somehow the intense suction actually helped make it a bit more bearable. It wasn’t by much, but you were willing to take anything at this point, and your knees violently knock with that realization.

“O - oh, blessed Archons!”

Chuckling faintly, The Doctor slowly releases his hold on your arm and you nearly collapse right then and there. The only thing that reminds you to catch yourself is the tube attached to your breast which showed no sign of loosening its hold anytime soon. You stagger and try to reestablish your balance without him there to keep you propped up as he shifts behind you to step up on the other side. From the corner of your eye, you watch him reach out to grab the second suction device, grimacing even when your neglected tit throbs at the prospect.

“Please, dear Seven, I’m begging - -“

“They aren’t listening, I’m afraid. Such a pity.” Casually, The Doctor curls his unoccupied hand under the weight of your tit and lifts it slightly to better bring the tube down on the nipple. It firmly sucks into place just the same as the first did, and you scream at the initial pain that tears through you. But same as before, it only takes a few moments for the constant, rhythmic sucking to alleviate some of the tension in your chest and, shuddering, you force yourself to relax into it. Easier said than done when it felt like this horrible machine was actively trying to suck the life right out of you but you manage, somehow.

“How … how long do you intend to leave me like this?” You pant, struggling to swallow around the rock lodged in your throat as you awkwardly shuffle your feet to better ground yourself.

“Hm?” Crossing his arms, The Doctor puts his head to one side in faux consideration. “What a silly question. As long as it takes for your production levels to reach their maximum output and for you to start milking properly, of course. Your current rate,” He nudges his chin towards the shuddering tubes, still mostly clear save the occasional tiny wet bead moving along their length. “Isn’t even close to being sufficient. Your lactation ducts need to be thoroughly stimulated until they start to trigger your let-down reflex for optimal milk flow. Truth be told, I had wanted to save this for the final step since things could get … messy, but you just had to go and force my hand, didn’t you?”

With a faint click of his tongue, he starts to turn. “No matter. At least now I won’t have to spend quite so much time monitoring your progress to ensure that everything is proceeding as it should. One way or another, that machine will have you sorted out in no time.”

Gasping, you give a little jerk when he moves to walk away but you manage to catch the subconscious reaction before you can yank on the suction cups and hurt yourself. “Wait! Please don’t actually leave me here! You can’t — nghn! It hurts, you bastard!”

The Doctor doesn’t even acknowledge your desperate pleas and he disappears further into the lab without so much as a backwards glance, leaving you at the mercy of the machine.

~*~

You’re not sure how long he’s left you like this. All of your careful tracking since that first injection, gone just like that without his clockwork appearances to track the time with. It could have been mere hours or the whole day, a whole night. You never would have known any different.

Your legs shudder under you, exhausted and sore from standing for the indeterminate period you’ve been hooked up to the machine but the tubes are too short for you to sit. You were effectively tethered to the faintly groaning mechanism with only enough lead to shift from side to side before the powerful suction started to pull and cause a great deal of discomfort. It wasn’t so bad when you just stood there and let it suckle at your raw teats, but that was hardly any comfort to you at this point.

You’d watched your breasts shudder against the force and slowly, so slowly you hadn’t even realized it was happening at first, let down on the intense pressure that had steadily built in them over the last two weeks. What was initially just an occasional spurt of creamy fluid, shuddering beads sucked up through the tubes and into what you could only guess was a collection unit, had gradually turned into a relatively steady stream of creamy white fluid. Even without any real knowledge on the topic, you still recognized it for what it was and could no longer try to pretend it was something else. You were not only lactating but quite excessively by the looks of it. Whatever he’d been injecting you with had caused such an extreme physiological shift in your body that you were now rapidly producing milk without ever having been pregnant and the output only seemed to be steadily increasing.

The innate relief that comes with having your tits milked doesn’t do much to pacify you though, and your head slowly comes up when you catch the sound of approaching footsteps. You know it’s The Doctor, so familiar with that slow, confident gait and the unique sound of his boots on the floor that you’d know it anywhere at this point. Shuddering so hard you nearly collapse, you force yourself to straighten from the tired hunch you’d fallen into, hissing when the suction tubes give a stiff jostle over your nipples. You weren’t foolish enough to believe he’d found the capacity for mercy in his twisted soul but a little part of you still hopes …

“Good morning, Specimen. You look lovely today, don’t you?” He drawls as he comes up behind you, and a hurt little groan bursts out of you when more of the pressure in your tits gives to release a thick, creamy dollop into the sucking machine. You just stare down at the tubes in frozen, slack jawed disbelief. At the sound of his voice?

He steps up beside you then, startling you, and you snap your attention up to find him grinning under that ugly mask. Waves of deep satisfaction practically roll off him as he halts close enough you can feel his coat brushing your thigh. The two of you just look at one another for what feels like an eternity, your shoulders trembling with every labored breath.

