#spacie scribbles

[spaciebabie]

trauma therapy has been swell

[angeliteeyes]

How about some Blanc X Reader this time, felt lil bad for her after the Oracle X Vert one lmao

Ngl I had the same thought lmao—I know it's very much in character for Vert to antagonize her like that, but I still apologized to her in my head for writing it ( ´～｀)

Then again, she'd probably prefer what happened in that one to this situation :p here you go!

Blanc x Fan Reader - Give Those Back!!!

In which you, her beloved (and only) fan, end up reading something you shouldn't have

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Legends tell of an infamous book written by none other than the CPU of Lowee herself. Despite the numerous copies that had been preemptively made of it in misguided anticipation, only a handful of them sold. Three of them, to be exact. You, and you alone, were the sole person in the entirety of Gamindustri to both own and actually enjoy said book.

"Blanc? You awake?" You called out to her incredulously. Sure, it was the middle of the day when just about everyone was awake, but... this is Blanc you're talking about. Who knows what her sleep schedule's been like the past few days. Thankfully, though, your worries appeared to be unfounded (today, at least). You heard a familiar click of her door unlocking before her messy-haired head peeped out from the other side. A small, giddy smile crept across her face, a muted yet poignantly apparent excitement having been built up inside her.

"Oh, it's you. Come in." The wood creaked as her hand hurriedly pushed it to the side, not seeming to care when it banged harshly into the nearby wall. Mindfulness never really was her strong suit.

Not long after finding your way over to an empty chair, you wound up with a fresh stack of papers being pushed violently into your arms. This silent act had become rather routine for the two of you by now, as much as your past self would have died of shock hearing that. When you first wrote a fan letter to her expressing your love of her latest book not so long ago, you'd hoped that maybe she'd send a polite thank you letter back. Even if it was generic or mass-printed, you would've gladly taken it. Hell, even just her reading it at all would've been a blessing.

The last thing you could've imagined was her adamently appointing you as her proofreader and editor the very next day.

And yet, there you were, about to read the next chapter of her latest writing adventure. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see her feet inpatiently shuffling back and forth. You barely suppressed a chuckle at the sight. Somehow, despite you being her fan, she always seemed just as nervous as you were when it came to these meetings��if not more. You sighed. At least it made adjusting to the strange situation easier on your poor little admiring heart.

"Hurry up and read it." Her words shot out of her like exploding popcorn kernels. Shaking off your initial spaciness, you gently tapped the paper into your knees a few times before beginning to read her work. Let's see...

Awww. You couldn't help but squeal internally in delight at the adorable writing in front of you. Sure, some people aren't interested in her works given her... unique writing style, for lack of better phrasing. But that's what makes them so special! You could practically see visions of her staying up and pulling all-nighters, all the while gleefully tapping away at her computer screen or scribbling onto whatever notebook was nearest by. Honestly, you loved her works even more than the classics other people like to rave about. They just didn't have the same charm that she managed to infuse into each, shoddily-put-together line.

With that said, you had a lot of work to do if this was going to even be up to par with them grammar-wise. You made a quick mental note of the most egregious of mistakes before turning to the next page. There seems to be a problem, though? Your eyes quickly scanned over the first few sentences of the new sheet of paper, each time only leading to more and more confusion. She must have noticed the furrowing of your brows, as she soon followed up with an unnatural cough.

"Well...? Is there a problem?" You tried your best to keep a blank expression, something closer to the one she typically wears, but to no avail. If anything, your meager attempt at a poker face only grew less and less convincing by the second. Your eyes trailed down the paper. With each new word that crossed your line of vision, a warmth grew stronger and hotter on both sides of your face. Eventually, her patience ran too thin and she swiped the paper out of your hand. It was too late, though. The sole paragraph that you had read already permanently seared itself into your brain long ago. As you sat there quietly, waiting for her inevitable breakdown once she realized the mistake she'd innocently made, the afterimage still echoed in your mind.

Ugh, why do I have to wait so long to ask them out??? Fucking social norms!!! I wanna ask them out and go on dates and stuff already, and I wanna kiss them and do other couple things like the couples do in my favorite novels like hug them and call them romantic nicknames and sleep—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!"

