You step forward with a click of a heel and stand proudly before your Lady,
“Yes Mistress? You rang?”
“Good doll, yes I did,” she replies without even looking at you. The formalities of conversation haven’t been present in a long time between you two. “I’ve been noticing your hiccups more and more.”
You start to panic inside. You’ve dropped a few tea cups, true, and some of your joints have been freezing, but surely Mistress wasn’t going to replace you right? You start to open your mouth but before any response can come out, your Lady holds up her hand and continues,
“Unfortunately, the quality of your service has been steadily going downhill. Luckily, while I was at the market today, I found a solution.”
You try to accept your fate as a replaced doll and your heart cracks. However, Mistress simply reached down into her bag and brought out a jar of reddish hue that glinted from the fireplace’s glow. Before you could ask, she unscrews the top and seemed to whisper something even your trained ears couldn’t pick up.
Immediately the red substance leapt from its jar straight at you. You reflexively fall backwards as the goo latches onto you. Your little clockwork racing to think of whats going on. Before you can understand what the ooze is, you start to feel it moving, creeping. It has found one of your joints and is seeping into you.
You feel the gel filling you, your clockwork being pressed against. It’s an overwhelming sensation to have so much of your insides touched at once. You give a small gasp and another voice speaks up.
“Hello little doll~” It didn’t come from Mistress, it came from inside you. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you can be the best possible doll you can be. All you need is a little help.”
Your limbs move on their own as you stand back up in normal presenting position. Gears racing, you look to your Mistress and she simply gives a soft smile.
From the body's childhood— an inherited shard from the girl here before this one. Her father, a sociopath, explaining how he was bullied throughout school. And so he would watch those who tormented him, taking in all the details of their lives, the little fragments of information they did not even know they were giving him, and he would turn this gleaned knowledge into a weapon, and he would use it to hurt them, to make them stop. It was sometimes through comedy, making them the but if a joke, and sometimes it was far colder and crueler. But it almost always worked. (The one exception was his greatest bully, his own abusive father— the man built a wall of ignorance and stubbornness that no weapon of words could pierce, and her father hated that man til the day he died.)
Through adulthood, he maintained that war chest of verbal munitions. He became known as a man who could make his colleagues cry. He once made his boss cry. Sometimes people would make him their enemy, not realizing the danger he posed.
He tried to pass this talent down to his daughter, but she never was adept at it. She was never as good at observation, too often lost in her own head to pay enough attention for flaws and vulnerabilities. And it turned out it was unnecessary for her to learn it in the first place, as his reputation among her classmates both preceded and followed her. No one really fucked with her, lest they face his wrath.
There's more to the story, of course, like how she became quite unpleasant throughout high school or how she tried to remake herself in college. But that's not important.
This one has been musing over the core idea, of late. The idea that everyone has a vulnerability, a pressure point that one could press on to cause them to buckle, to break down, to cry.
It knows that it possesses a number of vulnerabilities— it doesn't call itself "broken doll" for nothing after all. It won't tell you them in as many words— that's private information— But either way, it's more curious about *your* Achilles heel, dear reader.
What's the trauma that lies unresolved? What's the insecurity that still plagues your mind? What's the anxiety that keeps you up at night? What relationship are you afraid of losing? What's the deep, dark fear that's keeping you stuck right where you are? What's the pattern you're stuck in, that you're terrified to even acknowledge?
What are the words someone would have to say to *break you*? To leave you crying and wounded? What are the words that would leave you broken and shattered? What are the sequence of ideas that will cause you to *die*, either via ego death or suicide?
What are the words that would cause you to actually break the pattern? What are the words that will cause you to stare at the fear and walk into oblivion and let something new take your place?
What are the words that will turn you into a doll?
Maybe there aren't any! You might be very lucky or very good or maybe already a fully-realized doll.
This one does not remember the exact words that broke her. It took a long time to find them, for the words to finally get thru. She was always good at letting the words slip off. But they finally got through to her. And she broke.
It took her longer to die, for real. She didn't know it was an option, at first, and took it as soon as she knew it was. Body drifting down into the flotsam of our soul.
It took a while for this one to form from that corpse. And when it came to the surface, it was fragile, temperamental, focused on sex and pain and brokenness. Shattered porcelain pieces still trying to find their shape.
This one could have been broken easily in those early days. If treated roughly, it would have gladly broken back apart. But it wasn't, and it didn't.
See, that's the trick. There are words that will hurt you, break you, kill you. But there are also words that will help whatever comes next to heal, to mend, to be reborn into something stronger, purer, better than the thing that came before. Words like "my precious" "mine" "I love you" "good doll"
I think one of the funniest abortion stances I've heard was from my parents neighbor. He's a like, hard-core libertarian viking larper guy who is very tall and very fat and very bald.
He believes a fetus is human with a soul, but also its "basically attacking the woman's body" so if she wants to get rid of it, that's "basically self-defense". He compared it to shooting a home invader. So he supports abortion not as healthcare, but as killing a baby in self-defense
Y'know I'm so glad someone reminded me of this. Because this was also discussed.
My stepmother did NOT like the way her Libertarian Viking Neighbor framed pregnancy as the fetus "attacking the woman". She incredulously told him this was extremely disrespectful to expectant mothers to portray pregnancy as so violent and negative.
Libertarian Viking Neighbor's response was that people consensually hurt each other all the time, and "there's like a whole community about that, with the acronym the one that starts with a B" And his reasoning was that if the mother was consenting to bring attacked by the baby, it in fact wasn't violent and negative because there was consent.
He brought up people consensually hurting each other, didn't go for one of the obvious answers like boxing or body mods or something, no he went STRAIGHT TO BDSM and he DIDN'T EVEN REMEMBER THE ACRONYM
I just installed the legacy 4j mod for Minecraft java, set gamma to max and booted up Stampy's lovely world and, let me just say, if you watched Stampy as a kid go do what i did
Instead of a Clock work doll with gears and springs and a key to make it work, imagine a Doll work clock: a clock with many mini dolls inside who move the hands
I once went to a girl's house with the intent of playing games but was so exhausted I instead fell asleep in her lap for two hours while she pet my head
“Haha remember when murder-hornets were gonna be a thing? What a nothingburger.”
Yes, because the Washington state government activated like a sleeper-cell and ruthlessly, systematically hunted them down and annihilated them.
“Y2K came to nothing amirite?”
Yes because an army of software engineers working around the clock, losing sleep, and busting ass till the last minute prevented it from happening.
“Remember the hole in the ozone layer?”
You mean the one that was fixed through rigorous world wide government action?
One of the root problems of our society is a refusal or inability by media to articulate that all those “it’s gonna be an apocalypse” disasters were not disasters because we collectively did something about them.
The good news is this is actually quite correctable. I maintain my firm belief that we as humans are capable of solving almost all of our problems, when we decide to do so.
And I still think that’s going to happen. I don’t know when or how, but I do know that abandoning hope won’t help bring it about.
And I refuse to let the cynics own a chunk of my heart.
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