Werk - Tumblr Posts
I’m sending you off to Rupaul’s drag race like it’s the pound and you’re not welcome home until you’ve won and rightfully earned yourself a long, wet, three person kiss from Rupaul, Miss America, and Saint Peter all at once!
Okay 👌 finish trace from @leosweetwood 💪 and I hope you like it 🙆 and share 🔀 #adobeillustrator #christianandrew #illustrator #models #art #lineart #draw #man #cartoonface #sexy #🔞 #artline #werk #point #bara #like #thepeterpretty
Vorfreude aufs Wochenende, G Werk in Mannheim #wochenende #gay #werk #mannheim (hier: Wasseralfingen, Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany)
Brad was about to take a selfie when he realized he was on lunch. Oh gosh. Was it WORK or WERK? Brad didn’t know.
Until Chris’ lecture about heterosexuals, he didn’t even think WORK was a real word. It still looked funny. Not funny ha ha either. More like an EWWWW! Yeah. That kinda funny.
Apparently, it’s written in lowercase letters as well. Double EWWWW!!! He def wasn’t there yet, but Brad knew one day with tons of effort by other people it may just be possible. Social efficiency was still underground. The trees were smart to live there so he did too.
Brad then looked at the selfie and the clock. 1:30pm on the dot. He typed “WEEERRQQ!!!!!” & hit send. Suddenly, he was feeling statuesque.
Boxed lunch.
Brad finished his set that night with more tips than usual but still slightly ticked off people kept calling him the wrong name. B-R-A-D. Why was that so difficult to remember?!
Chris had a problem with the word ‘manufacturer’. It didn’t roll off the tongue like Becky’s ‘Namibia.’
What was he going to do now anyway? The photo shoot was in full swing. It was indeed a nasty word though. The only thing more on the nasty was the plural, ‘manufacturers.’
Despite the distractions, as a professional gay model, Chris was expected to somehow make it WERK, WURQ and WORK not to mention WORKOUT and everything between with a bend and snap of the finger.
It was A LOT and Chris realized he had taken every version of the word on. He never expected the Inuit people to live up up to every term ever created for snow. Why did he put all this expectation around the gays? Was he putting all this pressure on himself?
Chris needed to get a grasp on his performance. How was he doing? What was he doing? Was he making this photo shoot look easy?
If so, Chris was either putting in too much effort, too into it or possibly Inuit himself. He never did water the family tree to find out, but only because he didn’t know how. He tried tho. Oh how he tried.
Chris stopped himself there. He really needed to stop trying. How could he do that? He didn’t know any other way.
Chris decided to bring himself back to the present tense. Whatever that was had to be better than this brand of timeless self torture. One deep breath in and…
Admittedly the now was hot. The better half of nasty if you know what that means. The jockstrap on his head smelled a little like his boyfriend Brad too.
He worked out.
Wait. Was this his?
(Click!)
That’s when the photographer ran out of memory and yelled, “what the hell was going on?!
Chris said he wasn’t too sure as he kept getting distracted himself. He did though suspect the jockstrap on his head was his boyfriends so wasn’t overly concerned as to what they may snap out of and into. Brad was around somewhere. The jockstrap was still fresh.
Chris’ stomach then rumbled. “Was Cher just here? I feel like pizza.”
That’s when Chris realized the photographer was their neighbor Luke. Apparently he brought over some new weed to watch Mystic Pizza. It was good stuff.
Brad knew there was no more clear or better place to be free to express yourself, to be who you are without judgement, and to promote positive self image of men who like men, than a fiercely competitive nationally televised drag competition that culminated in a paraded showdown of its self-proclaimed losers deemed so via unquestioned, ambiguous, and unwritten rules.
Did you get all of that? Read it again if you need to. The library will be open for a minute.
It was true. Just in the last ten minutes of that show viewers were forced to jump through more flossy hoops than in Fergie’s earring collection just to justify their own sanity and get hooked for another episode. It was hardly surprising straight women could relate. When it came to meeting the many sets of expectations and double standards put forth by society, were we not all consumed in various orders of intricate dance?
Brad knew he could make anything WERK in part because as a gay man he had to from the get go. He could make whatever was thrown at him WERK in the very same sense slapping the word irony on anything instantly made it ironic. The difference of course being irony didn’t actually take any work. What presented itself on the show was WERK, a hole different level (yes, hole is spelled correctly), and according to gay legend that made drag OK.
