#normally i start tanking around march and reach my low point in may and things get better a little after that into january but no dice

[304wv66]

10.20.2023 // gonna get bit by that thing

also bonus crop from the desktop wallpaper because i liked it, it made me happy 🥺

[jkknight98]

The House always Wins.

SO I finally got the Quackity and Revivebur story finished, and its twice the length of my normal stories because I couldn't help myself but keep writing. I tried to keep the rival banter between Quackity and Wilbur natural as best I could, so I hope you guys enjoy it. Remember to drink water and eat something today.

(also to those who wonder who the witch is that I reference here and there in my stories, I'm pretty much talking about myself since I'm working “magic” to get these stories out for you all to enjoy)

Wilbur knew that this was a really bad idea, Quackity was well known for his skills in playing cards, the few games from their time in Lamanburg showed that, but damn he wasn’t interested in the prize that was offered. He had left Ranboo to work on their newest plan while he took some time to blow off steam, it took everything in his power to not explode at the sight of Tubbo working in the restaurant, of course, the scared face bastard would do this when he couldn’t get his brother, he would just go for his best friend.

Wilbur chewed the end of his thumb harshly as he paced about in the woods where he could have some peace,” Why would he go to Quackity, he is the reason he died that day….. I needed him to fully convince Tommy.” He shook his head as he lifted his head to brush his hair out of his face,” no... I can’t keep dragging him into my things…. Fuck it…. I have Ranboo though, so I have that in my favor.” His mind went back to the fish tank though, did Quackity think he was funny for filling it with salmon, he really wanted to go back and destroy that tank, but that would just play into the subtle jeers-

“Delivery for Wilbur Soot from Lamanburg!”

Wilbur turned sharply to try and find the disembodied voice that broke him from his musing. He didn’t recognize the voice and it was really startling to hear someone in the one place he expected to be alone but was shocked to find the woods around him completely empty… no not empty, Near his feat was a letter that had a few green stains on its surface. He gently reached down and picked up the letter, running his thumb over the spots and realized that they were from slime residue...which was weird, The poker chip wax seal was very telling, however. “ We just saw each other, why would he send me a letter?” He gently slipped the small pocket knife out of his pocket and swiftly cut the top open and removed the letter, wrinkling his nose slightly at the smell of Quackity’s Cologne wafted out.

To Wilbur~

I know that we only just saw each other to discuss the wonders of our new competition. I'm sure you loved the fish tank just as much as I loved your idea of a personalized Ip for your burgers, but something interesting has come up. I think we should play a game of cards together to be a show of goodwill between us before our competition fully starts, just for old times sake. I managed to get in contact with a certain witch that roams the area and they gave me something that will make the reward for winning all the more sweeter. If this is of interest to you, meet me at the needle where we talked before with Tommy at sunset.

May your business do well,

Quackity.

Wilbur furrowed his brows slightly as he read over a particular line, what could that witch provide for Quackity, and what was that reward? The subtle jabs at his burger van just fired up his anger once more, but the thought of beating Quackity was too tempting. “ Guess I need to get out my old pack of cards to practice then.”

*

Quackity sat quietly at his desk while waiting for the news, gently twirling the small bottle with his fingers, watching as the bright teal liquid swirled around the sides with each move. If what that witch said was true, beating Wilbur in this quick game of cards would be worth it for the short time he would be under his control. That would only happen if Wilbur agreed to the game,” what am I talking about, his ego’s too big to refuse an opportunity like this.” He then leaned over to look at the bottle more thoughtfully, even if he lost to the Franken freak and was forced to drink this, he would be fine and could do some recon work. You can’t hide things from someone inside yourself when you're someone like Wilbur Soot, he wouldn’t be able to help himself but brag if he won,  and that's when he would slip.

“Dab me up! My mission was successful, Quackity from Las Nevadas!”

Quackity couldn’t help but jump when heard the cheerful exclamation from the slime-human- thing that slithered its way under the door instead of opening it like he asked multiple times,” Didn’t I tell you that you have to open- nevermind, did Wilbur seem like he was going to accept my offer?” Quackity’s face hurt slightly as he couldn’t help the wide grin as he watched Charlie nod, things were going how he wanted and he now needed to be ready, the game area needed to be set up. He quickly stood up and slid the potion bottle into his pocket for safety, heading for the door with a new sense of excitement, the newest battlefield for the two needed to be set.

*

Wilbur couldn’t hide the sneer on his face as he traveled across the sand towards Las Nevadas, of course, the one-eyed bastard would want him to come at this time, the flashy colors and lights were nearly blinding. The multitudes of colors were no doubt going to cause a migraine later on if he continued to look at them, it made him wonder how Quackity could stand them, but he could guess that others would think the same about his interest in TnT. He kept his head low as he walked past the few buildings to reach the space needle, giving a mild glare to the new burger restaurant with the ‘Tubburger’ sign as he passed it, but continued with his silent march forward. The needle stood brightly before him as he craned his head upwards to look towards the top, getting the faint idea that he could see a darkened shape at the top looking down at him, but that could have been his imagination. He gently readjusted his jacket before stepping into the elevator, letting his weight be fully supported by the rush of bubbles as he let his eyes close, not wanting to look at the lights any longer. His body stuttered slightly as it reached the top, and he opened his eyes to see a simple table sat in the middle of the grand room, and at its center sat Quackity;  shuffling cards quietly. Wilbur didn't say a word as he stepped from the elevator, using a hand to gently brush the damped hair away from his eyes, and strode forward to the empty chair that was across from his rival. He slowly sat down and placed his elbows on the table before placing his chin on his hands, watching on as the other continued to gently shuffle the cards in hand, moving them elaborate before starting to lay them out on the table. Wilbur was quick to realize that the game they were playing was poker, a classic choice for Quackity, and a game Wilbur was well familiar with. He waited until all the cards were laid out before he decided to speak,” You said there was a reward involved with this little game, you going to tell me what it is before I decide to go back down the elevator because as much as I enjoy playing with you; I’m busy.”