“I see the machine has served its purpose.” He says at length.

“Screw you!”

Clicking his tongue in admonition, The Doctor reaches out and casually — much too casually — slips a gloved hand between your thighs. You jolt so hard the tubes bob with the motion, pulling at your poor tits, but there’s nothing you can do to stop it as he worms his wrist in the tight space even when you try to squeeze him out. Long, blunt fingers find the seam and rudely nudge up into you, nearly knocking you off balance when you give a fierce jolt.

“My, my, isn’t that interesting?” He croons, baring sharp teeth with a mean, perverse grin as those oppressive digits slip and slide through an obscene amount of slick. You’d been so focused on the continuous suction on your nipples, the stilted relief of pressure, that you hadn’t even noticed how the rest of your body was reacting.

Your stomach wrenches with this knowledge but you just stand there, thighs quaking around his hand, while he casually pulls soft, wet little clicks out of your cunt with the drag of his fingers. It was horrible and disgusting, and your nausea only increases when you catch a glimpse of yet more creamy white discharge being pulled up through the tubes.

“Are you enjoying your milking, Specimen? Good. You’re going to be here for a while so it’s probably best if you find some way to entertain yourself.” Chuckling, The Doctor slowly withdraws his hand, much to your shuddering disappointment, but he ignores your quiet whimpering in favor of straightening up. “Dimitri!”

A sudden bang sounds from somewhere in the lab. Within seconds, the young man rounds the corner at a flustered sprint and you sway unsteadily on your feet when his eyes widen at the sight of you.

“Lower the settings on the machine,” The Doctor hisses at him, low and dangerous. “Then leave me for the rest of the day. I will oversee the experiment myself from here.”

He turns back to you as his assistant goes scurrying off to fiddle with the control panel, leering viciously under his mask when he reaches out to palm your hip. You gnash your teeth, chest heaving with fast pumping terror but there’s nothing you can do to stop it when he tugs you closer. Your pelvis bumps his firm thigh and you suck in a harsh breath. He couldn’t be serious … now, after all this time treating you like little more than a slab of meat?

Seething, you grimace when the suction suddenly lessens to a weak, hollow tug that you can barely feel through your raw teats. The change in pressure is immediately apparent though and your nipples pulse in its absence. You have to fight back the sobs that try to tear their way out of your throat as you watch him slowly reach up to wrap his hand around one of the tubes still clinging to your breast. He doesn’t pull it off though, not yet, and instead just looks at you for a long beat.

“I suppose you do deserve a reward. After all, you’ve far exceeded my expectations and I’m quite pleased with you, you know.” He purrs at last. “I wasn’t expecting you to take to the drug so quickly, nor did I foresee you reaching this production level so soon. You’ve impressed me a great deal, Specimen, and I always make sure to reward good behavior where I can.”

He doesn’t warn you before he does it. So abruptly it leaves you reeling in hurt disbelief, he pops the suction tube free with a firm tug and your nipple throbs against the total lack of pressure. It feels like a million tiny pinpricks are stabbing into the sensitive flesh all at once when the air hits it, wafting uncomfortably against hot, swollen skin. Unable to stop yourself, you look down only to instantly wish you hadn’t.

Not only was the swollen teat so puffy and dark from the suction, fat with milk that beads and dribbles wetly from the tip, it was also humiliatingly engorged. The constant sucking had pulled at the pliant skin for so long that it now stuck straight out in a plaintive, attention grabbing point. Meaty and so starkly different from how it had once looked, you feel bile rise in the back of your throat.

The Doctor doesn’t allow you enough time to fully process what you’re seeing though, and you helplessly watch him take the remaining tube in hand so he can pull it loose as well. You shudder so violently at the onslaught of sensation that your knees give out but he’s quick to steady you with both hands on your hips. Fingers digging in mercilessly, he pulls your lower body against his own and your mouth drops open at the hard press of his cock on your stomach.

“That’s a good look for you, Specimen. Much better than all that hissing and kicking you did yesterday.” Casually, like it was the most normal thing in the world for him to do, he lifts a hand from your waist when he’s sure you’re steady enough not to fall and nudges a single finger under one teat. You loose a gutted, broken sound when a fresh bead of milk trickles out to run down his hand and, humming, he idly presses up to make more come out. “Yes, your production levels are excellent. Your let-down reflex seems to be working quite well.”

You aren’t sure what he’s going to do next when he withdraws his fingers, but the very last thing you expect is for The Doctor to hunch over your chest and seal his mouth around the nipple. Going stock still at the sensation of a hot, wet mouth suckling at your breast rather than the cold, impartial machine, you just stand there and … let him do it. You were horrified with yourself but couldn’t quite find the wherewithal to be disgusted when it felt good. So much better than you could have imagined it would. His tongue laps at the swollen bud to gather the creamy secretion and swallow it down, the suction of his mouth so much less intense than the merciless tubes and yet — somehow far more satisfying.