Her loud voice boomed out all the thoughts in your head in one fell swoop. Half of your mind was inclined to sympathize with her and offer her some form of pity. After all, if you accidentally showed someone else your diary like that, you'd probably freak out just as hard as she was. The other half of your mind though... was focused on not being murdered. And given the ginormous book in her hands that was being held over her head in a suspiciously weapon-like form, your odds weren't looking too good.

"You..." She growled out her anger in a rush of heavy exhales. "You. Are going. To forget. You. Read. Anything. Got that?!" The book lifted higher into the air, a warning huff following her threatening action.

"Y-yes! I'll forget, I'm sorry!" You cowered back in terror. Who knew someone of her physique could be so intimidating under the right circumstances?

To your relief, your apologies seemed to finally have soothed the burning rage within her. You watched as her heels—previously elevated to help assert her dominance—sank down into the soft floor and her jaw slowly unclenched. For a moment, you two simply stayed in your positions like statues, unsure of how to move forward.

"But... since you did read it..." Her tone took an unexpected turn, the former harshness evaporating and making way for a newfound soft, shy demeanor. You looked up at her in surprise as she continued on.

"Do you... like me back?"

"What?"

"Huh?"

The air grew still as both of your minds went into overdrive. Wait, so the person she was writing about in her diary was... Oh. Oh. After a handful of grueling, painfully long seconds, you finally understood the source of your shared misunderstanding. Unfortunately, it looked like she figured it out at the exact same time as you did.

"Y-you really didn't realize it was about you? I... I..."

First, her hands shook in what you can only imagine was one of the worst bouts of horrified embarrassment in her life. Then, her hands grasped down on the book she was still holding. And hard.

"I'll fucking kill you!!!"

[justdrivee]

🤍🖤

[rna-world]

strato sphere (strato) [oc]

[spaciebabie]

hi you tagged me in this forever ago but now im doing it!!!!!!!!!!!

turning this into a tag game

fill out this template

have fun :o)

no pressure tags:

@o-cinnamonstickz @nottoonedin @raydrawsss @fishpea @meatholf @bloo-the-dragon @gessshoku @hunni-hive @helianenvy @madame-mongoose @radiofuzz @scarletrupee @spaciebabie @starsketchez @maudiemoods +anyone else who wants ta do it

[spaciebabie]

they goat on my lamb until i kill everything i see

background show off mainly b/c i think the sky looks good

lamb

[arcadequeerz]

Mybrain is Melting.

[gubes-sweaters]

Fire on Fire

Summary: Spencer’s post-prison therapy session doesn’t go quite as planned. While discussing the ghosts of his past he becomes spacy, thoughts lingering on what could’ve been.

Content Warning(s): Talks of Spencer’s trauma, addiction, allusions to what cat did to spencer, brief mentions of Maeve’s death, a brief mention of what happened to the unsub from season 5 episode 12 ‘uncanny valley’ aka the living dolls episode. (I think that’s all but if there’s any more let me know) !ALSO ANYTHING THAT THE ‘THERAPIST’ SAYS IN HERE IS NOT ANY SORT OF SOUND ADVICE, IT JUST USED AS A PLOT POINT!

Word Count: 1.7k

Chapter 1: Maybe it’s all That i’ve Been Through

“Now Spencer, have you made any attempts to contact any of the people you’d like to reconcile with? At least the ones we wrote down last session,” the woman asks as she closes his patient file. She pushes her wide glasses up her nose with her nimble fingers, shifting in her seat before looking up at him.

“Yes, I um, actually got to everyone, except for one, but I don’t think I’m going to reach out to the one I scribbled off,” he says, trying not to fidget much in his seat. 

Despite the relaxing room equipped with a white noise machine, dim lights, along with the comforting smell and crackling sound of a candle, Spencer found it nearly impossible to do just that. It may be because these therapist seasons were the last step before he could fully return to the BAU. His anxiousness to bury himself in his work once again was clawing at him. 

He’s not used to having the watchful eye of a professional to pick apart his behavior at all times, at least while he’s in this room with her. He feels intimidated and paranoid, but those feelings aren’t as strong as they were while he was in prison. Which is the whole reason why he’s stuck in this room right now.

“Why was that?” The older woman inquired as she stares at him, her head cocks to the side as her wavy gray hair that frames her face shifts with her.

