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every winter solstice I am consumed with thoughts of Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost...

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“The Driver” by Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out now! Order it here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

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I think this is the comfiest my art has ever been. Every time I look at it I want to take a nap

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Sending my most reliable corporate staffer to Connecticut to shut down a Christmas tree farm. Wish me luck

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hope is a skill

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To The Person Who Was Sitting Near Me On The Train - Jordan Bolton

My first book ‘Blue Sky Through the Window of a Moving Car’ is out Nov 7th and is available to pre-order here - https://smarturl.it/BlueSky

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A Beast’s Bargain

The ivy-shrouded walls loomed before her, imposing even in their tumbled decay. If she’d had a mind to, she could have climbed the walls and gained access to the enchanted manor beyond. But she wasn’t there to steal or trespass.

She marched up to the rusted iron gates, head high and shoulders back. It didn’t matter that her hair had a few streaks of silver, or that her hands were chapped and calloused. She wasn’t there to try to tempt the beast like some of the foolish young women in town believed was possible.

The gates swung open on their own, the grating screech of the hinges loud enough to spur several birds to flight.

She still stopped at the edge of the property. “I’ve come to speak with the manor’s keeper,” she called out.

The only response was the distant song of birds and insects that lived in the forest surrounding the manor.

And still she did not enter the grounds.

After the better part of an hour, a chill curled around her. Though there were no clouds in the sky, the sun seemed to dim. Despite her resolve, it took all her strength to not leap away from the warm breath tickling the back of her neck.

“Why have you come?” the beast growled.

She stared straight ahead and replied, “I’ve come to make a bargain.”

The beast laughed and moved away enough that she could no longer feel its presence pressed against her. “You are no young maid, desperate for coin, magic, or a new life. What do you think you can offer me?”

She snorted. “I’m not here to try and break your curse - if you’re even cursed. I’m here to bargain for access to your library.”

Keep reading

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sometimes plushies make me cry because it’s like. they’re little guys made to be loved. their only purpose is to be held and hugged and loved. we made them because we love making things and we love loving things. and they’re so cute

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Gav’s Tavern Hi, I hope you like this. It is different from what I usually do. Also it was a lot of work.

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In the glorious new Century we are approaching, the old empires will be ground beneath our feet as we rise to meet humanity's glorious destiny. The oppressors of mankind will at last be defeated, ushering in an eternal peace and boundless prosperity. Also, we're going to come up with new kinds of potato chips.

One of the first things my school guidance counsellor told me was that I was "too fucking dumb" to work at the potato chip factory in town. And for good reason. Although my academics were excellent, I had an attitude towards slacking even then that would have severely damaged the productivity of our proudest industry. He recommended that I instead go into theoretical computer science, where it seemed less likely that I would do any lasting damage to something important like the Russetizer®.

After I had burned out of a career of thinking about touching computers, and ended up scrounging for subsistence in a series of increasingly desperate small towns (like most of my graduating class) I thought about going back to the potato factory. Surely, they would accept me now. I have all this worldly experience, all these social oddities beaten out of me in favour of a newfound conformist urge to make just enough money to pay my mortgage and occasionally finance a round of golf at the cheap course.

Bad news, though. It turns out that while I was away, the practical computer scientists had taken over. When the venture capitalists realized that "we made a website for a thing" suddenly meant that you could charge a billion dollars for that thing, the hastily renamed High-Tech Potato Chip Company put the town on the map. And then, quickly thereafter, was erased from the map in a series of debt-based transactions. It has zero employees now, and the old factory was sold for scrap, but the corporate entity still makes several million dollars a year. This, despite the fact that nobody in town is sure exactly what it actually does, other than that it is "not making potato chips."

One night, I went to go see the place where the potato chip factory was. I wanted to stand where the Russetizer® once stood, before it was ripped out of the concrete and sent to some potato chip factory in a country that I can't find on a map. Unfortunately, my old high school guidance counsellor was there. Working as a security guard to supplement his retirement. I figured he would be real pissed to see me there, after all this drama, so I just turned around and left.

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give unto caesar (give unto me), a poem by me.

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a round brush study based off a photo a friend let me use as reference :>

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Car Trunk vs Car Boot: A clear win for US English, trunk was already a thing in which you stored items, frequently for transport.

Crisps vs Chips: I gotta admit, the Brits have this one. They're thin slices of potato that have been made crispy. No chipping of any materials involved.

Car Park vs Parking Lot: Equally matched. What's a car park? A place to park cars. What's a parking lot? An otherwise empty lot where you can park.

Elevator vs Lift: Both equally fail to address that the damn thing also goes down.

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~The Most Beautiful Woman in The World~

Download on itch.io for extra content!

