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precisionbattlesystem · 17 days ago

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A Different Type of Combat Doll

“I think it’s a combat doll,”

The combat doll being talked about was sitting in front of them, unaware that it was being discussed as it sat behind the 3 inches of window glass, drawing something on blank pieces of paper with a wooden number 2 pencil. They were wearing a gray shirt with typical camo pants, every so often pushing a some of their black hair out of their face.

Sam stood in front of the window, their arms folded behind her back. She was tall for a Witch at six feet, made of pure muscle and will. Her auburn hair making way for her steely face. She was an awestruck creature of beauty. “What do you mean, you think it’s a combat doll?” Sam said, emphasizing ‘think’ as she observed the doll.

“We think its defective,” The other witch said, a tiny toy in comparison to Sam’s physique, trying to meet Sam’s gaze. Sam’s eyes were focused on the doll. When Sam didn’t respond, the other witch continued, “They passed half of their mech training classes, but seemed clueless on nearly everything else. Our memory specialist, Patricia, her best guess was mech pilot. The doll often talks about flying, and then moments later, crashing. If that’s not a mech pilot, what is?” The other witch’s tone kept on trying to poke for a response, but Sam didn’t take any of the bait.

Sam just kept on looking at the combat doll. It was drawing something with a lot of lines. Sam walked inside the alone time room through a door that was next to the observation window. The doll looked up, mid pencil stroke frozen on the page. “Are you here to get me into another mech?” The doll’s tone was flat, bored. Sam could hear weariness in it too.

“Do you not want to be in a mech?” Sam asked.

“I mean…” The doll talked in first person, a rare trait for combat dolls, “I like them, I like how they work. But driving one isn’t… enough,” The doll said, as if trying to recall the lyrics to an old song.

There was a moment between the doll and Sam where they held each other’s gaze. Sam was about to say something when the other witch walked into the room from behind Sam, and the doll immediately turned away, hiding behind her hair like a safety blanket. “Is it true that you don’t have a doll of your own?” The other witch asked, “Because you can’t find one?”

Sam turned to the other witch and said, “I think I can fix your problem,”

The doll winced when Sam said ‘problem’.

The other witch didn’t notice, but Sam did.

Sam ran through the normal diagnostics to see if there might be anything physically wrong with the doll. Its joins were well taken care of, its gears were tuned, and the key inside its soul was forever ticking.

Nothing was out of place.

It was during one of these moments of the Witch inspecting the doll that the doll asked, “Miss Sam, do you not have another doll?”

“Nope,” Sam responded.

“Why not?” The doll asked as its feet dangled and kicked off the ledge of the table.

“It would interfere with my work,” Sam said. Which was true, but Sam knew it was one of those lies that a doll could easily see through.

“Is your work important?” The doll pried. Sam wasn’t sure how to respond to this.

“I… help dolls find their Purpose. That is definitely important,” Sam slowly spoke.

“Is being a repair Witch fun?” The doll asked.

“Yes. I think so,” Sam said with a brief pause, then decided to continue further when the doll had no response, “It requires critical thinking. No two dolls are ever the same. Each one is special in their own right,”

Sam set her tools down and slipped a shirt back onto the doll. The doll wiggled into it, tucking its arms in to the sleeves, sitting up and looking at Sam who began to clean up. The doll then did something that Sam has noticed become a comforting stim for the doll. Its left hand grasped something invisible at the height as her chest, then the bottom of her right palm pushed something near her right leg, then shoved it over with the back of her right hand, then right palm forward. Afterwards, the doll’s hands would drop down to its side. This time however, it noticed Sam was staring, “Sorry sorry sorry…”

“Shhh shhh shhh, it’s okay Fidget,” Sam said, hushing the doll with a comforting patience but also a new found understanding. The other witch said her name was Fidget since they would always do some sort of stim motion with their hands. It was honestly quite a mean nick name that stuck home. Fidget hugged Sam close which she graciously accepted.

