#''i'm doing this for you''

[razzle-zazzle]

Whumptober Day 23: Forced Choice

Public Display + "I'm doing this for you."

2326 Words; Discolored

TW for mind control, loss of autonomy, emotional abuse

AO3 ver

“Hold still, Guppy.”

Branch rolled his eyes as Bella repeated the same warning, claw polish brush held in her paw. His paw rested in hers on the table, his claws spread wide so she could paint over the chipped pink paint with bright silver. Branch had fought her on this, consistently pulling his paws away the moment she had brought out the bottle of polish—

And Bella had ended the argument with a snap of her fingers and activation of the bracelet, forcing Branch to hold his paws out and let her paint his claws.

The bracelet was no longer active, now—but Branch wasn’t stupid enough to make the same mistake twice.

“We took turns naming all of you.” Bella commented, painting the last of Branch’s claws. “I named Dory and Clay, and Daffy named Spruce and Floyd.” She blew on Branch’s claws, capping the bottle of polish. “I never actually got to name you, though—Dory had chased us off before your egg hatched.”

“Fascinating.” Branch commented, scathing. He really wanted to smack his paw against something, smear the bright silver painted over the pink Poppy had painted on months ago—

(the pink that Branch had been hoping to get touched up soon—)

But he knew that if he tried, Bella would probably just use the bracelet to hold him still while repainting them all over again.

Bella hummed as she put the polish away, either not catching or not caring about Branch’s sarcasm. “I would’ve named you Robin.” She continued, grabbing blush. “For your blue shell, and the way it made me think of the snatches of the sky between the bars of the cage.”

Branch shifted uncomfortably. Reminders of the Troll Tree during the days of Trollstice always put a bitter taste in the back of his throat. And his parents had spent the majority of their lives in that caged tree, so unlike his short four years—

“I still think Lily would have been the better name.” Daffy commented, as Bella started applying the blush—as though the fur dye wasn’t enough. “My sweet Belody here was named for Atropa belladonna, and you’d have been named for Amaryllis belladonna if Dory hadn’t chased us off—”

“Dear,” Bella cautioned, “It wasn’t your turn.” She finished up with the blush, leaning back to survey her work while Branch fought the urge to slam his face against the table.

“At least my names had a theme.” Daffy sniffed. He started waving his paws as he spoke, “We could have had Juniper, Spruce, Chrysanthemum, Floyd, and Lily, but nooooo,” his tail smacked the floor, “you just had to go and name our sons after fish and dirt!”

Bella scoffed, makeup forgotten as she whirled around to face Daffy. “Oh, please! The individuality of John Dory, Storm, Clay, Firefly, and Robin would have been so perfect for differentiating them as boy band members—” Her tail lashed out, forcing Branch to duck under it as it swiped past, “but noooo, someone just had to want all plant names!”

“All plant names would have tied the family together!” Daffy argued, leaning in close.

“Elemental names would have worked better for branding!” Bella argued back, her face inches away from Daffy’s. They glared at each other, tails lashing as they pressed in close—

Branch ducked away the moment their lips met, pointedly not looking at where his parents were furiously making out. “I hate it here.” He muttered, wondering if he’d manage to make it to the door without either of them noticing.

Probably not, given his luck.

+=+=+=+=+

“Now, remember the steps, and don’t mess up.” Bella reminded, adjusting Branch’s sunglasses. “And make sure to sing your heart out!” She added, finally deciding that the sunglasses were to her liking.

“Aren’t you just going to control me with that bracelet?” Branch asked. He felt heavy, weighed down by the dye and makeup and fancy vest and pants he had been dressed up in. He didn’t want to be paraded around—but Bella was literally right next to him, bracelet wrapped firmly around her wrist. There was no way he could run now.

“Two minutes to show time!” Daffy announced, taking a peak out onstage. He pulled back, waving his paw in a so-so motion. “Crowd could be bigger…”

“Well, it is his first show.” Bella commented, grabbing Branch by the shoulders to turn him this way and that, looking for any last-minute adjustments she’d need to make. “Our little superstar will be drawing in crowds once they’ve heard him sing.” She booped Branch’s nose, making him recoil and bare his teeth at her. “Once they hear that ‘falsetto made of gold’, they’ll be buying tickets in droves!” She giggled, reaching for Branch’s tail to adjust the bracelet she had put on the end—replacing the bracelet Poppy had given him.

