#but this mostly came from me looking at the bleach tag and seeing the glow-up

[alteredphoenix]

A fic in which Tatsuki is invited to Ichigo and Orihime's wedding post-canon and just. Takes it all in. At what could've been, imagining herself in Ichigo's place. But such is life, and she's not going to get in the way of things. Princesses always go for the knight, never the dragon. So it goes.

After a while she leaves the venue. Chizuru's out there, and under all that clownery she can tell something's up; she's not quite the fool she paints herself out to be. They shoot the breeze as the night wheels high overhead. No one's noticed they've left. Ichigo and Orihime haven't noticed (the guys, however, might have - Chad and Keigo and Mizuiro, all quiet glances and subtle, gentle words with hidden meanings).

The night is young. There's a bar down the street that's open 24/7 that always has baseball games running on the wireless TV sets - the one with the pool tables and poker machines. The wet bar isn't anywhere near fancy as the ones the hall's serving, but they're delectable and succulent in their own way. Chizuru suggest they go there, unwind (doesn't say, merely shows in the way the streetlights glint off her glasses, it's to help Tatsuki get her mind off the wedding, and all the possibilities that could have been).

It doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Not a bad idea, at all. Tatsuki agrees and goes with her.

#like most of my ideas - about 95% of them - they come to me out of the ether at work #this one occurred around...two weeks ago IIRC? yeah. two weeks #but this mostly came from me looking at the bleach tag and seeing the glow-up #the karakura town cast got with kubo's current art style #bear in mind i haven't watched bleach since the end of the bount arc #and yeaaaars before TYBW got announced for its anime adaptation #so i'm waaaay behind #i'd have to watch/read bleach from the very beginning all over again #even if the human cast just phases out after - what - the fullbring arc? #always makes me wonder if the other students were ever going to be 'more' than just that #which is a shame b/c i think if there was somebody in that group that deserved the most attention #it had to be tatsuki b/c of how integral she was to orihime getting her powers #idk that's another topic i'd need to get into at another time #this turned out to be an odd little idea #b/c from what i remember chizuru was always that 'gonna sexually harass you For The Lulz' kind of girl #but she kind of just showed up in this WIP so i'm like 'yeah i think i can make it work' #bleach #armi's wip ideas

[smediumsmeatbae]

Just a Little Taste

PAIRING: Landlord!Robert Pronge x Reader 

SUMMARY: You just wanted a little ice cream

WORDS: 1005

WARNINGS: mentions of death, murder, confinement, swearing, general creepiness. This would probably get a TV-14, like a Law and Order episode rating so nothing is too bad, I just want everyone warned. 

A/N: Whew! This was my first time writing Robert Pronge and I have to say, I really enjoyed writing this creepy little fic. The last half really wrote itself. I’d love to get him out to play a little more if you guys like this fic. 

I also took a few liberties with the story. I know that the killings mostly took place in New Jersey, but I couldn't really give Reader a good enough reason to move there, so we went a little more north to New York City for the setting. I did, however, make the reader from Dumont, NJ, which is where Richard Kuklinski, from the iceman murders, was based in the movie. And obviously, Robert was never a landlord (that we know of) but he would be the perfect creepy one. 

This is also another entry for the #shamelesshoesforchris challenge by @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18. I used the prompts: creepy landlord and “shhh, be good for me.” 

Please do not post my work elsewhere without my permission

Likes are amazing. Comments and reblogs are better. 

Tags will be in the reblog because tumblr suuuuucks. 🤣

--------****--------

It wasn’t that long ago that you moved into the Gallant Apartments in New York City, but you could tell that something was… off. It wasn’t that the building was old. Buildings aged and you liked the 1960′s characteristics that the complex held; it had a retro appeal. It may have been the surrounding block that the building was on. It seemed that every time you left the area, everything seemed… lighter. It sounded delusional but you swore there was a dark cloud that hung over the place. Then, there was the landlord, Robert Pronge. He seemed like one of those guys who tried to seem nice on the surface, but he was shifty. He insisted that everyone call him Mr Freezy on account of the ice cream truck he drove part time. He had stringy dirty brown hair, glasses that practically covered his own face, and a goatee. Every time you passed him in the hallway, you got this feeling from him, like he was watching you.  