“I didn’t realize how many people there were that I wanted to connect with,” he says, looking out the window thinking of the difficult dinner he had just last night. They were the second to last on the dreaded list. As if she can hear his thoughts his therapist pipes up.

“Now I know you had a few people you wanted to speak to. There was a distant relative of a man named Tobias Hankle who was…” she trails off to let Spencer fill in the gaps.

“An unidentified suspect, an unsub. It’s what we call the people in our criminal investigations.” Spencer says.

“Right, and he was the reason for your addiction. Correct?” She asks in an attempt to keep him engaged in the conversation.

“Mhm,” is all Spencer musters up.

He looks out at the view from the therapist's office. There’s a park right across the road with large willow trees, casting shadows down at a happy family. ‘That could've been him,’ he thinks to himself. A dad playing with the older child. The kid bopping along happily in the lush grass. A woman sat at a park bench, not too far from the other two, with a baby happily gurgling on her lap, clapping along to the antics of the two in from of them. It pains him to know he has no memories of his own like that. Not from his own childhood and none from a family of his own.

“Spencer?’ The woman sitting across the mahogany coffee table asks him.

“Yes?” he responds, not even realizing she was still speaking to him.

“I asked you about the others on the list. Both of your parents, Derek Morgan, Stephen Gideon, Elle Greenaway, Mary and Joe Donovan, and one last one that’s scribbled over. Who’ve you reached out to?”

“Um, I sent Tobias Hankle’s cousin and letter, then I talked to my mom, but there’s not a lot to talk about with her. She hardly knows who I am anymore. I sent my dad an email and he sent one back, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to read it quite yet. I talked to Morgan. I actually had dinner at his house with his family and it was nice. Stephen Gideon didn’t pick up any of my calls and he didn’t email me back. Elle called me back, it was nice to hear her again,” he says before he cuts himself off. The last two, Maeve’s parents, that was the terrible dinner he had the night prior.

The memories were still so fresh and it hurt to think about for too long. The actual memories themselves were not terrible, they were content and happy, but something about seeing that Maeve came from such a happy family hurt even more. She was pure sunshine and now he knows where she got it from. 

“And?” She pushes.

“I talked to my ex-girlfriend's parents last night. After everything they’re been through I didn’t think they would’ve wanted to talk to me, but they did. They welcomed me into their own home. I think hearing them talk about everything made me blame myself a lot less,” he says trying to choke back tears. The lump in his throat seemed to swell.

He thinks about the tight hug her mom gave him. How she commented about how tired he looked as she dished out food for him. It was the first really good home cooked meal he enjoyed since before prison, other than at Morgan’s house the week prior. He thought about Maeve’s dad talking about Maeve when she was younger. It made his empty heart clench, sitting there imaging Maeve sitting next to him at the table, giggling along to her fathers stories. A shiny diamond ring on her finger, that catches the light from the delicate chandelier that hung over her parents' dinner table, as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips. The thought of that never happening made Spencer’s loneliness all the more soul crushing. He longed for that feeling of domesticity.

“That was progress. We talked about you alleviating the blame that you pile on yourself. Now, I would like to know who this is on the bottom you scribbled off?” she asks, pointing her pen to the writing at the bottom of a notebook. 

“I’m not too particularly keen on reaching out to her.”

“Why is that, are you afraid of rejection from this mystery person,” she inquires.

“No, everything with Cat Adams was very recent, and I know the investigation just stirred up her life. At least that’s what I heard from my team. I’m not sure if I want to do that again,” Spencer replies with a shrug of his shoulder before chewing on the inside of his lip. He knew he was partially making excuses.

“Well, this is your time to be a little selfish when it comes to your healing. We’re also supposed to be growing some more empathy for people like Tobias Hankle and Cat Adams. We’re not washing them of any wrong doings but,” is all she gets out before Spencer cuts in.

“I know, the bureau wants me to still feel bad for unsubs and in a lot of cases I do. Samantha Malcom is one that sticks out, sure she kidnapped women and basically turned them into living dolls, two of them she even accidentally killed, but she had also been physically, sexually, emotionally, and mentally abused by her father her entire childhood. Part of my heart hurts for her. There’s too many to count in all honesty. I look at them and it’s like looking in the mirror,” He says quickly.

