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Alright... first time trying this. Here goes nothing.


Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock.


The clock’s hand ceaselessly preys on every last second it gobbles up as your time on this fragile world is eaten into nothingness. That’s how it’s always been. Not even the planet itself, or the stars in their burning majesty, last forever. Yet here I am, waiting.


First, I tried to be a hero. I helped countless numbers of people, but each one saved was like a drop in the ocean of mankind. In the end, I did little more than disturb the water. My flaming passion was snuffed out, and I was plunged into darkness.


My heart was gripped by an inky blackness as I turned to villainy. I killed, and I stole, and I lied, and I hurt. It was such sweet release, but the pain cycled. I discovered then: just because I could not die, did not mean I couldn’t hurt.


Now, here I am. I have nothing. I am alive, but my life is gone.


Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock
 
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Not my best, as I typically write longer things, but @TheLovelyDead had to go and break my heart and get me inspired. So, here it is.



Immortality comes in many forms. It comes in the feeling of a kiss, a late night, a good high. Immortality, for Saffron, came with the death of loved ones. Or, at least the aftermath.
​


 
​


It came with the nightmares. The infinite feeling of doom they left in her. It came with the guilt she felt. It came with the tears that drenched her face. But mostly, it came with Carter.
​


 
​


His hand holding hers, his fingers wiping her tears, his lips kissing away the taste of metal. Those nights in his arms, knowing they could never come back from that night. Knowing neither of them would ever be the same.
​


 
​


"Oh, my lover." He whispered one night, snapping her out of her daze. That was all he said. That was all she needed. Him. Immortality. Time freezes when their eyes meet. Age doesn't touch them, in those moments.
​


 
​


His tattooed skin was warm against hers. His eyes a window into his soul. A window into forever. Forever.
​
 
What is immortality? One may simply answer, 'oh it's living forever'. Okay, yes, but what is forever? Until the world ends? Until time stops? Until the inevitable heat-death of the universe?


Immortality, I found, is your thoughts. Your memories, your aspirations. You, despite your mortal form expiring, are immortal through your impact on the world and those you come into contact with. Be that a negative of positive interaction, positive interaction, a simple smile you gave someone in passing. You will forever live on in the mark you left upon others. You are a god in the sense that your actions while living forever influence the lives of others and the lives of those not yet born. You are a god in the way that your existence is the only existence that you will ever know.


So in a sense, we are all immortal. In a sense, we are all gods and goddesses. We're all the main characters in our stories.


Live your life like you're God.
 
Don't know if I'm too late but anyway:


She has never feared death, always kept abreast with time. Her life is one well lived. Each day is busy, new, packed with emotions both good and bad and she feels so alive. She does what she wants and what she needs to, doesn’t let anyone stop her, doesn’t leave any rooms for what ifs; doesn’t indulge in past glories, but rather looks to the future for the next one. No regrets.


But one sleepy afternoon, curled up with her bestfriend and lover, she finds herself desperately grasping at the hourglass sands. For once she wants to stop this steady race with time, wants to hold onto this one, perfect moment. But the grains slip through her fingers, steady as always. Suddenly, she realises she doesn’t have enough time. Whatever she does, she will never see enough of their smile, or hear enough of their laugh in her lifetime. One day will be her last seeing those eyes.


It is inevitable.


Oh, how she longs for immortality.
 
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[SIZE= 14px]He was smiling when he stopped in the middle of the road, taking a long second to pick up his skateboard before he finally turned around to face the group of flashing red and blue lights and wailing sirens behind him. His smile turned into a grin when the first officer got out, followed by several others, all aiming their guns at him. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 14px]“This is pointless. I don’t know why you guys keep coming after me.”[/SIZE]


[SIZE= 14px]So maybe he had broken a few laws by leading a one mile an hour chase on his skateboard, and maybe he had spray painted a mustache on a billboard of the mayor, but still. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 14px]While they shouted orders at him, he pulled out a spray can at random from his belt and threw it at them. A startled officer instantly shot him, and half a second passed before the bangs deafened him. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 14px]When noise eventually died down, he was already riding away on his skateboard, his laughter trailing behind him. [/SIZE]
 
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You all wrote such fantastic things. 0-0 I was thoroughly stumped there for a while on who won. I finally came to a decision:





 








Winner:





@Syzygy











 





Congrates.