Still, you had just uprooted your entire life from a small town in Dumont, New Jersey. You had said goodbye to everyone and came to New York City on the promise of a new writing career. You weren't about to let a creepy landlord with too much time on his hands get in the way of you living your dream. He could be creepy and sell his creepy little popsicles by himself. You were going to keep to yourself, mind your manners, and pay rent on time. 

A few months went by without you all talking that much except for the occasional maintenance issues. You seemed to get on his nerves just talking to him, like every question or concern you had for him ripped an invisible hole in his body. It truly baffled you why he was even in tenant leasing if it was going to be so annoying to him. 

Then, July came. It was sweltering hot, hotter than you could remember it in a long time. Sweat would bead on your forehead just from walking outside to dump your garbage. As you walked home from work, you felt like your insides were barbecuing. The sunburn you were going to have on your pale skin was going to be brutal. You needed relief, you needed the cold. 

That’s when you spotted the truck. 

The Mr. Freezy truck, that damn white and blue beauty. It was parked there like it was waiting for you, having an angelic glow for you, asking you, pleading with you to come in and get some delicious ice cream. Robert wouldn’t mind one, you reasoned with yourself. You would tell him later and pay him back.   

You walked towards the truck, taking care to be cautious with the locks and opening of the back door. The smell was different than you'd expected. You'd thought it would smell of ice cream and coolant from the freezers but there was something else there just under the surface. Something surgical smelling. Maybe bleach? You brushed the thought aside as you stepped into the truck, in search of your delicious treat. 

You opened the first freezer on the right and saw just a few things, nothing that grabbed you right off. You did like the bomb pops but you were looking for one of those lemon ice things. You closed the freezer and went to the one on the left, casually opening it. 

You weren't sure what you were looking at when you first opened it. It took your mind a second to process that there were eyes staring back at you instead of what should have been frozen treats.  What… What the hell. What. The. HELL!?! There was a body in the freezer. A DEAD BODY WAS STARING AT YOU. You shrieked out in terror and backed away from the freezer, your body slamming with the freezer on the other side. Your heart was slamming out of your chest, you were trying to remember how to breathe. What the fuck were you going to do?

“What are you doing in here?” A low voice murmured towards you. 

Your head turned, wide eyed and terror running through you. Robert was standing there, shoulders tense. Eyes black coal and steady. You could see his eyebrows furrowed under the frames of his glasses. 

He hopped up into the back of the truck with you and shut the freezer door then looked you  up and down as if he was deciding what to do with you. All you could do was tremble, your body visibly shaking. He turned and closed the door to the truck, leaving you and Robert in there together. 

“I....” Grabbing onto the freezer door to steady yourself, you noticed how your voice seemed so meek and small. “I... Just wanted some ice cream…”

“Well, that wasn’t the right one, was it.” 

“R-robert please. I’m sor-” You choked out. 

Quickly, he took two steps forward and was right up against you, planting his hands on either side of you on the freezer, eyes blazing at you. He pressed his body on you and stuck his face close to yours. You tried to back away but you had nowhere to go. 

You couldn't scream. Your mouth felt like sandpaper scraping against itself. Your legs felt like jelly. A cruel sneer found its way onto Roberts mouth as he looked down at you like you were a new toy. He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small switchblade, making it pop out with his thumb. 

“Goin’ places you don’t belong? Stickin your nose where it don’t belong, huh baby?” He whispered, using one of his hands to grab your arm. “Someone should teach you a lesson, hmm?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean…” You pleaded. 

“Shhh, be good for me.” He had a low growl as he gripped tighter to your arm making you whimper. “Don’t scream again and this will go much easier.”

"Oh... I'm going to have so much fun with you."

#the iceman fanfiction #robert pronge fanfiction #robert pronge #robert pronge x reader #robert pronge x y/n #robert pronge x you #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fandom #shamelesshoesforchris

[jtrahan]

I’ve always known I was going to be eaten by a witch on my thirteenth birthday.