The scared man only smiled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle filled with a cyan liquid, and looked like no normal potion that he’s ever seen, before setting it in the middle of the table. “This my rival,” the way Quackity said rival made a quick shiver roll up his spine,” is the reward I was referring to, our neighborhood witch didn’t make it easy for me to get this much.”

Wilbur gently lifted the bottle and swirled it,” what does it do though, because I don’t think that you would have asked me here for a simple potion,” he paused as he thought over the second thing,” you talking about you know who right?” He grimaced as Quackity nodded,” they give me the creeps.”

Quackity only nodded,” yep, but they are good at making potions like this one, it has some very unique properties that I figured would make a fun reward for the winner of our game.” Quackity was quick in taking the bottle and setting back on the smooth table,” when taken, it allows for the drinker to shrink down to…snack size for a few hours, while also being safe from any form of physical damage.” Quackity crossed his arms and watched Wilbur closely, he could see the realization forming in those reddish-brown eyes, and the newly hungry look that matched his own,” once it wears off, the one who drank it will automatically be teleported to their last respawn point, you still interested in playing?”

Wilbur sat silently as he mulled over what he had just been told, he knew that playing cards with Quackity was never a smart decision, but the thought of having him curled in his stomach and left to Wilbur’s mercy was a hard treat to ignore. He could go back to his van and poke at his shrunken rival, or even lay down on the bed to feel the crushed form thrash between the mattress and the rest of his body. Wilbur couldn’t help the slightly sheepish grin as his stomach let out a low rumble that caused the other male to laugh loudly,” seems like your stomach spoke for you my friend, let's get started then.” Wilbur could only shake his head as he moved to pick up his cards, looking over his hand quickly and deciding he didn’t like his first pull, moving to exchange his lower card for a better option.

“So are we playing first to three, or first to three consecutive wins, any longer game and I'll starve~”

*

Quackity smiled softly as he looked over his current hand, he and Wilbur had decided on the three consecutive wins ruling, and he was currently on his second win in a row. He had to give Wilbur a lot of credit, the man could pull a bluff with the best of them and even Quackity was thrown off a few times, but he could see the slight creasing at the edge of his eyes that showed his frustration at how the game was going. He had an ace up his sleeve however, he decided to play fair for the majority of the game to see if his rival would, but things were dragging on way too long. He was swift in pulling out the ace he knew would be next in the stack, changing his straight flush into a Royal, and made a subtle move to make himself appear disappointed; but barely noticeable. He saw the slight twitch in Wilburs fingers, which showed Wilbur was excited,” Well Quackity, I think I'm about to break your streak again,” The man quickly laid out a perfect straight flush,” boom, there's no way you can beat that since I know we've already gone through the higher cards.”

Quackity let out a low sigh and he lifted a hand to lightly pinch the bridge of his nose,” Yeah yeah,” he held this pose for a moment longer to let Wilbur relax, but could help the smirk as he moved to lean forward,” but don’t you know in a game like this, the house always wins,” and laid down his Royal flush. He smiled wider as Wilbur looked down in shock, before his hands flew to the discard deck as well as the pull deck, clearly looking to catch him in his cheat. Quackity let him look, sparing a glance to the tiny amount of slime that was slithering away towards the elevator, watching the last bit of the ace card dissolve away.

“ There’s no way, I am absolutely positive that you cheated, you shouldn’t have the cards for a royal flush,” It was hard to not slam his hands on the table in frustration, but despite his best efforts, Wilbur could not find the card that should have been in the discard pile. He didn’t want to accept the fact he lost, there was no way when he had managed to slide in his own cheat card to ensure his hand, but he couldn’t ignore it at this point. He looked back up when he heard a soft scraping sound, and watched as his smirking opponent slowly slid the small bottle towards him, leaving it to sit before him as the hand pulled back and the fingers started to drum.

Quackiyt let his fingers softly drum against the table's surface as he watched Wilbur fight with his ego, he knew the man was absolutely steaming inside, but it would also kill him to show such weakness before him. He was going to be kind in this instant to let Wilbur drink the potion at his own pace, but the low rumble of his empty stomach reminded him of the fact he didn’t eat anything since he managed to buy the potion in the first place, and he wanted his reward. “Wilbur… I do think it's time for me to receive my reward, don't you think?” He fully allowed his tongue to swipe across what was left of his lips and his few exposed teeth, chuckling at the scowl he received in return for his statement, but continued to watch on with increasing impatience.