​
 
Personal opinion: Yeah. It was solid, well written, and showed a bit of your inexperience as a writer. Not a bad thing. You're clearly learning and learning well. Even I am constantly learning new things about writing and how to write better and how to make things read all that more interestingly.





 





You have yet to grasp fully on the way of weaving a story completely. It was an excellent start. There is just a small piece missing that I am having a hard time describing, for which I apologize. I am not very good at this in text but I do hope this helped greatly.
 
(I took a different meaning to the song than what it actually is talking about, I think. This is my first time doing this so, bear with me. Thank you.)


“I understand completely, your concern will go straight to Mr.Croft, I assure you.” A large smile spread across the desk clerks face, her caked on foundation crinkling like balled up paper. Maddye knew exactly where her concern would be going, directly into the silver trash can at the blonde haired woman's feet. She could see it know, as soon as she walked off the woman would crumple it and toss it in the silver contraption. Like usual, it would never make its way to Mr. Croft. 


Everyone in this God forsaken place should be a certified actor or actress, that's how good they'd become at playing their little roles in this damn company. The clerk was playing the part of a friendly and reliable friend, whilst in reality she simply told you what you wanted to hear. Everything that came out of the woman’s mouth was a lie.


All the office workers played the part of happy go-lucky people, enthused to help you any time you may need it. They weren't happy, they were robots, programmed to lie and cheat, and they definitely weren't helping anybody. Not truly.


So no, her concern would never get to Mr.Croft because he was playing a part too. The fair minded boss, willing to go out of his way for you. All he was doing was making a very good attempt at faking it. 


And maybe the smile Maddye Croft gave the clerk was her faking it too.


Word Count:244


@Syzygy
 

{Hello, hello. This seemed like fun...}
​


 
​


His eyes were red, puffy, and his face was stained with tears and remorse. That mahogany door was the only thing keeping them apart; keeping her from falling into his inked arms all over again. She was on the other side, drowning in tears that continued to take her breath away. "Hadlee." the male's voice wavered in the night's air. The only response he heard from beyond the wooden barrier was another gasp for air in between the salty droplets that ran from her brown eyes.
​


 
​


Like two broken marionette dolls, the drifting couple sat back to back, yet completely divided. There was nothing left to keep them together.
​


 
​


This must have been love. The definition of the emotion was false advertising -- as it never indicated there would be an immense amount of regret in the end -- but the feeling was intoxicating. Their love was intoxicating. However, the two had been unhappy for months. They were secretive, separating, and lying to themselves that things would work out. They faked their affection in public for fear their reputation would go sour. The truth was that both of them cheated on each other with different partners, but because it hurt, they'd never go far enough to admit that there was a problem. The high of hurting one another because they were in love was becoming a poor excuse. Hadlee was enveloped in her own terrible mind while she fell into a gruesome habit. Everyone's heart was in the palm of her hand, and the biggest kick was watching them bleed out. She was ill, but Carter still had the capacity to love her because that's just who he was. He was the only one who voluntarily gave his heart to her, and even if it would kill him, he wanted her to keep it. He was stupid.
​


 
​


"Just," there was a pause as the male closed his eyes to stop the tears that flooded his waterline, "open the door." he finished. The world fell silent all over again. "Carter," Hadlee's voice was faint beyond the mahogany. "We can't." she added with a sniffle. "Open the door, Hads." Carter replied, his words were quicker, desperate even. "Stop pretending already, will you?" the male could hear the exasperated weep with her heavy words. "Don't." he said, placing an inked hand on the door as if it would help save her from making the inevitable decision. "We have nothing."
​