“Can you… fix this one?” Fidget whispered.

“I can definitely try little one,”

That motion that Fidget made with her hands is normal among combat dolls. It was an automatic response due to the trauma they held within. Usually it was a combat doll going through the motions of reloading their gun, pulling the trigger, or some other task they did frequently.

The was Sam’s clue that she was going to solve.

First, Sam pulled out some manuals and schematics to several of the most common type of mech cock pits. That motion she did with her right hand is exactly where the throttle was for some mechs, a lever that pushed forward or was pulled backwards to determine if the mech walked forward or backwards. But the left hand didn’t grab anything. It was simply floating in mid air in the cockpit.

Sam threw that manual away, then grabbed another one that was labeled ‘Athena Class, Godzilla,” Godzilla in this case was referencing a manufacturer, not the kaiju. This one had something that might have fit the left hand in the cock pit, but there was no device for her right.

Sam went through manual after manual. Schematic after schematic. Nothing lined up perfectly like how it did for any other pilot doll that did something similar.

It still struck Sam as odd. Why point out Fidget’s automatic motions? It was completely normal for a combat doll to do something like that. So why would the other witches point it out like it was something to make fun of? To tease a doll about their trauma.

Sam leaned back in her chair and began to massage her temples and rub her eyes. She took a glance at the clock, five hours have passed since she sat down. Her bowl of rice and some sort of substitute meat laid on the table, untouched and has now formed a gelatinous layer of oil and grease on top. It didn’t smell great in here, but it smelled like home.

She pushed the bowl away and grabbed another manual, this one saying “Toyota, Archimedes B-139”. Toyota was one of the first mech manufacturers on the market, but Sam remembered they also made a bunch of other things before. Before even flipping the manual open, in some sort of delirious haze, Sam decided to internally say, “Fuck it, what if Fidget somehow piloted a forklift?”

Sam pushed her chair over to her computer desk, although it took some effort as one of the wheels on her chair had the friction of sandpaper. She looked up Toyota and what came up first was a group of enthusiasts that grabbed old technology and restored them to their former beauty.

It was ten pm when she sat down at her computer, and as any wiki dive went, it was four am when Sam realized she fell into a pit of looking up different cars, parts, and engines.

Sam stretched her arms away from her body, making a soft moan as she did so. She completely forgot about helping Fidget and just fell into a hole of how cars worked and the mechanics that worked on them.

It was actually kind of exciting and cool. An outdated technology that was used for entertainment now, instead of war. Cars still existed, but not in this form of self expression. Now they were optimized for carrying capacity and fuel efficiency, which in its own right was interesting to compare and contrast.

“One more video, and then I’m off to bed,” Sam lied to herself, knowing that one more video would become ten before she was able to tear the screen away for enough time to collapse onto her bed.

She clicked on one that said, “DRIFTING A BRZ, 1000 HP, ON THE BACKROADS OF SAUDI ARABIA” Sam opened another tab to look up where Saudi Arabia was. Seemed to be a bustling metropolis in the middle east that had a specific type of car handling dirt roads and sand dunes. Sam was excited to see where this went.

The video however was on asphalt. The driver was on the right side, which struck Sam as odd because usually it was on the left. And the camera person was sitting in the passenger seat on the left where the car would be.

And what Sam saw next, she didn’t think she would ever forget.

The car rocketed towards a turn, way past the point Sam thought it would be too late to slam on the brakes to slow down, and then camera shifted to outside perspective and the car was driving sideways. It was a chaotic sense of control that seemed other worldly. The turn ended, and the car was going forwards again.

What on earth was that?

Sam did another web search and found out about drifting, a type of approach to a turn to keep your speed. It was obsolete as it destroyed the vehicle, putting insane stress on the tires, engine, and clutch, but it was still beautiful to look at.

“Maybe if being a repair witch ever goes south, I could be a car mechanic,” Sam said to herself, but then Fidget’s words yanked at her like a dog on a leash, “Is your work important?”

