Spiraling out of control

Like I love you. I love you more than the sun loves the moon. You are kind and wonderful and all things good. You know this. You know you are more than most will ever be.

You made mistakes and are paying for them dearly. But I don't think you deserve suffering. You are so harsh on yourself.

And you did fuck up. So what. You are still here. It doesn't make you a burden. It makes you young like the rest of us. You are allowed to fuck up and make mistakes. You didn't plan on any of this. You were alone.

The people around you do not deserve you. You are more than what they say you are. I love you so much. You need time to get back up. Support to do so. You are not a failure.

You are young. You have so much more to go. You are just getting started. I'm with you all the way.

---

The world is painted orange as the sun sets over buzzing jungle. Vines look like as if they'd been set on fire as sun peeks under the heavy clouds hanging above the trees. Alongside equally heavy air, the world is like frozen diorama. Pouring rain has just paused for a moment, leaving a damp feel into the air. It coats the branches, and no wise would actually dare to challenge them.

Good thing that Sly Cooper is not like others.

He runs across branches, his feet finding easily footholds like second nature. His jumps are placed with no thought, and when his own judgement falters, his cane catches him and with swing he's back on track.

That being said: "Looks like you were right, Bentley," he stops, taking out his binocucom, "There definitely is something going on."

Wouldn't be for long, if he can do anything about it...

"Eh no," Zoomed to the left, "No" Zoomed up, "N- Oh hang on, now there's a sore sight for the eyes." Sly quipped. "Who? Hey! Don’t leave me in suspense here Sly! You know I can't see em!" Sly honed in on the familiar face,

"Well either Muggshot's got more friends in low places than we thought, or he got out by buttering someone up for 'good behavior'." Bentley said nothing for a moment,

"Are you sure he didn't just bend the bars again?"

And with that, he sets off to catch up to the bulldog. His feet carrying him easily as he jumps from rooftop to rooftop. His eyes never left the bulldog, still observing his every movement.

The bulldog was talking to someone, he notes. The figure had hidden themselves in a thick, black cloak that obscured their entire being, so Sly couldn’t see their faces. That’s going to be a problem.

“Hello, gentlemens,” He landed in front of the two, catching their attention. Muggshot had shifted into a fighting stance while the other straightened. Cloak Person’s face is still obscured by a black mask, so he still couldn’t figure out who they were.

Sly tipped an imaginary hat. “Retirement’s never stuck, Muggs. You know how it is.”

The world is painted orange as the sun sets, somehow in spite of everything changing the one constant was the setting sun's glow calling him back home. Michael took his time taking in the view as he walked home there was a small flock of Pidove flying off somewhere, even the long way was quick.

He opened the door and was immediately greeted by Carl the Chatot, "Hello? Hello?" "Hi Carl" Micheal reached up to pet him and was next greeted by Vincent the Purrloin's happy trilling, "Hey buddy how're you?" Micheal didn't notice his father standing behind him, "…Micheal. Where have you been?"

They eat together in near silence, Carl filling the gaps with cheerful chirps while Vincent curls in Michael’s lap, purring steadily.

Halfway through the meal, his father’s knife pauses midair, a cut of rare steak on the plate, its surface glistening with a thin, dark-red sheen that pooled along the grain of the meat, catching the flickering light above them.

Michael barely notices, but his father’s eyes lift slowly to the ceiling, unblinking. “Does the new guy living with the Newlins remember anything?”

“No, not yet,” Michael admits as the lights stop flickering.

After dinner, he gets ready for bed. Halfway up the steps, his father calls after him. “Maybe you should bring the Newlins’ friend here sometime. It would be nice to…

"Sure," Michael nods, uncertain about the odd shadows in his father's eyes. Can't quite remember if they'd always been there. "I'll ask."

After climbing the stairs he looks back and his father is still there, watching.

He tries not to shiver as he goes to bed.

That night the dreams come again. It's dark, always so dark. Blurry smears of gray and pitch black shadows as he sprints, a cold band of dread tightening around his lungs. There is movement in the corner of his eye, but he can never quite catch sight of what he's running from.