"Please." Carter begged.
​


"What's the point in this if we're going to hurt each other all over again, Carter?" she asked between the cascading salt water that dampened her hands and clothes.
​


"Open the goddamn door, Hads." he strained to raise his cracking voice as he hit the only thing keeping them apart. There was no way to hold back his tears anymore. Every emotion they had melted down was now boiling on the surface.
​


Another pound against the door. "Good-bye, Carter." Hadlee's voice was fainter this time, as if it hurt more to say such a thing than to hear it. "Don't, Hads. Please. Open the door." he begged again. The male scrambled to his feet, using the doorknob in his distressed state, but it stayed steadfast on the mahogany's smooth surface. "My Carter White." she spoke, her voice seemingly closer to the door's frame. "Open the door!" Carter yelled, his face soaked with his own desperation; his own agonizing love. "My lover."  Hadlee whispered. There was an aching shuffle heard just beyond his reach, and with that, his other half had left the entryway. "Hadlee!" his voice cracked in between his call, and at that point the name came out rather like a shriek. If he let her go, then it was a sign of his own weakness. She was slipping through his fingers in the cold of the night, and he couldn't do anything else but bang against the wooden barrier. "Please!" Carter cried out as he tasted the salt from his own blue eyes. His foot hit the mahogany, scuffing the bottom in its wake, but he didn't care. He wanted to see her face one last time. He wished to hold her while they both cried about their own stupidity. He wanted to wallow away with her. But what was left of them? Those fantasies were nothing without each other. He was nothing without her. They were nothing, and his mind fell silent as he stopped his hopeless banging. "Please." he huffed.
​


Oh my lover, my lover, my love, we can never go back.
​


 
​


~ Word count: 759 or something to that extent. It was worth it. ~
​
 

(I will get my entry up sometime today......one day maybe.)
​
 
    She didn't want him. She didn't need him. But a tug pulled her closer to him. She wished for the rush of his skin against hers, but despised the thought of being around him. Biting her lip, she ran her hands through her hair in frustration, looking to the phone in her lap. Should she call? What if he called? Should she pick up? Setting the phone to the side, she pulled her bare knees up to her chin, resting her chin on top and looping her arms around her legs, hoping that keeping her body close would keep her from coming unraveled. She hated him. She hated the way he treated her… but it's not like she was any better. A nagging feeling told her she deserved it. She deserved the bruises staining her skin, she deserved to feel hated and loved by the same person. Her arms slid upwards, and she ducked her head to take a deep drag of his scent; she had stolen a sweater of his a while ago, when they had first started out, and was wearing it now with a pair of simple bike shorts.
                The sound of a ringing phone ripped through the still air of her dark bedroom. Her breath caught in her throat. She didn't need to look to know it was him calling. Tears slid down her face; once, twice, thrice the phone rang before her heart couldn't take it anymore and her hand went for the device. Quiet words were exchanged, something between a request and an order from him, with a looming threat. If she didn't show, if she did, it didn't matter to him. He found it funny, she knew. Sometimes this felt like her being trapped. Again, she'd have to find an excuse to call out of work tomorrow, unable to get out of bed. A parting kiss and a slap on the way out later the next day, one for coming and the other for leaving with his clothes.
                And she knew she was in his grasp. They both knew. He would propose in private, so no one could see her cry when she turned him down. So no one would question the blood stains in her clothes. And it weighed on her how much she needed to get away, but she couldn't resist when he called. His love was worth the wrath. It had been for the past two years, so why would that change? Why didn't she want to stay now? Why did she keep coming back? Why couldn't they just go back?
                She didn't bother changing, just put on shoes and braved the chilly night air as she made her way to his place. It was as predicted. She called out sick the next day, and returned home with a bright red slap to her dignity. It was a vicious cycle, her friends had told her before she cut off contact with them. Why did she need him so badly? Why couldn't she leave, even though she knew she needed to?


She'd spend the day tending the new bruises before he called again tonight.
 
“I am being controlled.”