Anyone could make something ironic, and it’s usually by accident. Where it gets tricky is doing it with any thread of intention. You sure better make like Madonna and make it an art or you are that person wearing the printed t-shirt and the embroidered hat that does speak truth as proclaimed but don’t realize it’s actually about them.
Eeek. That’s always painful to come across for many reasons. For one, it’s a good guess the poorly threaded failed to friend any gay men or black women because neither have the time for something like that. Each would save the other a step at the register and likely ask for the money since they’re just throwing it away anyway.
Slap a WERK on instead, and what you already knew to be nothing is suddenly something because the gays navigate more than a google of hoops just to walk out that front door. Yes. That was worth repeating.
That’s right. No need to ask ladies, the ‘Amens!’ are are all up in here already. It is just how it is right now. At least that’s what it felt like to Brad.
As many in the erotic dancer and male model industries, Brad held no doubt that show went mainstream via the same well mirrored thread as the flick Pretty Woman just with the reverse set of players. Not everyone was on board, but it was enough sassy razzle dazzle in the right place at the right time with just enough tattered frames of attention to get through.
Both earned enough money to let ruffled feathers go, and it remain tolerated by the others as it’s understood as a one time deal. Once deemed ironic something can’t be made more ironic. The same notion apparently applied here.
Brad also knew if you make the impossible WERK the first time, you’re not going to go through it again. It’s far too exhausting and who wants to live by the skin of their teeth where they already do? You’ve been there. You are there. You made it happen, and any decent queen knows how to make her peace…
‘Did everyone not see the mf rain just now?!? Sky. Water. Fell. You’re welcome. Ok then. I gots to go!’
The door slams and that’s what happened.
WERK!
The show goes on because it must.
It was here Brad heard the snap of his own finger.
Pulled out of his own thoughts and still leaning against the palm tree in his shiny new speedo, Brad realized he was really gay. Like really really REALLY gay.
Brad let out a sigh and took note of his bulge.
Well, that certainly explained having a boyfriend.
It explained quite a bit actually.
Looking at things a little closer, Brad could say this much as to his newly realized gayness…
As long as he put out, Brad felt confident his boyfriend Chris would be ok with everything.
And that he was.
Brad knew he was pretty. No news there.
…but was he AI pretty?
He didn’t feel real real. While there, Brad didn’t know how to feel real real in the first place. Did anyone know?
In the spirit of keeping it real Brad’s boyfriend Chris answered with a stark “No.” Chris then went on to explain not a single soul had a clue as to why we were all on this tiny planet hurtling through interstellar space at ungodly speeds.
After three seconds of pouted silence, Brad demanded to know once again if he was not pretty but AI pretty.
Chris said Brad was ‘as plastic as they come’ not after pointing out plastic was as real as anything else. “You want to get real real Brad? Just look at our oceans. Even sea salt was loaded with microplastics now. Nothing out of the ocean was safe. It was pink Himalayan or bust.”
Before Chris could go any further, Brad announced that he decided he’d ask their friend Becky when she got back from the taco stand. She was straight so could hypothetically give a straight answer. It wasn’t ideal but his boyfriend’s roundabout just wasn’t cutting it.
Brad then paused to look around. “Where was Becky anyway?
Chris replied, “Really Brad? Really?!?”
That’s when Becky sauntered up from behind Chris with a basket of fresh steamy tacos. She asked the boys for the last time if they were really down for eating all this given they were both out.
It was quite a spread and the meat had the same consistency as cottage cheese but it wasn’t Taco Bell nor its knock off Taco Bueno. It was some local man from Pennsylvania who made them. His name was Hanz Bergenstein. That stuck out to Becky for some reason.
Brad and Chris were very quick to respond. They were not up or down with the taco scene. Becky thought this might be the case.
Pulling her sunglasses down to the tip of her nose so she could make eye contact with Brad and Chris, Becky mentioned it was a good thing it was a Saturday. There was no way they’d be sitting next to a group of stuntmen from the Monster Truck Show tomorrow. It was one night only and always on a Sunday, Sunday, Sunday.
No one knew why the day of the show needed to be repeated three times when it actually occurred in the evening but that’s what presented itself. The Monster Truck Show never started before 5-5:30pm so the organizers wouldn’t be inclined to extend the truck rally and inadvertently cause a mass suffocation in an unsuspecting domed stadium.
As it was, everyone would get light headed just one hour in. The show of course was without a story line and absolutely terrible, but the fumes more than made up for it. Mix in the local beer, busty girls as well as some good ol’ fashioned Red Bull, and let’s be honest. It really didn’t matter what was going on. That’s a good time despite any controversy!
