yaboitroi

[yaboitroi]

I’m such a sucker for whumpees reuniting with people who knew them from before the whump whilst in the midst of recovery. Might be one of my favourite tropes tbh.

Whumpees who changed their name after escaping visably recoiling when they hear someone call them that.

Maybe they don’t want anything to do with their old friends. They left that life behind for a reason. All they’ll do is remind Whumpee of the past, something they’ve been trying to leave behind.

It’s worse if Whumper was a mutual ‘friend’. Especially if these old friends didn’t even know something had happened to Whumpee. Whumper had made up some poor excuse, saying they left for a job, or had gone missing under unknown circumstances.

Their old friends are extremely emotional, having seen Whumpee for the first time in so long, only for the previously cheerful and expressionate Whumpee to just stare blankly in response.

They try to have a conversation with Whumpee but they’re horrified at how much Whumpee has changed. The old Whumpee was sweet, and always polite, yet now they cuss every other word and hardly have anything nice to say.

Or, maybe Whumpee used to be rebellious and freespirited. Now, they’re mild and obedient, a literal shell of their old self.

Whumpee’s old friends jump in to protect them from some threat, believing their usually fragile friend would still need help, only for Whumpee to jump in and defend themself, since they had to learn how to.

Someone who knew the old Whumpee breaking down after seeing how much their dear friend changed, asking them what happened, though Whumpee can’t bring themself to answer.

That person feeling like somehow, deep down, they truly failed Whumpee. If they had just been there, they could have done something. They should have done something.

Caretaker noticing how uncomfortable Whumpee is and trying to remove them from the situation. Their old friends are furious, they’ve been kept away from Whumpee for so long, and now they just have to leave, without any answers?

Bonus points if Whumpee and the old friends weren’t on good terms before they disappeared. Friends who had one final falling out, siblings with a strained relatiomship, lovers who had broken up, etc etc.

[yaboitroi]

How to (possibly) write Jafar

A few people have complimented how I write Jafar and even Iago and while I never thought myself an exceptional writer, I do try to do right by my favorite Disney Villain. This is going to be a list of things I keep in mind when writing Jafar, which, of course, is based on my interpretation of his original movie version.

Jafar cannot comprehend other people's perspectives.

This is first because I think it's the fundamental reason Jafar is the way he is in every other regard. To him, you either agree with him completely or you are objectively/factually wrong. Even if you only half-agree, you are wrong in his eyes.

This is one of the reasons he holds such disdain for The Sultan: they held vastly different perspectives in life. For example; Say a neighboring nation was in turmoil. Jafar would advise the Sultan to either take advantage and seize the city, or stay out of the matter completely. Instead the Sultan sends aid and helps stabilize the nation. The Sultan can understand Jafar wanting to grow Agrabah's power or not wanting to spend resources on a neutral neighbor but Jafar cannot understand the Sultan wanting to see conflict end peacefully. So Jafar walks away believing the Sultan is incompetent and wholly unworthy of his station as ruler.

This also applies to personal values. He's willing to bribe for what he wants but if someone isn't interested in money or common valuables, Jafar can't understand what to do next. He can only think to offer more money or cut his losses and leave. Jafar wouldn't even bother trying to figure out what said person would want because, by virtue of not valuing money, he already assumes they're incompetent or just straight up crazy.

2. Jafar seeks power because he knows he's nothing without it.

While it can be debated on if the version of Jafar in the original film was poor growing up, (personally I believe he did) I can imagine him being physically weak too. And growing up weak (and rather effeminate) in a strongly male-dominated culture is rough at the best of times.

Jafar's youth is defined by other's putting him down or taking from him because they could, leaving Jafar to be blamed for not "sticking up for himself". But it was never about Jafar being cowardly per say; it was always other kids being rougher and crueler. Eventually Jafar learned that any fight would end with him losing. So he learned to avoid fights, using practiced flattery and manipulation to keep others fighting each other and not him.

