The I Love You! I Am So Proud Of You! Do I Want Kids? To Youre The Reason I Had Her Pipeline Is Something

the “i love you! i am so proud of you! do i want kids?” to “you’re the reason i had her” pipeline is something so personal actually

All of his humanity drained into a murky puddle

A Dark And Stormy Night

tw for minor body horror

it's a dark and stormy night.

to be entirely honest, it's cliche. it knows it's cliche, but it's all it can think, looking out the window. raindrops patter against its face and it winces, closing its eyes a little.

the already black sky is completely logged with clouds, lightning illuminating the darkness in spite of stars. it feels something uncomfortable shift in its ribs and grimaces, altering its position in the passenger seat to make up for it.

he glances over at it, looks away again. it doesn't blame him, imagines how it must look now. it notes quietly he doesn't have a rearview mirror or any on either side of the car- that's stupid, and dangerous, but it would also be stupid and dangerous to have them.

he doesn't tell it to roll the window up, but it does after a moment anyways. guilt drags heavy on its bones and skin, and the last thing it wants is to get the inside of his car wet.

it opens its mouth, finds its tongue and teeth aren't in the right positions, and closes it again. if it talks, it'll come out wrong. it doesn't want to make him any more uneasy than it already has.

"you alright over there, kid?" he doesn't take his eyes off the road when he finally breaks the sound of tires on wet asphalt, rain on the metal roof of the vehicle. "I mean, as alright as the circumstances can allow, obviously."

the engine hums in both their bones. bones that click into place. tendons that quietly shift under skin. minds that slowly meld into one. the catalyst was the spark. it's only a matter of time now before it all goes up in a burning inferno of hell.

why did you help me.

it puts a hand over its mouth, but that doesn't stop the sound, if you could even call it that. it isn't... physical, like vibrations from vocal chords. it's something tinged with static, something that curls around the edges of his already-curdling psyche. he winces, and it feels more guilty.

"I don't know," Thatcher admits at length, tapping out an uneasy rhythm on the steering wheel. "you're a kid. you deserve better than that."

it swallows thickly, bleach still burning the nerves behind its eyes. he'd expected it to kill him, but instead it just ate away at all the soft tissue until there was nothing human left but the murky red puddle at its feet. that's why it's an it, not a he.

I'm a monster.

Thatcher lets out a weak chuckle that gives way to a wet-sounding cough. "aren't we all?"

you have no idea how true that is about to be. it hisses and bangs a fist on the center console, startled into speaking out loud. the words are distorted and feel wrong and don't sound like a voice so much as a machine trying to replicate one, but at least they're real. "sh-shit. I didn't mean to-"

"I get it. I get it, it's okay." he doesn't understand what it just said, but he also does, in a way. he can feel it burrowing into the back of his mind, too. he's had MAD for a long time now. "listen. I've been living with that kind of shit for years now. you're not trying to hurt anyone, and as long as you aren't, nothing you say will affect me. alright?"

it nods weakly, feeling sick. half-melted vocal chords strain to get words out. "I'm sorry."

"don't be. it's not your fault."

but it is. I'm the catalyst. everyone is fucked over and it is very much my fault.

Thatcher glares over at it, and it flinches back. he immediately pulls back, mutters an apology of his own. "don't say things like that. if anyone's to blame, it's me. there are at least four people dead because of things I didn't do to protect them. you never asked for any of this, it was all laid out for you before you were even- born, or whatever. but I had it coming."

it closes its eyes again. I want my mommy.

he pauses, processing that. after a minute, he gives up. there's not much to say.

"we'll be back at my place soon. just gotta hold on until then, okay?"

"...okay."

it turns its eyes back outside. it's a dark and stormy night.

Doodle request adam thatcher evelin and sarah post mandela catalyst

A... happy reunion?