rattymess

[rattymess]

A little story about ghosts, and roommates, and getting to know each other.

[rattymess]

Ah, it’s too late to post this on Halloween.  But here is a little story about ghosts, and roommates, and roommates who are ghosts.

[rattymess]

A snake story, based on an experience I had while I was in Florida.

[rattymess]

Drama aside, here’s a little comic

CC Tinsley was also invited but mysteriously disappeared right before the meeting

#yeah #pretty disappointed with how things are turning out so #at least we still have good fanart around here

[rattymess]

Egg Fried Rice

Marc Spector X F!Reader  Rating: T  Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?

Summary: Out of the three of them, Marc had met your mother last.

Warnings: Angst & fluff. Mentions of previous abuse (Wendy Spector) but doesn't go into detail. Typos - I am notoriously bad at catching them. Swearing.

A/N: I've used corvase's 'lovely little domestic prompts: “your mom is coming over today.” “tell her to bring fried rice or she’s not invited.” “you tell her, she’s your mom.” “but she likes you more!”' - and it ended up being a lot more angsty than I inteaded. I changed the prompt words a touch as well. Steven & Jake make a little appearance too.

Word Count: 1689

Taglist: @pleasurebuttonwrites

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

You had been in the shower when your phone rang. It was on silent, as usual, but by chance the light caught Marc’s attention as he put the clean laundry away. 

The display read ‘Mum’. 

He swallowed, a flash of nerves hitting him for a second before he pushed them away. He could just wait it out, pretend he didn’t see it. 

The soft material of a pair of your fuzzy socks in his hand suddenly became much heavier; the cartoon duck on the side no longer looked friendly. There was a judgemental tone in its eyes.

 “Fuck you.” He narrowed his eyes and hissed at the cartoon, the absurdity enough to bring a small smile to his face.

Quickly, without giving himself too much time to really think about it, he grabbed your phone and answered the call. 

“Hello!” Your mum’s voice was like sunshine itself. 

“Hi, it’s-”

“Marc! Ah! How lovely to get you!” 

He grinned broadly, warmth bubbling up in his chest. She recognised his voice. Straight away she recognised his voice. 

“I was wondering if I could pop by today? I have a little something for you all.”

Your mother knew all three of them, but her first meeting with Marc had been almost five months after she had met Steven and Jake. 

It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to meet her, he did, it was just... difficult. Panic spiked up in his spine and made him sick whenever the arranged date to introduce himself grew close. 

His alters’ voices constantly in his ear. “She’s so lovely.” “You’ll get on well with her hermano.” “She’s nothing like-”

It hadn’t mattered. He had chickened out four times. The third when he was in the car with you outside of your mother’s house. He just couldn’t. Couldn’t. Had checked out and left it to Steven and Jake.

He would stay away for days, the worst being the second occasion when he didn’t front for nearly two weeks afterwards and had refused to speak to Jake or Steven. Even staying quiet when Steven had said he would let Jake grow a moustache if Marc didn’t say something. 

When Marc finally did front he had refused to talk about it. Point blank. Not to Steven, not to Jake, not to you. He knew that made it worse. 

It had caused more than one internal and external argument.  

You had tried to bring it up carefully, calmly, telling Marc that there was no need to rush, he hadn’t caused any offence, that he didn’t even need to meet your mother if he didn’t want to.

But instead of staying quiet, nodding, or any of the countless peaceful options Marc had gone into defensive mode. Unable to explain his fears even though you knew about Wendy, unable to accept your kindness and care and love when he was so sure he didn’t deserve it. He wanted your anger.  

“Oh, so you don’t want me to meet your Mom then?” 

His tone had taken you by surprise even before his words had registered. “Marc that’s...” you shook your head, playing back what you had said, checking for how your words could have been misunderstood. “I didn’t mean that, I-”

“Maybe you should think before you speak in future.”

