#expectation subversion

[thoughtsfromlayla]

☾ The Prince of Stories and his unbridled ability to avoid all possible clichés.

Summary: After kidnapping you into the Dreaming, Morpheus desperately tries to win your favor. It doesn't go to plan, nothing ever seems to go to plan.

Notes: ~600 words -- Hi, welcome to my new series cause I can never complete old ones, just start new ones.

Warnings/Tags: Mentions of kidnapping in passing, Morpheus doesn't know how to smile and it lowkey freaks you out.

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==> Next

“I can’t seem to reach them, Lucienne. Emotionally, I suppose.” Morpheus paces back and forth in the library. Despite the warm and soft atmosphere, he felt on edge and like he was being used as a pin cushion. 

“My lord,” Lucienne sighs and blinks at his audacity. “You kidnapped her and brought them back to the Dreaming.” The librarian doesn’t finish the rest, hoping the obvious was implied. 

It wasn’t. 

“Women go missing and are kidnapped all the time in Greece. Hades was said to have kidnapped his wife, Persephone, and the last I heard they were becoming amicable.” Morpheus continues his pacing.

Lucienne shoots a look at Jessamy, who only shrugs, her wings rising and falling with her breath. The raven was not a part of this scheme. In fact, she was resting peacefully in her little nest before Morpheus grabbed her on a little impromptu trip to the waking world. And then that little trip turned into a kidnapping scheme. She was an involuntary accomplice. 

“What do I do, Lucienne? Help your king.” Morpheus stops before the librarian. His tone was almost pleading, but he would never admit that and Lucienne would never voice it either. 

“How about a gesture, my lord?” Lucienne caves in. “Get her to… I don’t know, like you?”

“A gesture…” Morpheus hums in thought. He leaves the library in a hurry, never bothering to thank the librarian. Jessamy caws before flying after him. 

His sand takes him to your room that you’ve holed yourself in for the past week. You’re staring out of the glass-stained window, the moonlight casting colors on your figure like watercolors and you’re thinking of home. 

Morpheus knew of a gesture, it was novel in the waking world and everyone seemed to be doing it so surely he thought you would like it, too. Jessamy gives a doubtful look at Morpheus from her perch on his shoulders. 

You sigh, slumping and leaning your head against the window and Morpheus had half of a mind to produce some flowers instead. Flowers were safe, everyone liked flowers, but they were boring. If he is going to win your heart, he has to try something new, something exciting, something that shows you that he is not like any other man. 

He holds out his hand and gives a soft cough to let you know he is there. 

You scream. 

And you continued to scream. His image is terrifying in the dark and sporadic. The ruby crystal illuminates his stoic face from the bottom, making it look like he was scowling at you and your heart and mind widely jumps to conclusions. He gives you a smile, one he hasn’t practiced and it only spurs on your imaginations. 

HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU

HE’S GOING TO EAT YOU

YOU’RE NEVER GOING HOME!

Morpheus' hand was still outstretched; the “gesture” was his middle finger sticking straight up. He’s seen many mortals doing it and thought you might like it. Jessamy starts cawing, her cries echoing around in the room and it only adds to the discordant symphony of your screams. Her wings beat erratically in front of Morpheus’ fingers and he looks down at her with a confused look. 

“Put that away or so help me, Lord Morpheus,” she caws, using her body to block his finger—his misunderstood romantic “gesture” — from your eyes. 

The next day, he’s back to moping in the library, preventing Lucienne from doing any work with his more important woes. He doesn’t know what he did wrong, in fact, he was sure you would like it! Morpheus lets out another obnoxious sigh, he can’t even both to fornicate a form, his body turning into a pile of goop the longer he mopes dramatically. 

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==> Next

♡ Yours, Layla

[katiemidway]

I had a very dumb idea for a video game and now I must share it with the world:

You start off playing as a rude crude Gruff Manly Man a la Duke Nukem or Wolfenstein. You've been hired to rescue a girl (actually a young woman but GMM always refers to her as The Girl) from a demonic cult that has kidnapped her and brought her to a spooky castle in the middle of nowhere. Your objectives are to infiltrate the castle, take down the cult, and of course save The Girl.

