#ttfinfected

[v-mortysdimension-blog]

V looked at the nasty rash with a sigh escaping his lips. He tried all kinds of ointments but none seemed to make it either better or atleast take away some of the bad itch. He looked in the mirror tiredly to see it having spread to his face, a groan leaving his lips. Ohwell... Give it a few days and it’ll probably decrease, might just be an allergic reaction to some chemical he had helped Mort with.

[evil-mortimer]

After decontaminating herself at Times Hollow, Summer portals onto the front porch of she and Meg's old safe house in Appenzell. It was always one of her favorites, small and warm, tucked into some tall trees at the base of a mountain. It's drizzling—a chilly rain in the autumn Swiss Alps. Appropriate, as she has no good news to offer him. Nothing but a bag of supplies. She lets herself into the front door. "Mortimer, it's Summer."

He hears Summer from outside the door, and mutters a weak “Coming!” from inside. He stands up from the couch with a bit of difficulty, dragging his feet to the door to unlock it and open it, not realizing it was already open for her to walk through. He smiles a small, defeated smile when she’s standing there with some supplies. “Hello, Summer.” He smirks and chuckles a bit, feeling much more positive. “What a surprise.”

[get-finchy2]

Finch is passed out face down at her desk, dead asleep to a canopy of vents whirring in the background. After a while she shifts, scratching her neck unconsciously, before settling again. Finch is startled awake when a smoke alarms goes off, and she curses.

“No, no no no no!” She grabs the vial of spilling over chemical with her prosthetic, and the material of her hand starts to sizzle. She panics and drops it, and it shatters on the floor, the liquid quickly eating through the surface. Finch groans. She was so exhausted she had forgotten all about her experiment.

[little-smol-mort-blog]

M-My eyes are all itchy and runny. I've been rubbing at them so much it's starting to sting. The rashes a-are getting worse too, it's growing down my arms and it all itches like crazy. I've tried everything you can get over the counter, but I guess I s-should have known it would have been useless. I'm so tired, I'm so tired I almost don't have the energy to scratch anymore. I-I just want it to stop....I just want it to stop.

[annie-ice-cream]

Annie scratched at the itch on her neck. She’d thought it would go away eventually but it was pretty persistent. She shrugged a bit. Must have brushed up against something like poison ivy while she was out last.

[wabbalabbadingdong-blog]

10 a.m. It's way past usual time rick would wake up, but he's still in bed. "Oh fuccckk" he groans as he stretches for the umpteenth time and rubs his eyes again. He goes to sit up, instantly clutching his head as the room starts spinning a bit. He chuckles lightly to himself, "I didn't have /that/ much to drink last night..." he goes to lay back down, turning his face into the pillow. He mindlessly goes to scratch his head, much rougher than usual as his hand starts to travel down his face and neck, heat soon rising in his body, an insatiable need to scratch. He's scratching all over himself now: his back, his legs, his stomach, everywhere. He's grunting to himself, expletives spewing like a fountain. "Goddammit goddammit GODDAMMIT why am I so itchy!?" Rick huffs to himself as he tries to still his body and cease itching, only to begin again a few moments later. A realization hits him. "Fuck."

[settingsummer]

Mass Text to the Infected

Summer paces in the medbay as Mordecai sleeps, typing out texts with shaking hands. [Text from Summer]: There are supplies (latex gloves, water, soylent, clean clothes, tissues, etc) in the public shed by the beach in Dimension α-33 thanks to @askmortica.  [Text from Summer]: If you’re sending a healthy friend, have them wear gloves and a surgical mask if they have them. [Text from Summer]: If you’re infected, please approach NO ONE, whether they look healthy or not.  [Text from Summer]: Do NOT portal into the post office or into any buildings.  [Text from Summer]: If you need supplies and you can’t make it there on your own, text me and I’ll try to get them to you.  [Text from Summer]: Forward these messages to anyone who needs them.

[get-finchy2]

Finch stood in her towel, scowling, looking at the green rash in the mirror. It had spread over most of her body, and she had woken up with green crust at the corners of her eyes. She took a wet cloth from the counter and scrubbed her face, then dropped it straight into the can when she finished. Leaning over her sink, she splashed her face a few times with cold water, and then looked up at herself in the mirror. Finch looked like hell. She stared at herself for a few seconds, her now glassy eyes were void and bloodshot, and every few minutes they began to leak. She gagged.

Finch had given herself sedatives a few minutes before hopping into her oatmeal bath, in hopes of stopping the irritation. It didn’t help nearly as much as it should’ve, if anything they increased her discomfort.