When a non-horror game has a horror section, I often find it a little more effective or memorable than a full-on horror title's horror, in a way. I think that's because, for characters in fiction, they usually don't know they're about to experience a horror story, so they aren't mentally prepared at all. As the audience, we know that when we boot up Silent Hill, we're gonna see some scary stuff and can mentally prepare accordingly. But when some innocuous children's platformer or RPG or whatever suddenly throws genuine horror elements at me, I'm taken out of my comfort zone much more roughly since I don't expect it at all.
I think that's neat :>
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I’ve been getting really into magical stuff recently and also DC so I’m just gonna drop this here:
Fae Dick Grayson
F A E
okay so fae stories are special to me because I grew up on hearing pagan folklore and fairytales about fae and fae adjacent creatures as good night stories so hooo boy yes I adore that trope! (I mean, I made Dick a Banshee in my fic Shuck so… hehe)
Anyway, Fae Dick Grayson! There’s just so many things you can do with it ✨
Robin appears from one day to the next, following in Batman’s shadow like a mischievous sprite, so honestly rumors have been going wild about him since day one. Robin actually being something non-human doesn’t really come as a surprise!
The fae folk are known for being awfully good at blending in with regular humans when they put their mind to it, the only thing that puts them apart (in most stories) is their otherworldly beauty, and Dick Grayson? Well, he’s definitely got that in abundance.
Just sometimes, when the light reflects off a surface in just the right way, when someone pours a glass of water and you happen to look right through the spray, or when you think you catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye and you spin around— but there’s only Dick Grayson, even if a second ago you could have sworn you saw eyes where there weren’t supposed to be any; colors that aren’t supposed to exist; feathers where only skin has any right to be.
And, gods, all the talking. Dick is terrifyingly good at talking to people without actually saying anything, to the point where you walk away from the conversation feeling utterly drained after spilling your entire life story but when you think back on it— you can’t remember him ever telling you anything about himself. You know there were the usual pleasantries of “hi” and “nice to meet you” and “how are you doing?” but anything beyond that just kinda… seemed to spill out of you? It’s very strange. It’s very unnerving. By the end of the evening you other convince yourself you’re overreacting or you simply push the incident out of your mind altogether.
And there’s another thing about Dick. His name.
He only ever introduces himself as Dick Grayson/Robin. Never Richard. Never. Especially not Richard John. Names are sacred for the fae folk, names have power, so while Richard John Grayson may not be Dick’s true name, he treats it as such to honor his parents. None are allowed to use it. None except Bruce or Alfred on special occasion.
Of course, Dick’s “true” name isn’t exactly a secret so when someone does happen to use it… well, Dick may be… other… but he’s still intrinsically good in a way many of his kind don’t have the patience to be. Dick judges on a case by case basis, just like his parents and Bruce taught him. And usually people do not mean it maliciously when they use his name so he kindly corrects them and that’s that. But oh man, if they still insist on calling him “Richard”? Well..
“Oh no, it seems your credit card is being declined, sir!”
“Sheesh, you tripped over a root? In Gotham?!”
“What do you mean ten birds flew into your window last night? You live on floor level!”
“Dude I’m telling you that rash doesn’t look normal.”
“I… don’t think crows are supposed to follow you like that.”
It’s little things (most of the time, unless you really pissed Dick off) but they keep piling up, slowly driving you insane. You feel like you’re being watched, but it’s just a bird sitting on the window sill again. You feel like someone moved all your furniture just slightly to the right even tho you checked all the cameras.
The fae are kind, but they are also vindictive when crossed.
(Thanks to Bruce, however, I think Dick’s bouts of “vengeance” rarely go much farther than that though.)
Dang ok that ended up being an entire rant… wow. Anyway, yeah. Fae.
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We should totally start a soapghost fic google doc (or something) that several writers have access to
The idea is that everyone has to work together to make a (semi) cohesive story. Anyone could add anything or change (enhance) wording, but couldn't erase or discredit anyone else's writing (probably differentiate using font colors)
The catch is that everyone has to communicate via only the comments feature, no calls or anything.
Edit: check the reblogs, yall :)
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My heart keeps finding new ways to break and sympathy-panic for Jonathan with today’s entry. Because, God. God. How could he ever have expected this? How could he ever have prepared for anything like this?
He was just on a business trip. His very first. Important, certainly! For his future, for his mentor, for his life with Mina. But now, somehow, his entire life has been broken at the neck and detoured down into this impossible scenario ripped from a sordid penny dreadful. Even as he plans and prays and tries to keep a stranglehold on his sanity and hope, the thought has to be there:
“This is it for me. This is really it. I’ll never see Mina again. I am going to live out the rest of my life here, in this cold stone box with all its monsters. I am going to be used and preyed upon by an inhuman Thing that used to be a client and is now my owner.”
(This man belongs to me.)
“I am going to have every last comfort and freedom and choice stripped away by him. I am going to be handed over to three demons with women’s faces to be used as a living winepress. I am going to die. And there are very good, very horrifying odds that death will not free me.”
(Yes, I too can love.)
Yes, he loves. And he keeps all the ones he’s loved before bound in this castle like his personal dragon’s hoard.
Jonathan will try, of course. He’ll do everything he can to try and escape. To live. To beat the nightmare or at least hold off its climax until maybe, please God, he can wake up safe and away and in Mina’s arms.
But the thought is there. The rational, odds-figuring thought that, in this scenario, every single factor is stacked against him on a supernatural level. And his hope will likely drain from him long before the blood does.
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