GMM is captured early on and has his weapons taken away, so the player has to rely on stealth, investigation, and guile to navigate the castle. Every so often you get glimpses of The Girl, and The Demoness who leads the cult. It becomes clear they're preparing for some magic ritual that The Girl is a key component of.

Eventually, after putting together the clues and slaughtering plenty of demons, GMM discovers the site of the ritual just as it's about to begin. Just as he begins his attack, the game flashes back.

The player is now controlling The Girl, following a mysterious hooded figure into the woods around the castle. The figure leads her to the front gate of the castle, then vanishes. The Girl sneaks around the castle for a while, but is quickly captured by The Demoness.

What follows is the revelation that The Girl is from a bloodline of dark sorcerers who long ago cursed the castle and the coven of witches that dwelt within. The curse keeps them bound to the castle and renders their own spellbooks illegible to them. The Girl, The Demoness explains, is the key to ending the curse.

The Girl searches the castle, slowly uncovering the details of the curse and how to break it. She also gradually falls in love with The Demoness, who returns her feelings. Some of the demonic entities from earlier are still hostile, and The Demoness teaches The Girl magic to help defend herself.

Eventually, the player must also begin to avoid GMM as he plunders the castle. Certain mysterious happenings from the first half of the game are revealed to be due to her efforts to hide from him. This all leads back up to the ritual.

This culminates in the final boss battle of the game, against the GMM. When he is finally defeated, The Girl and The Demoness complete the ritual with a single drop of The Girl's blood. The curse is lifted, and the witches are liberated and have their magic returned to them. The Demoness and The Girl affirm their love for each other, and the game ends with them setting out to discover who hired GMM.

At no point will the game attempt to conceal the halfway twist, it is entirely up to the player how blind they want to be to it.

However, promotional material and other previews would ONLY show parts of the first half of the game.

I have no ability to make this happen, but I figured I'd share it out anyway. At least hopefully some folks will find this as fun an idea as I do.

[bonesibegyou]

Well now I want to read it.

has anyone written a smutty fic from spock's pov about how crazy jim's genitalia is lol.

just struggling to remain calm in the face of balls.

[stoopkidlisteningtocsh]

Some objectums in the tag: damn date everything sucks even though literally from the start it was pretty clear the objects would turn humanoid. As seen by. The every single advertisement for it. But i need to be upset!

People into date everything in the tag: uh hey so what does it mean if the object dating games makes me blush looking at the ac vent? Like the real one? Is this what its like??

[sha-brytols]

lord help me people are being obnoxiously obtuse in the david: gaider post it's officially left its target demographic

[shakerula-miczula]

Same time next week

[horse-ff]

Makes your favs old when you aren't looking Enjoy the full-on yapfest in the tags, jeezus

[thoughtsfromlayla]

☾ The Prince of Stories and his unbridled ability to avoid all possible clichés.

Summary: After an unsuccessful hunt of a rouge nightmare with your new teammate Dream of the Endless, the two of your find solace in a inn. It doesn't go to plan, nothing ever goes to plan.

Notes: ~1.5k words, we love you Meowpheus we all say in unison

Warnings/Tags: Dream x MonsterHunter!Reader, mentions the Blair witch, Morpheus is one dense motherfucker

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You’re wet. And not in a fun way if you’re allowed to complain about it. You’re drenched, head to toe in late-night London rain, your hair stuck to your scalp. Your clothes are starting to turn itchy against your skin as you bring your hands to wipe away the accumulation of rainwater that clung to your face. A horse-drawn carriage runs past the two of you and drenches you further in mud and water. Great.

You risk a peak at Morpheus, who does not seem at all bothered by the rain. If you squint your eyes, you can see that the rain doesn’t even touch him, rather the water droplets simply pass through him. 

The inn you walked in was warm and dry, perfect for your tired and aching bones. It takes you no time to spot the innkeeper and you drag your soggy shoes over to him, placing your hands on the table with rushed desperation.

“Room and board, please,” you ask. 

The innkeeper looks between you and Morpheus, noting the disheveled state, and nods. “One room left, but… single bed, not suited for non-marital couples.” 

“Yeah, whatever, give me the key,” you don’t even bother to think on it, you are not going back out there. You slam down a silver coin and snatch the metal key from the innkeeper.