“Marc-”

“She’s got Steven and Jake, guess I’m not as important as them?”

It had just escalated from there. Your tone and words grew more agitated despite your best intentions as he kept going and going. 

There had been something on the tip of his tongue, something nasty and untrue but based on your own securities. Something that was intended to hurt. He had begun to speak it, shout it, trying to push you in punishing him when everything shifted. 

It was the first time you had seen Jake forcibly front, spitting out a hiss of words obviously not aimed at you and breathing hard. 

“¡No te atrevas a decir eso!” Don’t you dare say that. 

He had sat on the settee, closed his eyes and crossed his arms. His legs were spread wide in an apparent guise of relaxation but you could see the tension thumping in his neck. 

After a moment to calm yourself you had sat down next to him, slowly, and leaving some space between your bodies. 

Jake had kept his eyes closed; his jaw clenched as he listened to Marc, but did not reply. After a few minutes he had taken your hand in his, pressed kisses to your fingers and knuckles tentatively before he opened his eyes. 

You had smiled weakly at him, your eyes glassy. “Is he okay?” 

Jake let out a humourless laugh. “He’s on the naughty step.” He moved closer, letting go of your hand to wrap his arms around you. “He’ll stay there until his manners improve.”  His voice was low in your ear, making you shiver, but you knew those words were more directed at Marc than to you. 

Marc had watched silently whenever Steven or Jake were with your mother. The ease of conversation, the joking, smiles, hugs, kisses on the cheek and small gifts. 

You had found him once, on a morning so early it should have been night, crouched down by the coffee table in your flat. His arms wrapped tightly around his legs as he stared at a small paper bag on the floor. 

Your mother was notorious for giving gifts, things that made her think of others. The previous day you and Steven had visited her for dinner. She had spoken animatedly about her day, a visit to Greenwich park and market before brandishing, a golden pin with the Eye of Horus engraved for Steven (who spoke animatedly and excitedly about the meaning behind it for a good ten minutes before worrying he was ‘going on a bit’, and then another fifteen when your mum shhhed him and eagerly asked him to continue.)

Champurradas for Jake, which you hadn’t heard of before, “Oh Jake and I were talking about them the other day, and I just so happened to see a stall with all sorts of food. I just had to get them for him.”  (You were eighty percent sure she had purposely looked for somewhere that sold them and had gone to Greenwich specifically with the goal in mind.) She had playfully smacked your hand when you had asked to try one, “Shhh! They’re for Jake! You’ll have to ask him if you want one.” You laughed. 

She had held out a small paper bag to Steven as you were leaving, “this is for Marc.” 

“Oh, you didn’t have-”

“Shhh,” your mother was the master of the ‘shhh’, “I wanted to. I love all of you very much.” She had kissed his cheek and pressed the bag into his warm hands.

You had told your mother briefly about Wendy after the second time Steven had visited instead of Marc, no details – as you felt it wasn’t your place. 

And now Marc sat staring at the keyring resting on top of the paper bag like it held the answer to the universe. 

It took you a moment to recognise the logo as the Chicago Bears and knew, for certain, that she definitely hadn’t found that in Greenwich market. 

He turned towards you suddenly at the creak of the floorboard under your feet, eyes red and shining. 

You froze, afraid that anything you did, anything you said would cause hurt. 

“Steven told her I’d confused my keys with our key for here.” His voice broke at the last word and you rushed forward, falling to your knees and wrapping yourself around him. “She, she remembered.” 

You had held him and kissed him and soothed him as his tears soaked into your pyjamas and finally, when you had coaxed him back into bed, hugged him tightly the whole night.

The keyring never left his keys. 

You had both visited your mother soon after that, Marc nervously gripping a large bouquet of flowers as you walked to the front door. He knuckles white under the tension. 

When your mother opened the door Marc had quickly blurted out, “here, I’m Marc, nice to meet you.” In a voice that sounded far younger than his age and thrusted the flowers towards her. 