A frazzled whimper rattles through you with the sensation of your milk ducts giving out completely, releasing a steady stream into his mouth. The Doctor groans very softly against your skin at the influx of milk and nuzzles deeper into your breast, bringing his teeth down around the puffed up areola to make it squirt at the back of his working throat. Numbly glancing down at yourself, at his face pressed into your chest, you’re more than a little horrified to find a sympathetic dribble coming out of the opposite teat to splatter on the floor below. You didn’t understand how you were making so much milk and you knew even less why your body was reacting to him like this, but all of that seems to get swept up and dissolved in the dreamy haze that slowly comes over you.

You’d felt it while you were hooked up to the milking machine as well but had written it off as a defense mechanism of some sort … just an old, primal part of your brain trying to make the situation more bearable so it didn’t break you. The physical discomfort as much as the mental strain of watching your body change against your will was taxing enough that it had made sense at the time. But now you knew, innately, that it was a natural response to feeding. As much as the let-down reflex was, this strange sense of peace was just the nature of your mammalian instincts.

Suddenly his strange questions and even stranger answers made a lot more sense.

“Goodness,” He groans when he finally comes up off your breast some moments later. A heavy squirt of milk follows after him, splattering across his open mouth but, much to your heaving shame, he just reaches up to wipe it away. “You really are producing more milk than I expected you to at this stage of the experiment. I suspect at this rate you could likely fill almost two gallons in a single day … such a sublime Specimen you are, darling, and a resounding success at that.”

You can see he’s breathing heavier now, either excited by the results or the act of feeding from your breast, and you bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet as he straightens so he can reach for his slacks. He’d never crossed this line before, had never shown you even so much as a passing interest even when he had you spread out and helpless on his exam table, and you don’t know what to expect. The rigid cock that springs up in the space between you surprises a strangled gasp out of you though, and you try to jerk away from it. He was big. Much bigger than you were prepared to take.

The Doctor just grabs onto your hips, squeezing so hard you cry out even as he drags your pelvis closer so he can slot himself between your thighs. Wheezing, you shudder uncontrollably when he takes a moment to sedately thrust into the space and drag his stiff length over soaked lips that seem to cling at him. The calm that had mercifully fallen over you while he was suckling is quickly replaced by jittery panic, and you can’t help blubbering like an idiot when he none too gently forces your pelvis into an upward, tilted angle that almost drags you up onto your tip toes.

You didn’t want him touching you like this. Didn’t want to even think about him moving inside of you, claiming your body for himself.

But the stiff rope keeping your hands behind your back is unrelenting and there isn’t anything you can do about it as he nudges closer to line himself up with your entrance. “Oh, don’t be like that. I’m sure you’ll like it. Your sweet little cunt is already so very wet and I bet it’s just aching to be filled, isn’t it?”

Hissing through your teeth, you twist your head around so you won’t have to look at that horrible mask looming over you. But that does absolutely nothing to deter him though, and you cry out when he starts to slowly sink into your hot, squirming guts. Taking him like this is difficult, the slow stretch so much worse than it would have been if you could properly spread your legs. He just forces you to stay upright when you waver, and you let out a hurt little groan as his fingers dig into your hips so hard you can feel bruises blooming under the pressure. Your cunt grants him entry one stilted inch at a time though, welcoming it as much as your mind wants to fight it.

But you’re completely at his mercy and when he finally settles inside you, as deep as he can reach in this position, you feel something in you snap. Your hips nudge forward of their own accord to weakly rut against the intrusion as you tip your head down, intending to look at where his body connects with yours, but all you see is … your breasts, so swollen and heavy, leaking copious amounts of milk all over your front. Like being penetrated had loosened a faucet and you were now freely dribbling all over the place without the need for any stimulation. The sight alone almost sends you shuddering right over the edge.

Hunching closer when your eyes start to roll back, The Doctor studies you up close for a long, drawn out beat while your cunt hollowly contracts around him, squeezing his length in pulses. You feel the excited shiver that runs through him as much as you see it, and then he tips his head to just touch his mouth to yours. “Aren’t you being good for me?”

“P - please —!”

He softly shushes you, lips brushing when he speaks again. “You’ll get your reward, not to worry. But tell me something first, Specimen. If you can do that for me I’ll make sure you feel so good you won’t know what to do with yourself.”

Mewling softly, you sway against his hold while your tits just keep leaking. “What do you want?”

“Can you tell me your name?”

You go still, so caught off guard by the question you can’t seem to process it at first. But then a stiff shudder tears down your back and your eyes go big, jerking back as far as you can when he’s got a hold of you like this. A helpless, trapped little animal sound bursts out of you but he just grins at you, his mouth a razor sharp slash under the mask. You didn’t remember. It had been so long since you’d spoken it, since anyone had called you anything other than Specimen … you truly didn’t know anymore.