Your footsteps are heavy on the stairs and everyone else will think you are the most undesirable young lady of the ton, but do you care? No! This dress is damn heavy when it’s full of rainwater and your boots are soggy and muddy and your corset is digging into your ribs and this cloak was starting to overstimulate you like no other. 

After arriving in the room and tossing the key onto some old dresser, you head straight for the bathroom, ridding your clothes with desperate haste. The clothes stick to your skin and it’s like trying to separate the fruit from its syrup in the jar. Slow, antagonising slow as fitful and you’re on the brink of tears. From under your dress, you pull out the small crossbow, and whip, and silver bolts, and—huh, when did you snatch this stake? Your monster hunting equipment is the only thing you take care of as you gently place them on the bathroom counter. 

Dream, meanwhile, stands in the middle of the room like a shadow that came from no light. He is perfectly dry and warm, not that something as trivial as weather could affect him. Your footsteps had left wet footprints all over the floor and he simply watches them dry while you finish your bath. 

“I needed that,” you sigh as you come out. “You can bathe now, if you need it.”

“I do not need to bathe,” Morpheus says slowly. 

“Okay, gross, but that’s your decision, I suppose,” you grumble. It’s now that your attention draws to the bed. The singular bed in the room. It was large enough for two, if two people were pressed up against each other chest to back. “One bed…” you observe out loud. 

“As the innkeeper mentioned.” Morpheus’ voice comes out like a mocking reminder. You weren’t really paying attention to what the innkeeper was saying. 

“It’s…” you sigh deep, your bones are tired and you just want to sleep. “It’s fine, I’ll sleep on the floor. Wouldn’t want your royal highness to sleep on something that hard.” You continue to mutter to yourself as you grab one of the pillows and setting it in front of the fireplace. 

“No need,” Morpheus says slowly, stopping your actions. “I do not sleep.”

A beat of silence passes between you, the goose feather pillow still in your hand as you give a confused look to Morpheus. “You’re Dream of the Endless. You personify the sleeping mind, the unconscious, the dreams of humankind.”

Dream nods once.

“And you don’t sleep?” You probe further, the very notion baffling to yourself. 

Dream nods again. 

“Okay, whatever, good night,” you mutter to yourself. Maybe if you were more awake and less beaten down by the weather you would ask more. But, for lack of a better term, you don’t give a fuck right now. 

Your tired body slips easily into the bed, the sound of the fireplace cracking and the water slamming into the window with distant thunder easily lulling you to sleep. Except for the towering figure standing in the middle of the inn room. 

You sit up, gripping the wool blanket in your hands. “Can you… I don’t know, not do that?”

“What?”

“Stand in the middle of the room when I’m trying to sleep. Act more human, you’re in the human world now.” You look at him, tired eyes raking his figure up and down. 

“What would a human do?”

“Sleep, but you don’t so go downstairs and drink or—”

“I do not partake in alcohol,” Morpheus interrupts.

“Go shopping then,” you offer instead.

“I hold no monetary properties, they are useless to me.” 

“Oh, my God.” You want to scream into your pillow but instead, you take a deep breath. “Go stand in the corner or something, shit!” You sneer, feeling impatient, and fall back onto the bed, turning away from him. 

You take another deep breath, trying to ease the frown that’s etched onto your forehead. You’re going to get wrinkles before you’re 50 at this point. The floorboard creaks slightly under Morpheus’ footsteps as he does as he’s instructed, standing in the corner of the room. Still, he watches over you as you drift off into his realm.

He doesn’t probe, despite his growing desire to do so, knowing that the day you’ve experienced was hard and demanding indeed. He gives you no dreams, letting you simply sleep and rest. Hours pass and he remains in the corner, vigilant as ever.

A particularly harsh and loud boom of thunder wakes you up, the sound close enough to rattle the window panes. You wake with a start, your heart racing in your chest and your fingers wrap around the dagger you kept under the pillow. You swallow as you realize there was no immediate danger, that it was merely the storm. 

Morpheus was no longer standing in the center of the room, much to your surprise. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he didn’t listen to you at all. What you find isn’t any better and a scream that you let out is covered by another boom of thunder. 