It wasn’t a secret or anything. In the morning my brothers and sisters would get on the school bus to go to kindergarten and my mother would drive me to daycare with all the other Witch Kids. That was what they called us; we had little name tags with “Witch Kids” in curly writing at the top and little drawing of black cats or steaming cauldrons at the bottom. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, being a Witch Kid. Our teachers stressed this over and over again. Some kids would grow up to be teachers or lawyers or police officers, and some kids would be eaten by the witch to ensure the town’s continued prosperity. Both were equally important. We had a little picture book featuring a story to this effect, in which a whole bunch of smiling cartoon children in various career-themed outfits waved cheerful goodbyes to the beaming Witch Kids ascending the stairs to the witch’s house. When we got older, we were expected to read this book to the younger children. There was a new one in the class every year. They needed to be taught these things. They didn’t always understand what an honor it was to be eaten by the witch.

---

“What if I didn’t, though,” I said desperately.

My mother paused, the dinner tray halfway through the slot at the bottom of my door. From my position on the floor I could just see the bottom half of her face as she crouched down to insert the tray. Her mouth was smiling.

“Sweetie,” she said. “We talked about this. What do we do when there are things that make us nervous? We get them over with, quickly, like a band-aid. And they’re never really as bad as we worried they’d be.”

“I think this one might be pretty bad,” I said. There was a calendar on the back of my door, all the blank white days of October obscured by red Xs. All but one.

“I googled how to hotwire a car,” I said. “And how to drive a car. And what different road signs mean. You wouldn’t have to help me or anything. Just let me sneak out to the garage. You can say it was an accident. They’ll believe you.”

“I though I raised you better than this,” said my mother disapprovingly. Her mouth trembled for a moment, but maintained its smile. “I know it’s unpleasant, but there are a lot of people counting on you. I’m counting on you. You don’t want to let me down, do you?”

“Could I let you down just this once, maybe,” I said. My cheek was pressed against the carpet, and I could feel my tears soaking into it. “Please, mom. Please. I’m begging you. Please let me go. I’ll do anything.”

Two teardrops rolled down the sides of my mother’s face and dripped into my mashed potatoes. Her mouth was a rictus, sickly and fixed.

“We all have to do our part,” she said. “Eat up. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

---

They came with torches and pitchforks. Just a precaution, they explained. They sounded half apologetic, and continued apologizing as they dragged me down the stairs, my fingernails leaving gashes in the wallpaper. Just making sure everything is done properly, that’s all. Just going by the book.

On main street a parade had assembled, schoolkids blowing tunelessly on their instruments or practicing baton spins, cub scouts treading absentmindedly on the banner they were supposed to be carrying, old men at the back of the line perched on the seats of polished tractors. There was a float in the middle, hitched to a black pickup truck, and in its center was a chair, with manacles on each arm, and clasps on the legs at ankle height. Just a precaution, m’dear, the mayor assured me, as he gave me his arm so I could climb onto the float, pitchforks pricking my back. Just in case. Perhaps we could only chain one arm, do you think? It does look much better if you wave to the people as you go by. Here, we have a bowl of candy you can throw to the kids. Make sure you’re getting the ones at the back! The mayor patted my shoulder kindly. Don’t be nervous, dear. You look very nice. Remember to wave slowly. It’s all in the wrist.

It was unseasonably warm for the end of October. Sweat dripped down the mayor’s face. He stepped down from the float and said something to the driver, and the parade started off, crawling slowly past the gas station and the pharmacy and the tents of the farmers market. Somebody clattered a pitchfork near my feet, and I raised my hand, slowly turning it back and forth, back and forth. Families lined the sidewalks. “Please,” I said, waving, sobbing, nose running and dripping onto my dress. “Please help me.” The parents stood and watched me. The kids at the edge of the road shrieked for candy. Everybody clapped.

---

At the witch’s house the parade paused, and there was some consternation because the mayor had dropped the key to my chains somewhere, or left them in his other coat, or something. God damn it, I heard him hissing at the town treasurer, I don’t know where it is, just get her out of there somehow. The mayor kept checking his watch. The sun had gone behind a cloud, but he was still sweating, stains blossoming on his shirt. “We’re almost of time,” he whispered, glancing furtively up the path to the witch’s house. “Somebody get a crowbar or something. She’ll be expecting us. We have to get this done.”

