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#outside over there
fuckyeahlabyrinth · 1 year
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Sound very similar to Labyrinth! Published just several years before Labyrinth.
I was researching Maurice Sendak because my son adores Little Bear (me too!) and this book caught my eye. A young girl must save her baby sister, who was stolen by goblins, before the baby sister is forced to be a goblin wife! Quite creepy. Many of the reviews on Amazon mention this as well. Thought it was neat and wanted to share!
EDIT: Apparently this book is on Sarah’s shelves?! I have got to do a rewatch!!
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veryslowreader · 4 months
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Outside Over There by Maurice Sendak
Café Lumière
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Love a self-inflicted time loop. The main character isn’t trapped.  They can stop whenever they want.  But how can they when things aren’t perfect yet?  They can do better than this.  They need to try again.  They can get it right this time.  They just need to try again.  They can stop anytime they want.  Just one more time.  They can fix this. They just need to try again.  There are still things to fix.  They just need to try again.
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thebibliosphere · 5 months
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Y'know how the phrase the New York Minute is "a very short span of time" or, as some local New Yorkers have informed me, the amount of time it takes for the traffic light to turn green and for the cab behind you to honk their horn and shout "fucking move, asshole!"
The Gotham Minute is the amount of time it takes for you to step outside your door and see a crime. Or to commit a crime. No one's really picky.
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anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...
#not a shitpost#serious post#ask to tag#tw trauma#cptsd#c-ptsd#and if so we should TALK about it#because it means there are a whole group of survivors out there whose mental health regularly worsens during holidays#like i know i am most certainly not the only person who feels an undefined Dread hanging over christmas/my birthday/july 4 etc#bc too many shitty things happened during those times and now my brain is hypervigilant bc traditionally these are the Danger Times#and this seems like it would be particularly common for survivors of abusive/dysfunctional households (aka most people with c-ptsd)#because holidays/vacations typically mean 1) the whole family is together/being forced to interact#2) and undergoing external stressors e.g. travel/relatives aka 'outsiders' visiting/routines & coping mechanisms being interrupted etc#3) there is social pressure for this to be a Fun Family Bonding Experience which only highlights the cracks in the foundation#and exposes the common Everything Is Fine/We Are A Happy Family lie#4) the cognitive dissonance of feeling tired/anxious/stressed/afraid during a time when you are 'supposed' to be Making Good Memories#and then everyone is angry/tired/anxious/triggered and things boil over and something or someone goes Very Wrong#weird that i'm posting this in october when halloween is...sort of the ONLY holiday i have only good and happy feelings towards#i got lucky there#also i have positive feelings towards Labor Day but that's for socialist reasons
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lumityfication · 6 months
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if you didn’t like fnaf movie fuck you. you don’t see the vision. did you even catch the midnight motorist tshirt. that’s what i thought you freak
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petitelappin · 13 days
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I want her to scoop him up so much. I think they would both enjoy it. Sweep the man off his feet, as they say!
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goldengirlgalaxy · 4 months
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Reverse Clone AU
So, I've seen a couple stories where Danny is Damian's clone. How about we reverse it?
Danny was born Damian Al Ghul, being raised to be an assassin since he could walk. However, he had a good heart, and eventually his mother overstepped around him (maybe she killed one of his favorite caretakers? Maybe he saw her killing someone with a loving family?), causing him to decide to leave the League next time they let him outside.
He was discovered by the Fentons, got adopted, and had his name changed from Damian Al Ghul into Daniel 'Danny' Fenton. Over the years, his time in the League slowly faded from memory, only remembering that one moment that drove him from them.
Talia, meanwhile, tried to create another baby, but found she didn't have any more DNA from Bruce. However, she did have plenty of Damian/Danny's DNA, so she decided to simply clone her son, making sure that this one would never get it in his head to run away. She decided to let the memory of her first son go, completely overriding it with the new Damian, as if he had been the first son and not merely some clone, forcing everyone in the League to keep the fact a secret.
So, things continue on, Danny becomes Phantom, Damian becomes Robin, so on and so forth. Eventually, one of the Batclan stumble upon Danny and take an interest in him once they realize he looks like Damian.
They actually don't think that he's a clone, because he's older than Damian and records show him having a history older than Damian, so they believe that Talia had another child, which Damian is already a little salty about, because it means that his status as the heir of the League and potentially his title as the only blood son of batman are completely meaningless.
Unfortunately, their investigations lead to the League figuring out where Danny is, at which point Talia drops by and decides to reveal in front of everyone that Danny is the original Damian and Damian is a clone meant to take his place.
The only one who takes it well is Danny, who tells everyone to get off his porch before he activates the home defense systems because he does not care for this drama.