“That’s right!” Daffy crowed, smacking Branch on the back encouragingly. Branch stumbled forwards, and Daffy slung his arm over Branch’s shoulders. “You’re gonna do just perfect, Sprout!”

“Wonderful.” Branch grit out. Maybe he should try running for it; if he made enough of a scene they might cancel the show—

“One minute to showtime!” Bella called out, bracelet lighting up. Branch seized as all the threads in his body went taut, his own bracelet tightening around his wrists. She pushed him towards the curtain, his legs unwillingly walking him over there, and gave his hair one last once-over with the comb.

“Alright, folks!” Daffy announced via a megaphone, “It’s time for the show you paid for! Get your hair and paws ready for Robiiinnnnn Lilyyyyyyyyyy!” The audience cheered, and Branch took a moment to look at the crowd—maybe fifty or seventy Trolls at most. Which actually was pretty small. It looked like it was mostly Pop Trolls, with the occasional Rock or Funk in the crowd.

The music started up, and Branch took the stage, body moving along to the tug and pull of the strings. His mouth opened of Bella’s accord, and he started to sing. “I was there to witness / Candace’ inner business,” He followed the dance exactly as it had been rehearsed, no room for error in the way he was being puppeted. “She wants the boys to notice / her hairbows and harmonies.” He spun, tail flicking to the beat. “She was educated / but could not count to ten / now she’s got lots of different verses / from lots of different men.” Every note ripped from his throat was agony, layering over itself until Branch felt too hoarse to possibly be singing as well as he was. “And I say: liberate your sons and daughters!”

I’m not here willingly! Liberate ME!

“The cage is high / but in the hole there’s water.”

I’m caged! I’m caged inside my own damn body!

Surely there was something in his eyes giving that away, right? Or even just the fact that he was doing this, this whole performance thing, with Poppy nowhere in sight—that had to be a big enough clue that something was wrong, right?

“You can get some / when they give it / nothing’s sacred, but it’s a living!” It felt like his face was going to split apart, skin stretched too wide around his grin. He didn’t miss a step as he danced, and the audience cheered as he hit the chorus.

“Hey, ho! Here she goes! / Either a little too high / or a little too low!” Branch was singing his heart out, like Bella had told him too—completely against his will. “Got no self esteem and vertigo / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candy!”

Was… was this song about Poppy? This wasn’t the first time Branch had wondered, but it wasn’t like he could do anything else while his body and voice kept going at Bella’s command. It better not be about Poppy—Branch might actually need to whittle a stick to stab his mother with if it was. “Hey, ho! Here she goes! / Either a little too loud / or a little too close / got a hurricane at the back of her throat / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candyyyy~” The music slowed down a bit, and Branch’s dancing slowed to match. Then—

“Ring a ring of roses / whoever gets the closest,” The music picked up as the second verse hit—the audience was really excited, now, dancing in tune with the beat like they couldn’t quite help it—which they probably couldn’t. It was a deep-seated nature to dance along; Branch had long struggled to bury that urge during his gray years. “She comes and she goes / as the war of the roses. // Father was a victim / Mother played the system / By dancing quick to Mixton / and singing songs to children.”

Wait. Wasn’t Mixton a district in the Troll Tree? Was this song about Bella? Oh, ewww, now that Branch could see the connection it was so clearly a love song. Not the nicest of love songs, but Branch had seen enough of his parents to know that this was right up Daffy’s alley. Hairdammit.

Can’t you see I’m not having fun? He wanted off this rollercoaster ride!

“Liberate your sons and daughters! / The cage is high / but in the hole there’s water!” One might wonder how Branch had never realized what this song was about before now. The answer was simple: he’d pointedly ignored the words that Bella forced him to sing. “As you will / she’ll be the whole of her love,”

And also he didn’t want to know what garbage his parents were making him belt out—but it was hard not to focus on the words here, when ignoring them or the dance meant focusing on the crowd of Trolls watching him be puppeted around in front of them like it was normal—

“And if it don’t feel good,” It didn’t! Every part of Branch’s body hurt from being wrenched around by the strings! “What are you doing it for?” He was only doing this because his body and voice weren’t his own right now!