With a gasp Michael wakes, realizing Vincent had planted himself on his chest, rumbling with purrs as his weight kept him from taking a full breath. He shoos the pokemon off with a grunt and flops back down.

His dreams were always somewhat…strange… but this dream in particular had been repeating over and over for the past few months.

Michael couldn’t ever really remember the dream, yet the minute he opened his eyes, he would always get filled with a sense of dread. Perhaps it was only a nightmare. Just a figment of his imagination. That’s what the rational part of him wanted to believe, at least.

Or maybe…..just maybe…. there was something out there….

Michael let his thoughts drift off into the void. There wasn’t any point in stressing over something so insignificant. He’d just go back to ignoring it, just as he had always done.

Vincent purred from the corner of Michael’s room, seemingly in approval.

….

Well, he did have an odd sort of dream where Vincent got a job, and so his beloved Purrloin couldn't be home much at all, but that couldn't have been what unsettled him so. Perhaps he was just still scared by the dream earlier that night.

He felt bad for it, but Micheal was glad that his father wasn't home- already gone for work. Something about his father had been unsettling to him for quite some time now. But it was new. He wasn't always so... shadowy.

He fed his pets, reinforced the tricks he was teaching Carl with some of the Chatot's favorite peanuts, and slipped out the door.

-----

It rights itself, then used what must be a voice to say his name: “Michael.” It’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard, grating the edges of Michael’s spine. He wants to shrivel up at it.

“What are you?” He asks, almost breathlessly. Creatures have always fascinated him, and whatever this thing is is no different.

“I am not something that fits into a box of ‘what’,” it says, crouching down to Michael’s level.

—

Michael said to the creature, still forced to look up to meet what appeared to be its head: “Do you have a name?”

The creature’s voice, raspy, laughed. It seemed to find the concept of a name amusing. Its hand curled as it approached, halting only after its face inches away from Michael’s face.

“Michael, how intriguing you say this. After all, shouldn’t you already know it?”

—105 words

"Go on," it bristled, joyish lift in it's voice, "time to think!"

Michael looks back to the hole in wall and to his horror at the darkness that starts to bleed out of it. It sticks to where it drips, and like with giant talons it reaches for him, trying to latch on to his arm too.

"Mic- …hael," call a distant voice, as he takes a step backwards, almost loosing his balance as he stares the shapeless thing bending over him.

-

The world was painted in beautiful orange as the sun set over the canopy.

None of the moons were full, the night was dark. It was so above the leaves, anyway.

The village below the leaves was lit beneath carefully maintained flamesilk lanterns. And tonight– by the dim orange glow of Persimmon’s cocoon.

Cricket kept her notepad at the ready, excited to see– and document– the first metamorphosis of a flamesilk since Blue’s.

An event perfect for her to help fill the research gap on SilkWings that there was during the HiveWing’s rule. Cricket watched every metamorphosis she was welcome at.

Luna and Swordtail stood ready nearby, ready to guide their dragonet out of the change. Blue, at her side, she knew he was happy to see a peaceful flamesilk metamorphosis– his niece, no less.

Luna shifted on her talons. “I think something’s wrong.”

(Cricket, Luna, Swordtail, and Blue are all cannon characters from the Wings of Fire book series. Persimmon is a SilkWing character I made up who is the daughter of Luna and Swordtail)

Her eyes seem to sparkle as she looks at them.

"How do I look?" Persimmon asks, excitement coloring her voice almost like it does her wings, "Are they like dad's? No, they must be like yours mom! You look so suprised!"

"Why don't you look for yourself," Blue encourages his niece, seeing that words seem to fail her parents as they look, entranced by her new appearance.

The world is painted orange as the sun sets. Naruto sprints across the rooftops, kunai in hand, chasing a shadow that moves faster than the wind.

Behind him, the village lights flicker on, unaware of the danger slipping between the alleys. He grins, adrenaline pumping through him as he gives chase.

The wind whips through his hair as he launches over a gap between buildings, rolling on landing and never breaking his pace. The shadow darts again, taunting him, and Naruto laughs, excitement bubbling in his chest.