Where there once had been a solid, tangible thought there was only ringing silence. An echoing void inside your head, and The Doctor’s leering smile only grows when he sees the horror dawn on your face.

You weren’t anyone now.

Just Specimen.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #il dottore #dottore x reader #self insert bullshit

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thebramblewood · 5 months

Text

Julia Zhao in The Mystery of the Copperdale Creep

Previous / Next

Julia's Playlist: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Location and music overlays by @pxltown

Julia: [lowers headphones] Double scoop of strawberry, please.

Elli: Dude, have you even read past the headlines? There's no way that thing's human!

Guy: Yes, I can read, and it doesn't sound like any animal I've ever heard of.

Elli: What is it then, some sort of eldritch creature of the dark?

Alma: Does it matter? The lesson, burnouts, is stop getting high as fuck in the woods at night.

Elli: Well, then where are we supposed to do it?

Julia: What the heck are you guys talking about?

Alma: Oh, hey, Jules!

Guy: We figured you were too cool for us lowly pier-dwellers.

Elli: Yeah, now that you're a style icon and all. [snickers]

Julia: Shut up! I'm never going to live that down, am I?

Elli, Guy, and Alma in unison: NOOOOOPE.

Julia: It was an online exclusive. Hardly anyone even saw it!

Alma: Your Social Bunny follower count says otherwise.

Julia: Whatever. So are the tourists making Sasquatch claims again?

Elli: Aren't they always?

Alma: It's the terminal brain rot, I fear.

Guy: Joke about the out-of-towners all you want, but I take the word of locals like gospel.

Alma: Especially when it's your druggie friends rambling about their bad trips.

Guy: It's not just them, okay? It's in the papers! Something is attacking people in the woods after dark. It comes from out of

nowhere. All anyone recalls is being tackled by a flying black blur then pinned to the ground with inhuman force and fucking pierced

by needle-sharp teeth. This thing takes enough blood to leave them just barely alive, and the crazy part is it seems sorry after, like it just can't help itself. It dumps them by the roadside where they'll be seen

so they don’t bleed out. They call it the Copperdale Creep.

Julia: [scoffs in disbelief] This town is nuts. And you guys have been watching too many scary movies.

Guy: If you don't believe me, just check the front page of the Courier!

Elli: Skate solo at your own peril, Jules!

Alma: It's broad daylight, cowards. She'll be fine.

Julia: Banjo, we’d better run inside before the Copperdale Creep snatches us up! Wait till Helena gets a load of this, huh, boy?

[knocking vigorously] Helena, open up! You'll never believe what I just heard. There’s some sort of violent maniac on the loose!

Banjo: [scratching and whining]

Julia: Helena, are you okay? [wiggles doorknob] You've been locked in there since last night.

Banjo: [aggressive barking]

Julia: Can't you hear how much Banjo wants to see you? Helena?...

Helena: Go away, Julia!

Julia: But-

Helena: Leave me alone. I'm fine.

#ts4 #sims 4 #sims 4 story #ts4 story #simblr #story: hzid #blood tw #julia zhao #helena zhao #helena is not fine #not fine at all #how did she make it to copperdale without going on a cross-country killing spree?#good question but you're going to have to answer it yourself #i'm so nervous about this one ahhhhhh #i don't fully know where i'm going but it's OKAY we will FIGURE IT OUT!!!#alma nishidake #guy aoki #elli ball

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traffic-light-eyes · 9 months

Text

Ninja as influencers

My previous post got me thinking, and now I have to write this down.

Kai:

He for sure has Twitter/Chirp and uses it regularly. Very popular. He also has the ninjago equivalent to Instagram and is also very popular there, too. I could imagine him having a yt channel and doing silly vlogs and the occasional game, but that's about it. The other ninja were a bit weirded out by the vlogs at first because they didn't really want to feed into the whole idolizing the ninja thing, but realized that they could show the world that they're just. People. Normal people who save the world sometimes but are normally just passed out on the couch. They all love being in his vlogs now. When he records something embarrassing, he makes absolutely certain that the person it's of is okay with it being posted. Like, he gives them weeks to think about it. He has a video of Zane singing let it go (due to Jay's programming skills), and he was ecstatic to be able to post it. He's also a tiktok star. He does the silly dances and lip-syncing.

Nya:

She has Chirp but doesn't use it for social media purposes? If that makes sense. Like, she mainly only scrolls through her friends' chirps and responds to those. She gets into the groove and made a really sweet and chill community once the people that were only there for the "inside scoop" of the water ninja's life left. Now there's just her friends and a bunch of nice people. She comments on and rechirps? a lot of fanart, though. She has an Instagram but only to comment on Kai's posts with a thumbs down. She has a tiktok. It's secret. She posts little edits about her artwork or mechanics. It's fairly popular. She sometimes uses the filters and makes videos using them but never posts them.