He wants to be Sultan not to lead or even command people but because the 'Divine Right To Rule' is taken as fact in his time period. One cannot question a Sultan. One cannot refuse a Sultan. Jafar depends on that unquestioned system of privilege because he still believes he couldn't win a fight without it. When Jasmine did question it, Jafar immediately demanded more power ('to be the most powerful sorcerer in the world') because if she dared question him, others may question him too. That would lead to a fight... which, as he learned as a child, would lead to him losing.

Even with power, he still fears losing deeply. Even when he was winning and about to kill Aladdin, Al's mere suggestion that someone could over-power him eventually was enough to break Jafar's ego enough to doubt himself and wish to be a genie. Which I'll go on about later.

3. Jafar's eloquence is only skin-deep. He wants to be a brute.

This isn't to say Jafar isn't cultured, intelligent, what have you. But Jafar's off-hands, two-faced, double talking, manipulative manner is specifically intended to keep him out of conflict because, say it with me kids, he thinks he'll always lose. When Jafar's bid for political power fails, he goes straight for physical power. He doesn't demand the guards' loyalty or the people's blind favor. He wants to brute-force his will on others, which he does during the Prince Ali reprise.

Once he takes over with brute force, yes he still speaks fancy but when he's rejected by Jasmine, his first instinct is to hit her, the first act of physical aggression he has the whole film (unless you count him throttling Iago before sending him to get Aladdin's lamp). When Genie 'talks back' Jafar also acts much more physically aggressive than he was throughout most of the movie. He feels secured, in control, powerful.

As much as he hates those that hurt him before, he never thinks to be different, better. He just saw them winning and him losing and that's all he cares about.

4. When you write Genie Jafar, remember that it's his worst nightmare.

Everything stated above, the selfishness, the power-grabbing, the aggression, are all more or less forbidden under the rules of a genie. There's evidence in the movie that there are rules genies follow beyond the three Genie mention (can't help Aladdin get the lamp from Jafar, for example). I do have a mental list of rules I feel are never contradicted in any of the movies: Cannot harm their master, must stay close, can only use their magic in the service of their master's desires, ect, but that's not the point I wanna make.

The point is that Jafar not only has to follow those rules, but that those rules are absolute. There's no one for him to trick or manipulate to get favor. No one he can force to his will onto unless they basically choose to not fight him. He is wholly at the mercy of his master and that is EVERYTHING Jafar spent his whole life fighting to prevent.

And it's painful for him. A lot of times in my writings, Jafar is grabbing and clawing at the gold genie cuffs because he knows he can't fight past them. He runs into a metaphorical (sometimes literal) wall and he's helpless. He IS dependent on his master to listen. He IS dependent on getting express permission to use the magic he sold himself into slavery to get. He's lost his agency completely and having to again put on the mask of a humble helpful servant like he did for the Sultan is salt in the wound. Everything, absolutely everything he went through, is meaningless now because he's still a servant under the thumb of another.

The reason the original Return of Jafar has Jafar meet such a stupid cowardly bandit as a master was because anyone with any willpower or fortitude woulda shut Jafar's plan down instantly. And there's nothing Jafar could do but beg and bribe. He'd have to scrounge for any ounce of empathy just to get back to Agrabah, much less take him to the Palace.

-----

That's about all I can think to mention. Again all of this is my interpretation of Jafar from the 1992 version of Aladdin. I don't know who I expect to read/care for this but I wanna just put this out there.

I just really like Jafar.

[yaboitroi]

I've been seeing a lot of "Metropolis hates Superman" posts out there but here's the thing, they don't.

The average citizen LOVES Superman. They all chipped in to save him near the end of last season. They wave at him as he flies past. Dr. Irons tries to find someway to contact Superman for help because his of reputation.

Normal people can have their hearts changed and open up. The ones who DO hate Superman are the ones who have a Investment in him being gone.

The Metropolis elite, The wealthy, those with power in the government. The people whom (Baring a massive earth threatening event) would be fine without him. The cops would listen to them. the best lawyers would would work on their behalf and they can hire any trained muscle to do the rest.

And why wouldn't they hate him? They were the most powerful people out there until comes Superman in redefining what power even looks like. Ivo was the type of guy who'd normally never face consequences for his actions but once Superman got involved, he was deservedly ruined.