Your mother didn’t even miss a beat, she had fawned over the flowers, ‘the nicest ones she had ever received’ and lavished attention on your boyfriend the entire day, kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly when you left. Saying nothing when he held onto her a little too tightly and for a few beats too long. 

You heard Marc laughing as you came out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel and padded down the hall to your bedroom. 

He was sitting on the bed, facing away from the door, holding your phone to his ear. A few items of clean clothes next to him, you couldn’t help but smile as you realised he had put the others away. You hadn’t asked him to, he had just done it knowing your intense dislike of the final part of the clothes washing process. 

Marc turned as you came in, giving you a little wave. “She’s just finished.” He spoke into the phone. “Your Mom!” He said to you. 

“Hi Mum!” You yelled, a little over the top. 

The muffled sound of your mother laughing and saying ‘hello love!’ filtered back. 

You opened your wardrobe, absentmindedly chewing on your bottom lip.

“She’s gonna come over later, she said she’d pick up Chinese on the way?” 

The questioning tone at the end of his sentence warmed your heart. You had told him countless times that your flat was his flat; but he still wanted to check things with you, protective of your space.

“Tell her to bring egg fried rice or she’s not invited.” You teased. 

Marc gave a mock gasp of shock and you could hear your mum laughing on the other end of the phone. 

“You tell her, she’s your Mom!” He grinned. 

You turned around, hands on your hips and pulled a silly face. “But she likes you more!” 

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Where's the bottle of Moon Knight? I haven't found it yet...

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i got a lil sidetracked by that photo of oscar issac even before i read this story.

DONT GET ME WRONG THIS WAS AMAZING BUT LIKE.

THAT PICTURE HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD (；☉_☉).

Waves

Pairing: Marc Spector x GN! Reader 

Summary: can you get Marc to stop being grumpy at the beach? 

Warning tags: fluff, cute grumpy Marc and a small prank. 

Author’s Note: thanks to @ominoose - Saturn 🪐

𓇼   𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟   𓇼 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓇼

       By the time the two of you got to the beach, it was 3:30 pm. The sun was at its highest peak. 

 The sand beneath you two felt warm, yet silk smooth. 

Marc was walking carefully on the coastline, he didn't really enjoy jumping into the ocean and having sand stuck in his trunks.

 He looked peacefully content until you looked up at him. 

A small smile crept on your face, Marc looked at you and shook his head. 

"No, Y/n." he could easily read your mind. 

You laughed as you said

 "Come on! It would be so much fun!" 

Marc then said with his brows furrowed 

"No Y/n, you know I hate the salty water going up my nose." 

You squinted your eyes as you kept staring at him. 

Marc then said

 "I'm watching you, Y/n" 

You rolled your eyes, and kept holding onto his arm. 

The two of you continued to walk, enjoying the sea breeze and the delightful openness of the world. 

You were telling Marc about this story you heard once.  

Apparently the first stories of mermaids appeared in Assyria in about 1000 BC.

One of these earliest legends describes how the goddess Atargatis, mother of the Assyrian queen Semiramis, unintentionally killed the mortal shepherd whom she loved.

Distraught, she jumped into a lake to take the form of a fish.

Marc took this as a mental note for your Christmas gift. He knew exactly what he was going to get you. 

The waves looked perfectly painted with hues of blue, white, and dark green. But you kept slightly moving him close to where the ocean was teasing his feet. 

Marc began to notice you trying to edge him closer to the water. Marc turned towards you and held onto your hips. 

"What are you scheming at Y/n?" He asked, 

"Nothing." You giggled as you looked over his shoulder to see if the wave was high enough. 

Marc's eyes widen 

"I fucking dare you. Y/n I swear to-" 

But it was too late. You quickly shoved Marc into the high tide, but he brought you along with him. 

The waves pulled you both under, but Marc carefully held you tightly against his chest. He pushed his body up with you, aiming to find the surface. 