His figure, black and nightmarish extends like tendrils that crawl along the brick walls of the tavern. His eyes are set on you, not even reacting to the way you screamed at him and when you look back on this moment, you’ll remember that he even rolls his eyes, but in the presence you’re adrenaline is only telling you to get out. 

“It is Morpheus, simply,” his voice is quiet and calming against the storm. 

At his announcement you stopped your scream, dropping your head into your hands at the realization. His actions remind you of another supernatural creature you hunted a month ago. The Blair Witch was one of your most terrifying adventures and you weren’t even successful in eradicating her. To this day, she still hunts the forest of Blair, her silhouette follows you everywhere you go. 

“You scared me,” you swallow your beating heart. 

“You instructed to stand in the corner,” Morpheus reminds you, his voice rumbles just like the now distant thunder. After seeing the sweat coating your hairline, he lets out a small huff. “It was not my intention.”

“Can you… turn around or something? Staring at me is weird and… creepy,” you grimace. 

After a few moments, Morpheus turns, his shoulder sagging as he turns his back to you. After another few silent seconds, you click your tongue. “Never mind, that just makes it worse. Somehow.”

You lay back down on the bed, a grunt leaving you at the force. You stare the the rotting wood of the support beams of the roof above you. Tracing your eyes over the natural swirls and rings in the logs but that doesn’t bring you sleep. You’re acutely aware of Morpheus’ presence in the corner and your mind recalls to the Blair Witch. You got a few hours of sleep, it’s fine, you’ll live. 

“Mrrrp?” A trill interrupts your dooming thoughts and a fluffy black cat eclipses your vision of the roof. 

“Morpheus?” You ask quietly, his paws pushing down on your arm and it felt like the weight of the world on both of those legs. 

Morpheus bunts his head against your cheek in confirmation before making himself a spot between your side and your arm, curling in on himself. 

“I can work with this,” you sigh, feeling your muscles relax. Your hand rests on his side, feeling the silky long fur and the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Morpheus purrs, the sound cradling you back into sleep.

As always, thanks for reading :)

♡ Yours, Layla

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[madwomansapologist]

i see all might as a father figure. i think i want to cry for attention so he can hold me and say everything will be fine because he is there

[creepypastakork]

Ep. 11 made me realize something that I think is key to understanding Machu and Nyaan's behavior, and it's that the viewer base at large has overestimated the girls' capacity to hold a grudge.

Now, the fatal flaw they DO have in that stead is, as we've seen, the tendency to make impulsive, often unhealthy decisions when put on the spot (Machu's ep. 6 outburst, Nyaan's ep. 7 outburst, Machu turning the question back in ep. 7). While these moments show the nasty feelings they're experiencing in those specific moments, I think they both tend to regret them almost immediately. Machu was definitely more at fault than Nyaan for forcing the conflict more, but it was apparent to me that she was already regretting it in ep. 6. Despite everything, they'd like it if things went back to how they were.

All that to say, I liked that they weren't more angry at each other than they were. Once they recognized each other, while still being in the heat of the moment, they're like "No, this is wrong. Why are you here? I wasn't supposed to be fighting you, not like this." At this point in the story, so much has gone wrong for the both of them, and upon reuniting with a remnant of those peaceful days back then, it doesn't take them more than a few beats to remember the connection, fragile as it was, that they once had. Maybe if they can keep that connection, maybe things can resemble how they once were?

[arget-star]

Something I never really noticed before but got my attention with last night’s episode—

So far, the leaders of all the “good” gangs—Bofurin, Shishitoren, Roppo Ichiza—are absolute goofballs. Guys you’d look at and go 🤨 YOU lead a gang???

And I just think that’s really neat! Like Ume’s this silly plant dad who adopted every teenage boy in the school as his brothers. Choji is a hyperactive five year old in the body of a teenager. Kanji leaps before he looks and is a wifeguy without being married.

None of them rule with fear (well. Any longer LMAO) or solely on the strength of their fists but rather by the strength of their resolve and morals and a tiny little bit because of their fighting skills and I love them all very much

[physalian]

How to Subvert Expectations Without Compromising The Story

Whoo boy, is this a contentious topic with the last few blockbuster franchises. To “subvert expectations” is to do the opposite of whatever your audience expects to happen. Your audience expects the story to go a certain way based on the archetypes and tropes your characters follow, the tone you’ve set for your story, and the level of mature themes that tone allows.