“Spencer, I know you have a good heart, but after all you’ve been through in prison and your wrongful conviction I think it’d be best to speak with someone who knew Cat Adams and was going through similar things to her in order to not look at this all so… clinically. We can look at these peoples actions as monstrous, but we can’t paint everyone incapable of changing their lives. Abuse victims aren’t a monolith and if you think of what Cat has been through and think that her way out is justified, or any person's way out was justified, then we can’t have you working in the field with that mentality, given everything you’ve been through,” she says, trying to give him the softest, empathetic smile.

“I didn’t say that people seek vigilante justice or everyone reaches a tipping point. I never said those things were a healthy reaction either. I just,” this time it was the older woman's turn to interrupt him.

“You just poisoned men while in prison in the name of vigilante justice, or framed a man for assault, or told your unit chief Emily Prentiss that you would’ve had no problem murdering Peter Lewis a.k.a. Mr. Scratch. Spencer I know how your brain has been scrambled by being put in such a dog eat dog environment like that prison is. I just want you to exercise empathy by reaching out to her. I’m not asking you to ever justify any of Cat Adams’ behavior and I’m never going to ask you to forgive her for anything. You have a right to feel hurt, violated, and angry. I just want you to look at Cat Adams and see where her life went when she was hellbent on revenge. Then look at this family member of hers and see how she’s healed. At least I presume they’re a family member.”

“It’s her half sister. On her dad’s side.” he says shortly, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded by a parent. He knows she’s right in the effects of how it could help with healing, but a part of his heart that holds that hatred and content for Cat wants to project that onto her.

“Great, when you’re comfortable, reach out to her and simply ask to talk in a location that has brought you comfortability in your life other than your house. So you can feel a bit more relaxed and ready to open up. All of this is about doing what you can to improve your quality of life and your mental health. I care about you Spencer, I really do,” when she finishes her statement offers up another soft simple before opening his patient file backup once more.

“Alright.” he says with a gentle sigh.

“Well, that’s all for this week. Unless there’s something else you’d like to talk about. If not I’ll see you in two weeks,” she says, preparing to stand up.

When Spencer shakes his head no, they both wordlessly standup as he exits the room. He knew he already had the next appointment booked so he leaves with a polite wave and a tight lipped smile. Once he reaches his car, he takes a deep breath before cranking up his car. The warm August air causes him to shed his cardigan before pulling out his phone. He hovers over a number Penelope gave him. Dread fills his stomach once he hits the button to call her. Spencer once again looks at the happy family, now packing up their stuff as the line picks up.

“Hello?”

A/N: AHHHH! So I fell in love with writing again. Part of my burnout was caused by not wanting to pick up my series “unexpected turns” again because I didn’t plan it all out ahead of time, which was the worlds biggest mistake, but I digress because in my free time I’m going to rework that series while I put out this one. This one is already fully planned out and all of the rough drafts are done for it. So, the only thing I have left to do is polish this series, while reworking the other one. Any who I hope you enjoy the start to this series, if you do please like, comment, and reblog my work. Any engagement is much appreciated!

Taglist: @striving4averagegirl @measure-in-pain @tvandfanfic @haylaansmi @rexorangecouny @sophiario

[maidengame]

FIRE EMBLEM: THREE HOUSES|| Accepting

@executefaces​ said:  “  if you get sick of me,  i’m sorry ahead of time!  ”

A soft hum escaped her lips as she scribbled a couple notes down in her notebook, seemingly lost in thought, Haruka almost didn’t catch the words spoken to her. She blinked, furrowing her brow before looking up.  “Oh. Why would I get sick of you?” She pauses in thought. “Do you think I'm sick of you?” She couldn't quite place the reasoning of his words in her mind, until what she thought was a realization entered her thoughts. OH! maybe he had been talking to her for longer than she realized! Was she really that spacy? that she hadn’t noticed until now?  “Oh a-and you don't need to apologize! I, I wasn’t really paying attention! Really um I’m sorry actually.”

