SENDER forces RECEIVER to keep moving despite exhaustion.

SENDER lifts RECEIVER over an obstacle they can't clear alone.

OUR MUSES get separated briefly and panic sets in.

OUR MUSES light a fire for warmth using scavenged materials.

OUR MUSES wade through floodwater, gripping each other for balance.

OUR MUSES emerge into daylight to see how much the world has changed.

SENDER blocks RECEIVER from seeing something horrifying.

OUR MUSES take turns standing watch through the night.

OUR MUSES navigate by landmarks that no longer exist.

SENDER covers RECEIVER'S mouth to keep them quiet.

SENDER confesses fear to RECEIVER in a rare quiet moment.

OUR MUSES shelter in a vehicle that may not hold.

SENDER gives up their share of medicine for RECEIVER.

SENDER promises RECEIVER they'll get through this together.

OUR MUSES climb to higher ground as water rises.

SENDER wakes RECEIVER just in time to avoid danger.

SENDER helps RECEIVER wash ash or grime from their face.

OUR MUSES mourn someone they couldn't save.

SENDER collapses and RECEIVER helps them back up.

OUR MUSES cling to each other as the ground shakes.

OUR MUSES listen to emergency broadcasts on a dying radio.

OUR MUSES sneak through an area crawling with danger.

OUR MUSES share the last dry blanket between them.

OUR MUSES shelter together as debris batters the structure around them.

OUR MUSES argue quietly over whether to leave shelter or stay.

SENDER gives RECEIVER the last flashlight battery.

SENDER shares a memory with RECEIVER to distract from fear.

SENDER gives RECEIVER their coat despite the cold.

OUR MUSES break into an abandoned building looking for supplies.

OUR MUSES follow a map they don't fully trust.

SENDER scouts ahead while RECEIVER waits, terrified and alone.

OUR MUSES hold onto each other in complete darkness.

OUR MUSES move through ruins that were once familiar.

OUR MUSES barricade a door as something pounds on the other side.

SENDER cleans blood from RECEIVER'S hands, steady and careful.

SENDER hands RECEIVER a weapon.

OUR MUSES share whispered plans over a flickering flashlight.

OUR MUSES hide in silence, listening for signs they've been found.

OUR MUSES ration food between them, unsure when help will come.

OUR MUSES wait out the storm in a cramped, unsafe space.

SENDER teaches RECEIVER how to start a fire without matches.

SENDER teaches RECEIVER how to use a weapon they've never used before.

SENDER drags RECEIVER out of a wrecked vehicle.

SENDER reassures RECEIVER during a panic attack.

SENDER carries RECEIVER when they can no longer walk.

OUR MUSES share a silent moment of relief after surviving something close.

OUR MUSES watch the skyline burn or collapse from a distance.

SENDER makes a hard call that puts them both at risk.

SENDER helps RECEIVER breathe through shock.

SENDER pulls glass from RECEIVER'S skin carefully.

SENDER pulls RECEIVER into cover just as something explodes nearby.

SENDER refuses to leave RECEIVER behind.

OUR MUSES wait for rescue that may never come.

SENDER struggles to pull RECEIVER back from a collapsing ledge.

OUR MUSES wait out danger inches apart, barely breathing.

He jolts into action as the orange goes flying. With the over-ripe fruit trapped -- somewhat squished -- between his hands, Whitby stares at Missouri with wide, buggish eyes. ❛ ..They will be. You'll see. ❜ He's had plenty of people cast their doubt upon his work before. This is hardly anything new.

He swiftly begins peeling the rest of the orange, all too aware of the way bits of its skin get trapped, sticky and sweet, under his nails. He consoles himself with the knowledge that at least this way the scent might linger a little longer, even if it feels unpleasant. Whitby splits the orange in half and steps forward to offer Missouri his portion.

He accepts it, though, and peels off a slice to pop into his mouth. He chews thoughtfully, and hums.

"I think Overbeck has Battleship," he muses.

❛ ...oh, i see what you're doing. that's very funny. ❜

"Hey, did I say anything?"

He picks up an orange from the cooler and inspects it. A bit soft, a bit past its best, but then again, after a few weeks here, very little fresh food remains. He takes up a knife and peels off a curl of rind.

"I never said they don't. In fact, I look forward to receiving your findings. You are a fine scientist, I am certain they will be revolutionary," he deadpans.

got so obsessed with “The Stranger” Jonas from Dark that the only logical thing to do next is watch 1899

❛ you're drunk, ❜ he accuses missouri, entirely disregarding his own half - empty glass. swiftly, whitby pulls himself to his feet to stalk after him. there's something about the way missouri has physically withdrawn himself that makes it feel as though he's trying to run away. whitby won't have it. the whiskey, of course, has made him more daring. he wouldn't typically be bold enough to chase after someone like missouri.