Each tap of the fingers sounded like the ticking of a clock, one he could no longer avoid, ” fine, you'll get your reward soon enough.” Wilbur quickly snatched up the tiny potion bottle off the table and popped the cork out with his thumb in a well practiced motion, feeling a little concerned when a faint vapor escaped once the cork was gone, but still brought it up to his nose to smell. The first smell that came through was an odd fruity scent that he didn’t recognize in the slightest, but also the musky smell of nether wart and a fish smell. It made him wrinkle his nose slightly, but as he took one last look at the barely hidden look of anticipation on Quackity’s face, he just decided to tip his head back and down the entire bottle. He nearly gagged as the syrupy like substance traveled down his throat, the odd fruity flavor was horribly sour and he thought he could taste something similar to fermented spider eyes, it was absolutely horrid. “Oh that tastes like absolute horse shit, you sure that witch didn’t sell you an awkward potion with a silly story.” The thought of this made Wilbur laugh, and laugh harder when he saw the look of doubt cross through his rival's face..but as he continued to laugh, the more light headed he felt. He moved one hand to rest on the table while the other moved to rest against his temple, the feeling was getting worse by the minute, he opened his to look up at Quackity… wait.

Wilbur was now looking up at Quackity instead of normally looking down at him, even when sitting he was taller, but now he was a few inches shorter than his equally shocked partner. He tried to speak, but his vision quickly darkened and he felt his body fall limply back against the chair, falling quickly into unwanted consciousness.

Quackity was quick to rush around the table to catch the rapidly shrinking body as it nearly fell off the chair when he went fully limp, the man was now the size of a small child and was still shrinking.  It was a memorizing process to watch as the normally six foot five man be reduced to the size of Quackity’s hand before stopping, this made him worry slightly, but the witch assured him that he would still be physically capable of getting him down safely. He used his fingers to gently move the miniscule man around in his palms, everything from his hair down to the glasses on his face were perfectly normal despite the change in size, it was quite amazing. He lifted the small body close to his face and frowned at the smell. It made him wonder if Wilbur showered at all, but he was determined as he slowly slid out his tongue to taste the exposed skin. He couldn't help his surprise at the taste that flooded across his tongue, it was a musty flavor that tasted way better than any meat he's ever had the opportunity to try, and he couldn’t help but lick the unconscious man again to get more of the flavor.

Wilbur groaned as the pounding in his head brought him back from his short sleep, and he could still feel the hot winds of the desert blowing on him as he tried to fully wake back up, what really shocked him away was the feeling of something hot and wet hitting the side of his face. His eyes opened to be met with a large tongue sliding away and back into the grinning maw that was right next to him, he tried his best to scramble away after giving a shocked yell. He was quickly gripped by the fingers and held still as he was pulled away from the mouth,” You absolute sack of shit, that's not a great thing to wake up to.”

Quackity couldn’t help the loud laugh at the smaller man,” Sorry Wilbur, I'm on a little bit of a time limit with my reward, I figured I’d have a spoiler before you woke up.” He lifted his other hand to gently poke the tiny face, pulling it back when it was nearly bitten. “I have to say i’m rather surprised with you Wilbur, you smell absolutely terrible, but taste rather good; like Blue cheese.” He watched the words sink in, and had to tighten his grip as the man started to thrash indignantly, clearly enraged by the comparison and his emphasis on the color blue. He made a mental note to be sure to bring that up more often during their next spat, but he didn’t want to waste more time as he lifted the squirming man until the kicking legs were level with his mouth, he wanted Wilbur to watch. “ Well Wilbur, I think it's time to show you to your room for your stay here in Las Nevadas, I hope you enjoy your stay, I know I will.”

Wilbur froze as he watched the giant mouth open wide and his legs were quickly slipped inside, the massive tongue making quick work of soaking his pants and licking at his skin, making him shiver in anger at how powerless he felt. He wanted to fight hard against the disgusting feeling, but he knew that would only make it more enjoyable for the man-eating him, so he was going to do absolutely nothing. He had to grit his teeth as his legs were slid further into the hot mouth, quickly being pressed into the rough pallet and licked roughly, his now devourer humming more at his taste. He moved to cross his arms and stare defiantly at the giant face looming before him, getting a better look at the giant scar that ran up Quackity’s face and how the gap in his lip was starting to drip saliva through the exposed teeth. He did get a moment to admire his looks however, and he had to admit the scar really added a rugged handsomeness, and he wouldn’t say how much the gold teeth did it for him. He gave an annoyed groan as he was shoved further into the mouth and the throat began its first power tugs at his legs while his pelvis fully entered the mouth. He sent an annoyed glare up at the half lidded eye that was watching his every reaction,” I thought you were on a time limit, just hurry up and let me get this over with!” The movement completely stopped for a moment other than the natural movement of the giant's breathing, but Wilbur watched as the giant lips moved to form a smirk and felt the tongue start to move with a new purpose.

He felt his face flushed as the tongue brushed against his side once he was pushed further into the mouth, clearly trying to incite laughter out of him; he didn't think Quackity would stoop that low. He soon couldn’t help the pearls of laughter that escaped him as he tried to shove at the hand still holding him and kicking at the now tightening grip of the throat, especially when he managed to make the man choke slightly from his thrashing. It gave him a bit of joy, but that changed when the head tilted back and Wilbur felt himself sliding further down the throat due to his own weight.