[starcourtscream]

“Well, I’d like to help but not as much as I’d like not to.”

          she’s   used   to   reluctant   participants   by   now,   mauve   &   rose   dusted   features   devoid   of   any   exasperation.   this   is   a   more   complex   problem,   one   that   requires   her   extrasensory   perception   &   clairaudience   —   something   anyone   normal   would   highly   doubt,   but   lydia   specializes   in   ghostly   frequencies   and   things   that   might   compromise   the   question   of   her   sanity.     ❛   fortunately   in   your   case,   i   don’t   think   this   is   something   anyone   else   can   help   me   with,   ❜   she   answers   cryptically,   deep   in   concentration   with   a   pen   poised   between   manicured   fingers.   there’s   a   long   spell   of   silence,   lydia’s   features   blank   as   if   she’s   lost   somewhere   in   another   dimension.   that’s   when   the   pen   starts   flying,   various   shapes   &   letters   scribble   wildly   across   the   paper   in   front   of   her   but   she’s   not   fully   conscious,   evident   in   the   spacy   glaze   to   juniper   hues.  SHE’S   DOING   BANSHEE   THINGS   AGAIN,   psychography   or   automatic   writing   in   this   case.   there’s   a   message   from   another   world   using   her   as   a   conduit,   something   ominous.

♡   @betdefined   /   that 70′s show   /   accepting   !

[swingsdown]

a catalog of non-definitive moments: part iv previous | first

-

-

Marinette passes by in front of him, and Adrien’s not sure sure if she’s real or a dream. She had colored his world red with want, and he feels sick with fever every time he thinks he sees her. Maybe-Marinette reaches out, and her hand touches his shoulder. “Adrien?” Dazed at the contact—at the sound of her voice—he murmurs his greeting, asking when she’d come back to Paris. “I just got in yesterday, ” she pauses, studying the blond with a cocked head. “Are you ok?” “I—” he stops, “This is starting to sound familiar, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s voice is light, but the look in her narrowed eyes don’t fade, “Well, who knew you’d grow up to be the spacy klutz.” She steps around him and heads up the stone steps of the building they’re standing by, “Well this is me—actually, were you waiting for...?” It barely takes him by surprise, that he’d ended up where she would be even though he hadn’t...he is sure he’s never been here before— “What? No, I was just passing by, I’m on my way to class.” “Well, hopefully next time we bump into each other it’ll be on purpose. See you around, Adrien.” With one last bright smile and a little wave, Marinette disappears behind her door.

Marinette is bent over her portfolio, scribbling madly, when he lands on her tiny balcony. She looks up the second his feet touches the concrete, brows furrowed in surprise.

Kitty?

Adrien gives his best attempt at a smile, undoing the trick latch she’d installed months ago for him on autopilot. Sorry, I know I shouldn’t drop in like this but I was j-just—

An involuntary yawn cuts him off

—too tired tonight.

He stumbles in and sinks into the soft rug at her feet, every bone in his body turning liquid as she leans over him and ruffles his hair with soft fingers.

She laughs as he lazily butts her hand for more. You really are tired, aren’t you? I guess it’s fine if nobody saw. You can stay.

She settles back into her chair, and Adrien closes his eyes in contentment.

He knows he should have gone home instead; he should have at the very least released his transformation first, but:

The occasional warmth of Marinette’s hand. The scratch of her pencil on paper. The shape of her shadow thrown on the opposite wall—

Adrien has never felt so safe—he wouldn’t give these Wednesday nights up for anything, no matter how exhausted he is or what he’ll face when he goes home.

Je t’aime, he mumbles without thinking. A moment later he instantly freezes, bracing himself for Marinette’s usual stinging denial.

But there’s nothing, and the silence lapses into something so soft and fragile that Adrien begins to let himself hope...

He looks up, and the small smile curving Marinette’s lips stuns him, cripples him, rips his heart out of his chest and offers him something far better in return—

-

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tbc - part iv

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note: i apologize for the egregious abuse of the em dash.  

[spaciebabie]

SPRINGTRAP A2!!!!!!!!!!!!!

springtrap nation rise from the ashes and be reborn

[spaciebabie]

would you believe me if i said i kept this mostly spoiler free...?

[spaciebabie]

yall ever have days where ur head is just like

[spaciebabie]

redraw of an old piece from 2021

[spaciebabie]

he appreciates the effort

(also ta answer your question look under read more!!)

or:

hope that helps!

@spaciebabie for Springtrap's ourple heart lol (also how do I send you asks lol)