Cole:

Similar to Nya, he has a Chirp account but doesn't really use it much. He'll respond to fanart and fans, but he only really posts occasionally. His posts normally consist of song recommendations or riffs of his friends. He threads callouts when he feels especially petty. It's pretty chill. He probably has a secret second account for art. He doesn't want people to like his art just because he's the earth ninja, so he made a second account. He has a tumblr too. I don't make the rules. He tries to stay in the loop with everyone's thoughts and shuts down the gross people. He's pretty well-known on the site. He likes reblogging the ship content and misdirecting people because it's funny. Pixal found him drawing techno and he scrambled for an excuse but she silently put a finger to her lip, winked, and left. He was very confused. She was absolutely dying on the inside from laughter because she knew of his account but wanted to freak him out. He couldn't look her in the eye for a week because he thought she thought he shipped them or something. She purposefully spoke to him often. He kept trying to explain, but Pixal always had an excuse to leave or change the subject before he could say it.

Lloyd:

He has Chirp. He has tumblr. He has ao3. He's not allowed on Instagram. He has a yt channel where he exclusively talks about comics and games. On his Chirp, he is completely unhinged some times, and other times, he posts cute animals he finds on missions or on patrol. He found a stray cat once and named her mittens because a follower commented it. He has #mittensmonday, where he posts a picture of her. It's always trending on Monday. His tumblr is once again about games and stuff, but he has a semi-secret side blog for Ninja Shenanigans where it's theorized that it's him, but no one has proof and he doesnt give a direct answer. He has unknowingly reblogged and messaged Cole on multiple occasions because he doesn't know about the Secret account. Cole doesn't know what to do. His ao3 account is mostly to check up on what people are thinking. If he sees something unsavory, he immediately logs off because that's him. Avid tiktok enjoyer. He could make a video of just him staring at the screen, and it would go viral. He finds it hilarious. It's his goal to find the most obscure thing to post and for it to finally not get viral.

Zane:

He has Chirp, but he hasn't used it. Either that or he uses it so terribly incorrectly. I could be convinced that he has a cooking yt channel. He'd call it something nerdy or informational, but people kept chirping about it calling him cookingmama, and he doesn't get it? But due to Jay's persistence, he changed his @ to cookingmama.

Jay:

He has Chirp. He uses it to keep up with the world + just talk to fans. He has a gaming channel and a Twitch account. He streams at least once a week. He loves it! He has a pretty chill community, and he often asks his friends to play with him. He makes sure that the games he play with them are suited to them first. He doesn't ask. He just knows. He picks action-based games for Kai - maybe LoL or, like, Left 4 dead. He plays silly smart games with Nya, like Portal or Keep talking and nobody explodes (they are ridiculously good at this). He and Cole would play scary games. They exclusively play them at night; phasmaphobia has caused many of the ninja to awaken to a shriek. Comfy and typically non-violent games are his and Lloyd's go-to. They'll play Minecraft or stardew for HOURS before they realize the sun is coming up. He and Zane play semi-stressful cooking games, or Zane is just there for commentating. They'll be seen playing overcooked or cooking simulator (they always play that one with a challenge somehow). He makes silly follower goals, and he has unfortunately had to do many, many things because his followers keep rising.

Honorary Ninja, Pixal:

She has an account for every platform that the ninja have just to crowd control + to support them in their comments. She rarely, if ever, posts anything aside from commenting on her friends' posts. Hc that Borg owns every platform, so she uses that to weed out the weirdos by asking him to make the platform very buggy on their device specifically. It's only a matter of time before they delete the app, and she loves watching the downfall via their posts and complaints about the website. She knows of everyone's account, even the Secret ones. She never lets them know that she knows of them, even if they do something strange because of it (check Cole's). She loves messing with them. If someone posts something recently, she conveniently talks about it the same day and gives them whiplash because what are the chances that she said that today. She's the go-to gal if there are any tech issues on stream or during editing.

Here ya go! Hope you enjoy my brainrot <3

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

Note

Am I the asshole for giving a random guy my friend's phone number?

(🍫📲 to find later)

I (22 NB/F) was working one day at my place of work by going around and putting various items for sale where they belong in the store, as well as taking out the recycling. As I was making my way up to the front of the store so I could go to break, this older gentleman needed help reaching something. I helped him pull it down, but before I continued I was stopped by this other kid. He had a healthy-looking emo haircut and wardrobe, so I didn't think too much about it at the time. I kid you not, his eyes were big and wide like some kind of bishounen anime (idk if I spelled that right). Literally looked straight out of one almost, he reminded me of an excited puppy too.

"Hello! Do you need help with something?"

"Uh- actually, I was wondering if I could have your Snapchat?"

I was completely gobsmacked.

"Uh- I don't have a snap chat." A lie, but only because my snap is exclusively for my BFFEAE (Best Friend For Ever And Ever). I don't pass it out to my coworkers, family, or any other friends. Just her.