In the end they pried the manacles loose with a hammer, and I stepped down onto the pavement with chains dangling from my writs, nails still sticking out of the metal plate at the end.

The witch’s house glowered over us, three stories of shattered windows and paint worn colorless, a tower of broken boards and cobwebs and rot. I looked up at it and I looked back and the crowd pressed in close and there was no help there, no way out, nothing. I had half made up my mind to die right there on the end of a pitchfork, but my body wouldn’t quite let me.

Up the steps, boards creaking. Through the doorway, a shower of dust falling down onto my hair. Into the darkness. Into the house.

---

The inside of the witch’s house was almost incomprehensibly destroyed, as though some monstrous arm had smashed everything it could reach, and kept on smashing until it died of exhaustion. A staircase to the second floor had collapsed into ruin. Splintered objects at the edges of the room might once have been furniture. There was a chandelier in the middle of the floor, shattered and covered in a thick layer of cobwebs and dust. The darkness was suffocating. I could feel my breath quickening with panic, out of my control, and I tried to push backwards out of the door, but it was stuck fast. My own gasping filled my ears, and I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t breath, I couldn’t--

From the space between my body and the door, where no one could possibly have been standing, a hand pressed into my back.

Well, said the house, in the language of creaking boards, Let’s have a look at you.

Slowly, inexorably, the hand at my back began to push me forward, my shoes sliding through the dust and splinters, towards a hallway at the back of the room. The hallway was moving. The hallway breathed like a lung.

---

At the end of the hallway there was a light.

“No,” I said. “No, no, no, no, no, no--”

The ghostly hand gave a sudden shove, and I stumbled forward, into the light.

I was in a kitchen, tiled all in white. The refrigerator was white. The stove was white. The pristine countertops where white. The plates and cups on the table were mostly white, with a pattern of cherries around the edges. I blinked. The light was almost blinding.

The witch was sitting at the table, doing the crossword puzzle in the New York Times. She looked up as I entered. Her robe and hat were black and her face was grey and and more ancient than humanly possibly. She looked like a dead thing that had been bleaching on the side of the road after a week spent being knocked back and forth by passing motorists. She was chewing on the end of her pencil, and her teeth were jagged and rotten and black. As I entered, she looked up at me, milky eyes flickering in their sockets.

“Oh,” she said. “They sent another one, did they?”

My breath came back in a rush. I felt I was having what I imagined a heart attack would feel like. I felt like I was about to throw up on her floor.

The witch reached up to her mouth, and her rotten teeth slid forward into her hand. She placed the dentures on a little cherry patterned plate on the table. Something brushed past my legs, into the room: a small black cat, mewing impatiently. The witch stroked it with a long-nailed hand. She opened her mouth. She kept opening her mouth. She continued to open her mouth for a very long time. Empty gums stretched wide and wider, a doorway, a cave, tongue lolling forward like a stairway, leading down into the glistening dark.

“Well,” said the witch, somehow. “Come on, then. You better get in.”

---

There are many other children in here.

There is arcane knowledge glowing on the walls.

There is a thing with the head of a goat that speaks to us sometimes, in whispers, in a language we never knew we knew. This was never the plan, it tells us. The witch has been kind of bemused by this whole thing, to be honest. But no matter. If the fear is too much for them, if they’re still going to keep sending children, that’s fine. The witch has a place for us. She knows what to do with children.

In darkness we study the runes on the walls. In darkness the power of hell flows through us. In the darkness the voice whispers, its breath hot against our ears, calling us its children, its warriors, its army that will cover the world.

It’s almost time to go home.

#spilled ink #flash fiction #creative writing #Halloween

[boss-the-goofball]

Poor Unfortunate Souls

So I decided to write a thing for a Dadvid/Gwenvid “Little Mermaid AU” because I got the song “Poor Unfortunate Souls” stuck in my head after reading it from good ol’ @directium ‘s playlist for her “Daniel’s Descension AU” (the list of songs Gwen gives Daniel to listen to)

Please please please please PLEASE do NOT tag this as Max///vid. Thank you.

