“Why should rich people pay more” because fuck ‘em
“So you are okay for paying more when you have money” I am not excluded from ‘fuck ‘em’ when relevant
I miss being able to gush about things with friends, but years of being told to “shut the fuck up loser” in my youth really took the wind out of those sails.
I know this is a tired, (hopefully) well-known idea, but it bears repeating.
The idea that “money doesn’t buy happiness” most often comes from a place of inherent privilege and comfort.
Sure, money doesn’t buy “happiness”, but it can buy that set of markers you’ve been eying, or a new sketchbook because your old one is finally out of space, or a tablet and pen because you’ve really been wanting to try out digital art.
It can buy piping tips and bags, new cake pans, cupcake liners, food coloring that you’re sure will give you the right result this time—
It can buy books, video games and gaming systems, candles and face masks, nail polish and makeup, cosplay material, and more.
It can buy a vacation to that one place that’s been of your bucket list for years, or dinner with friends, or a plane ticket so you can go home for Christmas this year.
It can buy the basic fucking necessities of life—food, water, housing, clothing, education, etc. I don’t know about you, but knowing that I can feed myself tomorrow, or for the next week, or for the next month makes me pretty damn happy.
You may not need money to be happy, but you sure as hell need hobbies, and people, and a roof over your head, and sustenance.
Don’t be ignorant.
aspec people are queer. aspec people deserve to be in queer spaces. aspec people are welcome to pride. aspec people are queer even if they're cis. aspec people are queer even if they're heterosexual. aspec people are amazing and deserve the world.
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
Wiggle
old ladies love red hood NOT because he helps them cross roads and seems like a charming young man. they love him because at the end of the night, when he's crouched over catching his breath, head in hands in what he thinks is an empty street, or hobbling down roads trying to get home quickly despite sustaining large injuries, he reminds them of their grandsons.
he gets invited into their homes, and knows better than to decline. he'll sit down and wait to be berated by the old lady at the other side of the kitchen who's putting together a quick meal for him. he'll take off the helmet, and that's when she starts, not telling him to stop what he does, but to take better damn care of himself. he'll apologise and promise, as he's fixing himself up with her first aid kit.
as he leaves she'll still be making firm, although loving remarks at him, but he smiles underneath the helmet because he's being treated like a man, not a hero, a villain, or any of the other inhuman titles he's picked up over the years.
Me @ Spotify, after the fifth ABBA song in a row plays on my (supposedly) shuffled playlist:
The ace spectrum fear that you're going to spend your life alone because you want to fall in love but can't, amiright boys?
In regards of the Trump government scraping all trans inclusion in its queer information portion of its websites I have made this thing. Spread the word. Don't let them pretend we never existed.
P.S: Don't like! Reblog! <3
EDIT: Well this got a lot of attention! I got a few users asking to print or repost my art and I am unimaginably grateful to everyone's interest, especially since it's a really simple drawing I made on a whim haha! Anyone who is looking to print these out to hang or hand out or repost on another platform is free to do so, although I ask you to credit me and let people know it's from my Tumblr profile! If anyone wishes to do anything else with my art or post and wants to clarify what I consent to then they can message me privately and I'll explain! <333 all my love to my queer siblings
Monster fucker this, monster fucker that. What if I want a monster RELATIONSHIP huh?! Monster HAND HOLDING, monster INTIMATE CONVERSATIONS, monster COMFORTABLE SILENCE??
They/Them | “You may forget, but let me tell you this: someone, in some future time, will remember us.” - Sappho
110 posts