Fuck. Sam should really head to bed. But one more video. - Sam yawned. It was incredibly rude, but she didn’t care. Her bed seemed unnaturally inviting as she sat in her chair, business suit on but slightly wrinkled, staring at the computer screen in front of her. Fidget sat next to her, out of sight of the camera.

“So. Progress. We’re running low on combat dolls and we need Fidget back on the field as soon as possible,” A man on the screen said. They were wearing a military uniform, their right chest looking like a rainbow of stars and colors, their shoulders looking like flavored tootsie rolls. High ranking. Sam didn’t realize things were that dire that they needed someone this high up on the military food chain to take control of the situation.

“No progress so far-” Sam’s mind was muted as all she could think about was her bed and cuddling Fidget.

“Witch. It has been six months. I was told you were the best in the business,” The general sergeant major whatever said. Sam’s mind was elsewhere, and it probably showed on her face. Sam didn’t really care for talking with this man and his passive aggressive remarks.

“You’re asking a screwdriver to be a hammer,” Sam said frankly, which shut the general up, “I have done several different tests, all verified by the WDA, and the AWA standard. She is not a combat doll,”

“Then what is she then? Your organization has stated that she is a combat doll and we have held onto her neural link for no return on investment! You better turn her into a combat doll, or its your career in the drain!” The man threatened, but such threats held no power or sway over Sam. She didn’t have a career, she was an independent contractor that made a small fortune repairing dolls and instilling Purpose.

She could always just force instill the Purpose into Fidget. It would hurt. But it wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

So why didn’t she? She’s has done so before and didn’t feel a thing, but why was this different now?

A ball jointed hand reached out in front of her and pressed the ‘m’ key, muting their microphone. Sam blinked and looked to her side where Fidget sat. Her hands went back to doing that motion she always did, but she looked at Sam with those big comfortable eyes and said, “It can be a combat doll for you Miss Sam. If you really want it to be one,”

That was why. Sam loved this doll.

Wait.

Shit.

She took a deep breath in, and let a deep breath out. She unmuted the microphone and spoke while looking at the camera, “How much do you want for the doll?” - “Keep your eyes closed for a moment more,” Sam told Fidget.

“Miss! This one can’t see anything!” Fidget said, the gears underneath her chest stuttering in excitement.

Sam led Fidget into her new garage. The walls were lined with tools, the ground stained with black splotches, and the ceiling shined brilliantly as it filled the garage with light.

“Okay, you can open them,” Sam said.

Fidget opened them and wasn’t quite sure how to feel. “It’s… a car… Miss,” Fidget said.

“It sure is,” Sam said with a roll of her eyes and slight smile.

“Are we going on a trip?” Fidget asked.

“Yes,” Sam said.

“Where to?” Fidget asked.

Sam walked up to a door on the car and opened it, “Wherever you want to go,”

Fidget blinked, as if she was hearing gibberish come out of Sam’s mouth. Fidget, unsure of what to do next, walked up to the door opposite of Sam and opened it.

The interior of this car was fresh, new, and smelled of lemon. In front of Fidget was her seat which was behind a steering wheel. “Wait Miss, aren’t you…”

“A doll’s duty is to service its Witch,” Sam reminded it. Fidget made a noise which sounded like a gulp. The cute thing it did when Fidget was anxious about the situation it was in.

Fidget sighed and muttered a “… one two three…” before getting into the car. It felt comfortable, but a bit far away from the accelerator, brake, and clutch pedals. Fidget’s hands automatically went for the switch underneath her seat to scoot her chair forward. Fidget’s eyes widened but before it could even say anything, Sam’s voice said, “Keep going,”

Fidget placed both of its hands on the steering wheel. It felt sturdy, which in turn felt nice.