Somewhere below, a dog barks, startled by the movement, but Naruto doesn’t slow. He’s on the hunt, and nothing else exists in this fiery twilight.

—

Giggling, quietly, at the shadows that linger. 

He loves this part of the day. Late at night, when the civilians have gone home and as such cannot react to seeing him. Part of him will never understand why they don’t like him, but altogether part doesn’t care as long as he’s able to have this. 

Another shadow flickers and someone else takes to the roofs, but they don’t look at him so he feels safe in continuing his quest.

--

The League of Villains was looking for some of the most powerful quirk-users to make their come-back under a new name: Villains' League.

But that boy hadn't seemed like a quirk-user, just an extremely fast warrior.

Sighing again at the revelation, the blonde girl climbed off the roof-top and scanned the late-night crowd for anyone with a flight quirk. Though she didn't like doing it with strangers, she was planning to drink their blood to transform into them and hope she had enough time to find the stranger again.

—

Himoko Toga waited for a bit before a noise made her turn around. Behind her was a man—or, not quite. He was a tall, gangly thing, who’s limbs looked longer than should be possible.

“Hello,” the not-man said, though his voice twisted and rung in a way that didn’t sound real. It echoed off nonexistent walls and bounced back to her ears.

“Who are you?” She asked the think. It cocks it’s head in wonder before stepping closer.

“I am not a who, I am a what.”

“What’s your name?” She asked, stepping back a bit.

“Michael,” he said. What an awful sound.

—

104 words. Idk either of those fandoms very well, so i introduced michael distortion from tma

Micheal watched Himoko with what seemed to be the same curious caution that she was showing. The question now was it genuine or just matched energy?

Despite the unnerving feeling Himoko couldn’t help but feel overwhelming curious.

What would happen if I sampled their blood?

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Micheal asked knowingly.

Words: 101. I'm a bit shaky with all three series. When I'm in doubt, I go for either silliness or horror!

"I know you were," this thing, suddenly feeling much more than just plain 'Michael', takes step towards her, "I know the hunger calls to you."

What?

"Hunger for knowing, hunger for growing," being narrates. She takes step backwards, her curiosity overridden by chills running down her spine. It doesn't stop, following her towards opening between buildings.

She could let him get close, sample him before he can do anything else. But deep down she feels this is too much for her alone.

Suddenly something hits the side of its head. It snaps to side, before it rightens and turns deliberately to look up. Himoko looks up too, suprised as recognition fills her mind.

"Enough room for another one to join?" The boy from earlier grins down at them.

---

I don't know any of these fandoms well so we'll just vibe instead!

✢ ✢ ✢

The world is painted orange as the sun sets, and Father Jud watches it through stained glass that has survived more violence than most men ever will.

He likes it when the day ends this way, in degrees of light and darkness, colour surrendering itself. Then there’s the secret no one tells, and everyone knows: confession is easier in half-light.

He closes the ledger on the lectern, fingers inspecting the worn edge. It holds names and dates and an array of small truths offered up like coins. Some may be counterfeit, but all of them are human.

Outside, footsteps pause, then retreat. Or maybe approach. It’s hard to tell, and harder to care. Jud has learnt that urgency is as likely to announce itself with a whisper as it is with a shout.

He exhales,

1,

2,

3,

and turns towards the door before it decides whether or not to open..

tag you’re it, @intothepast9!

The next night, perhaps a few minutes earlier in the evening, the same thing happens. Jud knows he'd rather someone seek the church than feel forced into it, but he wonders if he should go outside and find this person. He makes his way towards the door, but then the footsteps retreat, and he's left, standing outside, gazing into the darkening evening.

The third night, however, this person--Jud knows it's the same person; the footsteps have the same feeling, the same heaviness and hesitancy--opens the door to the church.

*~*~*

A young man walks through the hallowed doors, finally taking in the sanctity that he'd been trying to enter for three days. It is less than he'd expected, and yet more than he'd hoped for. 