And what freaks them out even more is that Superman is not acting like how a powerful person normally acts. He's not using his power to gain more power and influence like they do. He's just giving his time energy and services away for free to anyone who asks or needs them. They can't compete with that. How are they supposed to stay as the top dog whom all the little people will pay to get all the solutions from with him around?

Forget all those grim dark takes on Superheros that claim "This is what superheros would be like in the real world.

THIS is what being a superhero in the real world would look like.

[yaboitroi]

I'm having fun imagining what would happen if a few people from random countries got superpowers. Lots of fun questions like: What would the political implications be? The cultural ones? How do I turn this into an actual story?

[yaboitroi]

teen whumpee in recovery.

they feel infantilized. after all, they went through so much completely on their own, and they managed to escape just fine, right? they've always bandaged their own wounds, cried alone; they've never had anyone else to comfort them before, so why would they need anyone to take care of them now?

it feels like when they were with whumper. their freedom, stripped away from them, forced to fit into perfect little boxes and a routine and rules and it's stifling; they just want to do what they want. they don't need caretaker.

they have so much less freedom than an adult whumpee would have in recovery. less choice. they need someone else to make medical decisions for them. they've been forced to grow up much too fast but now they're being treated like the child they're not.

and they can't do anything about it

[yaboitroi]

Hey what if the cycle of life, death and rebirth is like going in and out of the shower. Like at first you're hanging in the immaterial, knowing that you should go live a life eventually, better sooner than later, and you're just procrastinating like euuuugh I don't wanna goooo, but once you're in there, once you're alive, you're like no wait a minute now I remember, it's awesome in here, I want to be here forever, and once you've done everything you meant to do you still keep procrastinating for as long as possible because it's so nice in there and you don't want it to be over. But once you're out you're fine, it's the transition that sucks both ways every time.

[yaboitroi]

I remember meeting a guy at a bar a year or so ago who told me he worked at the international consortium that does the porn parodies of all the top-grossing film releases. He said that the whole Barbenheimer situation presented his combine with some spectacular highs and lows. Because he said that with Barbie, right, the thing about Barbie is that there's already kind of a three-way ideatic, structural parallel between the curated artificiality of Barbie as a children's toy, the curated artificiality of Barbie as a mass market film, and the curated artificiality of pornography as a genre. Add on top of that that Barbie as a film is already feeling this tension, right where it's trying to be about a character graduating from the platonic sexlessness of a children's franchise to the functional-and-frank sexuality of being a living human woman, but it's also being bogged down in the "Everyone-is-beautiful-no-one-is-horny" aesthetic restrictions of any contemporary big-budget mass-market film so the two states end up looking pretty similar, he said. I mean the film itself is very aware of that tension, right, with that joke about how "casting Margot Robbie is the wrong move if you want to make that point," all that jazz. So, all that in mind, Barbie-themed pornography, he said, is in a weird way actually kind of complementary to the extant project, gesturing at unaddressed tensions and ideas, a dark mirror, the shadow self it wants to deny but can't, there's a lot of room to play in the space. He used the adjective "Lynchian" a couple of times, he seemed super stoked, he was talking with his hands. Oppenheimer, on the other hand. Oppenheimer he said presented a problem. Because obviously you can eroticize the detonation of an atomic bomb, we're all probably three mutuals removed from someone on this site who does exactly that, but obviously that's a niche market, and moreover it's a market that has a ton of overlap with high-minded thinkers who treat the historical use of atomic weapons against Japan with the level of gravity that atrocity demands. So they were stuck. They were really stuck. He told me that they'd been pulling their hair out for months trying to square the circle and all they had to show for it was a big whiteboard with the phrase "Grope-nheimer" written on it

[yaboitroi]

Things you can stay instead of "k1lled", "murked" or "unalived":

involuntarily converted to room temperature

cancelled on a corporeal level

successfully transitioned into fertiliser

rendered permanently horizontal

sent to investigate the potential existence of an afterlife

[yaboitroi]

[yaboitroi]

One of the funniest story premises is the one that's entirely based around something that promises awesome power but fucking decimates you if you fuck with it, and then everyone, individually, despite of seeing that it's done exactly that to 100% of the people who have fucked with it, nonetheless think "ok but what if I'm special" and then gets predictably decimated.

