Bindlestars - Dirty, Broke, Beautiful, & Free

[Image description: in the center of the image, there is large hand-lettered text “All bodies and assistive devices are normal.” Around the text are several stick figures with different body configurations and mobility aids. In each case, the stick figure is in blue, while assistive devices are shown in red. Approximately clockwise from the upper right-hand corner, we have: stick finger on a mobility scooter stick figure sitting upright in a power wheelchair stick figure with a long cane stick figure with a prosthetic leg stick figure with only one arm stick figure with a prosthetic arm stick figure with a walking cane stick figure lying on a wheeled bed stick figure reclining in a power wheelchair with headrest stick figure sitting upright in a manual wheelchair stick figure with two prosthetic arms stick figure with only one leg and a pair of crutches stick figure with a walker stick figure sitting upright in power wheelchair with headrest stick figure with to walking canes typical stick figure with no visible disability. (This is the end of image description.)]

I’ve been experimenting a little with acrylic paints, as brushes seem to be way easier for me to use than pens or pencils, pain wise. Unfortunately, I’m also not very good at controlling where the paint goes. So let’s just say that there is a reason these are stick figures, and that you should be kind when critiquing my depiction of the disabilities and assistive technology in this image.

Drops of Jupiter by Train but it’s playing over the blown-out intercom on a space station

skymade​:

   “What if I wanna one-chump it?” She’s opening her maw wide, again, now hooking a finger on one side. C’mon, she can totally get it in… totally, right?

   “Aah oong–” Releases her mouth, wipes her thumb off on her pants, and tries again. “I don’t have a – a cutty-thingie. Y’know? I mean. Sometimes I just use a sharp, like. Corner or something, if I gotta cut something off, but… That’ll probably just…” She mimes squishing the cake, with a hand come hard above it, stopping just before it meets frosting.

Clock’s still tickin’ by, and Gag-Arm’s gathering flies, saucery-round eyes fixated on Willow’s mouth where she’d had her finger in it. “Wh—...” Her face turns a great old cherry-light carmine as her brain turns itself back into working order and she realizes what a zooker she must looklike.

“No reason not’t squash it, I guess,” she mumbles, fumbling likewise in her bindle for the little knife what should be in it. “But y’can use this. Instead. ’F you figure y’don’t wanna waste all the elbow grease I put int’ that frosty.”