In any case, hope you enjoy this little self-indulgent piece. (Also whoever actually made this AU please come forward so I can tag you properly and give proper credit!)

“Listen, David. Are you sure about this?” Gwen asked, her dark eyes holding concern as she looked around. It felt like something was watching the both of them, waiting patiently with a hungry gaze. The sound of something slithering caused her to shiver, though she mostly blamed it on the cold temperature of the cave they were swimming in.

“I mean, what if he’s just really sick? Neptune knows what kind of ailments humans could catch. If it’s anything like what Harrison caught last month then he could be down for weeks,” She continued, setting a gentle hand on David’s shoulder.

David shook his head. “I’m sorry, but he hasn’t been at the docks recently and I’m really worried. What if the people who abandoned him decided to come back and take him to a new place just to abandon him again? Or what if he got kidnapped by even worse people? Or even-” he rambled, bringing his webbed hands through his hair as he started tugging at it.

Seeing her mate in distress, Gwen pursed her lips with pure concern. Normally David is really happy and a literal ball of sunshine, but now. Now he is a ball of stress, all over a human child whom they met only months ago.

She set both of her hands on David’s shoulders, letting out a soft clicking noise as she circled her thumb over the tattoo on his shoulder blade; black and simple that formed the symbol of the royal family, a symbol their human friend called a pine tree, whatever that is.

“Listen, David. We have enough magic accumulated to turn him into one of us, I am sure the royal family will grant you temporary legs so you can go see how things are going. There is no need to do anything risky,” she tried to reason.

David slowly relaxed, turning to stare at Gwen with his soft green eyes that reminded Gwen of seaweed. “It will take too long to get approval from the royal family. It could take months, maybe even a year and I can’t afford to let him suffer any longer. He is my son and I will not let this go on for any longer,” he said, voice filled with determination.

Gwen opened her mouth, about to try and convince David to consider a different option, but laughter filled the cave. She closed her mouth and looked around, not seeing anything.

“Oh good heavens, where have my manners gone?” A deep voice filled the cave. “Why, I forgot to light the area. Please excuse the mess you are about to see, why I was not expecting any company,” the voice continued, just as the cave lit up.

David and Gwen both brought hands to cover their eyes at the bright light, but when they were able to adjust they were shocked to find various waterproof scrolls just floating all over the place, shelves with all sorts of bottles and waterproof books, and even a cauldron that looked to be bubbling and almost overflowing into the very room they were in.

What surprised them most of all, was how the cave appeared to have actually been bleached of any and all potential color.

“Please, make yourselves at home while I clean up. Oh, would you care for some refreshments?” The voice asked, owner soon showing himself.

Gwen couldn’t help but shiver. This man looked like a washed out version of her mate, pale blonde hair in the exact same style, same nose, even same face shape as David. It was unnerving, and had he have the exact same tail then she probably would have fainted.

However, this man did not have a tail. Instead, he had eight white tendrils that were all reaching out to grab some of the stray papers along with his other arms.

“Er, no thank you,” Gwen said, looking at David and giving him a look that asked ‘Are you sure this is a good idea? I am getting some really bad vibes off of this guy.’

David shook his head. “No, we actually came here for a favor. See, I’m worried about this human boy my mate and I met a while ago,” he began, his hands now resting beside his green tail. He gave a sigh, looking down at the floor of the cave. “We were wondering if...if you would be willing to temporarily turn one of us human so we can check on this boy.”

“Oh you poor unfortunate souls,” the man practically sang, making his way closer towards the two merfolk. He tilted his head to the side, neck cracking eerily, as a tendril shoved Gwen aside so he could focus on David. “Apologies, sometimes these things have a mind of their own. You two may call me Daniel, and I understand your plight. I shall help you, but it always comes at a price,” Daniel chuckled softly to himself as he went to humming.

“David, this is not a good idea,” Gwen warned, her dark purple tail lashing out at a tendril that moved a little too close for her own comfort.