He was a better swimmer than you. 

Upon getting to the surface, You pulled your hair back and Marc  was dramatically coughing. 

"Now isn't this refreshing!" You said happily as you splashed water at him, Marc rolled his eyes. 

"I hate you." He said softly, you sightly swam towards him and brushed the curls out of his face. 

"No, you don't, you love me to bits and pieces." You whispered, Marc smiled and cupped your face. 

He brought your lips to him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. His kiss tasted of sweet salted caramel, and you gladly indulge in it. 

As Marc wrapped your legs around his waist, you knew he was quite excited to have you this close to him. 

Marc left your lips as he began to kiss your neck, you allowed your head to fall back and heard Marc whisper into your ear 

"You know maybe a beach wasn't so bad."

Marc stayed with a bright grin 

You snickered at him 

“I told you so, Marc Spector.” 

Marc chuckled as he brought your lips back upon his. He left as if you were the oxygen he needed.  𓇼   𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟   𓇼 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓇼

tagging list

@lonelyisamyw-0love @fandxmslxt69 @grumpyahjumma @dowbastan @soft-persephone @thepowerthismanhasoverme @the-fox-den @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@megamindsecretlair

#okay...but imagine #grabbing that necklace by one finger #and then pulling him closer #ahem. #i might be down bad.

[rattymess]

#delulu may not be the solulu #but damn is it so much better than whatever hellfire garbage it is in real life

[rattymess]

Forced proximity with Steven Grant!!

Imagine, you're both in that stupid inventory closet. You're not up close until Steven trips, everything cluttering everywhere. It's both a dream and nightmare when your cute coworker stumbles on top of you, stammering over himself as his hands press to either side of your head to keep himself upright. The door is blocked with all of the "fake rubbish" (as Steven puts it), and the pathetic man you have had a crush on for MONTHS is practically pinning you down. He looks mortified, trying to scrabble away like a scared puppy, but he can't go anywhere without twisting his ankle and dislocating every bone in his body.

He's confused when you two meet eyes. You've been looking at him, your cheeks dusted pink, your eyes darting all over his face and shoulders. You're unusually quiet. Steven assumes you're mad at him before you chirp.

"Your eyes are really pretty up close."

Oh, boy. You've turned this man from mortified, to confused, then to downright in love. He stares at you with huge puppy eyes before mumbling.

"Wot? Me? No." He tries to laugh it off, then he realizes you're not joking. He fumbles over himself before mumbling.

"Now's a really bad time to mention it, but uh-- I love your perfume." He's trying to smile, trying to make himself smaller, really just apologizing for existing and taking up space. He's trying not to scare you, like you're scared of him? He can't do anything to you.

But the men that come around every so often do. You don't think the poor bloke realizes that the Spanish one asked you out a week ago.

KJBDJVJCB?????

this is so sweet help and steven would absolutely send you shy smiles everytime he sees you after that omg haaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! obsessed

[rattymess]

•Racetrack•

for @toracainz ❤️

about this: hurt comfort, dorm!steven x reader. Some existential crisis. College AU sry I have MK64 stuck on the brain.

*

You up? 

For you? Always 

Come to the window 

You shift from foot to foot, snow crunching under your feet. One mittened hand reaches up to wipe at your dripping nose, watching the plumes of your breath rise out in the air in front of you. This late at night on campus usually isn’t so dead, but not many want to be caught out in the snowfall, gentle though it is. The few inches of snow on the ground deadens the sounds of the world, and it makes you feel…even more alone than you already are. Which isn’t possible, really. 

And then Steven Grant appears in the window like the beam from a lighthouse, guiding you safely towards shore. His curls are wilder than usual after a long day of mussing them, his silhouette lit up by the glow of the bedside table lamp inside his dorm room. You can just make out the crook of his smile. The wide wave of his hand is easier to see. 