“Okay,” Fidget said, its breath a little shaky, she her right hand then rested on the gear stick that stuck out inbetween her and her Witch and Fidget’s eyes widened even more so, “This…”

“Are you okay my doll?” Sam said, a little teasingly.

Fidget didn’t answer. She pressed the button which started the ignition and the car whirred to life. Without a second thought, she shifted into first gear and slowly let the clutch go, the car shifting forward out of the garage.

They drove out into the open and the simple oval that Sam constructed out of asphalt and gravel. Fidget didn’t let go of the accelerator as they made out like a bullet towards the turn. Fidget’s hands worked like they were right at home.

She then pressed her left foot into the brake pedal and quickly shifted the wheel left, and they entered the turn sideways.

The car exited the turn and began to slow down. Fidget shifted the car back into neutral and yanked the hand brake up. She turned to her Witch who could only sit there, a dumb loopy smile on her face.

“That felt exhilarating,” Sam said, the happiness in her voice was unmistakable.

“Miss…”

“Yes, my doll?”

“Thank you,”

“Anything for you.”

#combat doll #witch #doll #empty spaces #mecha #automotive #cars

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titan-god-helios · 1 year ago

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pt1 of oddly specific things that give me gender affirmation/euphoria (that may not be that odd but i didn’t expect them so shut up <3 /lh):

wallets !!!! a good stereotypically masculine wallet that’s small and leather and still has lots and lots of usability and looks like something a dad would use makes me feel so masculine !! love it

any type of trouser or bottoms with more than two pockets

windbreaker jackets - they make me go “FUCK YEEAAHH im such a boy a man a male tm yessir” and idk why they just do tho, even the fem ones to an extent

plantssss i love plants and they make me feel like a little gardner boy just yessss

energy drinks for some reason ???? they make the internal man dialogue of “IM A MANNN” go haywire so much

hairbands on my wrist and an excess of those wooden beaded bracelets or even stone beaded jewellery

cross earrings but just bc they look cool (i’m an atheist so yuh, i still love people who have religion too, y’all are awesome <3)

doing the thing with your hair where you take hair from one side and flip it on the other with one hand and its kind of like running your hand through your hair but with long hair…. esp of my other hand is on my hip and i scrunch my face ?!?!?!??!? so boyish i feel so good

dancing like an absolute idiot. i dont know why but every time i just do a little jig for myself by myself my gender is just like “yessssss you’re a boy frfr slay king”

watches !! big chunky analogue watches

following on from the last point, clocks too

mushroomsssss they make the more nonbinary side of me jump for joy cause like “yes ofc im a fucking forest goblin dude i love mushrooms im just a goblin guy leave me alone and let me love the shrooms”

sketching in public. it just doessss

camoflague clothing !! i mean this was probably obvious but when i came out to myself and i wore camo cargo pants (with loads of pockets mind you) i just freaked out in joy i felt so manly that day it was glorious

singing !! singing my favourite songs as low as i can go with it still sounding good

just being as stubborn as possible but in a non problematic (for the most part) way. like if you give me the option to make things easier and more convenient or not i’ll choose the harder option. idk it just makes me feel manly (is this toxic masculinity ?? i dont know but i try to remind myself that this only applies to non mental stuff so i don’t end up self-harming againnnn)

being unnecessarily overdressed

not brushing my hair till its perfectly untangled and just letting it be a bit wild - this came with me figuring out that my hair type is waywayway wavier/curlier than i thought my whole life and learning to take care of it the best i can whilst i have like zero products for waves/curls on hand and as a bonus i felt more masc !!