For a church, it looked rather rundown. The stained glass let the light from the sun color the walls and the floors an interesting array of hues, but it did not deter from the battered walls. He even noticed a distinct stain on the wall—in the shape of a crucifix.

Before him, Pastor Jud stood patiently. He did not speak, fearing words would scare the man away. But, his eyes and ever-so-slight smile tried to make his church welcoming.

*~*~*

He was a young man with straight dark hair that never seemed even a moment out of place, with green eyes, his clothing being nice black jeans, black button up shirt, black steel-toed boots, and a black leather jacket. He recognized the young man as Nicollo Liovani, son of Adrien Liovani, the mafia boss. He used to be a sweet boy, but after age 15, he was always harsh. The list of skills he has acquired since then was both impressive and ever growing: leather working, cooking, gardening, shooting, knife throwing, knife combat, etc., and it showed in the way he dressed.

(I'm sorry if it's wrong for the timeline, I've no idea who the heck this Father/Paster Jud is, I threw in one my characters from a book I'm writing. He's Italian and has a twin sister named Nicolette, btw, and his mom is dead.)

 He made sure to watch the words carefully before speaking. He had been down the road of vices and sin before turning to the church, so if this man was doing the same, he'd be happy to invite him in. 

“Hello my child, what brings you to the church?” He kept smiling while speaking.

Nicollo was nervous but he wasn’t willing to show that to this stranger. He opened his mouth to speak.

---

(I love this movie also i keep imagining this oc as fuyuhiko kuzuryu lol)

Father Jud lifted a brow, but played along, "And what would a house of God look to you, child?"

Nicollo shrugged with hands in the pockets of his jacket, "More colorful than this, I think. Also golden, maybe with music, and snacks prefferably."

As he finished speaking, Nicollo looked down at his feet, kicking the ground as he worked through something, frowning a bit in silence. Something obviously troubled him, but having already crossed the threshold of the church, Father Jud trusted he would speak his mind when ready. The hardest truths never came easy, especially when one had to speak them out loud.

"Can men change, father?" Nicollo asked after a bit, still not looking up from his shoes.

"Even the worst of men?" Nicollo asked, hesitantly look up.

"That question, my child, implies that you might be of the worst of men." He had seen many people who needed saving, either from themselves or someone who had control over them.

"What kind of good man has killed? Tell me that, father." Hardly a whisper, difficult to hear but it rang out like a gunshot.

What kind of good man has killed?

There was a long pause.

The young man turned to leave. Muttering something like "I knew it."

"Even that. You can move forward. I would know." How many times has he talked about the incident in his new life?

-----

The grin on my face when I looked up the character and realized that his backstory is actually perfect for what I wanted to add to the story

“When I was younger,” Father Jud starts, voice not wavering. “I was a boxer. I loved it more than anything. I took it a bit too far, and my opponent died by my hands.”

“What?” Nicollo gasps softly.

“I needed something, which is when I found religion. I am a good man, I know I am. I’ve come a long way to accept myself and forgive myself. If I can, don’t you think you can, too?”

—

Father Judd hummed. “I already told you. I found religion.”

“How do you know that’d help for me?”

“I don't.”

Nicollo huffed. His arms crossed for a second, before faltering. He ran a hand through his hair.

“...I just wanna wash some stains off my hands. Ya’ know?” he said softly. Father Jud gave him a sympathetic look. He stepped forward, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I do. I know exactly what you mean. Here is my advice…”

-----

Advice left open because I don't know what to say LOL

Nicollo listens, his eyes absentmindedly running across the array of colors.

"Stains in me turned to something His light can shine through. Something I can give compassion through, offer understanding. I might've done sin, but I am good man. I found peace through that."

"Sounds hard, Father," teenager shakes his head, "I don't know if I can do that."

Father Jud nods, understanding. "This church is like me. I am not filled with luxury or gold, nor am I full of color. I am part of the stained window that light shines through, helping others to find the same peace. This is my path, but it doesn't need to be yours."