“Gwen, he is one of the last sea witches who can cast this spell in a timely manner,” David whispered. “What is your price?” he asked, staring Daniel down.

Daniel gave another chuckle, opening some books and scrolls before finding the right spell. “Well, the spell will last three days and you would have to give up your voice for the legs. If you do not return to the water in three days, then I am afraid your transformation will become permanent,” he explained, grabbing a blank parchment and writing up a contract. “Now we also have to deal with some legal proceedings, so your king can’t say what we’re doing is against his laws…” he started to ramble.

“But this whole thing is against our king’s laws! Listen David, this whole thing is too sketchy and very dangerous. Frankly, I don’t fucking trust this guy,” Gwen remarked, narrowing her eyes at Daniel with pure suspicion.

“Please watch your language,” Both David and Daniel said simultaneously. They looked at each other, David giving a very bright grin while Daniel held a wide grin that was more unnerving to Gwen.

“Well, you could stick with me. I like to make my price known and clear, or you could go to the other sea witch. A real devil of the sea, then again he has his eye on the king who imprisoned him. Why, I hear he wants him as a mate and would probably use your plight to bring himself closer to said king,” Daniel chuckled darkly to himself.

“He takes advantage of poor unfortunate souls such as yourselves. He might even want to claim your souls for his collection, putting them in pain. In need,” he continued to hum, leering at the two merfolk as his tendrils wrapped themselves around their waists and brought them closer to him. “Why, compared to him I’m a saint. Helping those in need, and for a fair price.”

David shook his head, eyes completely wide as he looked at Gwen. He then looked at Daniel once more. “Please tell me the details of the contract,” he finally said after a few moments.

“Excellent choice! Now,” Daniel began, unfurling the contract as he held a pen out to David. “In exchange for your voice, I will give you legs for three days. Before the sun sets on the final day, you must return to the sea lest you remain human forever. Now I also require a fee of my own. I need a suitable offering for my gods, which I will collect after your deadline. Do we have a deal?”

David took one last look at Gwen, noticing the worried look she gave. As he took the pen, he gave a nod. “Deal,” he said, singing the contract and watching as it rolled up and went into Daniel’s hand.

“Wonderful!” Daniel cheered, clapping a couple tendrils together as he went towards the bubbling cauldron and began putting in various ingredients. “Now, I need you to start singing for me,” he said with a purr.

As soon as they were released, Gwen swam over and embraced David. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way,” she tried to reason one last time.

“Trust me Gwen, it will be fine,” David whispered, giving her a gentle kiss on the cheek as he turned towards the cauldron. He then opened his mouth and began to sing, closing his eyes and going louder with encouragement from Daniel.

Soon David could no longer feel anything come from his throat, and yet he could still hear his voice. When he opened his eyes, he could see a small glowing ball float towards Daniel as the sea witch went and put said ball into a jar.

When he went to ask something, David went wide eyed as not a single sound came out.

“Alright, now we just have to,” Daniel began to murmur, dipping a hand into the potion before cupping some of the liquid and pouring it into the jar. After putting a cork on it, he shook the jar and then tossed it at David. “There you go. Just head to the surface and drink this, you will have your legs then. Good luck!” He cheerfully said, giving both merfolk a wave as they swam out of his lair.

Gwen shot one last glare of suspicion at Daniel as she swam out with David. She then gave a sigh and set a hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? It isn’t too late. We can take this to our king and he can help us,” she offered.

David shook his head, looking up to the surface. He opened his mouth to try and tell Gwen, but he seemingly forgot that he gave up his voice. He looked to his mate and gave a smile before mouthing to her.

For Max.