 





White hot anger rushed through him, blending dangerously with his confusion. He countered angrily, “But you’re the Don of one of the largest, most fears families in this city. You put the Stark family name on the fucking map! How can you be–”





 





“Rogers,” the underboss cut in, sounding tired. “Calm down and listen.”





 





He closed his mouth. The Don sat down. His lover gently pulled him towards the loveseat. He sat down with an arm still around his lover. The Don sighed, asking, “How did you end up in the Fury family, Rogers?”





 





“Unfortunate circumstances.”





 





A smile to pull at the Don’s face and his lover dipped his head to hide his laughter. He felt a smile creep onto his own face.





 





“And where do you sit in the Fury family?” the Don inquired, amused.





 





He was pretty sure these questions were for his benefit only. “I’m on level with the other capo.”





 





The Don nodded. “And how many of those capo are actually related to the Don.”





 





His brow scrunched in thought. “None that I’m aware of.”





 





Again, the Don nodded. “And the underboss?”





 





He shook his head no, certain.





 





“The Fury family is powerful and well known for being a family that isn’t of blood. Most of the other old families have tried sabotaging the Fury family because it goes against everything we set up but the family you’re a part of is strong and fought back, matching pace with the greats of us. But the one thing that is rumored is that there is no way to control the Don of the Fury family. Even holding family at ransom will bode in nothing more than one’s death.”





 





He chuckled, offering, “Not sure about the death part but it’s pretty accurate. We each can hold our own and fight back. We’ve lost a few capo that way but we each know the risks.” His grip tightened around his lover. “We’re willing to do everything in our power to not allow someone the upper hand on the Fury family. Even if that means we take our own life.”





 





The Don nodded, seeming pleased with the information. “Unfortunately, the Stark family is not set up that way. We are part of the old ways and we protect those that are most precious to us.”





 





He shook his head. “Then how did they get a hand on your strings?”





 





The Don’s lips quirked towards a smirk. The Don seemed pleased with the returned metaphor. “They’ve targeted your lover, my Grandson, who is slated to be the next Don.”





 





He tensed, looking down at his lover in concern. Brown eyes were watching him but there was no shame, no hit of anything, actually. He looked back at the Don. “What do you want me to do? Cutting strings is rather vague.”





 





“I need you to take Tony and protect him. Get him away from all this chaos. Then, arrange a meeting for me with your Don. It will put you both in more danger but he has the recourses and people to truly cut my strings.” The Don gave a rather sad look even as he smiled. “It’s time this ridiculous feud ended anyways. We would benefit far more by working together than against each other.”





 





He nodded, standing. His lover stood with him. He opened his mouth to reply.





 





He coughed, tasting metallic, earth, and acrid smoke on the back of his throat. His ears were ringing and his body felt like it was on fire but, as he moved, he realized he was littered in glass, shards falling from him as he got up. He looked up, frowning.





 





What had happened? And where was he? Last he remembered was talking with the head of the Stark family but this didn’t look like his apartment.





 





“Tony?” he shouted, choking on the smoke still hanging in the air. “Tony!”





 





He turned. He could make out the remains of his own car but that told him little. He reached into the back of his pants and found his gun still in its holster. He pulled it out and found it undamaged and the safety still engaged. He checked the magazine – it was full – before flicking the safety off. He slowly made his way down the sidewalk.





 





The place was a wreck, like someone had dropped a bomb on the place. But it was a town he didn’t recognize in an area of land he was unfamiliar with. There were mountains so close that he was certain the town was in a mountain valley. He ends his way on, not finding anyone. He wasn’t even sure of his lover was there with him but, without his memory–





 





There was a noise behind him and he whipped around, his gun coming up. He found his lover pulling himself out of a shop. He belted the gun and took off running, quickly aiding the other out of the shop remains. “Thank heaven,” he breathed, running his hands through his lover’s hair. “You ok?”





 





The lithe man nodded, reaching out and gripping the front of his shirt for a semblance of stability. He pinned the hand to his chest with his own hand. “Yeah, I’m fine,” his lover uttered. “Sprained ankle but I’m not dead.”