---

The world is painted orange as the sun sets. "Shoot" Walter says, "We won't make it back to camp before dark!" He turns to Willow, the responsible adult for this trip. "What should we do?" He asks. "We make a fire, of course!" Willow answers. Walter begins to rummage through Woby’s backpack before Willow stops him, showing the kid her lucky lighter, "We don't need to waste materials the others could use." Before he could ask what she meant, Willow flicks the flames alive, then hovers it beneath the leaves of a small tree. Its branches quickly engulf in flames, providing them just enough light as the golden hue left them for the night.

Willow dusted off her hands, and glanced back at the others.

Night had just fallen, and who knew what was out there lurking in the shadows. Walter shivered, the sudden gust of wind sending a shiver down his spine.

“Hey, there isn’t anything out here with us right—”

*Snap*

The sound of a tree branch snapping alerted them, stopping Walter mid sentence.

Two figures were approaching the fire that Willow had just started, still a good distance away. The group could only barely make out small outlines of the two. One appeared to have…. fox ears??!!

“Oh thank goodness!! I was beginning to think we’d die out here~” A woman’s voice. Her companion didn’t reply, instead letting out a half-annoyed sigh.

“Hey, Tomoe? I’m hungryyyyy, do you have any….” The woman froze as her eyes locked onto the group huddled around the fire.

…

new characters are Nanami and Tomoe from kamisama kiss.

sorryyy, I did a little bit of research but I don’t really know that much about don’t starve together so I hope I haven’t messed anything up 😭

Nanami’s face, which had just frozen in surprise, lit up.

“You guys are alive!”

Walter slid over to allow space for the two of them to sit by the fire as Willow increased the size of the flames. He said to them, “It must be luck for us to meet again.”

Nanami and Tomoe sat across from the fire with the former eyeing the backpack clearly full of supplies.

She, paused, clearly hesitating, before steeling herself and asking the other group.

"It's not that important," Willow rests her hand on his shoulder, "Not to discuss here, at least."

Walter falls back, looking little sheepish.

"What do you mean not here?" Nakami leans in, "Did something happen?"

Tomoe shifts at her side, eyes sharp on them. "We noticed something in forest. Could it be related?"

"I don't know," Willow shakes her head, "We don't want to freeze during the night, is all. You can share the fire with us if you want. More of us here, the better."

"Sure," Nakami nods, smiling, "We'd be happy to stay with you."

"Good! Considering that something is definitely on the move," Woby lets slip.

The world is painted orange as the sun set as the word seems to twist on its axis.

Ace gasps as soon as he wakes up, not quite knowing what to do with the knowledge.

He died. So why is he even waking up.

Looking around, he can see others around him. Is this purgatory, or hell, was this the afterlife of some sort? 

Staying silent and still for just a moment, he tries to make sense of what is said around him. It’s all mixed, as if too many people are speaking all at once. Which is when he slowly pushed himself to stand. Licking his lips and feeling like he’s at least still corporal. Which only serves to make the whole experience even stranger. 

“What is going on,” he finds himself asking, out loud.

A voice pipes up next to him, “Welcome to the Crossroads…”

*~*~*

Ace looked around again, searching for the voice. "The Crossroads?" he asked no one in particular, but at the same time hoping someone would fill in the blanks.

"Yes, my boy," the voice confirmed. Suddenly, a bodily mass began to form in front of Ace. It started as a blob—gray and cloud-like, as if an image was blurred in his mind. Then, it began taking a clearer shape. He watched as lines, angles, and dimensions became more prominent. Colors beyond a monochromatic gray appeared. Even the voice, which was hard to determine if it was old or young, male or female, soft or harsh, was making more sense.

“It is where you view your life up to the moment of your passing. What happened… and what could have happened.”

*~*~*

"You must prove your worth to the council. If they deem you worthy, you may go back to the world of the living. If not, well... I'm sure you can figure it out."

The old wizard raised his staff before bringing it down with a thud on the ground. Their surroundings began to change--just a whirl of colour at a time, as if the world was deciding how to appear.

"But-- But who are you?" Ace called, as the wizard began to disappear with the swirling colours.

"Gandalf the Grey-- er, Gandalf the White!" He then muttered, "Still getting used to that."

