#holes books
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pezboisworld · 7 months ago
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youre literally carrying the entire holes fandom on ur back... thank u for that omg...
It's a heavy burden, but I am just trying my best to fill in the rest of the holes myself.
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applepixls · 2 months ago
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etho upon learning pots can be smashed by flying into them: "wait............. minigame!!!"
its like that one childrens book "if you give a mouse a cookie" except its "if you give a redstoner a new game mechanic"
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disastersoda · 2 months ago
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The idea of them being openly affectionate (in their own way) always takes me out.
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Part 2/2
By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.
In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.
So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.
When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.
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He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.
The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.
The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.
It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.
And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.
However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.
Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:
Children.
Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.
Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.
They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.
It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.
When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:
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Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.
Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.
"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.
Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.
He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.
Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.
He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.
Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.
He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.
He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.
"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.
He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.
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All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?
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butchvamp · 1 year ago
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images from the NYC 10th annual dyke march, 2002, by samantha feder. taken from technodyke.com
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lilli-eyr · 3 months ago
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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 2 months ago
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I will die on the hill that this deserves a place amongst rankings of the saddest quotes in Crooked Kingdom:
“You don’t understand. It was me, I caused this”
- Wylan, chapter 14, when Jesper says he wants to feed Van Eck to the vultures for what he did to Marya.
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aria-greenhoodie · 3 months ago
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Have some meme redraws of the radioactive old man yaoi ft. my Human Bill design again‼️
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Click for Quality!
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pantheonbooks · 3 months ago
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“I felt like I was looking into the future . . . and the future looked really messed up.” —Black Hole, Charles Burns
Touching on themes of companionship and alienation, sex and drugs, and coming-of-age in a world that is all too frightening, Charles Burns’s cult classic stands the test of time as one of the most “frighteningly brilliant” (The Boston Globe) graphic novels ever inked.
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12neonlit-stage · 4 months ago
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and what if I cried. huh. what if I cried.
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Like is he calling HIMSELF a monster here ??? I need him to explode (affectionate)
(edit) Additionally:
Euclydia seems to be the name of Bill's home dimension, as stated by the Time Baby, this is what I got when I looked it up on the site
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obsob · 2 years ago
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making and weaving and loving! like we have done for millennia!!
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pezboisworld · 5 months ago
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Love Will Always Hold Me Down
Chapter 3 excerpt
Austin, Texas was still another 4 hours away.
The bright lights of a pick up flashed across the passenger window. Hector stirred against the leather seats. He stretched his stiff neck glancing at the still sleeping Stanley. His billowy brown curls had since dried. Now packed against his head instead of sticking out wildly. Mouth slightly parted as he snored. Hector wanted to curl up under Stanley’s arm. Let the other boy’s breathing lull him back to sleep. If they were still on God’s Thumb Hector would have done just that. Somehow that mountain felt like they had left Texas all together. A place where things could be what they made it. Right now the two boys weren’t away from it all. They were in east Texas. Which meant far less cuddling than Hector had grown used to over the course of a few weeks.
His attempts to unlock the door went nowhere. Switching on and off the lock in confusion.
There was a tap at the window. Hector glanced up to see Stanley’s lawyer.
“Child lock.” the woman said, opening the car door to let him out. “You’re runaways after all.” The lawyer shut the door behind him.
The Jaguar sat out front a Waffle House. The place was mostly dead. Sun was setting now and the street lights were on. Hector would guess they were leaving lunch prices and going into dinner. As Hector assessed the place, the lawyer had taken the time settling back into her seat. Door open as she took a much needed puff from her cigarette. Hovering over the purse on her lap. Heels kicked off. Her pencil skirt wasn’t doing her any favors. Forcing her knees together as she sat with her feet outside the car.
“Do you have a spare hair tie?” Hector asked her.
“Sure, kid.”said the attorney. Holding her cigarette in her lips as she rummaged through her purse.
Pulling out two hair ties for him.
Hector slid the hair tie on his wrist. A flash of his split palm catches the lawyer’s eye. A hand reached out for Zero’s. Brows creased as a manicured finger lightly grazed the closed wound. A frown across her face. Her mouth opened for a moment. Whatever she wanted to say died on her tongue before she could finish a word. Instead her eyes meet his. Scanning his face. Zero’s eyes fell to the pavement.
In the backseat, Stanley began to stir. It was his turn to wrestle with the child-lock.
The woman let’s go of Zero’s hand “Let him out, will you?”
Zero does as told. Helping Stanley out of the car. The taller boy let’s out a slurred, ‘thanks man’.
The lawyer tells Stanley to ask for a first aid kit inside. “Go on. Head in.” She said. Instructing Hector to stay behind.
“I get that you don’t want to talk to me.” she said as she clasped her hands together. “But I would hate to send you on your way unprepared for what may happen.” The woman let out a long sigh, “I don’t need details, just a simple yes or no will do.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Hector said.
“The Yelnat’s may return you to child services.” She rushed out. Looking for the boy's reaction, but he simply stood stock-still. Focusing on the woman’s eyebrows, as his mother taught him years ago. “Even if they want to keep you, they have to alert the state. You understand that don’t you?”
The woman stretched out a hand to tuck in some stray curls peeking out from his puff.
“You like having all this hair? Can get you to a barber if it’s too long for you.” she asked.
Hector replied with a silent nod.
“Than you’ll need to take care of it.” she said sternly, “I’ll get something for you, alright.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Whether the Yelnats want to keep you or not, if child services wants to take you, the Yelnats’ can’t refuse them.” She went on, “You can’t runaway from this. It’s not like camp. Child services will look for you.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Alright.” the attorney finished with a squeeze to his shoulders. “Now, get that hand looked at.”
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ryllen · 1 year ago
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OH NO CRINGEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
.
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luyo-mi · 1 year ago
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rawr
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wiltkingart · 2 years ago
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trans Túrin Turambar for @constellationqueer
[comm info]
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renegadeer · 5 months ago
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