Quackity let his head fully lean back to let Wilburs own weight pull him further down his throat, the failing gave him a bit of a scare, but he was also having some issue breathing with just the legs. He took one more deep breath that caused the man in his mouth to freeze (i’m so dirty minded oh my goodness) and moved his hand so his fingers rested on Wilburs shoulder, and pushed down as he took a heavy swallow. This made the smaller man freak out slightly, the tiny hands moving to grip and his fingers and face, but he ignored this as he quickly slicked up the chest with saliva. He was glad the man tasted as good as he did because his mouth was slick enough to ussr the man down, and he felt a shiver of joy when the now yowling head was shoved past his lips and his tongue was quick to muffle the sound and could feel the weird sensation of Wilbur trying to speak against the flesh. He ignored it to start swallowing harder due to feeling a little light headed due the fact the wriggling form was creating a larger than he was expecting as brought his other hand to feel at the wriggling lump, and grinned when he felt the grasping hands slide off the back of his tongue. He left his hand over the lump as he continued to give hard swallows, grinning widder as it slowly slid under his collarbone and he could finally get a breath of air,” You didn't make that easy on me, that's just like you Wilbur.” He could still feel the form traveling through his chest and laid his hand over his stomach to wait till his prize entered, the organ giving a low growl to show its own excitement.

Wilbur couldn’t help the instinctual feeling of fear as he was fully shoved into the mouth, yelling wordlessly and trying to stop himself from being eaten, but was unable to resist the strength of the larger man. It was hard to breathe as his chest was held tightly by the throat as his face was assaulted by the humid heat of the mouth. He tried to yell for Quackity to stop, but his words were cut off by the tongue smacking him in the face. He was sputtering in rage before the muscles pulled him deeper and only his hands remained in the mouth, trying to grab at the teeth to slow his descent, but they were too slick as another swallow left him fully trapped in the crushing grip. He could barely move as the fleshy walls both pushed and shoved him downwards, that isn’t to say he tried, especially when he realized the secondary force rubbing at him was Quackity’s hand. He wanted to yell so badly, but with how tightly he was being compressed, he didn't want to waste what little bit of air he was able to get, especially when he slid into the tighter region of the chest. He tried to struggle harder when he slid past the heart and lungs, trying to cause any discomfort as the giant organs made his own head pound in pain due to the volume, and the loud rumble of the voice gave an extra layer of pain to his ego. His legs were suddenly forced to a stop and the walls of the throat began to force him into a painful half crouch as they tried to keep pushing him down,” Quackity you bastard-” his yell was cut short as his legs were suddenly pulled through a tight opening. It was another painful squeeze before he was roughly shoved into a space that was thankfully less tight as the throat, but the walls were sung and formed to his aching body like a wet sleeping bag. Wilbur could only brace himself partly as the walls let out a low rumble and began rubbing against him, moving up and down his body in practiced ways, trying to rub the accumulated liquid into his already soaked clothing and skin. It was at this point the resolve he was so desperately trying to hold onto shattered, he didn't want to be touched and didn’t want to acknowledge the rumbling voice that came from everywhere, so he began to mindlessly thrash in an attempt to get away from it all.

Quackity feld a mild wave of panic when he had felt Wilbur get stuck just above the entrance of his stomach, he didn't know what he would do before the large lump finally moved, and he felt slightly sick as his stomach stretched slightly to accommodate Wilbur’s size. He laid a hand over the surprisingly still form, his stomach making a low rumble as he tried to get a reaction from Wilbur, not admitting to himself that he was worried for them,” Your pretty still there Wilbur, you didn’t break did you?” The small form then exploded into a flurry of movement, he could feel what bump was either a leg or an elbow, but that didn’t matter as they equally made him feel sicker. He leaned over to try and still the movements while crossing his arms over the writhing lump, giving a low belch that brought back the deceptively good flavor, oh did he realize this was a mistake now. “ Fuck.. Wilbur stop moving around so much, all you're doing is making me feel sick, you're not going to come out the way you got in.” He gave another sickly belch before getting up from the table to get some water, feeling incredibly off balanced due to the new weight in his middle, and made his way to the elevator quickly.

Wilbur continued to thrash until he was completely exhausted, panting hard as the muscles around his spasmed slightly and were making a sickly churning noise. He fell back against the walls as he tried to gain his strength back, tensing slightly as his own stomach dropped and the whole area began to move. His mind tried to form an understanding of what was happening, and finally realized that Quackity was moving, maybe for the reason he was trying to say earlier. Wilbur couldn’t find the energy within himself to care though, he was tired and wanted to be asleep and get away from it all. He yelled loudly when he suddenly got drenched with icy water and that shocked his stressed mind back into reality,” What the fuck was that for, are you trying to drown me now?” He kicked out against the heavy weight that was pressing down on him and felt utterly confused when he both felt and heard the relieved sigh from his captor.

“Glad to see your back to normal, did you have a panic attack? You nearly made me sick, you asshole.”

Wilbur frowned but decided to not say anything about it,”I don’t know what you're talking about, this shit is only supposed to last for a couple hours right, I'm going to just ignore you and sleep it off. Once I'm back to normal we never speak about this again or so help me I will blow up Las Nevadas worse than I did La’manburg” He turned his body away from the hand and hunkered down in the surprisingly soft flesh, focusing on the giant heartbeat, and doing his best to ignore everything else of the man. He just wanted this to be over and never think about this again, even if the initial thought of swallowing Quackity seemed like a good idea.

Quackity sighed as he felt the man turn away from his touch, can’t say he didn’t blame him,” agreed, I'll be happy when you're gone and not giving me a stomachache.” He slowly stood up and made his way towards his bedroom to also sleep, this whole experience was not worth it at all. He had originally thought about trying to get more of the potion for future use, but seeing how one unwilling ‘snack’ reacted, any other would be just as bad or worse. He gave a small wave to Charlie as he passed him, giving him a quick rundown on what to do before making his way to the bedroom, and immediately laying down on it. The tiny man gave another nauseating wriggle at the rough landing, but thankfully settled back down into a warm lump.