“Now tell me: hey, ho! Here she goes! / Either a little too high / or a little too low! / Got no self-esteem and vertigo / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candy!” Oh, Troll, the audience was eating this up, as though Branch wasn’t about to cry—not that he could, with the damned strings tugging at his face and pulling it into a grin. “Hey, ho! Here she goes!” The audience was gleefully singing along, now, the whole small theater filled with a chorus chanting, “Either a little too loud / or a little too close / got a hurricane in the back of her throat / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candy!” The music didn’t quite slow down, and neither did Branch, his tail keeping the beat as the song continued.

“Liberate your sons and daughters! The cage is high / but in the hole there’s water! / As you will, she’ll be the whole of her love—”

C’mon, please, why can’t you realize—

But it didn’t matter. None of the audience could see past the grin on Branch’s face. They sung along instead, enjoying the music as any Troll would, getting so revved up that Branch wanted to curl up in a hole and cry.

“—and if it don’t feel good / what are you doing it for?” As long as that bracelet clung to Branch’s wrist, his body and voice weren’t his own. The notion would make him feel sick if he didn’t already want to vomit.

“What are you doing it for? / What are you doing it for?” Hair above, Branch felt fake.

“What are you doing it for? / What are you doing it for?” Like some cheap little doll—

“What are you doing it for? / What are you doing it for?” —doing a cheap little dance.

“What are you doing it for?” Troll, Branch wished he wasn’t doing it at all.

“What are you doing it for?” Branch’s tail slapped the stage as the bridge transitioned into the refrain one last time— “Hey, ho! Here she goes! / Either a little too high / or a little too low! / Got no self-esteem and vertigo / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candy! / Hey, ho! Here she goes! / Either a little too loud / or a little too close! / Got a hurricane in the back of her throat / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candy!” The song was nearing its end now—it couldn’t come fast enough. “Hey, ho! Here she goes! / Either a little too high / or a little too low! / Got no self-esteem and vertigo / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candy! / Hey, ho! Here she goes! / Either a little too loud / or a little too close! / Got a hurricane in the back of her throat / ‘cause she thinks she’s made of candy!” The music finally wound down entirely, the audience cheering and clapping as Branch bowed against his will. At least it was over—no, wait, Daffy was lifting the megaphone again and the bracelet was still active—

“Amazing!” Daffy crowed, the general enthusiasm of the audience. “But Robin Lily’s no one-genre hack!” The crowd got a little less enthusiastic as confusion took place. Daffy simply continued, voice carrying across the little theater, “Pop is fantastic, of course! But it’s not the only kind of music, is it?” The Pop Trolls nodded in confused agreement, while the Funk and Rock were a little louder. “No, it’s not! But Robin Lily sees no need to stick to one genre!” Daffy’s voice picked up as Bella slinked onstage to hand a guitar to Branch, who slung the strap over his shoulder at her command, “SO LET’S HEAR SOME ROCK’N’ROLL! YEAHHHHH!”

The music picked up again, the beat heavier, harsher. Branch’s paws found their way to the guitar, pick suddenly in hand, his mouth opening up to sing—

Oh. Oh no. And of course, none of the audience realized he wasn’t doing this willingly—

The song started, and Branch sang perfectly, playing his guitar like he’d been born to play it.

He didn’t have any other choice.

[paintedcrows]

Did anyone tell Ford (bonus doodles: Family Movie Night, 70s Classics)

[jue-jack]

Kirby is a star!!!

