#but darker

[bwobgames]

It's only three small words that I'm desperate to hear

Water the roses - Flavor Foley

[bugsizedbibles]

[vio-starzz]

Redraw of something from two years ago? / 2023 Linktober

Version(s) without Vio;

No I'm not linking the old drawing

But yay, Shadow in Zeldas dress!

[transingthoseformers]

Laughing maniacally as I push the earthspark mecha into situations that show them their worst fears

[altar-ov-plagues]

[karama9]

Sentimonster theory - yo let's go darker

I mentioned this before but it didn't get much traction and I'm still amazed I don't run into more people having drawn the same conclusion.

I'm not amazed more people haven't converted to my theory, just to be clear, I'm amazed more people haven't come up with it independently. Or if they have, they're not talking about it.

Nathalie did not get much sick at all from using the peacock once. Or twice. She got progressively worse until a breaking point. We're given the distinct impression she probably wouldn't have gotten that bad if she had only used it once or twice.

Emilie is in a coffin. Call it dead or "gone away", she's clearly in worse shape than Nathalie.

Also, Adrien doesn't remember much from his childhood. Chloe constantly reminds him they've been friends forever so of course he knows that, but he doesn't remember much otherwise, including what his dreams were. It's weird that it was to be whatever his parents wanted, but it's also weird he genuinely didn't remember that.

So, er... are we going to talk about the fact Adrien is not Adrien 1.0? I don't know how Felix fits in, Amelie might have requested one of the rejects for herself yet, but seriously, are we going to talk about the fact that Emilie destroyed Adrien and created a new better one multiple times? Because it really, really looks like she did. It's not like any of the friends Adrien didn't have from not being allowed to socialize with anyone except Chloe would notice.

[caker-baker]

Visitor

“It is uncharacteristic to disappear off the grid.”

The voice, while recognizable, was entirely unexpected.

“I wouldn’t expect it from you.” The villain leaned back on their arms, on the hero’s bed. “I’m quite nearly convinced it wasn’t you.”

The laundry basket that was set on the hero’s hip fell to the floor.

“How did you find me?”

The villain leaned forward again, smiling. “In the middle of suburbia? Oh, I don’t know. Regular research.”

That smile was one the hero knew too well. It was one of an attack coming to fruition.

Their knives. And their knives were downstairs. The protective suit was out of the question. How fast could they move? Not fast at all. The only advantage was the panic button on the underside of their bedside table. “For emergencies only.” It wasn’t an emergency yet.

“You’re my favorite hero, Hero.” The villain admitted, eyes narrowing at the sight of the hero’s rapidly changing expressions. “But you had to leave the game. Why?”

“What do you know?” They demanded instead of answering, trying not to shift the weight on their legs, as painful as it might be.

The villain sighed, standing to their full height, directly eye level with the hero, though still a short distance between the two.

“Take a guess. I obviously know your identity. Where you live. From here, I could take a peak at the lives of your loved ones, whoever it is you leave the spare key for with the heart keychain. Adorable, really.”

The hero backed up a step, biting down to inhale the wince that threatened to expose them. At this, the villain took a step forward.

“I know you left your knives downstairs, and I know about the meaningless alarm system set up by your precious agency. Already disabled, if you were wondering.”

Something silver flicked out from some hidden pocket in the villain’s sleeves as they took another step.

My knives.

“I know you loved being a hero. You loved helping people. And I know nothing could stop you from that.”

One knife came hurling toward the hero, impaling itself on the doorframe.

“I reiterate-” the hero made to grab their knife, but the villain threw the other, right into the hero’s sleeve. “Why did you disappear?”

The hero pushed all their weight onto the other leg, trying to free their hand, only to buckle from the pressure.

They groaned on the way down to the floor, the knife leaving a tear in their sleeve.

“Oh.” The villain’s eyes widened for a moment before their voice became darker. “Oh.”

They only had to take an extra step before placing their foot on the hero’s leg, and pressing.

“Took a hit you couldn’t get back up from? Mm. Looks like someone else did my work for me. I’ll take care of that much later, don’t worry. You should, however, worry about the apartment building I rigged to blow this afternoon.”

“I-” the hero gasped out their words, trying to grab their leg. “I can’t. If I-if I’m seen out there,” the villain pressed down more.

“Spit it out.”

“If I’m seen then they’ll send me away completely.” Their words were said in a jumble, almost incomprehensible.

“Don’t be seen, then.”

The pain lessened to a throbbing sensation, the villain finally taking their weight off. It would have been easy for the hero to cry then and there, they weren’t even supposed to be doing laundry, let alone have a villain threaten them.

Or, at least, they think it was a threat. It didn’t matter. They were in pain, and had to let someone know what the villain was doing.

“You can keep the spare key, by the way, but I will be keeping this.” The villain tossed the spare towards the hero, sliding the heart keychain off. “Oh, before I forget,” they said, stepping over the hero. “If anyone but you shows up, they all die.”

The hero could only try to force themselves up, reaching for their knives.