"Can I have your number then?"

Usually guys don't like. Spend this long on me. I'm Demiromantic and Asexual, and for those who don't know, that means I have no interest in having sex with anyone and have no interest in dating anyone but close friends. I never thought I'd be in this situation. Ever. The idea of anyone asking me out of the fucking blue for this is so far out of left field for my expectations that I was just staring awkwardly at him for a moment.

"... unless... age is an issue?"

"Ah- no, I am 22, but I'm just not interested in a relationship right now."

And it's the truth, honestly. My mental health has been a rollercoaster of emotions and schedules that I've been struggling to maintain for months. I did have one at the beginning of the year, but dropped it because I realized I couldn't trust my lover (he was extremely conservative, and I had to hide a lot of my life from him, but it was nice while it lasted honestly. Broke up on good terms).

"That's okay. Maybe we can just hang out sometime or something."

I'll be honest, I haven't been in good health to try a brand new friendship with a complete stranger either (I have horrid social anxiety to the point where I am basically a shit in hermit, and with everything going on in my life I don't think I can handle pushing my anxiety well).

Now, years ago, when me and my BFFEAE first moved to different states, we agreed that we could use each other's phone numbers to give out if we couldn't handle it or just wanted the guy to leave us alone. We have each other permission to pretend to be each other for it, that way they're more likely to listen thinking it's you saying "no thanks" instead of her friend saying "get off her back".

So in the span of ten seconds, because this kid was really sweet and I was still pretty shocked this was even happening, I was giving my friend's number to this sparkly-eyed kid (idk how old he was but I assumed he was younger than me, that's just my natural assumption honestly) and continued on with my work day. I told him a semi-common nickname of mine instead of my actual name bc my name is hard to spell and I didn't feel like putting much time into it.

Of course, immediately after I called my friend up and left her a message saying I passed her to this really sweet kid and to be kind with him (she's a protective mama bear kind of person) but that I simply wasn't interested and didn't have the right mindspace for a new anything.

Fast forward to when I get off work and check in with my friend, she and the kid had been chatting back and forth. Apparently he was into drugs (I have sensory issues and can't handle that kind of thing, so I feel like I've actually dodged a bullet) but was getting along really well with her otherwise. We got chatting about it when I confirmed that I'm not open to hanging out with him and that as long as she's kind and doesn't try to set me up with him or anything, I'm fine with her discussing whatever with him.

"I get it girl, we all get like that for a time. I'll keep it away from ya.

By the way, he thought you gave him a random number. He was SOO excited when I responded as you lol"

I felt absolutely sick and was horrified. I figured he would have been like "sick", but apparently he had been like "FUCK YEAH". I feel horrible for deceiving him like this, but I genuinely am in no spot where I can mentally handle picking up a new friendship, much less a romantic relationship. It doesn't help that he genuinely caught me off guard, and passing him her number was my first response to handling it.

Am I the asshole for doing this?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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old-acc-discourseisdumb · 1 year

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I didn’t start identifying as queer so I could be diagnosed with a label. I’m not an animal being classified under a biological term, a taxonomic group which has a criteria so rigid it will only be changed with mind blowing biological evidence, only to be met with criticism and doubt still. These are feelings, language and culture.

Feelings can be straightforward, such as happy, feelings can be charged with layers and layers of experiences and years of history behind them, such as anger, and feelings can be conflicting or not quite fit with any known word. That’s how people make up new words based on old, well known concepts, such as bittersweet. Gender and attraction are feelings.

Language evolves, yes, but not in the same way as animals. It’s not coincidence after coincidence and survival of the fittest. Most of the time, it’s forced, purposeful changes. Take the word ‘okay’ — once upon a time a small group thought the feeling they were trying to communicate wasn’t properly explained with the phrase ‘all correct.’ People began to misspell it ironically as ‘orl korrect’, which was shortened to ‘OK’. A few decades later, ‘okay’ came about, because ‘OK’ wasn’t communicating what people wanted anymore. Language is changed and added to when someone wants something to be known and has no current way of articulating it. Sometimes it’s ridiculed, such as some slang, different dialects, and English variations. Gender and attraction are expressed through language because it’s a feeling.

Culture should be viewed through the lens of an anthropologist — someone who studies humanity. Witness without judgment people using whatever confusing and contradictory labels they like, if any at all, and together we can study those behaviours to discover why they bring such comfort. After all, you can’t properly study the behaviour of people who you’re forcing to act a certain way. Gender is a part of culture because of it’s significant role in language.

Queerness should not be about rigid criteria, exclusion, or checklists. It’s a beautiful, colourful feeling on a spectrum which can only be expressed through words in an attempt to summarise it.

I’d like to draw specific attention to the following:

Identities outside the binary, such as bigender people.

Contrasting identities, such as a woman who experiences gay love for men.

New and uncommon identities, such as xenogenders.