#bosswrites #campcamp #cc david #cc gwen #cc daniel #the little mermaid au #dadvid #gwenvid #established gwenvid #merfolk #mermaid #merman #i had way too much fun with this #un-edited #please do not tag this as max///vid

[ladyhatty]

TW:Medical Talk TW: Dystopian tropes I can’t mention without killing a fun reveal but it’s in the tags

I was living in an arcology (y’know, like you do ) going on cool water slides, rock climbing, just having fun around the place. I was just wandering around thinking about grabbing some dinner when I met a lovely young lady. She was smart and funny, with cute short ruffled brown hair and a great laugh. I was completely smitten. Then I noticed when she laughed a lot or got excited or angry she’d get these big purple splotches on her skin. Not a human color, but bright amethyst purple. And at the center of a few of the larger blotches were small black/green splotches that never went away. She noticed me looking and said “You look surprised” I blushed “I am, I’ve never seen anything like that before, are you ok?” She looked disgusted “You people are killing us on mass and you say you don’t even know?” “What?” She looked dejected and deeply hurt “You really don’t know?” I nodded “Follow me” She lead me to the nearest elevator and up 80 floors, near the industrial areas. High enough that that air waste wouldn’t bother the outdoor gardens, parks, and other fun outdoor areas but low enough to not bother the ultra rich with the fancy views. We headed off the elevator down an industrial hallway towards a more run down area near the outer wall. There was a strange smell in the air that got stronger the further we went. We came to a door with a man behind a desk next to it. He looked at me critically and asked “You sure?” I looked at the girl, she took my arm and lead me to the door “She’s sure” He shrugged “Your funeral” and there was a beep and the door opened. The smell I’d been sensing got stronger and I thought I could identify it, smoke, medicine, and cooked meat. It wasn’t terribly pleasant but the girl seemed unphased so I just followed her.

The room we were in was large and cavernous, from my estimate it must have gone straight to the outer walls. The light was dim, it looked like there were large fluorescent lights in the ceiling but the glow was dissipated by the light smoke in the air.

People were mostly hunched around tables and going in and out of what looked like tents. I looked at the girl “What is this place? Nothing is supposed to be like this here.” I was confused and starting to feel sick, something was terribly wrong here.

She no longer looked disgusted, just sad “This is where we live. Can’t have us sickies around you regular people.”

“But you were out?” I felt like she was being intentionally vague or I didn’t know the right questions to ask.

She pointed to one of her sickly green black patches, the horrible word ‘gangrene’ sprang to mind “ Only 6%, once I’m over 25% I can’t leave, over 90% and it’s game over. Of course I’m still only allowed in the less crowded places.”

“You’re sick?” she nodded, “But with what? And is it contagious?” I tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt.

She noticed anyway and took a small step closer to me, she was getting those purple patches again and I could see a purple tint to her eyes as well “Only at 100%, so don’t worry, they don’t let that happen.”

I knew the answer before I asked but I had to ask just to keep hope, “Can’t they cure you sooner.” It wasn’t even really a question.

“They don’t cure us.” she started walking past me “Come on”

I followed her to the edge of the room where there were a series of rooms built into the wall with barred doors. The smell there was almost overwhelming, no more smell of medicine, just the smoke and meat with an undercurrent of strong bleach. There were large guards standing nearby. One came towards us and pointed at me. “She doesn’t go any closer.” My guide nodded. 

“I know, just showing her”

He grinned maliciously “Show doesn’t start for another 15 minutes.” As he laughed I could see his own purple patches come in, I guessed everyone in the room must be sick. Everyone but me.

She just gave him a withering glare. He just laughed and walked back to his post leaving us alone. I was trying to see what was behind the bars when a figure slammed against the door.

Their eyes were almost pure purple, with only slightly lighter and darker shades for the pupil and iris. All the skin I could see, their bald head, face, and hands, were almost entirely covered in that horrible brackish green with only two smaller blotches of dark purple.

I jumped, startled and they let out a horrible harsh laugh “Try seeing it in the mirror” they rasped out then pulled away from the bars, sinking back into the darkness of their cell. 

“That’s what 90% looks like.” My new friend said quietly, almost reverently. “That will be me in a few short years.”

I once again asked a question I didn’t want to “So what happens in 15 minutes?”

She sighed, “You really don’t want to see, let’s go somewhere more pleasant  and I can explain.” I nodded and she lead me back to the exit of the room.

There was another desk inside of the room, this one also flanked with guards. she stopped at the desk “Bridget, 486392.” she told the desk attendant. Bridget, I hadn’t even asked, thinks had gone too fast.