It might mean your long-lost princess doesn’t actually reclaim the throne she’s been fighting for. Or the presumed hero (or any of their straight friends) of the story dies halfway through their arcs. The mentor pegged for death actually survives to the end credits. The villain’s plan actually succeeds, or the heroes fail to deactivate the bomb before it explodes. The “will they/won’t they” is never fulfilled.

Supporters of SE argue the following:

It’s refreshing, novel, new, a fun twist on a classic tale

They like that it’s unpredictable and bold

They’re tired of stories fitting within the same wheel ruts of every other story that came before and like to see creativity thrive

It gives audiences something they didn’t even know they wanted

Haters of SE argue this:

It’s only done for drama at the cost of fulfilling character arcs

It’s a cheap gag that only works once and has zero rewatchability with the same impact

Tropes and archetypes have stood the test of time for a reason - to entertain

Plot holes ensue

When expectations are subverted and the story changes in a more positive light (like a beloved character who doesn’t die when we all think they will), the reaction is not nearly as emotionally charged as when the story changes negatively. Thus, the haters have plenty of evidence of bad examples, but minimize the good ones. Good SE is novel, or a pleasant surprise, or a quaint relief. Bad SE trashes the story and spits on the fans and destroys the legacy of the fandom.

What makes a bad subversion?

Like killing any character for shock value, bad SE takes all of the potential of a good story and gambles it for a string of gasps in the movie theater. It exists only to keep the audience on their toes, or because the writer went out of their way to change the direction of their work when fans figured out the mystery too quickly and now *must* prove all the clever sleuths wrong.

So, say your subversion is making the hero lose a tournament arc when they made it all the way to the final round and the entire story is riding on this victory. They may have stumbled along the way and had some near-misses, but they must win. Not just so the audience cheers, but because this is the direction their arc must take to be at all entertaining and fulfilling.

Then they lose, because it’s *novel* and irreparable consequences are reaped in the aftermath. They lose when, by rights, they were either stronger or smarter or faster than their opponent. They lose when the hand of the author rigs the fight against them and everyone notices.

Sure, it’s not at all what audiences expect, but you, writer, your first responsibility to the people consuming your content is to entertain them. So what purpose does this loss serve this character? How does it impact their arc, the themes that surround them, the message of your story?

Even if mainstream audiences don’t care on the surface about themes and motifs, they still know when a story fumbles. It’s not entertaining anymore, it’s not satisfying. Yes, crap happens in reality, but this is fiction. If I wanted to read about some tragic hero’s bitter and unsatisfying demise, I’d read about any losing side in any war ever in a history book. I picked up a fiction book for catharsis.

On the topic of “gritty fantasy/sci-fi anyone can die and no one is safe” – no author has the guts to roll the dice and kill whoever it lands on. Some characters will always have plot armor. Why? Because you wouldn’t have a story otherwise, you’d just have a bloody, gory, depressing reality TV show with hidden cameras.

What makes a good subversion?

Now. What if this character loses the final round of their tournament, but it’s their own fault? Maybe they get too cocky. Maybe it’s perfectly, tragically in character for them to fall on their own sword. Maybe the audience is already primed with the knowledge that this fight will be close, that there might be foul play involved, but still deny that it will happen because that’s the hero, they won’t lose. Until they do.

Then, it’s not the hand of the author, it’s this character’s flaws finally biting them in the ass. It’s still disappointing, no doubt, but then the audience is less mad at the author and more mad at the dumbass character for letting their ego get to their head.

If you write a character who’s entire goal in life is to win that trophy, or reclaim their throne, or get the girl, and they *don’t* do those things, then the “trophy” had better be the friends they made along the way, that they learned it wasn’t the trophy, it was something *better* and even though they lost, they still won. Even when expectations are shredded, the story still has to say something, otherwise the audience just feels like they wasted their time.