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Here is a comic about missing parts. Thanks as ever to the wonderful angels who support the comic. You can join them on here : linktr.ee/judymoore

— — —

Everything is somewhat repaired: Missing PartsCW: Genital Surgery Directly after the orchiectomy operation most of the pain, not so much, was under my tummy where the incisions were made. Between my legs, not much at all. (alt: Under belly with scars. a circle of sky with white clouds covering genitals)

Rolling over in my sleep, I had always been a little carful not to squash those vulnerable parts between my thighs. But this first sleep, a little high on pain meds, I was still careful but found there was nothing to squash. (alt: Judy sleeping in a hospital bed)

Rebecca arrived with pink roses and a sandwich. We talked about the missing parts. She asked “Is it like losing a tooth? Your tongue busy checking for it, writing a new map of your mouth.”(alt: Fruit bat Rebecca wearing a leather jacket, with a speech bubble containing a tooth.)

I said it felt more like being at a party, and realising some of the people you came with aren’t there. You hear they left hours ago and you hadn’t noticed until now. You were busy dancing…. or dreaming? (alt: Someone whispering into Judy’s ear as she looks off confused.)

You feel a little pang of guilt for not saying goodbye properly but then realise quite how much you weren’t ever really friends. And you continue dancing. And then someone brings you roses. (alt: Judy dancing wearing a sleeveless t shirt with Elizabeth Taylor written on it. surrounded by pink roses.)

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A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”

“Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”

“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Climb aboard, then!” But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown. “Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.” 

“I can’t help it,” said the scorpion. “It’s my nature.”

___

…But no sooner than they were halfway across the river, the frog felt a subtle motion on its back, and in a panic dived deep beneath the rushing waters, leaving the scorpion to drown.

“It was going to sting me anyway,” muttered the frog, emerging on the other side of the river. “It was inevitable. You all knew it. Everyone knows what those scorpions are like. It was self-defense.”

___

…But no sooner had they cast off from the bank, the frog felt the tip of a stinger pressed lightly against the back of its neck. “What do you think you’re doing?” said the frog.

“Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”

They swam in silence to the other end of the river, where the scorpion climbed off, leaving the frog fuming.

“After the kindness I showed you!” said the frog. “And you threatened to kill me in return?”

“Kindness?” said the scorpion. “To only invite me on your back after you knew I was defenseless, unable to use my tail without killing myself? My dear frog, I only treated you as I was treated. Your kindness was as poisoned as a scorpion’s sting.”

___

…“Just a precaution,” said the scorpion. “I cannot sting you without drowning. And now, you cannot drown me without being stung. Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”

“You have a point,” the frog acknowledged. “But once we get to dry land, couldn’t you sting me then without repercussion?”

“All I want is to cross the river safely,” said the scorpion. “Once I’m on the other side I would gladly let you be.”

“But I would have to trust you on that,” said the frog. “While you’re pressing a stinger to my neck. By ferrying you to land I’d be be giving up the one deterrent I hold over you.”

“But by the same logic, I can’t possibly withdraw my stinger while we’re still over water,” the scorpion protested.

The frog paused in the middle of the river, treading water. “So, I suppose we’re at an impasse.”

The river rushed around them. The scorpion’s stinger twitched against the frog’s unbroken skin. “I suppose so,” the scorpion said.

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Absolutely not!” said the frog, and dived beneath the waters, and so none of them learned anything.

___

A scorpion, being unable to swim, asked a turtle (as in the original Persian version of the fable) to carry it across the river. The turtle readily agreed, and allowed the scorpion aboard its shell. Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell. The turtle, swimming placidly, failed to notice.

They reached the other side of the river, and parted ways as friends.

___

…Halfway across, the scorpion gave in to its nature and stung, but failed to penetrate the turtle’s thick shell.

The turtle, hearing the tap of the scorpion’s sting, was offended at the scorpion’s ungratefulness. Thankfully, having been granted the powers to both defend itself and to punish evil, the turtle sank beneath the waters and drowned the scorpion out of principle.

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” sneered the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back.”

The scorpion pleaded earnestly. “Do you think so little of me? Please, I must cross the river. What would I gain from stinging you? I would only end up drowning myself!”

“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Even a scorpion knows to look out for its own skin. Climb aboard, then!”

But as they forged through the rushing waters, the scorpion grew worried. This frog thinks me a ruthless killer, it thought. Would it not be justified in throwing me off now and ridding the world of me? Why else would it agree to this? Every jostle made the scorpion more and more anxious, until the frog surged forward with a particularly large splash, and in panic the scorpion lashed out with its stinger.