"Darn right I will." A black haired girl in an MCR t shirt and black jeans had arrived. "Lunar, or, well, Liunara. Goddess of Life, Light, and all that is Good." Her green eyes flashed gold and within 20 seconds, they had explored his life and its possibilities. "Now, we wait for Daki, who's probably asleep as he works on a 50/50 sleep schedule. 12 hours up, 12 hours out."

"I'm up, I swear..." the tired voice came from a man with black hair and red eyes. He was wearing pajamas- camo fluffy pants and a black tank top. "Ok, the afterlife is my thing, but I just take you there. I left the judgement in the hands of the Angel King, Storm. The Dark Angel ruler, if you end up in their realm, is the Eminence, Avery. The Demon King is Bellin. They will decide your fate."

His troubles to stay with Daki are not helped by the multiple people around them. Daki moves around them easily, but his own eyes keep wandering around.

One person captures his eyes, with his ever changing appearance. He seems to flicker on and off, with his frame being see-through every time before he's plucked back from here, only for him to return almost the same. Not really.

Only sometimes his form materializes fully, with great pain. Ace shudders.

"Some are not as lucky as others," Daki acknowledges. "Come on. They won't wait."

The world was painted in beautiful orange as the sun set over the canopy.

None of the moons were full, the night was dark. It was so above the leaves, anyway.

The village below the leaves was lit beneath carefully maintained flamesilk lanterns. And tonight– by the dim orange glow of Persimmon’s cocoon.

Cricket kept her notepad at the ready, excited to see– and document– the first metamorphosis of a flamesilk since Blue’s.

An event perfect for her to help fill the research gap on SilkWings that there was during the HiveWing’s rule. Cricket watched every metamorphosis she was welcome at.

Luna and Swordtail stood ready nearby, ready to guide their dragonet out of the change. Blue, at her side, she knew he was happy to see a peaceful flamesilk metamorphosis– his niece, no less.

Luna shifted on her talons. “I think something’s wrong.”

(Cricket, Luna, Swordtail, and Blue are all cannon characters from the Wings of Fire book series. Persimmon is a SilkWing character I made up who is the daughter of Luna and Swordtail)

Her eyes seem to sparkle as she looks at them.

"How do I look?" Persimmon asks, excitement coloring her voice almost like it does her wings, "Are they like dad's? No, they must be like yours mom! You look so suprised!"

"Why don't you look for yourself," Blue encourages his niece, seeing that words seem to fail her parents as they look, entranced by her new appearance.

The world was painted orange as the sun set. Red sky at night, sailors's delight, and all that, but from the strong winds, Elena knew a storm was coming. She glanced out the window down the long driveway for perhaps the thousandth time that day. She'd been waiting for her brother come home all day. Really, she'd been waiting for months, ever since he'd disappeared in January. But after the text she got from him this morning, she thought he might be there today. But there was nothing, nothing other than the leaves blowing over darkening driveway as a storm rolled in from the west. Still, she couldn't help a nagging feeling that...

The wind gripped the house like fingers grasping a throat. Leaves skittered across the drive in frantic spirals, piling briefly before scattering again, unable to agree where to settle.

Elena’s phone buzzed once in her hand. Could it be him? She looked down too fast, heart kicking, but the screen was dark.

Thunder cracked closer this time, sharp enough to rattle the glass. The lights flickered, then dimmed. She smelled the metallic hint of rain striking earth; beneath that, something colder.

The morning’s text replayed itself in her head. I’m close.

A shape moved at the far end of the driveway. Not a car. Too tall and too still.

Elena's heart stops beating for moment, before continuing. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.

The all too still frame continued upwards the driveway. All too soon Elena could hear between lightning strikes the echoing knocks.

Then they sounded again. And again.

Dark screen greeted her, as she glanced down. The closed door, when she looked to side, stepped to it.Stranger knocked again, not her brother. It wasn't him at the door, she knew.

She opened the door, worry crescending in her mind. Had something happened?

The cybernetic eye looked down at her.

"Night, Miss," robotic edge made her jump as stranger smiled, "I know where your brother is."