[yaboitroi]

Easy

“Come now, dear. What’s the worst thing that could happen when you drop the tough act and just do as I say? All this—” he tightly gripped their arm and squeezed his thumb next to a healing cut, making Whumpee grit their teeth in pain, “—could stop.”

“You’ll just keep making things worse,” Whumpee said, conceding some of their fears. It was completely logical for them not to bend. “Worse and worse and—“

“No, darling, no. Not when you behave.”

“Yes, you will. You’ll just keep testing me. See how far you can push me. Keep upping the stakes until I’ll finally say ‘no’ and you’ll have your excuse to—“

“What makes you think I need an excuse?”

True. Even if they behaved perfectly, Whumper wouldn’t just stop. Which was the main reason they wouldn’t give in. Why submit when he was going to hurt them anyway? Pain, fine. Pain plus the burning shame of humiliation and the knowledge that they yielded? No. At least now they had the small pleasure of having him make an effort to get what he wanted.

And Whumpee knew that if they’d give into one simple request – get on your knees, look at me – it would soon escalate to worse things, push at their limits and comfort zone. Give a finger and he’d take their hand. And that little crack in their pride would keep getting larger, shame seeping in for giving in to the simple demands to escape some pain, until finally, it would splinter.

And they’d lose themself.

“Well,” Whumper drew away and instead crouched down next to them, helping them sit upright, but kept a tight grip onto their neck and tilted their chin up. “If you don’t want to get hurt, the solution is very simple, then.”

He smiled as Whumpee’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Just don’t say ‘no’.”

-

Tagging: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @myst-in-the-mirror @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @villainsvictim

[yaboitroi]

Whumpee was just not breaking, much to the frustration and growing interest of Whumper. Whumpee was becoming their new favorite project. All other Whumpees were placed in care of Henchpeople until further notice.

Whumper stayed up all night trying to think and felt like absolute shit the next day. How could they possibly work in this condition? Wait…

10:00pm came and the lights in Whumpee’s cell did not automatically shut off. Instead, a voice came over the loud speaker.

“You have lost the privilege of sleep until you show progression in the direction Whumper is looking for.”

“FUCK YOU!” Whumpee threw an Organization-issued shoe at the one way mirror. As it bounced off, the noise started. A buzzing, like bugs surrounded Whumpee. It made them itch but they would NOT break. They wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

The first night came and stayed for what felt like forever. Breakfast was delivered but Whumpee didn’t feel well enough to eat it. Their stomach felt sour from staying awake for so long. New clothes were delivered through the small window in the door. Paper clothes this time. That could only mean they were seeing Whumper later on for inspection.

They looked at themself in quiet shame as they changed as they saw the true damage of the scratching on their arms and legs from the anxiety of the buzzing. Line after line of red, up and down, side to side, every which way.

They were escorted by force to the examination room where Whumper was waiting by a table with restraints at the ready.

“Ah, Whumpee. A pleasure. If you’d be so inclined to hop up, we can get started. “If you think I’m gonna make this easy-“ Whumpee snarled but before they could finish their quip they were hoisted and slammed onto the table by the orderlies. Restraints snapped into place, Whumpee had to suck in air carefully to resist gasping and looking as weak as they felt.

Whumper admired the scratches along Whumpee’s arms and legs and brushed them gently. “I see you enjoyed my playlist last night. How did you sleep?”

“Oh, great thanks for asking.”

“Hm. A few more nights and we should be seeing the progress I want.”

Tears welled in Whumpee’s eyes but they refused to let them fall. They tilted their head up and breathed deeply.

All day, they had to listen to the buzzing. Whumpee didn’t eat any lunch or dinner. They felt too sick.

10:00pm rolled around and the buzzing stopped. Whumpee sucked in air in excitement as the loudspeaker crackled on. “This is night number two of loss of sleep privilege. This is driven by your own actions and you may regain the privilege at any time.”

Whumpee managed a nasty look at the one way mirror before a new noise started up. This time it was construction. Jackhammers, the sound of drilling, cutting through materials and the like. This was louder than the buzzing. Whumpee walked over to their sleeping space only to remember that any items of comfort - blankets and pillows - were removed during their checkup.