“I knew it,” snarled the frog, as they both thrashed and drowned. “A scorpion cannot change its nature.”

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. The frog agreed, but no sooner than they were halfway across the scorpion stung the frog, and they both began to thrash and drown.

“I’ve only myself to blame,” sighed the frog, as they both sank beneath the waters. “You, you’re a scorpion, I couldn’t have expected anything better. But I knew better, and yet I went against my judgement! And now I’ve doomed us both!”

“You couldn’t help it,” said the scorpion mildly. “It’s your nature.” 

___

…“Why on earth did you do that?” the frog said morosely. “Now we’re both going to die.”

“Alas, I was of two natures,” said the scorpion. “One said to gratefully ride your back across the river, and the other said to sting you where you stood. And so both fought, and neither won.” It smiled wistfully. “Ah, it would be nice to be just one thing, wouldn’t it? Unadulterated in nature. Without the capacity for conflict or regret.”

___

“By the way,” said the frog, as they swam, “I’ve been meaning to ask: What’s on the other side of the river?”

“It’s the journey,” said the scorpion. “Not the destination.”

___

…“What’s on the other side of anything?” said the scorpion. “A new beginning.”

___

…”Another scorpion to mate with,” said the scorpion. “And more prey to kill, and more living bodies to poison, and a forthcoming lineage of cruelties that you will be culpable in.”

___

…”Nothing we will live to see, I fear,” said the scorpion. “Already the currents are growing stronger, and the river seems like it shall swallow us both. We surge forward, and the shoreline recedes. But does that mean our striving was in vain?”

___

“I love you,” said the scorpion.

The frog glanced upward. “Do you?”

“Absolutely. Can you imagine the fear of drowning? Of course not. You’re a frog. Might as well be scared of breathing air. And yet here I am, clinging to your back, as the waters rage around us. Isn’t that love? Isn’t that trust? Isn’t that necessity? I could not kill you without killing myself. Are we not inseparable in this?”

The frog swam on, the both of them silent.

___

“I’m so tired,” murmured the frog eventually. “How much further to the other side? I don’t know how long we’ve been swimming. I’ve been treading water. And it’s getting so very dark.”

“Shh,” the scorpion said. “Don’t be afraid.”

The frog’s legs kicked out weakly. “How long has it been? We’re lost. We’re lost! We’re doomed to be cast about the waters forever. There is no land. There’s nothing on the other side, don’t you see!”

“Shh, shh,” said the scorpion. “My venom is a hallucinogenic. Beneath its surface, the river is endlessly deep, its currents carrying many things.” 

“You - You’ve killed us both,” said the frog, and began to laugh deliriously. “Is this - is this what it’s like to drown?” 

“We’ve killed each other,” said the scorpion soothingly. “My venom in my glands now pulsing through your veins, the waters of your birthing pool suffusing my lungs. We are engulfing each other now, drowning in each other. I am breathless. Do you feel it? Do you feel my sting pierced through your heart?”

“What a foolish thing to do,” murmured the frog. “No logic. No logic to it at all.”

“We couldn’t help it,” whispered the scorpion. “It’s our natures. Why else does anything in the world happen? Because we were made for this from birth, darling, every moment inexplicable and inevitable. What a crazy thing it is to fall in love, and yet - It’s all our fault! We are both blameless. We’re together now, darling. It couldn’t have happened any other way.”

___

“It’s funny,” said the frog. “I can’t say that I trust you, really. Or that I even think very much of you and that nasty little stinger of yours to begin with. But I’m doing this for you regardless. It’s strange, isn’t it? It’s strange. Why would I do this? I want to help you, want to go out of my way to help you. I let you climb right onto my back! Now, whyever would I go and do a foolish thing like that?”

___

A scorpion, not knowing how to swim, asked a frog to carry it across the river. “Do I look like a fool?” said the frog. “You’d sting me if I let you on my back!”

“Be logical,” said the scorpion. “If I stung you I’d certainly drown myself.”  

“That’s true,” the frog acknowledged. “Come aboard, then!” But no sooner had the scorpion mounted the frog’s back than it began to sting, repeatedly, while still safely on the river’s bank.

The frog groaned, thrashing weakly as the venom coursed through its veins, beginning to liquefy its flesh. “Ah,” it muttered. “For some reason I never considered this possibility.”

“Because you were never scared of me,” the scorpion whispered in its ear. “You were never scared of dying. In a past life you wore a shell and sat in judgement. And then you were reborn: soft-skinned, swift, unburdened, as new and vulnerable as a child, moving anew through a world of children. How could anyone ever be cruel, you thought, seeing the precariousness of it all?” The scorpion bowed its head and drank. “How could anyone kill you without killing themselves?”