He gently traced his fingers over the lump for a few minutes as he tried to sleep, if only the movement didn’t make him sick, this experience wouldn’t have been that bad.

Maybe a willing person would make it better.

[thiswasinevitableid]

62. you set off the fire alarm and I have a test tomorrow, and I might strangle you

Sternclay, sfw, please!

Why do fire alarms only go off in March? The one time Stern set one off (he fell asleep studying and the dinner he was reheating started smoking) it was in that endless stretch of time where the snow is no longer festive but will keep falling for at least two more months.

More importantly, who is responsible for interrupting his carefully planned out six hours of sleep before his midterm at eight this morning?

He stands in the freezing cold with the building’s other three occupants; the single man who looks like he stars in lumberjack porn and the girlfriends who live on the ground floor.

“Sorry” The other man mumbles, “I was making doughnuts and the oil I was using got too hot without me noticing.”

Stern runs a hand through his hair and keeps his voice low, “Why were you cooking with hot oil at three in the morning?”

“When I can’t sleep, I bake.”

“Can I suggest a less flammable hobby in the future?”

“Hey man, it was an accident. And it’s not my fault they stuck the fire alarm too high up for me to get to it before it called the fire department.”

“Too high? You’re taller than I am and I can reach mine.”

“My ceilings are higher and it was tucked between the cabinets and the roof.”

“Oh yeah, ours is in a super-weird place too.” Aubrey, one of the ground-floor neighbors, pats the offenders arm, “it’s okay Barclay, it’s just a little smoke.”

“That may be the case for you three, but I have an exam that’s worth thirty percent of my grade in six hours and I need my goddamn sleep.”

“Yeesh, man, chill out. They’re already waving us back in.” Aubrey points to the door of the three story house.

“I timed everything to optimize my sleep schedule so it actually is a big deal.”

Barclay glowers at him, “Look, I said sorry. But maybe get used to the fact the world doesn’t run on your schedule, mr. control freak, and fucking get over it.”

Stern keeps a smile flat as he bites out, “go to hell” and heads upstairs to salvage what’s left of his schedule.

-----------------------------------------------------------

The crash from downstairs comes at nine p.m; he has a huge day at his internship tomorrow, but Stern doesn’t hear any sounds after it, and he is not about to let a neighbor die on his watch.

“Barclay? Are you okay?” He puts his ear to the door, the heater drowning out all ambient noise.

“Nope, not really, agh, fuck, the doors locked, lemme try to stand-”

“Stay put.” He runs upstairs, grabs his wallet, and uses his debit card to trick the lock, “Shit, what happened?”

Barclay is clutching his forehead, blood between his fingers, and his ankle is swelling. “I got really dizzy, caught my foot on the couch and then my forehead on the table on the way down. Ow, fuck, it better not be broken” he growls as Stern kneels to look at his foot, “I’ve got a shift in six hours.”

“I can’t tell. You should get to a hospital; if it’s injured and you try to work on it, you might have an even worse fall.”

“Fuck, I’m not even sure I can afford the ambulance, let alone the fucking E.R.”

He knows Dani and Aubrey are out, “Any family in town, or a boyfriend?”

“No, if there I woulda called them.” He snaps, then tries for a slow inhale, “sorry, it just, it hurts-”

“I can take you in my car, that’ll be one less worry.” Stern helps Barclay up, gets him to his sedan, then tells him to hold tight while he gets something for his head. He ends up grabbing the first clean fabris he finds, which is how Barclay ends up in the E.R while holding a “Roswell, NM” tank-top to his forehead.

“Sorry to ruin your, uh, souvenir?” He mumbles as they wait for the doctor.

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, I know how to get bloodstains out of fabric.”

“That...that makes you sound like a serial killer.”

“If I were a serial killer I would wear things that could stain.” Stern winces, “sorry, I read too many true crime books.”

“I just don’t have the stomach for them. I like fictional mysteries but real ones?” he shivers, “makes me think an axe murderer is gonna break into my place. I mean, you did it with a credit card.”

“If you’d had the chain thrown it might have been another story. “

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Barclay shifts in the plastic seat, “you, uh, you don’t have to hang around. Know you got a rigid schedule.”

Joseph runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry for being so annoyed last week when you set off the alarm. I’m not always great at handling changes.”

“To be fair, doughnuts probably weren’t the best stress baking choice.”

“Did they turn out?”

“Nah. I’ll have to try ‘em another time. Did, uh, did your test go okay?”

“Yes. I, um, I got a perfect score.”

Barclay laughs, the sound like warm honey, and Stern blushes at looking so deeply nerdy in front of someone with a smile like that.

“Mr. Cobb? We’re ready to see you.”

The bearded man gives an slightly awkward wave as he follows the nurse through the double doors. Stern returns the gesture, pulls up the chess app on his phone, and settles in to wait until his neighbor is done.

-------------------------------------

Barclay comes out his nap the scrchh of a brush on tile. His first thought is that he’s so late for work he’s unavoidably fucked. His second one is who the fuck is in his bathroom?

