euphoria psychosis machine

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discord.gg/wyPpBwUf2a

sniper doll [microfiction ; cw: violence]

As the camp exploded into outrage, the doll silently eased down through the branches and down to the forest floor, making its way back to its Witch and whistling a quiet tune.

The doll's clockwork subtly clicked, just enough to make its finger clench the trigger, and with unerring aim, a railgun spike, white-hot, shrieked through the air and smashed through the commander's skull.

Then, the commander's tent opened, and she stepped out; common black-and-gold military fatigues, a sword-cross and crescent half-broken halo, the Empyrean emblem. She paused for a split second, and--

Its legs clutched the branches, easily supporting its light, small frame, oversized by its own gun. It made no moves; drew no breath; its clockwork was perfectly still inside. Another part of the landscape. Unseen. Motionless. Perfect.

It was unlike its eyes: targeting reticles, deliberately matte, matching the shineless black porcelain it was made from. It was Widowmaker-class, a stealth operant, a sniper, and its rail rifle was trained, watching its targets.

The doll was still in its treetop perch.

It had been there for the last three hours, overlooking the enemy encampment. It glowed under the endless night, set-up electric torches revealing the humans stirring.

that is what I Want. even if it cannot be accomplished, even if it can, I will carry this Want and the bloody Endless Night in my Heart.

and you? yes, You. what about You?

Will You Come Along?

I Want to show you what I See. and, I Want to make this world more like it.

I Want to throw a party at the end of the world. I Want to Eat.

and I Want all of You that also Want this,
to come along.

I Want us to parade through the streets and revel under an endless night sky.

what do I Want?

let me tell you.

there is a world I See. I have always Seen it. a world of Beauty and Art. bloodshed, adventure, horror, Love. War and madness and hope and despair. a world where the inhuman is free.

I Want to make Art.

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Its owner gives it a kiss on its forehead and helps it up out of the tub, and hands it a scented towel fresh from the dryer.

And it was happy.

They gently brush fabric softener into its colorful artificial hair, ladling water through it to rinse, then repeating with soap, conditioner, softly pulling a brush through its locks.

A doll taking a bath.

Warm, soothing water relaxes around its porcelain. Its owner takes a soft brush to the grime built-up between its joints, one by one. They brush over its smooth shell with a soapy, gentle rag, getting off every little smudge.

yes it is going to hurt. you are going to suffer and suffer and bleed and cry and scream.

and you are going to shoot into the atmosphere on wings of molten glass and you are going to kiss God and you are going to kill God and you are going to Be.

doesn't it sound wonderful~?

are you a doll? do you want a witch? poly?

DM me.

"Fifth floor's closed-off."

"What! I have a meeting in five, what the hells is that important?"

"Y'know the new janitorial doll management brought in?"

"Yeah?"

"It's in a fistfight with the cleaning drone again."

"Again?! That's the seventh time this month..."

interception: the witch's call

combat is sex, and sex is combat.

love is war, and war is love.

the pilot and the doll [short story ; no CW]

"And its Master would take you."

They didn't budge it, but... relaxed, a bit. A tear in their eye. "For real...?"

"Come with this one," it said, looking them in the eye, all five of its focusing on their pair. "Become."

There was a long pause, and a shaky breath.

"Alright."

"Huh?" They were shocked for a second, looking up abruptly.

"You could be like this one."

Their shaking head; disbelief. "No, no, I couldn't. No witch would take me."

"You are like this one," it said, and gently went to rest its head on the ex-pilot's shoulder.

"Because this one is that," it replied. "It is that all the time. Without a mech."

"That... must be nice. To just be that, be... yourself. All the time." The whiskey glass, empty, was considered for a long moment.

The doll waited for a time. And then spoke. "You could be."

It was a stare the doll could return. "The truth of metal. The hum and hiss of mechanics. The force of artillery fire, and the grace of a weapon."

They stared at it a bit, sideways. "...Yeah, that's it. You get it."

"They said I can't pilot anymore, and..."

"Do you miss it?" the doll chirped.

The former pilot hissed. "I was alive in it, it was me, it felt like I was finally me. Especially in battle--I was myself, I was free." They looked at the doll half-drunk and with hollow hunger.

"They took my fucking body! My body--" The pilot broke down, choking out a sob.

The combat doll stared with its many glassy eyes, tilting its head and softly chittering.

"Your mech." "Yes! Yes, my-- my mech, my body..." They knocked back their whiskey as if it could save them.

a doll enters my core chamber. the stained glass ceiling casts it in vibrant cool shades. I am cold and still, in waiting.