The second night came and went slowly, painfully. Whumpee had a headache and by morning was holding their head as if it would burst without the extra pressure of their arms.

No breakfast was eaten, paper clothes delivered again.

Whumpee could barely hold back the tears but made it through albeit there were no mean quips for Whumper.

Whumpee managed to have some broth for dinner though it was hand fed to them to keep them from passing out. Whumper was pleased by their weakness. Now, for their magnum opus. They knew Whumpee’s headache hadn’t gone away so their most intense soundtrack would seal the deal.

After the 10:00pm announcement, the air horn started. It lasted for just under five minutes before Whumpee began to sob. They couldn’t take it anymore. The noise stopped. Whumpee didn’t.

Gasping for breath, they managed to look up at Whumper who ran in to greet their new broken project.

Whumper smiled down and said “I’m so proud.”

Whumpee attempted to speak but as fast as lightning, a boot was on their throat and Whumper whispered “no no, you don’t talk now.”

Whumpee obeyed.

[yaboitroi]

My Pinterest

[yaboitroi]

cats being capable of understanding accidents and even giving you a little head bonk to let you know you're still cool makes it infinitely funnier that they don't understand when you're trying to help them

cats when you step on their tail: i'll admit that was rather ouchie, but given the lifetime of goodwill and trust between us, one must conclude this booboo is but a fluke.

cats when you try to get their claws unstuck from the couch covering: this nefarious bitch has never had a single honorable intention in their dishonest and shameful life, this must be one of their sinister plots or perhaps even an attempt on my life,

[yaboitroi]

i raise you, a vampire that always keeps their thrall in a sleepy/blissful state cause they think it’s endearing. especially since the thrall was previously a ball of anxiety that couldn’t relax whatsoever before the vampire intervened

WOHEO Masterlist

God, yes!! This is so good, thank you!!

cw: vampire whumper, human whumpee, hypnosis

———————————————————————

“How did you…?” the vampire watched as Malak clung to the couch, desperate to keep himself from toppling over. 

“I- please- I don’t-” the human’s eyes widened, his breath becoming frantic and short as he attempted to speak. His lip quivered, matching the tremble of his pale hands. 

Malak’s head throbbed, discombobulated and out of order from the whirlwind consuming him. It was as if he’d been pulled from a trance of heavenly paradise, suddenly unraveling the strings of his brain. Somehow, someway he couldn’t seem to grasp, he’d escaped the clutches of a mind-bending monster, one out to steal his autonomy to the highest degree.

Overwhelmed with the only urge to escape, one that had been weakened by the vampire’s strength, he had done his very best to obey. Fighting against his strangely heavy and uncoordinated body, he had tried so hard. A voice pounded in his head, screaming at him to liberate himself. 

Adrastus took a step forward, their hands held out to the other man in a comforting manner. “Darling, what happened?” Immediately, Malak attempted to run, instead slipping on his own feet, his legs far cumbersome to operate successfully.

Hitting the chill, wood flooring, an unfamiliar strike of pain cut through him. A whimper escaped his salty lips, wet from tears previously cascading down his red cheeks. In the blink of an eye, a pair of perfectly polished boots appeared level with his gaze.

He squealed, attempting to escape again, unsuccessfully. The sleepy weight of his body allowed for little movement, and thus he was easily captured by the monster. Inhumanly strong arms wrapped around his abdomen, lifting Malak into the arms of the vampire with a huff.

He desperately attempted to thrash in their hold, to no avail. While much too disoriented to resist successfully, Adrastus giggled at their discomfort. “It’s alright darling, I’m here now.” They soothed, inciting only more wiggling. They casually made their way around the couch, unbothered by the struggling man in their arms. 

Malak’s head spun, the concoction of anxiousness and panic twisting in his stomach. A jumble of thoughts overwhelmed him, incomprehensibly spiraling in his brain. He sputtered unintelligibly, coherent words melting on his tongue.

