One of the things I resent most about being Animal Brain Apex Predator trapped in Maximum Productivity Society is that I have to work when the weather is gross, instead of following my natural instinct to burrow myself into something dry and soft and sleep until Optimal Foraging Conditions
roach-works
lunar dust tastes like concrete
important information for sci fi writers: i have received a vial of simulated lunar highlands dust that is supposedly chemically identical to the real thing. i immediately tasted it because i’ve always wanted to know what the moon actually tastes like. i blame wallace and gromit.

pictured above: the founding members of the Tasted The Moon Club.
anyway the simulated regolith tastes like clean concrete. slightly different from river stone or granite in a way i can’t explain. less stony, more dusty, definitely not sandy, and absolutely no taste of salt, iron, or dirt.
if you have ever wanted to write someone on the moon, now you have at least one dude’s word on what the lunar highlands taste like.
i almost forgot that the @days-of-their-lives-zine exclusivity period was over! here’s the piece i drew for the zine, taking place in the 14th century - specifically in a little tavern in paris, where an angel and a demon are glumly getting drunk. (crowley uses she/her and they/them pronouns in this piece)
goldentangerines
every now and then i have to think of the roman family from two thousand years ago that buried their little daughter in a boy’s athletic-themed sarcophagus and i weep a little because that’s the softest declaration of love i can possibly imagine

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