His ankle twinges, jogging his memory; he got back from the hospital at 11:30, no stitches needed on his head but bedrest required for his ankle. He’d been contemplating how to convince his manager to let him shift from the warehouse to somewhere he could sit. Joseph raised an eyebrow and asked for his phone while telling him to go get into bed. All Barclay overheard was a polite, steely voice mentioning the labor laws in Dane County and how it’d be a shame if someone were to arrange an OSHA spot check. The last thing he recalls before falling asleep was Joseph telling him he had the next day off.

That doesn’t explain the cleaning sounds, though.

“Oh, you’re up.” Joseph pokes his head in from the hall. His hair is coming loose from his usual slicked-down style and he’s in a V-neck and sweatpants instead of the suit Barclay sees him in most days, “I hope I didn’t wake you; since you gave me the spare key I thought I’d check on you when I got back from my internship and leave you some take-out from the Thai place around the corner--you said the green curry was your favorite--but then I thought I should wait until you got up to see if you needed anything, so I, um, I cleaned your tub while I waited for you to wake up.”

Barclay isn’t sure what part of that is the most baffling. Or the most touching.

“Why the tub?” He eases his legs over so he’s sitting on the edge of the bed.

“It’s satisfying. And I, um, I clean when I’m stressed.” He wipes his hands on the rag in his front pocket, “I was worried about you, and my internship was murder today. They’re mounting a case against one of the biggest employers in the state and everyone’s on edge.”

“Heh, kinda makes me glad I work at WalMart.” Barclay takes the crutch Joseph offers him and hobbles into the kitchen, “oh, uh, if you want to try some cake, there’s leftover cinnamon spice cake in the fridge.”

“I think I will, thank you.” He bends into the fridge and wow has his ass always been that nice, “can I grab you a drink from in here?”

“One of those pre-bottled Kahlua things in the door; have ‘em for a friend but one sounds good right now.” He watches Joseph open it for him, setting it down before he pulls out Barclay’s chair for him. Normally, the kind of fussing and light ordering around Joseph has directed at him makes him bristle. This last day, it just made him feel safe and cared about.

He could get used to this.

----------------------

“Good lord, we’ve even got a flood warning.” Joseph sets down his phone as rain attempts to pummel the house to dust, “Some days I wish we lived closer to one of the lakes but this is not one of them. Should we check to see if Dani and Aubrey need any emergency supplies for if we have to shelter here? I always keep more than I need.”

“Nah, Dani’s got a strong self-sufficiency streak; got her a bucket emergency kit for Christmas last year.” Barclay pops the cork on the Pinot Grigio they got for dinner, “and I don’t think they forgot your semi-drunk promise that if they ever had to run from a flood they had full permission to break open your front door to be safe on the third floor.”

“I meant it, drunk or no.” Joseph takes down the plates and portions out the carbonara; he’s been trying to cook when he has time, both because he likes it and because it gives him and Barclay something to talk about. Not that they need the help.

Things changed after the trip to the E.R; Barclay would bring Joseph fresh cookies or pie. Joseph would offer Barclay rides when their schedules overlapped. Barclay introduced him to his favorite trivia night spot. Joseph took some of his cookies to a worker-owned bakery where a former co-student worked, which led to Barclay getting a new job.

Now they see each other almost every day, whether that’s watching movies on Barclay’s cramped couch or joining Dani and Aubrey for board game night.

He’s pleased with how the pasta turned out, even more so with the fact that when their legs bump together beneath the table, Barclay doesn’t pull away.

They’re on the couch, chatting about the recurring themes in ghost movies, when the storm starts in earnest. The sky is so dark it may as well be nine at night, the lighting and thunder performing a cacophonous two-man show across it. The closer the thunder gets, the more Barclay tenses.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah” a thunderclap makes him jump, “I know it’s silly but I fucking hate thunderstorms, I have since I was a kid.” He chuckles, “my mom would always end up making a pillow fort for me to hide in.”

“We could do that now.” He offers, tapping his foot against Barclay’s own.

“Know this might be hard to believe, but I wasn’t always six-two.” The other man teases.

“Don’t count me out just yet. Wait here.”

It takes some precarity and most of his thumb-tacks, but soon he’s waving Barclay to come join him.

“Holy shit” Barclay laughs as he sees the bed and part of the floor in Joseph’s tiny bedroom are curtained in blankets, “do you ever half-ass stuff?”

“No one can ever prove I haven’t.”

“Uh huh.” Barclay climbs into the fort, “that’s Joseph speak for ‘no.’”

Joseph plugs in his UFO lights and follows him in, “I’ve failed plenty of times.”

“Not on this. Man, this is gr-” A thunderclap makes him jump, nearly knocking one blanket down, “uh, maybe if I…” He lays on the bed, Joseph deciding it’s the least awkward option to join him in that position.

“You really didn’t have to do this.” The green of the lights add a charming tint to Barclay’s eyes.

“I wanted to.”

His friend looks away, keeps his gaze on his feet as he murmurs, “How come you’re always so nice to me?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“It’s, uh, it’s not because you want something from me?”

“Of course not. Barclay,” he touches the cooks arm, “anything you’re thinking is a favor with an ulterior motive....well, it isn’t. It’s something I did to look out for you.”

“What if I, uh, I didn’t think it was favor hunting and was, uh, a different word that started with “F’?”

This time, when the thunder sounds, Barclay nestles closer to him.

“Oh, Barclay” he drapes a protective arm over his waists, “I didn’t mean it to be. At least, most of the time. There were, um, sometimes when I was more flirtatious than I’d have been if it were anybody else.”