[gongyussy]

good thing from jp twitter this week is queen of old man yaoi michiru sonoo discovering the term old man yaoi

update: somehow it got impossibly more wholesome

quick translation: おかえり: welcome home あ 終わった 終わった: ahhh, it's over! it's done! コーヒー? お茶?: coffee? tea? コ~ヒ~ ありがと: coffee, thank you~ ネクタイレア★★ ネクタイ取るレア★★★★: seeing him with a tie on, rarity level ★★, seeing him take a tie off, rarity level ★★★★ にあうな~: it suits him~

also please do follow: AraigumaSha: sensei's twitter account marureviere: maru, who does such valuable work highlighting bl manga for an international audience

[captainjonnitkessler]

>Join a union

>Hear people constantly complaining that the current union leadership is super corrupt, it's all just the same ten guys making all the decisions in secret and nobody else in the union ever gets to know what's going on

>Go to the monthly union meetings that are completely open to all 1200 union members

>The only attendees are the same ten guys every month, giving detailed reports about everything that's going on

[anistarrose]

Disability is not a punishment, but I think the world would be genuinely improved if every person involved in writing or regulating ingredient labels was mysteriously inflicted with at least one food allergy falling under each of the following categories: "natural flavors," "modified food starch," "artificial flavors," "spices," and "color." Down with ingredient labels so vague that they defeat the entire fucking point.

[icewindandboringhorror]

(also feel free in the tags to clarify Why you made the choice you made!! :0c)

[shadesofmauve]

I want to step away from the art-vs-artist side of the Gaiman issue for a bit, and talk about, well, the rest of it. Because those emotions you're feeling would be the same without the art; the art just adds another layer.

Source: I worked with a guy who turned out to be heavily involved in an international, multi-state sex-slavery/trafficking ring.

He was really nice.

Yeah.

It hits like a dumptruck of shit. You don't feel stable in your world anymore. How could someone you interacted with, liked, also be a truly horrible person? How could your judgement be that bad? How can real people, not stylized cartoon bogeymen, be actually doing this shit?

You have to sit with the fact that you couldn't, or probably couldn't, have known. You should have no guilt as part of this horror — but guilt is almost certainly part of that mess you're feeling, because our brains do this associative thing, and somehow "I liked [the version of] the guy [that I knew]", or his creations, becomes "I made a horrible mistake and should feel guilty."

You didn't, loves, you didn't.

We're human, and we can only go by the information we have. And the information we have is only the smallest glimpse into someone else's life.

I didn't work closely with the guy I knew at work, but we chatted. He wasn't just nice; he was one of the only people outside my tiny department who seemed genuinely nice in a workplace that was rapidly becoming incredibly toxic. He loaned me a bike trainer. Occasionally he'd see me at the bus stop and give me a lift home.

Yup. I was a young woman in my twenties and rode in this guy's car. More than once.

When I tell this story that part usually makes people gasp. "You must feel so scared about what could have happened to you!" "You're so lucky nothing happened!"

No, that's not how it worked. I was never in danger. This guy targeted Korean women with little-to-no English who were coerced and powerless. A white, fluent, US citizen coworker wasn't a potential victim. I got to be a person, not prey.

Y'know that little warning bell that goes off, when you're around someone who might be a danger to you? That animal sense that says "Something is off here, watch out"?

Yeah, that doesn't ping if the preferred prey isn't around.

That's what rattled me the most about this. I liked to think of myself as willing to stand up for people with less power than me. I worked with Japanese exchange students in college and put myself bodily between them and creeps, and I sure as hell got that little alarm when some asian-schoolgirl fetishist schmoozed on them. But we were all there.

I had to learn that the alarm won't go off when the hunter isn't hunting. That it's not the solid indicator I might've thought it was. That sometimes this is what the privilege of not being prey does; it completely masks your ability to detect the horrors that are going on.

A lot of people point out that 'people like that' have amazing charisma and ability to lie and manipulate, and that's true. Anyone who's gotten away with this shit for decades is going to be way smoother than the pathetic little hangers-on I dealt with in university. But it's not just that. I seriously, deeply believe that he saw me as a person, and he did not extend personhood to his victims. We didn't have a fake coworker relationship. We had a real one. And just like I don't know the ins-and-outs of most of my coworkers lives, I had no idea that what he did on his down time was perpetrate horrors.

I know this is getting off the topic, but it's so very important. Especially as a message to cis guys: please understand that you won't recognize a creep the way you might think you will. If you're not the preferred prey, the hind-brain alarm won't go off. You have to listen to victims, not your gut feeling that the person seems perfectly nice and normal. It doesn't mean there's never a false accusation, but face the fact that it's usually real, and you don't have enough information to say otherwise.