“What the hell are you doing down there?” he calls. “It’s bloody freezing, come up!”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m dropping out,” you call back. Acknowledging it out loud immediately leads to the swell of a knot in your throat. You hope that from this far away, he can’t tell that you’re crying. “That’s all! Goodnight!”

“What the fuck?” Steven shouts. His head disappears in the room and then reappears. He points out the window at you. “You stay right there, I’m coming down!”

“Don’t bother—!”

“Don’t move a muscle!” He shouts. Then he shuts the window and you know you’ll wait. For Steven Grant, you’d wait in the snow all night. 

Steven is your one and closest friend, having met each other during your first year of university—what felt like ages ago now. You’d both grown side by side in the same soil for so long that you couldn’t even remember when your feelings had tumbled across the line from friendship to romance. It was just so easy with him. Laughing, talking, breathing beside him. Effervescently easy. 

But as a novice at romantic relationships (and knowing he was not very experienced himself) you had let the warm affection you held for him simmer, all along letting it grow more condensed inside your chest. Each time the two of you parted ways—outside his dorm or outside yours—you had thought about leaning in and kissing him, but you never had. You’d turn away, the scent of his cologne still fresh in your mind, warm and thinking next time. 

Next time just hadn’t come. 

He appears with his coat tugged on over his pajamas. His curls struggle out from beneath the bottom of the beanie he has pulled on, tickling his ears and the nape of his neck. And his gloves are mismatched. 

The sight of him and his earnest, worried face immediately sets you off into another round of tears. He doesn’t wait before pulling you into a hug, pressing your face gently into the crook of his neck so you can press the frozen tip of your nose against his warmth. 

“‘S alright,” he says. He starts to sway with you, like you are slow dancing in the snow. “Everything will be alright, yeah? We’ll get it sorted.”

“I’m dropping out,” you weep. “I made the appointment with my advisor for tomorrow morning. I can’t keep doing this anymore. Everyday that I don’t leave, I’m just committing myself more and more to a major that I don’t even care about. I can’t imagine where I’ll be in five years because I don’t want to know! I don’t want to know where I’ll be tomorrow, much less after graduation.”

Steven tries to pull you free from where you’re hiding against his chest, but it’s so much easier to admit these things when he can’t see you, can’t see the fear and the dread and the emptiness that fills you up day after day. But he is gentle and firm, turning your face up to the light of the street lamp. 

“Go on,” he says, like it should be easier now. And in some ways, looking at his soft eyes and the snowflakes melting on his hat—it does help. 

“I’m not like you,” you whisper. “I don’t love my studies. I don’t have a job lined up. I don’t know what I want to do with my life. But even if I did, I’m not going to be making any difference in the world. I feel so stuck in place. Like I’m turned around backwards in Mario Kart and everyone else is zooming by me.” 

“Yeah but you’re Princess Peach, you’ll get back on track, you always do,” he murmurs. 

“I’m not. I’m not Princess Peach. I’m fucking Wario, Steven.”

“Don’t you say that—don’t you ever say that.”

You sigh, eyes stinging from the cold and from your tears. “I just—I don’t know what I’m doing with my time, with my life. And I’ve spent so much time pretending that I do know. What if it’s too late?”

Steven scoffs. He pulls off a glove and wipes your tears away with his warm fingertips. You shut your eyes and let yourself lean into his palm—for warmth. Just for the warmth. “‘What if it’s too late’. You’re alive aren’t you? You have a single moment more to live, at least, don’t you? Then it isn’t too late to change your mind or to turn around.

“And you don’t need to change the world, but you are. You’ve changed my world, yeah? Being—my friend. Who gets to decide that isn’t good enough?

“Maybe we don’t need to do a single fucking thing with our lives except live them.”

You lean in and kiss him. His lips are still warm from being inside his dorm, and you can taste the sickly sweet energy drink he must have been chugging before you arrived. The snow crunches under your feet as he shifts, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to the warmth of him. 