 





He pressed a careful kiss to his lover’s lips, asking, “Do you remember what happened?”





 





He watched his lover’s face scrunch up in a way that had him smiling fondly. He always loved watching his lover think. “Last thing I remember is us standing up before my Grandfather. You were going to make a comment about protecting me and arranging a meeting between the Dons.”





 





He nodded. “That’s the last I remember as well.” He glanced about the town, pulling his lover to him. “We’d best get moving. Whatever happened here, I don’t want to be caught when it happens again.”





 





His lover nodded, holding tight to him. “How much survival knowledge to you know?”





 





“Enough.”





Word count: 1000





 





Got inspired to continue my last one. Hope that was ok.
 
Okay, I just want to say I love all of your posts! I'm spotting a Marvel nerd among us... ;))


I'm going to declare @TheLovelyDead the winner for this round, but honestly, it was really hard to decide. If I had to pick a runner up, it'd be @asharasahara


Have fun bbies <3
 

NOTE: I had to take out a full paragraph so this could fit under 600 words D:
​


 
​


[SIZE= 10px]Eloise stands in front of the mirror, one hand held up to her face so that she can suck on her thumb and the other hanging at her side. She's holding her favourite toy in this hand, a stuffed bunny hanging limply from her loose grip. She squeezes the bunny's hand tightly, to make her brave, and opens her eyes. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]There it was! Quick as a flash, so quick that she thought she had pretended it, her reflection suddenly snapped back into place, leaping back into the frame of the mirror and copying her. It's like a game of Simon Says, Eloise thinks, as she removes her thumb from her mouth and holds up her arm. Her reflection copies her. She lowers it to her side, wiping the spit from her thumb on her sweater, and the reflection does the same. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]She does the same again. Taking a deep breath, she screws her eyes tightly closed so that she can only see the darkness behind her eyelids. She holds her breath for a moment, waiting for her reflection to be fooled and come to life. Eloise swears that she can hear the reflection laughing at her, so quietly and distant that she can barely make it out. It sounds like the reflection is laughing at her from across the street, making fun of her. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]Exhaling, Eloise's eyes fly open again and this time she sees her reflection grin a little too widely before the face changes to match hers. There were far too many teeth in its mouth, far too big of a grin. She breathes shallowly, taking a step closer, knowing that she didn't see it that time. She didn't pretend that. Her reflection really just grinned at her! She took another step forward, her legs heavy and her whole body freezing up at the idea of even going closer. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]Even though she knows she shouldn't do this, she can't help moving forward. She hears the faint laughter again, coming from the other side of the mirror, and Eloise raises her hand again. Instead of sticking it in her mouth, she presses her hand to the mirror instead. It feels like it's... Moving. Pulsing. Underneath her hand. Like when she presses her fingers over the veins on her wrist to measure her heartbeat. Could... Could the mirror be alive?[/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]The laughter sounds louder now and Eloise can definitely hear it; she knows that she isn't just hearing the TV downstairs or the kids in the street outside. This is real. This is the girl that looks just like her who lives on the other side of the mirror, breathing and living.[/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]Eloise tries to pull her hand away but finds that her hand is stuck to the mirror, like somebody stuck it there with paste. She grunts, leaning back and trying to pull her hand away, dropping her bunny on the floor so that she can use her other hand as well. She can't pull her hand away! Eloise stumbles, tears forming in her eyes. Her hand is still stuck there. To the mirror. [/SIZE]


[SIZE= 10px]That's when a hand grabs hold of her wrist and pulls hard, so hard that she nearly falls. Her gaze snaps up and she meets the eyes of a reflection, a reflection that shouldn't be grinning at her like that. She can count every single one of it's teeth. She struggles against it, tears and snot alike dripping down her face, trying to kick free. But the grinning reflection tugs hard on her arm and she falls forwards, her feet losing contact with the ground. [/SIZE]
 
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