So, yeah. It fucking sucks. Writing about this twists my insides into tense knots, and it was almost a decade ago. I was never in danger. No one I knew was hurt!

Just countless, powerless women, horrifically abused by someone who was nice to me.

You don't trust your own judgement quite the same way, after. And as utterly shitty as it is, as twisted up and unstead-in-the-world as I felt the day I found out — I don't actually think that's a bad thing.

I think we all need to question our own judgement. It makes us better people.

I don't see villains around every corner just because I knew one, once. But I do own the fact that I can't know, really know, about anyone except those closest to me. They have their own full lives. They'll go from the pinnacles of kindness to the depths of depravity — and I won't know.

It's not a failing. It's just being human. Something to remember before you slap labels on people, before you condemn them or idolize them. Think about how much you can't know, and how flawed our judgement always is.

Grieve for victims, and the feeling of betrayal. But maybe let yourself off the hook, and be a bit slower to skewer others on it.

[demaparbat-hp]

He's never happy

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I love you Safety Wizard.

(Inspired by @keroascrazy)

[ladybugboots]

distant past

[pangur-and-grim]

a lot of you probably knows Belphie's story, but I'll summarize just in case.

Devon Rex cats are better for people with allergies (less shed fur + less Fel d1 protein in their saliva), so on February 16, 2024, I went the breeder route and put down a deposit. before Belphie even opened his eyes, he was mine!

every Friday, the breeder sent me a new photo. I had a broken leg, and was basically rotting in bed at that point, so it was the best part of my week. then, at 12 weeks old, I BROUGHT HIM HOME!

at first, he was so alive! like a wind-up monkey that never shut off. he dangled from the wall-hangings, savaged my feet as I walked, and used my elderly cats as jumping poles to do cool acrobatics over. but all this gradually faded.

first, he stopped playing. then he stopped climbing. then he stopped moving much at all. my vet ran tests on him and found multiple pathogens (calcivrius + mycoplasma), but the medication didn't help - he kept declining.

on September 17th, I woke up to find him swollen like a balloon. we finally had an answer: he had Feline infectious Peritonitis, aka FIP. before 2017, this would've been a death sentence. he would've kept bloating until he drowned in his own fluids. and before 2024, I would've been forced to inject him with black market drugs. but thankfully, South Tower Animal Hospital in Fergus, Ontario was doing a study on the oral medication! we drove two hours, enrolled him, and left with the GS-441524 pills.

and he went from those photos above.....to this:

I thought Belphie would die as a kitten. I'd accepted that he would never grow up. but now he gets to LIVE!

and all for the low cost of $7,553.....ahhhahaha........god.

that + a recent home disaster has wiped out my savings, but I still need to pay for Belphie's medication. to remain in this study, I need to do bloodwork monthly until Feb 2025, and he'll need daily pills until March 2025.

I've put a risograph print + enamel pin set up at greerstothers.shop. I hate asking for help, but if you'd like to support Belphie's continued treatment, please consider checking them out!

[potofsoup]

Oh look, it seems like there's a Republican-led movement to purge voter rolls in the lead-up to the election! It's almost as if your vote matters and they don't want you to vote! Anyway, I whipped up a quick map (based on this) that shows when the voter registration deadline is in each state. There are a few deadlines coming up in the next week or so.

If you live in a state that regularly purges voter rolls for infrequent voters (the orange ones in the first map), or if you moved recently, it's good to check if you're still registered to vote.

Vote.org makes it super easy to check your registration: https://www.vote.org/am-i-registered-to-vote/

Just put in your address and DOB and they'll tell you whether you're registered. (And they give you a quick link to register online if it turns out that you're not! Only the 9 states in white on my map don't have online registration, and for those they provide instructions on how to do it via mail or in person.) If you want an extra verification, find your state's election website and double-check there.

So yeah, give yourself peace of mind -- do a quick check. :)

[lazylittledragon]

someone get this poor man a chair for the love of god

[egophiliac]

missed the mark by (looks at calendar) uhhh. hm. but I really wanted to do something for the 5th anniversary! happy five years to these idiots 🎉