“Is this okay?” you murmur.

He laughs, mouth smiling against your own. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s kind of changing my life. Go on.”

And the two of you kiss until your toes are frozen in your boots and your hair is damp from melting snowflakes. When you part, Steven’s lips are as red as the tip of his nose. You can recall a time ever seeing him look happier. 

“Maybe you don’t know where you’re going,” he says. “But I don’t ever want you thinking that you’re going there alone. Alright?”

The knot in your throat has grown too large for you to speak past. All you can do is nod—nod and believe him. You’d do anything for Steven Grant. Even believe him. 

“Want to come up?” he murmurs. “I’ve got cold pizza.” 

You sniff. “Can we play Mario Kart?”

He gives you a look of disbelief. “What do you think I was doing before you texted? Come on, then. No Wario—he’s off limits. Absolutely no exceptions.” 

[rattymess]

sorry just thinking about this gif and how i'll probably never have anyone look at me like the way steven looks at layla

#“hiya” #hhhhhhhhhhhh #now thiS is a brainrot

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forgot how much i loved moon guy

#this added 1000 years to my lifespan

[rattymess]

RED FLAGS | COMPLETE

CO-WRITTEN WITH @thirstworldproblemss

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

Summary: Sweet as he is, dating Steven means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way. 

Read on Ao3

Please note there’s no tag list, but you can be notified of my new writing updates by following @astroboots-writes and turn on notifs 🤡💖🤡

🔞 This series is explicit as fuck. Please heed the warnings in each chapter.

Part 1: Sweet, as he is, dating Steven, means you have to be willing to ignore a few red flags along the way. Or alternatively: You get to use that ankle restraint on Steven and sit on his beautiful face. | 9.2k words

Part 2: Something strange is going on with Steven. Or alternatively: how you fix your relationship by giving Steven the sloppiest office blowjob ever. | 9.2k words

Part 3: For the first time since that night, Steven sleeps over, but it might not be him you wake up with in your bed. Or alternatively: Marc makes a dramatic ass entrance. | 4.6k words

Part 4: Steven disappears and you fall into a rabbit hole trying to decode Marc’s secret message. Or alternatively: Marc needs to communicate better. | 8.1k words

Part 5: You try to befriend Marc with mixed results. Or alternatively: God this man is cranky. | 7.1k words

Part 6: You and Marc grow closer, but it’s a little more complicated than that. Or alternatively: Marc refuses to let dead fish lie. | 7.8k words

Part 7: Your subconscious is trying to tell you something important about the choices you have to make. Or alternatively: is it still a threesome if the two men are alters? | 8.2k

Part 8: You and Steven talk and you make a decision. Or alternatively: You spill the beans and things get messy. | 6.4k

Part 9: You and Steven finally reunite. Or alternatively: Marc is a dummy and makes questionable decisions as always. | 8.4k

Part 10: You and Steven try to get used to your new life together without Marc. Or alternatively: Marc is playing (the not ridiculous and totally mature version of) Hide and Seek. | 10k words

Part 11: You overhear things you were not meant to hear. Or alternatively: The girls boys are fighting. | 6.9k words

Part 12: You get more than you bargained for when you follow Marc out into the night. Or alternatively: 🎵 Fighting evil by moonlight. Winning love by daylight 🎵 | 6.2k words

Part 13: The end is the beginning is the end. Or alternatively: You finally get to have Marc’s beautiful face buried between your thighs. | 17k words

Fanart

The First date | by @guruan | Scene from Ch. 01

The Fish | by @guruan | Scene from Ch. 05

Goldfish | by @excitedcurtain864 | inspired from Ch. 06

The phone call | by @guruan | Scene from Ch. 10 (Spoiler-ish)

Ten extra minutes | by @guruan | Scene from Ch. 11 (Spoiler-ish)

Pancakes | by @guruan | Scene from Ch.13 (Spoiler warning!)