Word #81

[crazedturkey.livejournal.com]

Don't look at the word until you are ready to write.  When your fifteen minutes are up and you have completed your ficlet, you may either post it as a response here, or post a link to the ficlet in your own journal.  If posting on your own journal, please hide the prompt word in some way (ie. under an LJ-cut) in order to avoid spoiling it for others.

Today's word is: cancer

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<b>Title:</b> <b>Fandom/original:</b> <b>Characters:</b> <b>Rating:</b> <b>Word count:</b>

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[feyth.livejournal.com]

Title: The Death of Tony Stark
Fandom/original: Iron Man/Avengers (AU)
Characters: Tony Stark, ???
Rating: G
Word count: 561

Tony was dying.

He knew now that he would die alone. There would be no one to hold his hand, no one to kiss his eyes and whisper words of love to him. There would be no warmth, no love. He would die alone, hollow and empty. People would care after he died, but it wouldn't be until after he was already gone.

He'd written express instructions on what was to be done with his multi-billion dollar fortune when he was gone. It would all go to charities—they weren't ones that he picked out, but he knew that they were the best—and to hospitals to help with research on curing diseases. There was no cure for what he would die from.

His share of stock in Stark International would be divided up amongst his friends. It would ensure them a safe and happy future, whether they sold right away or they saved the stock and invested in it as part of their portfolios. He wasn't actually certain that Thor had a stock portfolio, but it was a good time to start. He made sure Jarvis had the largest portion, along with one of his summer homes out in the country; after years of service, he wanted to make sure Jarvis was able to retire comfortably.

His home, his mansion, would stay with the Avengers. They would take good care of it. Maybe they'd even make a statue of Iron Man to put in the garden in the back yard. Maybe in that way, even though Tony would be gone, his memory would live forever. Then again, maybe they wouldn't; he was a bit of a dick at times, and he knew that sometimes they disliked him, even if they begrudgingly respected him for his intelligence and his money.

He looked up as the doctor stepped into the hospital room. He was a portly man of average height, salt and pepper hair a contrast to his dark skin. He stopped in front of Tony with some papers in his hands—test results. "I'm sorry, Mr. Stark," he said, his deep voice full of regret. "The cancer has spread to the lymph nodes. There's nothing that can be done. Chemo can prolong things to an extent, but at this rate, I'd say there's a few days—maybe a week at most."

Tony closed his eyes, bowed his head. He took a deep breath, taking in the news, then reached out to shake the doctor's hand. "Thank you, Doctor, for all you've done."

The doctor shook his hand and turned, making his way out, and Tony's attention moved from the other man to the hospital bed he sat next to.

He reached out and took her hand; she'd been asleep all morning, thank God—whenever she was awake, the pain was too much to bear. She was completely bald now, with IVs and tubes everywhere, an oxygen tube shoved under her nose and over her ears, but she was still the most beautiful woman that Tony had ever known.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, then sat down, still holding her hand in his, and wept silently. A few days, the doctor had said, a week at the most before she would slip away from him forever, and then Tony would die because there would be no more reason to live.

finally!

[randomstasis.livejournal.com]

Prophecy:
Fandom Supernatural:
Dean Sam Castiel Ruby:
gen:
Dean shoved Sam in the car. They left Ruby's latest meat suit bleeding on the ground behind them.
They haven't said a word. the blood drips slow down sam's bruised neck and hee can hear Dean hiss in pain everytime he shifts in the seat, but He can't speak, if he could, his voice couldn't carry to the other side. THis unspoken anger is the loudest sound Sam ever heard. Drowns out the rumble of the engine, the wind whistling thrugh the tiny spaces in the windows and doors, that unidentified rattle that makes that funny little crease in Dean's forehead when it starts.

He'd say anything if he could. If he thought it could be heard. Maybe Dean wouldn't mind just killing him now. Like their Dad wanted. Like he wanted. Dean didn't want it, and if Dean had just .. but that was over. What he'd done and why, and what he'd paid for it. Except it wasn't.
Dean kept him alive, and for that sin, he'd have to do it again, and again.
Nothing Sam could do would have brought him back, but what he had done, what he'd paid, was going to be what he did, and did, and did, till the weariness pulled him down and they weren't brothers anymore at all.
Just a special kind of demon and his keeper.
And in the naked light it turns
And silence like a cancer burns
Dean shifted in his seat again, flexing bruised knuckles on the steering wheel.
He didn't look over.

Take my hand that I might reach you
Hold my hand that I might keep you

Sam wanted to die.

[ntwrth-memberin.livejournal.com]

Title: n/a
Fandom/original: orig
Characters: precept, apprentice, townsfolk
Rating: PG
Word count: 444


"What are we going to do," the precept asked.

"I know not, my master."

"Well think of something!" The precept was unusually snappy today, largely due to the fact the end of his reign as leader appeared imminent. "You have as much interest in staying in this tower as I do! Unless the thought of that angry mob tearing you limb from limb by hand sounds enjoyable!"

The prospect paled noticeably. "No, of course not, my master. Aside from the escape ship you had arranged-"

"Which," the precept interrupted, "i will remind you again, is on the other side of the crowd who would be happy to see my not get there." He began pacing his large, opulent office. "They are in a frenzy. They are less interested in seeing justice done and more interested in seeing me done in."

"Perhaps if you apologized, master. Perhaps if you reversed some of your lesser edicts..."

"What on earth are you talking about? Lift the taxes? Return the food? Bring their martyrs back to life? Do you think before you open your mouth? Why on earth did I take you on as an apprentice? You are useless! Get out of my sight!" The precept shot a slippered foot out from under his robe, striking the apprentice and knocking him to the floor. The apprentice jumped up and quickly scuttled away.

The precept was deep in thought when a voice boomed through the air. Abruptly he stopped pacing, listening to the voice of the apprentice an abject horror.

"People of Janista! Hear my words! I am the apprentice no longer! I chose not to follow the misguided leadership of the precept! His concepts are wrong! His interests are his own! He has no interest in your well being! He has treated me poorly and he has treated you worse!"

The precept stood rooted to the spot, not daring to believe what was coming next, yet know with certainty his doom was sealed.

"I will not be party to your suffering! I will not be party to further beatings! I am part of this society as sure as you are the heart of this city!" A low rumbling far below indicated the gates had been opened. "I give you the precept! I give you the contents of the building! If you wish it, I will give you myself as well!" The floor vibrated with the heavy footsteps of the mob making their way up the stairs; the vents echoing their cries for blood and justice. "Excise the corruption! Remove the cancer! Bring an end to your suffering!"

Shoulders slumped in resignation, the precept slowly made his way downstairs.