“Do you...want to flirt more?” Barclay mumbles into his shoulder.

Joseph tips Barclay’s chin with his hand, brings their lips together as lightning flashes through the window. When he pulls back, Barclay’s eyes are wide. He kisses him once more just to see if he can make them entirely pupil, then whispers, “I hope we can do more than just flirt.”

“Joseph” strong arms slip below and across him, “fuck, babe, if it’s not flooded tomorrow, promise you’ll let me take you out tomorrow?”

“I’d like nothing better, big guy. In the meantime..” he rolls so Barclay is atop him, “I have some thoughts on how to keep your mind off the storm.”

[athelari]

3. snowflakes in the desert

Day 3/7 of the Mass Effect Trilogy Week: Plot. 2k words; canon divergence (Priority: Tuchanka because I just want catharsis, blast it); Shepard+Mordin; no content warnings.

No. No, not like this. Her teeth grind together, bile rising in her throat. If you go up there—and you will, I know you and I know there's no stopping you once you've set your mind on something—

He bows his head. “No. No other option. Not coming back. Suggest you get clear. Explosions likely to be problematic.”

He starts walking to the elevator.

“Mordin, no!” She darts forward. “Wait!”

This, at least, got him to face her. “Shepard, please. Need to do this.” He meets her gaze, black eyes glossy, glimmering back at her, and shakes his head fractionally. “My project, my work. My cure, my responsibility.”

“No.”

He startles at her answer, short and decisive and immediate. She marches forward, never looking away, never breaking eye contact. Something falls to the floor behind her, but she no longer cares.

She keeps her voice low and steady; a voice she only uses for the most serious of situations. “If you're going up there, then so am I.”

His shoulders drop, ever so slightly. “Shepard—”

“I helped you track down Maelon,” she presses on. “I told you to save his data. I introduced you to Wrex, brought you to Tuchanka, helped you gather your tissue samples! I even convinced Victus to greenlight the cure! So this may be your project, but the way I see it I'm at least your damned lab tech here, and I'm coming with you.”

“Shepard,” his tone is urgent, almost pleading, “might not make it out in time.”

“So both of us come back, or neither of us do. Either way, we're wasting time out here. Come on!”

She runs ahead of him towards the elevator. Mordin catches up merely a second later, immediately closing the cracked glass doors behind them. The cramped space hums with tension thick enough to carve like a turkey dinner. The fact that he'd recognised her unwillingness to back down doesn't clear the air at all; if anything, it seems to only make him more nervous. She hears him singing to himself under his breath, fast and quiet, his verbal equivalent of a bouncing knee.

She decides to turn her attention elsewhere. “Normandy, this is Shepard, do you copy?”

A crackle, followed by Joker's voice in her earpiece. “This is Normandy, come in.”

“Mordin and I are going up the Shroud tower. Fifty-second floor. I need a shuttle on standby for evac, ASAP.”

“The Shroud tower? What the—aye aye, Commander.”

If EDI's synthesised voice is capable of sounding alarmed, this is what it sounds like. “Shepard, the tower you are ascending has endured significant damage from the Reaper attack. Structural integrity is estimated at sixty-four percent, and there are live fires on the floor you and Dr Solus are headed to.”

“Thanks, EDI, good to know. You and Garrus made it out in time?”

“Yes. Radio chatter also suggests Eve has regrouped with a handful of krogan warriors. She is being escorted back to Urdnot territory.”

Joker has the Normandy. Eve is as safe as can be given the circumstances. She'd filed the official request to make Garrus her XO. Thane's awaiting his lung transplant, with Kolyat keeping him company. All that's left to do is make sure the cure is properly dispersed, then the krogan and turians will fully provide aid for Earth, along with Kirrahe and however many STGs he convinced to go backdoor for them, and with Liara giving extra intel they should be able to keep going without—

“Would have liked to run tests on seashells,” Mordin says suddenly.

She looks at him, a faint smile on his weary face, and makes a paltry half-laugh. “Plenty of good beaches on Earth. We should go after all this is done.”

Assuming Earth is still around by then.

Assuming you and I will still be around.

“Heard of Earth species capable of shooting venomous darts at prey. Fascinating.”

Beat. She blinks. “We still talking about shells here? Or—”

But then the doors reopen, revealing a lab-slash-control-room covered in debris and flames. Without a moment's hesitation, Mordin darts ahead, making a beeline for the farthest console. A bursting pipe temporarily derails him, but she catches his elbow, and together they cross the room.

She realises, now, how foreign the equipment—and their interfaces—are. Whatever her bluster about being his lab tech earlier, she's clearly way out of her depth, even with her visor scrambling to translate the salarian glyphs on the screens. An automated voice is echoing in the chamber, repeating something about the temperature, but that doesn't tell her how to help.

A thought comes to mind. “Mordin, tell me if you need something, all right?” He nods wordlessly—not silently, however, he's humming again and she knows that song like the back of her hand by now—while she runs to the nearest pile of debris and starts analysing the damage.

If she can't make this go any faster, then at least she'll buy him some time.

Fallen column broke unidentified equipment #1, some flammable—or inflammable?—liquid under it catching fire, runs all the way to unidentified equipment #2 on the far right. Left console is dead, roof cave-in opened a pipe. Doesn't seem to be water. Coolant? Electrical short by the corner—it's awfully close to those pressurised canisters. That can't be good.

