The Plague Doctor AU is so dark and romantic.
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The Plague Doctor AU is so dark and romantic.
chaoticspaces replied to your post “im still really reallu fucking fond of the plague au”
eeeee black-stained lips and shaky fingers and the lingering scent of rot. weight slowly dropping, pound after pound, until they’re a frame, not a person. cities that are ghostly in the day, but suffer so loud at night. funeral pyres and mourning crowds and piles of corpses whose limbs poke out of the loose, gritty soil they’ve been buried in. black magic? a desperate attempt to ward away the sickness? last stances and agonal gasping, whole towns reduced to graveyards
listen god im semi sorta kinda wet over the aesthetic.
when polis is a city by the sea? stagnant and still in the thick soupy summer heat? not enough of a breeze off the ocean. someone stumbling along cobblestones before they pitch forward? hit the stone? crack their head and their yellow eyes stare blind? no one touches him? not for days. not until he starts to rot and a body cart finally comes to fetch him.
not enough people to burn the bodies? working day and night but there just isnt enough of them? bodies piling up on the beach? rotting on the sand. more and more and they cant burn them fast enough,
family killing family! neighbors killing neighbors? mercy kills and acts of mindless anxious fear?
no one allowed in and no one allowed out
the endless forever fucking heat.
candles in windows! paint on doorways to mark houses where sick people are.
lexa and city priests and spirit workers trying to appeal to the cosmos? lexa swaying? keeps blinking long and slow? sleep gunk at the corners of her mouth and eyes. her mouth tastes bitter and sour and dear god please let her make it through this before she throws up? her knees bluckling out from under her! catchign herself on the table. “fuck…im sorry”
her people are dying and she almost thinks she can hear them in her head? begging her to help them? save them? she wants to. she wants to so badly but she can hardly form a coherent thought, let alone snatch a plan out of the air.
“lexa you should be resting” clarke would say. fingers threading through her limp greasy hair.
“i just wanna watch the sun set, please,” because she feels like her time is almost up?? just wants to hear the gulls and the distant crash and roar of the surf.
quite sure she’ll fall asleep and never wake up again. and she’s scared, yeah. and angry. suffering and sad and guilty?? just wants to watch the sunset and have clarke pet her hair.
Press conference on 1/30/2016, WHO is accused of using human test subjects in preliminary vaccine trials, and knowingly subjecting subjects to a more painful death than the plague would have caused.
A White Knight With A Shining Syringe.
WHO launched their vaccine this morning. They said it’s been affective on 8 out of 10 patients, and they have hope for more people to be returning to help within the next 24 hours. WHO looked the knight in shining armor, until my favorite reporter, Christina Amanpour stood up and ask the question we were all thinking. What happens to the 2 out of 10?
That’s when the representative from WHO looked down at his shoes, and said the ugly truth. The people who aren’t cured die from painful spasms that the vaccine causes. IT’s too painful for the body to handle after the plague tears through the body’s immune system. So to you 2 out of 10? I’m sorry, I hope I’m not one of you.
Marco?
Is anybody out there? I haven’t left the house in weeks. And when Dad died, they just carted him away. The plague is getting more and more intense, and I can’t tell if Mom is crying or coughing. Maybe it’s both. But, please, is anybody out there?
Escape? More Like Mission Impossible.
His name was Harry Johnson, and he leapt over the quarantine wall and ran until he reached an inn. He said he was fine after 30 minutes of arguing with the owners. They finally let him stay, and that was their mistake. By morning, the whole inn had been infected, and people from the UN were breaking down their doors. They had all been carted away by noon. And as for Harry Johnson? He died in his bed that morning.
Sweeping Us Out
It’s sweeping us out. The plague is spreading from the rural areas of Zimbabwe, to the city of Cairo. People are sick everywhere. Hospitals are getting overcrowded, and doctors are falling by the dozens, despite all the precautions they’ve been taking...
My dad got sick the other day. He’s not coughing up blood yet, but I’m sure he will soon. Mom’s scared, and so am I. A Master’s in Microbiology can’t help me now, though I wish it could. Things are scary right now, and WHO is disturbingly quiet.
Here, people try and stop the spread of the plague by wearing masks and other protective gear.