The use of the term ‘non-men’, which chooses to describe lesbian identities in relation to the exclusion of men instead of in relation to a unique, feminine love of women. Being a lesbian is least of all about men, so I don’t see why it should be defined in relation to them.

The arguments against such identities are recycled queerphobia. Men who are also lesbians—and others who don’t neatly fit into binary labels—do not need to pick a side, just like bisexual people don’t. Neopronoun users aren’t cisgender attention seekers trying to be special, just like the non-binary people attacked with those words or the binary transgender people before them. These are just some of the awful things I’ve heard about the less accepted side of our community.

Such people, including myself, may not be practicing queerness in a way well-known by the mainstream, but it should be expected that as more and more identities become common, more are discovered. If you want to take a torch into the darkness to welcome the people you know are hiding there, expect to see an entire world you were blinded to.

#queer #lgbt #lgbtq #radical inclusivity #nonbinary #bigender #multigender #male lesbian #lesboy #mspec lesbian #microlabels #xenogender #neopronouns #my posts

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gamerstar111 · 17 days

Text

Makoto & Nagito’s Survivor’s Guilt

i have many thoughts ab why makoto and nagito would have an interesting dynamic but today i’m thinking abt how their history parallels a little (like a lot of things ab them. they’re foils of each other i cld write an essay about it)

this is just a very long (kind of disorganized) tangent about lucky duo’s traumas and how they shaped their mindsets (and how they might understand each other better than people think at first)

i kind of get nervous anytime i put my analyses out there for people to percieve, but that’s okay. we’re facing fears today. LOL

——————————————————————————

i don’t think many people think about how makoto probably understands the survivor’s guilt nagito deals with better than anyone could, because he also has the mentality that he didn’t deserve to survive the things he did, and that his luck had a lot to do with his survival. they cope in very different ways, but at the core of their emotions they both feel that same “i don’t deserve to live” guilt.

——————————————————————————

Makoto’s Survivor’s Guilt

makoto doesn’t attribute as much of his trauma (which is the killing games he went through) to his luck, it doesn’t factor into his thinking as much as it does for nagito. junko says it at some point in the anime: makoto’s luck isn’t like nagito’s! he wouldn’t ever be able to utilize it like nagito can, because it isn’t consistent, it comes and goes super randomly. it keeps that mf alive and that’s IT 😭

(/j. it does more for him than that but im not talking ab his luck rn so BACK TO HIS SURVIVOR’S GUILT.)

he leaves the first killing game with this huge unofficial responsibility. he lost 10 of his classmates and it’s said that he was able to get his memories back after leaving, so that means he remembers the two years he spent with them. they were his friends :,)

and some of them did more than him to contribute to surviving. i know it’s for comedic effect in the game, but makoto is kind of consistently told by byakuya (and sometimes kyoko & others) that he’s stupid or unhelpful. + he already struggles with feeling like he’s not interesting, memorable, or unique in any kind of way (mr. “i’m average at being average”)

but nevertheless, he survives the games, (after basically convincing his remaining classmates to NOT sacrifice him. a second time.) and when he does get out, he joins the future foundation, where his nickname as the ultimate hope starts to push him to do as much as he can. and because he’s so determined to save as many people as he can, he opposes the foundation’s plan to kill the remnants, and takes them to jabberwock island. he’s so determined to do as much as he can because he feels like if he doesn’t, he’s wasting the life he was given. it’s implied a few times that he would have killed himself if he didn’t feel guilty throwing away the life that was taken from his friends! people don’t talk enough about how makoto is NOT as endlessly optimistic as everyone thinks

he isn’t completely immune to despair. i honestly feel like his main motivation in helping people and spreading hope isn’t that he lives by it, it’s that he has to do as much as he can to to spread it to OTHERS because if he doesn’t, what is he doing with the life he has that his friends were robbed of? i could get into the nuances of makoto’s character and how he isn’t just “hope enthusiast #1” but that’s more fitting of a makoto exclusive character analysis. coming soon/hj

the point of that is that he wouldn’t be alive if he didn’t feel like he had to make something of the fact that his classmates died and he didn’t. that’s what motivates him to try and save everyone, no matter who they are or how terrible they are (him saving the remnants, trying to save junko even though he hated her for what she did, and trying to save the future foundation members in the second game, even though they want him dead)

and when he already has this mentality, he goes through a SECOND killing game, where one of his closest friends (i forget if it’s canon they were dating or not, but you get the point) dies as a DIRECT result of him surviving. and instead of breaking down and giving up, he takes it and becomes more determined to end the game. but his despair video shows that he feels so guilty that he survived, even if he doesn’t ruminate in that feeling.

but nagito is the polar opposite

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Nagito’s Survivor’s Guilt

most of nagito’s character revolves around two things:

His self-loathing

His twisted perception of hope, and his obsession with the concept

putting aside the fact that he has been diagnosed with dementia that definitely warps his perception of reality as it is, when you look into his backstory it makes sense why he thinks the way he does. his childhood pet died in a car crash when he was a little kid, then, when he goes on vacation with his parents (still in elementary school), the plane taking them back is hijacked, and then those hijackers are killed by a meteorite that also kills his parents right in front of him.

he has no other living relatives, so he’s given all of their inheritance, and is said to be free to live on his own. so he’s been alone since he was a kid, and then during middle school, he’s kidnapped by a SERIAL KILLER that held him for ransom, and then let him go after realizing no one was going to come for him. (which is actually so distressing to me like r u kidding me that’s so SAD HE HAD NO ONE WILLING TO EVEN ACKNOWLEDGE HE WAS MISSING?? UGH. ANYWAY.)

any chance at happiness Nagito has had was ripped from him in that cycle of good and bad luck. he starts to become fixated (and eventually, unhealthily obsessed) with the concept of hope, so that he could try and find some meaning to his life beyond killing anyone who'd ever shown him any kindness or cared about him. and then after ALL OF THIS, in high school before hope's peak, he gets diagnosed not only with CANCER, but also DEMENTIA. Which, typically, only affects people over 65!!!! he was probably not older than 16 when he got diagnosed!!!! he's then told that he probably has less than 6 months to live. he tells hajime this whole speech about how he realized all he wanted his entire life was to be loved by someone, and he didn't want to die alone, but then says that he was just quoting something, curious to the sympathy it would get him (i don't really believe that, but THAT is a nagito analysis topic. back on topic again…)

then he gets invited to hope's peak. he tries to refuse, but they insist, and so he finally agrees. but then, during his second year, junko starts to ruin things, and yet ANOTHER person he started to care about is killed right before his eyes (chiaki). of course, then, he goes on to bring as much pain and despair to anyone he can under junko’s brainwashing

he's fully convinced that he's a curse, and that he's not worthy of living.

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"ok….. what’s your point??" you didn’t ask???

the difference between nagito and makoto is that makoto took his grief and made it into motivation, while nagito took his grief as a personal reflection, and spiraled down into a mental decline.

i think the main reasons for this difference is that, first of all, nagito's trauma has been his entire life. since he was a little kid up to even currently (when he's around 21-22), all he's done is cause or witness death anywhere he's gone. watching your childhood pet AND parents die before your eyes has to impact development in some kind of way (not to mention he was entirely alone since ELEMENTARY SCHOOL)

makoto had a very average, but nice life to that point. he had nice parents that were together and happy, his little sister that he's super close to, and while he didn't have any super close friends, he wasn't on particularly bad terms with anyone (as shown by his reaction to seeing sayaka, and sayaka's reaction to knowina him). all of the trauma and death he experienced happened to him when he was an adult (even though he thought he was 16-17 when the first killing game happened, he was most likely 18-19 and junko can erase memory but not alter brain development. so.)

second of all, makoto had support from his friends! he had the other 5 survivors, and then during the second game, he had kyoko and aoi to support him and get him through it. nagito grew up experiencing all of this grief and guilt and trauma entirely alone, even during the killing game he was in. his classmates treat him awfully even before he has his mental break doing incredibly unhinged shit like blowing up the gym (it's so. hard. to defend him sometimes.)

i still haven’t gotten to my point oh my god i talk a lot. BUT THE POINT IS they cope extremely differently, and arguably have different levels of trauma, but they experience the same survivors guilt. both of them feel like they don't deserve to be alive, and that others around them deserve so much better than they do. i really feel like makoto would be able to empathize with nagito's struggles with survivor's guilt and self worth, because he feels the same things! clearly, not to the same extent, but again, that goes back to the support makoto got during his experiences. it's one of the many MANY reasons i think makoto and nagito would be able to help each other heal, instead of being unhealthy like a lot of people say. (of course it depends on when because obviously, servant nagito meeting ff!makoto would not be healthy. that man would skeeve makoto out MASSIVELY but that dynamic is also an interesting one to explore.... ANYWAY.)

nagito's obsession with hope would give him an unhealthy attachment/idolization of makoto at first, but i really do believe that after he recovers a little more from junko's influence, a few days with the guy would make nagito realize that they're way more similar than he thought and that respectfully, makoto isn't as amazing and godly as he thought LOL

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TLDR: they have very similar experiences, the only difference between them is that makoto had support that reminded him he wasn't to blame for the deaths of those around him, while nagito was isolated from EVERYONE from a very, VERY young age, and it led to his mental decline. i really believe they would be able to help each other heal a lot and that's why i love them so much :(

side note: genuinely nothing makes me as sad as nagito and his dog 😞 every time i mention them i get so upset

#nagito komaeda #makoto naegi #komaegi #sdr2 #dr thh #lucky duo #lucky duo tangents #posting dr opinions is so scary #please be nice #cxsmictangents

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