"What, are you telling me something like that would be beyond your capabilities?"

whitby perches on the very edge of his seat, practically hovering mid - air from the sheer intensity of his focus. it was a gamble, really. he wasn't sure this tactic would work with missouri. the man is sharp. and yet, there it is: whitby's opening.

the long days must be getting to him. with a carefully controlled expression, whitby presses his next move into the keyboard... and hits enter just a bit too enthusiastically.

❛ fool's mate, ❜ he crows over the tinny beeps that come from the computer. a sultry, feminine voice pipes up from the device:

bishop to g-6. check.

It isn't so much that he is a sore loser in general, as it is that he is sore to lose so quickly, and to Whitby of all people. To make matters worse, Whitby's expression is bright and smug, and perhaps even a little mocking.

Missouri must be losing his mind. He takes a sip of his whiskey and sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"You cheated," he grunts, and swirls the last sip of his drink around in his glass. A plan is forming in his mind. Impulsive, perhaps, but all but guaranteed to wipe the grin off of Whitby's mouth.

He scans the board, as though searching for signs of Whitby's obvious deception, but it is not the glowing outlines of the chess pieces that he is looking at. His breath leaves him in a resigned puff of air, his mouth pressed tight in a serious line.

With a quick movement and deft fingers, Missouri reaches forward and pries the plastic off of the control panel, then dumps the remaining contents of his glass into the exposed machinery. It flickers and sparks, and the light of the board blinks out.

it's still alive inside you.

open your mouth, wider.

i can hear it chewing.

that's not blood, that's something else..

stop crying or it'll come back!

it learned how to scream.

you taste different now.

hold still, this won't hurt..

you're not supposed to be breathing!

don't pull it out yet!

let it finish.

you feel that, don't you?

it's nesting..

that wasn't a dream.

you left teeth marks in the wall.

your shadow moved first.

your bones are rearranging themselves.

i watched you die..

it wants you awake for this part.

you smell like rot.

that sound is coming from your chest.

you're leaking.

don't wipe it off.

let me see.

it likes when you beg.

your skin doesn't fit anymore.

tear it off, slowly.

something's knocking from the inside.

your eyes keep blinking out of sync.

that's not your heartbeat.

it crawled out while you were sleeping.

you fed it again, didn't you?

it's wearing you wrong.

peel it back.

there's more underneath.

it's growing teeth where there shouldn't be teeth..

you were prettier before.

don't scream, screaming makes it stronger.

it remembers where you hid.

you forgot something inside the body, go back and get it.

it's cold where your organs should be.

that limb doesn't belong to you.

it followed the sound of your voice.

stop talking!

you woke it up.

you're not supposed to see this many ribs..

why are your hands inside me?

you promised you'd stop.

it's still hungry..

you can feel it chewing, can't you?

it knows when you're lying.

it knows when you're afraid.

it knows when you want it.

your reflection blinked.

keep pressure on it!

it's breathing through the wound.

you're smiling like it hurts.

your blood tastes familiar.

how long has it been wearing your skin?

don't look at me like that.

i didn't invite it, it came with you.

your spine sounds loose.

hold my hand so i know you're real.

you're dripping on the floor.

don't waste it.

lick it up.

you left fingerprints on the inside.

it's counting your breaths.

that was a warning.

it wants to come out now.

help me open you.

you're growing something.

don't flinch.

you twitched and now it's angry.

your mouth is too full.

spit it out.

you shouldn't be able to bend like that.

you're almost beautiful this way.

i can hear your organs arguing.

it hates when you resist.

let it have you, just a little.

you're already halfway gone.

your scream doesn't sound human anymore.

that's a new sound.

you learned it fast

you're bleeding through your eyes.

it likes you best.

it chose you, it always chooses you.

why are you warm like that?

that's not fever.

you're rotting wrong.

you're rotting alive.

you don't get to die yet.

you're not done being useful.

i need to see if it’s still there.

don't let it see you cry.

it thinks that's flirting.

you're shaking like prey.

hold still, or you'll scare it.

it's learning your habits.

it's practicing your voice.

i heard you calling me, but your mouth wasn't moving?

you left pieces everywhere.

clean it up.

it can grow back from scraps.

your hands aren't yours anymore.

you're bleeding onto something important.

it's waking up again.

you're glowing where it touched you.

you don't belong to yourself anymore, you never really did.

let it finish the job.

you're so close to being empty.

you look better broken.