A good subversion does not compromise the soul of the narrative. You might kill a fan favorite character or even the hero of the story, but their impact on the characters they leave behind is felt until the very end. The hero might lose her tournament, but she still walks away with wisdom, maturity, and new friends. Heck, sports movies leave the winner of the big game a toss-up more often than not. Audiences know the game is important, but they know the character they’re following is even more important. Doesn’t matter if the *team* loses the battle, so long as the protagonist wins the Character Development war.

Good SE that should be more popular:

The “Trial of threes” – your hero faces three obstacles and usually botches the first two and succeeds on the third attempt. Subvert it by having them win on the first or second, lose all three, or have a secret fourth

Not killing your gays. Just. Don’t do it. That’ll subvert expectations just fine, won’t it?

Let the villain win

Have your hero’s love interest not actually interested in them because they realize they deserve better / Have the hero realize they don’t want the romantic subplot they thought they did

Have the love triangle become a polycule / have the two warring love interests get with each other instead, or both find someone they don’t have to compete for

Mid-redemption villain backslides at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero doesn’t actually have all the MacGuffins necessary at the Worst Moment Possible

Hero is simply wrong, about anything, about important things, about themselves

The character who knows too much still can’t warn their friends in time, but lives instead with the guilt of their failure

The mentor lives and becomes a bitter rival out to maintain their spot at the top of the charts

Kill the hero, and make the villain Regret Everything

More deadbeat missing parents, not just dead parents

Let the hero live long enough to become the villain

—

Why write a crown prince that never becomes king? What’s the point of his story if all he does is remain exactly who he was on page 1 and learns nothing for his efforts? Why write a rookie racer if he spins out in the infield in the big race and ends his story broken and demoralized in a hospital bed? Why should we, the audience, spend time and emotional investment on a story that goes nowhere and says nothing?

Cinderella always gets a happy ending no matter how many iterations her story gets, because she wouldn’t be Cinerella if she remained an abused orphan with no friends. We like predictability, we like puzzling out where we think the story will go based on the crumbs of evidence we pick up along the way, we like interacting with our fiction and patting ourselves on the back when we’re proven right.

Tragedies exist. There’s seven types of stories and the fall from grace is one of them… but audiences can see a tragedy coming from a mile away. Audiences sign up for a tragedy when they pay for the movie ticket. We know, no matter how much we root for that character to make better choices, that their future is doomed. Tragedy is still cathartic.

What’s not cathartic is being bait-and-switched by a writer who laughs and snaps pictures of our horrified faces just so they can say they proved us wrong. Congratulations? Go ahead and write the rookie broken in the hospital bed. I can’t stop you. Just don’t be shocked when no one wants to watch your misery parade march on by.

[seventeendeer]

I've always thought asriel's true form back in undertale was such a stroke of genius. like idk if it was on purpose but

he's somehow perfectly situated at that intersection between "dog", "plush toy", "90's cartoon character" and "that whimpy kid you knew when you were little who always got beat up by the bigger kids." it's often said that undertale somehow manages to feel nostalgic even the first time you play it, and I definitely think a ton of deliberate design choices were made to intentionally evoke that feeling. and asriel feels like a culmination of all of that. he hits so many visual cues that different people would relate to their childhoods somehow, and the first time you see him, it hits like a truck

I realized that for me personally, he reminded me of my childhood dog that died some years before I first played undertale, and also of my partner pokémon from the mystery dungeon games I played as a kid ;w;

[mongeese]

Very small piece overshadowed by everything else but I full almost cried at Elgin's line here. Service to others and service to a cause you believe in as service to yourself. Not working for anyone else but dedicating yourself to your work and your community because you want to, because it matters to you. So fucking true. Anyway totally unrelated hc that definitely isn't me projecting I think Elgin's butch

[Image ID: A screenshot of The Silt Verses transcript. It reads

"PAIGE stares at her. She's genuinely touched.

PAIGE: Do you do anything for yourself, Elgin?

ELGIN: (Almost surprised by the question) All of this has been for me. You know that Paige, don't you?"

End ID]

[galaxy-of-me]

oh yea they cooked w this one

[horsegirlhob]

Also huge shout out to Harmony for stopping that old woman from throwing her designs in the fire. I was so worried about that the whole time she was holding them and I am delighted that didn't go the way I thought it would.