She runs to the canisters first, grabbing one in each hand and hefting them to the nearest wall, away from the short. Then it's to the unidentified equipment and the burning liquid. Where's the fire extinguisher? A lab like this has to have several.

“—studied species turian, asari, and batarian—”

There, beneath a pile of rubble. She skids across the room again, narrowly maintaining her footing as a piece of flooring crunches under her weight, and starts digging into the debris. The tank is dented, but its nozzle seems undamaged. She grabs it and starts spraying its contents onto the fire. Kalahira, please let this work.

“—xenoscience studies range from urban to agrarian, I am—”

“The very model of a scientist salarian!” she drops the extinguisher on the floor. It caps off the song with a hollow clang. “How much longer?”

And Mordin throws up his hands, taking a step back from the console. “Done!”

“Then what are we waiting for? Go! Go!”

She beckons him to run into the elevator, determined not to budge until he does. But apparently she'd made her point earlier, as he doesn't waste another moment. They scramble for the only exit, jumping in and slamming onto the controls like starved varren seeing fresh meat.

When the elevator judders back to life, taking them down the vertiginously high tower again, she finally lets out a sharp, bright laugh. “You stubborn old man,” she manages between shaky breaths. “I knew you could do it.”

She looks at Mordin's smile, relieved and open, and it strikes her how much younger he suddenly looks, like he'd just shed off ten years' worth of weight from his brow. “Had to be me,” he half-whispers.

“Someone else might've gotten it wrong,” she nods, still grinning.

He bows his head for a second. Then he looks back at her, straightening himself again. “Thank you, Shepard.”

“For what? All I did was—”

A deafening boom.

The elevator staggers, throwing them back. She loses her footing and sprawls on the floor. Mordin, lighter and less sturdy, is knocked against the external doors.

There's a sickening sound of glass breaking, and then he falls backward, plunging into the emptiness without.

“Mordin!”

How she manages to dart forward and grab his arm on that very second, she doesn't even know. But now she's on her stomach, her grip on his wrist the only thing keeping him from plunging down to the concrete floor far below. His mouth is moving, but her ears are still buzzing and she can't make out a word he says. The only thing she hears is a rushing, swirling sound, like waves crashing on the shore.

The elevator's still moving, she realises. The explosion dislodged them and broke both the inward- and outward-facing doors completely, but the mechanism is still intact. They're still going down, and if she can't pull him up in time then momentum will still get him one way or another.

“Mordin! Take my hand!” She reaches down with her other hand, the one on his wrist gripping with more force than she'd normally consider using.

He swings, sways, and finally manages it, fingers just barely brushing hers. She latches onto them anyway and pulls, hard. It's not enough to get him fully back on the elevator, but he manages to get a knee up and pushes back, glass shards crackling under his weight as he climbs back on.

“You okay?” she sits up, kicking aside a few broken shards in an attempt to provide some clear space.

“…bruises, strains. No serious injuries,” his breathless reply is barely audible over the rushing sea in her ears.

“Good.” Her throat suddenly feels very dry. She leans back against the metallic wall, her head thudding against the surface, and wipes the sweat running down her brow. Except something about it is oddly sticky, and her hairline unaccountably damp. She looks at the back of her gauntlet. Oh. She lets her hand drop again to her side.

“Saved my life, Shepard,” Mordin covers her hand with his, causing her to look up at him. “Twice in an hour.”

“And you just saved countless more,” she shoots back.

They stay low until the elevator nearly reaches the ground floor, and then she jumps back to her feet, pulling Mordin up with her. They spill out onto the lab, walking fast and wary of any further surprise explosions.

She hears Mordin emit a soft gasp, just at the edge of hearing, and turns to look at him.

And then, she sees it.

Pale, yellowish particles, falling gently like snowflakes on the harsh Tuchanka desert, carried by the lazy breeze. She looks up and sees many, many more, drifting in every possible direction. And at the centre of it all, the Shroud tower, shooting the flakes into the sky like a steady, benevolent volcano.

She feels shivers climb her spine. “Mordin, is that—?”

“Shroud mechanism operating to specifications. Cure dispersing evenly. Weather should carry particles to—” he pauses, inhales sharply; blinks once, then twice, then releases a shaky breath, “—completion.”

Completion.

That's what this feels like, she realises. The culmination of a lifetime's work, a crescendo built upon sleepless nights and grinding regrets. Whatever else happens, whether or not they survive the war, this is their legacy now.

A shuttle homes in, cutting a straight line atop what was very recently the site of a Reaper bloodbath. Then its door swings open, and out jumps Garrus, rifle in hand in a true example of turian military readiness. She spots EDI and Liara already inside the shuttle, which likely means Javik is as well.

“You should be halfway to the Normandy by now,” she chides as soon as they seem close enough. “I asked for one shuttle, not all of you.”

“Oh, I'm just here because Wrex'll kill me if he finds out I left you behind,” Garrus replies glibly. He looks at Mordin and his expression sobers. “So it's done then? You've cured the genophage for good?”

She turns, too, to face Mordin. She sees the faint tremor of his lip; the way his cheeks twitch and tug and finally break into a small, genuine smile. “Yes.”

A simple, blunt reply. Garrus flexes his mandibles, momentarily silenced. After what feels like a breathless eternity, he nods. “Then let's get out of here. Bet the krogan are itching to throw their new hero a celebration.”