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p4nishers · 10 months
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crowley, drunk off his ass: and i was yk just some fucked up soul born in cold and rain but he was my fucking sunlight or whatever
hozier, frantically writing on a napkin: HHHMMMM TELL ME MORE
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ionomycin · 4 months
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2023 favorites
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crescentfool · 2 months
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reunion 🌸
#persona 3#persona 3 spoilers#minato arisato#makoto yuki#ryoji mochizuki#aigis#ryomina#lizzy does art#HELLO EVERYONE!!! march 5th is upon us again so i bring... my contribution for this year. my third year drawing for it!#i made the thumbnail for this a few weeks after last year's graduation day#i thought it would be fun to lean into the ryominaigis angle of graduation day (you could read this as minato/aigis if you like-#but i feel like most people would read it as ryoji/minato)#IN ANY CASE working on this made me very emotional over this game :') (specifically minato)#i really enjoy how p3 ends it's such a nice way of wrapping up the narrative's messages and themes#working on this. minato's kindness was at the forefront of my mind throughout the piece#and i really wanted to capture how. ultimately it was his decision to sacrifice himself- to do the great seal#while to an outsider's perspective it is. sad that minato passes. i think becoming the seal is something that minato-#actively welcomes. in the same way that death (ryoji) is a comfort to him because death was housed in him for Ten YearsTM#AND I ALSO GOT REALLY SAD OVER AIGIS TOO. i still get fucked up over how in fes's animated cutscene for 3/5 they portray-#her as human and not drawing the robot parts so i wanted to do something smilar here...#but also i am very sad on aigis's behalf because she discovers her humanity through minato and realizes what she-#wants to do and then. well. minato is like. he's ready to pass on (even if he's scared) and im like. OH MY GOD THIS TRIO GETS ME MESSED UP#this was more coherent in my head LOL BUT ough i like drawing p3 and working through my feelings about it...#anyway! happy (in quotations) march 5th. i love this game to bits. it's so fun to draw for this day every year and see how i've improved#if you've read all this thank you :) lizzy appreciates you all very much. mwah! <3
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sp0o0kylights · 9 months
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Part Two / Part Three
Ao3
It's 8:45 am. 
The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.
It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?
No one was complaining. 
They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 
It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.
He doesn't mind it.
Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.
This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.
Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.
(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 
The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)
As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.
 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 
A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.
This was not unusual.
Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 
What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 
The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.
Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 
(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 
"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 
"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.
Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.
'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'
Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 
"Mind if I have a word outside?" 
Dammit Eddie.
"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 
There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 
"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 
"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 
Wayne stared up at him. 
"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.
"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 
If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.
It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.
They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 
Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 
Wayne really did owe him. 
So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 
"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 
Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 
“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 
A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 
“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 
A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 
"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 
The Chief chewed on his split lip. 
"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 
Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 
The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 
How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 
Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 
Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 
The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 
This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 
The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 
(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)
"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 
"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 
"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 
This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 
Hopper took a breath. Than another.
A third.
It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 
"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.
Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 
“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 
Wayne sucked in a breath. 
"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.
It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 
Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 
Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.
He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 
(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 
“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 
His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 
“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.
 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 
Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 
“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 
“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 
“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 
'Ain’t that the damn truth.'
“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 
This one, he figured, was the most important. 
“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 
Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 
It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.
Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 
“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.
If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.
No point in it. 
“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 
“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 
Once again, Wayne waited him out.
“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 
A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.
How they almost hadn’t. 
“Alright.” Wayne agreed.
Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.
He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 
He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 
Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 
Wayne had a feeling it was needed.
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nitw · 2 years
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GOOD NEWS EVERYONE THE PROPAGANDA IS FINALLY WORKING
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doe-prince · 6 months
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Lately my dreams have been bloody
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driaswrld · 4 months
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it's raining outside, and higuruma is laying on your bedroom floor.
the soft pit-patter of raindrops coupled with his dancing fingertips against the exposed skin of your waist is a song you haven't quite learnt the tune to yet — he lays on his side, hair tousled and damp, dark strands curling over his forehead, sleeves rolled up and tie forgotten somewhere in the doorway.
admittedly, you're in no better shape. your cheeks are cold, skin of your calves wet with rainwater from running across the busy streets with him, armful of whatever ingredients you two picked out for dinner, his suit jacket held above your head and the occasional chorus of laughter when either of you stomp a puddle and splash the other.
it's raining, and higuruma thinks he falls in love with you every single day, like it's born anew.
he falls in love with the girl he wakes up next to, mouth open and cheek smooshed into the pillows. he falls in love with the girl who doesn't know a thing about law, but argues better than him in the heat of the moment. he falls in love with the girl who kicked her boots through puddles of rain, ruining his pants — the girl who made him laugh about something so mundane.
it's raining, and higuruma is laying on your bedroom floor, oddly paired with his formal white shirt and a pair of pajamas, his dress pants draped over the washer — the dryer broke a few days ago, he forgot — he holds you close as he watches the water droplets race against the glass window.
he loves you.
“do you like the rain?” you ask him, head tucked into his neck, his eyes fluttering shut for a second, the question is lost on him for a moment.
“i like you.”
you don't respond yet, and higuruma opens one of his eyes, only to find you staring at him. “more than you like the rain?” he almost laughs at that, almost, and he pulls you impossibly closer.
“a lot more than i like the rain, i’m sure.”
it's raining outside, and higuruma never really liked when it rained, not at all.
he proposed to you in spring. married you in summer.
but now he hopes it rains tomorrow, he hopes you still want him then, and he hopes you'll splash him with another puddle.
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