He nodded and typed into his computer “And her?” I automatically rattled off my own name and number “Paige, 486536.”

He typed on the computer again then looked up  “She’s not sick.” Bridget nodded. He looked me dead in the eye.“Get out of here while you can girl.”

I followed her out of the room without another word.

We walked back towards the elevator taking it back down to the floor of my apartment, the 19th. We sat down in my living room, after everything I’d seen it felt surreal to be home. Like I was showing off to have her here after seeing where she lived, but I didn’t know where else to take her for privacy for our conversation.

“You really didn’t know.” She said quietly.

“I don’t think most people do.” I said sadly. “But it’s not like it’s hidden, they just let me walk right in.”

She shrugged, “More people than you think know, they just don’t want to think about us.”

“So what is it? I’m sorry if that’s rude it’s just...insane.” I held my hands in front of me and realized I was shaking. I felt numb.

She shrugged “They haven’t told us a whole lot. You’re either born with it or you’re not.”

“It’s a genetic thing?” that just made the treatment of them feel even crueler.

“Not...really?” she sounded uncertain, “Your kids have a better chance to get it than mine. There’s something in the disease that makes the kids almost immune but it doesn’t get passed down. It makes us more fertile too.”

Suddenly so much made sense. Our society used a foster system for all children. You left your birth parent at birth and were given to a couple or person who wanted a child. We were always told it was a kindness, it meant the birth mother could recuperate from childbirth and fertile people could give birth without being stuck with parenting. Many people weren’t fertile anymore so it let people parent who otherwise couldn’t.

Or maybe that was all a lie. Maybe instead sick purple babies were taken from their healthy birth parents and sent off to the awful place I had just been. While healthy babies were taken from their sick parents and taken downstairs to a better life.

She said it made them more fertile. Falling birth rates had been a problem since long before I was born. It was another explanation for the foster system. Fertile adults could have as many babies as possible without being stuck raising a brood of children.

“So they just let you have our babies then die of being sick?” The percentages she mentioned flashed across my mind. “90%?”

She nodded sadly, “At 100% the disease has fully activated and we become super contagious,” She paused, from the look on her face I didn’t know if I wanted her to continue. “The skin dries , flakes off, becomes airborne. If they let someone get to that point the whole arcology would get sick.”

She bowed her head and when she spoke her voice was  on the edge of breaking “The person you saw in the cell, he’ll die in there. 15 minutes after we left they’ll fry the cell then bleach it, making sure nothing gets out.”

“We’re not just letting them die.” A voice said from behind me. Bridger and I both jumped.

I whipped around and there stood my roommate. I hadn’t even thought to check if he was home. ”Dylan..”

“We don’t just let them die,” he repeated himself, sitting down next to me. “We’ve been trying, we’re supposed to just be doing research on it.” He had just last year finished his doctorate and gone to work in the labs for infectious diseases. “But after seeing them, how could we not try to help. Dr. Pelton,” his lead at the lab,” and I have been working on a way to keep the upped fertility and immunity but cure the organ shutdowns.” I must have looked confused. “It’s not just the skin, the liver, kidneys, and so on break down as it progresses.”

Bridget had tears streaming down her cheeks. She whispered, “You’re looking for a cure?”

He got down on his knees in front of her and took her hands, looking her straight in the eyes. Not phased at all by the purple spreading across her face. “I promise you, we are doing everything we can to help. We just keep running into one major issue,we can’t try them without a volunteer. Will you help us.”

I expected her to be upset or offended but she didn’t even hesitate for a moment. “Yes. I’ve seen to many people die. It would be an honor.”

~~~~

So this was the first part of a dream I had last night and just had to get out. It’s not great, I haven’t written in ages but hopefully someone can still enjoy it. I want to keep it going if I can get the motivation going. We’re moving and have a toddler so my motivation tends to get eaten up pretty quickly.

#original fiction #weird dream #dystopian fiction #tw: medical talk #tw: government sanctioned murder #amateur writer #like really amateur I haven't written in years #queer fiction #inspired by Mira Grant