looking at the stretch marks underneath my boobs in the mirror. i have a large-ish chest i think (DD cup), plus i’m a lil chubby, so i have loads of stretch marks around my chest, and the ones underneath look like top surgery scars, so if i’m having a particularly rough day with my chest dysphoria i’ll look at em and feel a bit better

using my stim toys and accommodations with friends and by myself for my autism and adhd - being capable of taking care of myself finally makes me feel really confident and as a result quite masc as well

stimming by flipping my beaded bracelets between my fingers - this is specific to greek and possibly other cultures similar to greece but it’s typical for a lot of greek men to flip long-ish beaded loops (?? they’re not jewellery and specifically made for this but idk what they’re called so) between their fingers in a similar fashion, and it’s a thing that my dad does a lot when bored. whether neurodivergent or neurotypical it’s a very common thing for men and so doing it makes me not only feel good stimming but also feel manly as fuck ! it feels even better now that my mum saw me doing it once and said “what are you a man ??” and being closeted i had to say “idc im just flipping a bracelet why does it have to be gendered” BUT INSIDE I WAS SO HAPPY

playing card games - when i was younger and even now my dad and grandpa would let me sit in on their card games late at night when we visited them in greece and now when i play card games i always feel so calm and comforted and quietly masculine

drinkingggg now hear me out yes im a minor but i’m also half greek so as a result whenever my parents drink im allowed a bit too (under supervision ofc). anyway that out the way, i have a pretty fucking high alcohol tolerance and considering the fact that it comes from my dad (being asian, my mum’s tolerance is dogshit) plus the stereotypical “men can drink more” stuff i feel SO MANLYYYY when i can quite literally drink more than my dad and feel okay whilst he’s starting to be tipsy (just to clarify though, the stereotype is bullshit and should NOT be perpetuated as much as it is, at least with intent. you guys with low alcohol tolerances are just as manly !! maybe you’re even more manly than those with high tolerance !! and women with high tolerances, you’re still very fem and very cool and valid as a woman and those who aren’t binary or aligning you are valid as your gender or as no gender no matter what tolerance you have <33)

caring about myself more. and i don’t mean in a “i’m gonna have a nice fucking bath and be happy about it” way i mean in a “i’m going to feed myself well, drink lots of water, get good exercise and be respectful to myself at the very least” way. and also in the bath way. baths are nice

collecting shit !! idk dude but having a collection of dumb shit just makes me feel so masc and good cause i swear to the stars nearly every dude i’ve met and stepped into the house of has a collection of SOMETHING whether it’s games, books, rocks, crystals, cookbooks and recipies or art supplies or whatever makes them happy. like legit fucking anything and i like collecting stuff too so its a bonus !!

just being nice. just being a nice dude makes me feel so manly

being silly and myself and doing dumb shit and being unapologetic about it (im still working on being able to do this since i struggle a lot but when i can it feels so good !!)

being stupidly loyal to something equally stupid /pos. like yes i have had this stuffed animal since the dawn of time no i will never get rid of her. she’s a genderfuck lesbian rainbow tiger from buildabear workshop who goes by the name of Roxy i will never get rid of her >:(. and so what my ring is so rusty it makes my skin green every three days ?? i clean it and take it off when it gets out of control back off bitch its mine. why are you so concerned about my shoes ????? fuck you i like them how they are (falling apart and dishevelled, the sole is halfway off already and it hasn’t been even remotely okay since three years ago) and they still fit and work so i’ll wear them until i literally cannot anymore. its so fun and it’s such a “just some guy” activity AND it makes my autism goblin feel safe and good too so its great would reccommend

just talking about stuff i like and that makes me feel good but not to anybody in particular. maybe in my notes, maybe on tumblr (like right now !! i’m doing this one right now !!) maybe on my personal dm to myself. it just makes me feel like a boy i love it PLUS i dont actually have to stress about humans on the other end of it so i feel way more confident and comfortable and as a result even MORE manly !!

ice cream on cones. i will not elaborate

travelling and exploring !! like legit anywhere. as long as i’m moving from one place to another and exploring the world i feel so happy and right and also masculine it’s great i love travelling so much. on holidays i enjoy the act of travelling even more than the holiday itself tbh

(to clarify i identify as male but a bit fucked in the gender - if you want a label i still identify as nonbinary but male aligningg <3)

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