Adrastus plopped onto one cushion, gently sitting Malak on their lap. Before allowing the human a chance to make any move, no matter how feeble, they softly trailed a calming hand from Malak’s forehead, down to his chin, silencing their human immediately. “Hush, sweetie. No need to worry, I’ll fix you up, easy peasy.” They flashed the human a fang-filled smile.

Instantly, Malak’s brain liquified into a pile of goop. The whirlwind of awareness ceased, leaving only the commanding touch of the vampire. 

Adrastus slipped their hand from Malak’s back, gingerly draping him across their own lap. A wave of pleasure washed over him, settling and returning with each motion of Adrastus’ nimble fingers combing through his hair, lightly scratching at the surface of his scalp. With each repeat, the cloud in his mind only grew foggier, hazed with overwhelming bliss.

Drowsily, Malak adjusted his position, shifting his head to lay on Adrastus’ slender legs. “All better now, right?” In return, they merely received the slightest of a nod. 

“I’m so glad. I mean, I’m shocked as well!” Adrastus pinched at their human’s cheek sweetly. “How could such a feeble little mind like yours escape my power? I haven’t seen you remotely lucid in months!” they exclaimed.

The words simply flew right over Malak’s head, too enraptured in the urge to sleep to pay much attention. Absentmindedly, he grunted, and nuzzled closer into the lush fabric of the vampire’s sweater, basking in the warmth. “So sluggish, aren’t you? Just a sleepy little boy. A good little thrall.” They let out a light chuckle, continuing to pet their thrall to unconsciousness.

“My sleepy little boy, my good little thrall.” Malak’s heart practically soared at the praise. To his delight, Adrastus pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re just adorable, all dazed and disoriented. I wouldn’t prefer my thrall any other way.”

“I mean, you enjoy it too don’t you? I can’t imagine how it must have felt escaping from such a long period of mindless bliss. Snapping into awareness must have been so terrifying.” Pouting, Adrastus delicately swiped away the last slick tear from Malak’s red cheeks. “That’s why you can’t let that happen again, alright? I couldn’t imagine what you did to allow your consciousness so close to the surface, but surely you’ve learned your lesson now?”

Malak nodded eagerly, shaken over the idea of displeasing the vampire. “Such confusing emotions of fear and distress just aren’t fit for a thrall as cute as you!” A wide, dull-eyed smile couldn’t help but spread across the human’s face. 

“Must’ve just been all that anxiousness stirring inside that tummy of yours. I'll be sure to arrange that a similar situation does not arise again.” The assurance was comforting, yet Malak couldn’t help but sense a slight anguish stirring inside him.

[yaboitroi]

If somebody does or says something objectionable, go ahead and boycott them.

If an individual has not done anything you can point to as particularly objectionable, but you want to boycott them because they're of a particular nationality, then you're not disagreeing with a particular action, opinion, or viewpoint. You're objecting to a particular kind of person.

For example, I object to the CCP. I believe they are carrying out genocides against Tibetans and Uighurs. I understand, however, that my objection is with the CCP and not Chinese people. So, I boycott particular corporations and individuals who I see as contributing to the oppression of these people (Huawei, for example). I do not object to Chinese nationals being in films, being hired at my university, and I regularly consume art and media created by Chinese nationals.

If I objected to my university hiring a Chinese professor, I would rightly be called Sinophobic. I would be doing something racist. This wouldn't be a boycott, it would be bigoted and discriminatory behavior.

You should object to certain actions and attitudes, not to certain kinds of people.

[yaboitroi]

Living weapon whump where the protagonists don’t even realise that whumpee is a person to start with. The protagonists think they’re looking for some sort of legendary sword or magical weapon that went missing years ago. Maybe they work for whumper, trying to get their mentor’s signature weapon back after it was ‘stolen’. Or, maybe, whumper is their enemy, and they’re trying to find their secret weapon before the opposing team does. Then, instead of some dangerous curse buried underground, they find fragile-looking whumpee who saw one small chance to flee whumper and took it. Whumpee, who looks at the team terrified of being forced back into battle, the place they’ve been hiding from for so long. The protagonists, now realising they have to pick between annihilating the enemy with ease and winning everything in the blink of an eye, or putting whumpee’s safety first, despite the fact that it could cost them everything.