To that, Becky asked Brad and Chris if 5pm was technically still daytime. Brad pointed out it was a slightly delicate yes and no situation that included the whole daylight savings mess. That seemed like a lot to him for a casual day at the pool.
Chris agreed and then threw in a memo stating that spring forward/fall back thing just needed to die already. Becky said it was one of many horrifying things that would die naturally with the Boomers as they finally made their way out to which Brad and Chris replied a nearly automated “Here. Here.”
With that, the controversy tabled itself for another time. Becky then announced she needed to take advantage of the situation so she could get the stuntmen to take advantage of her. Flipping her hair in a tizzy Becky then spun a perfect 180 to showcase her taco basket to the heterosexuals. The three men let out a faint gasp.
Becky was real real real and felt real real real too. Before fully launching herself gaily forward into the world of straights, she paused to give Brad an answer to a question he had yet to ask of her.
“Brad, you’re not AI pretty. You’re REAL pretty! P.S. you’re REAL pretty too Chris.”
Awe! Becky was the real real deal!!!
And just like that, Becky was off like like her swimsuit in 45 minutes. It would take Brad and Chris a good ten to get theirs off mostly because both felt slightly bloated from smelling the tacos. It took four of those minutes just to realize the taco stand was only ten feet away. Madonna saved the world in that amount of time.
Obviously, tacos were evil.
What Brad and Chris needed was a tall cool glass or two of cucumber water. To Brad and Chris’ delight they gulped down three that day. Why don’t we say it was a vurrrry hot afternoon to every degree and leave it at that.
Mmmmm… cucumber.
Despite the 12 hour super sun filled photo shoot in wet salty sand that now filled every oraface, according to his Insta, Brad did have ball at the beach that day.
Your head hits your pillow. Your heavy eyes close, leaving your world in darkness.
Darkness that for a split second turns into the most fiery terrifying pits of hell before being overwritten.
Darkness that brightens up into a luscious garden, one in which a tanned woman is standing, arms crossed.
Her long inky black hair blows softly in the wind at the same rhythm of her softly fluttering garments. She looks familiar in the way of deja vu.
You feel drawn to her, so you walk closer, close enough to be at arm's length.
She slaps you.
"Ow! What was that for?!" You blink, taking a step back.
"That was for being an idiot." The woman shrugs, her lips are the same shape as Lucifer's when he scowls. You shudder. "I mean honestly," She grabs your shoulders and shakes you. "I thought you were smarter than this."
"Smarter than what?" You get out rather shakily seeing as you're being shaken. She sighs and holds her head in her hands, now leaning against a tree.
"Have I taught you nothing? Has all my guidance been for nothing?"
You pause. "....You're Lilith."
She nods, "And you're quite intellectually challenged by the looks of it."
A crow caws in the distance, probably laughing at that one.
"Mean."
"MC."
You turn your attention back to your ancestor and smile innocently. "Yes?"
Lilith grabs you by the shoulders, and you brace yourself, preparing to be shaken again, but you're not. Instead the most beautiful grey eyes look into yours, eyes that held a storm in them. " I don't care if you have pacts with the Seven Avatars Of Sin. I don't care if you have the Demon Prince and Butler wrapped around your finger. Your never ever ever, fuck with an ouija board."
"I was in the Human Realm with my human friends! We got bored and I missed everyone!"
Lilith deadpans. "You have a DDD."
"....Good point?"
"I'm serious MC. As your great times a thousand billionth grandmother, I forbid you from playing with that board again. Even the Wise Sorcerer doesn't use ouija boards! Mostly because the demons in those boards have a restraining order against him....but still."
"So, you're banning me?"
Lilith smirks, "If I even catch wind or even suspect you're using one again. Especially as stupidly as you used the one with your human friends, I'm going to write a letter detailing your exploits and have the breeze blow it atop of both Lucifer and Barbatos' desks."
Your eyes widen in terror. "Are you...blackmailing me?"
"Yes." She smiles.
"God Dammit."
The world fades into black once more, you see glimpses of horrors beyond your comprehension for a split second once more as you feel yourself be shaken awake.
The Avatar of Sloth looks at you sternly, almost as if he was mimicking Lucifer. Jealousy in his gaze. "Care to tell me why your dreams are infested with demons that aren't me?"
He's already in demon form. Damn.
You blink. Those images that flashed for a second was what was supposed to be your dreams? So Lilith took you out of your dreams? So he couldn't see Lilith?
Belphie blinks, holding eye contact with you as he slinks sneakily into your bed beside you. "So who are those guys? Your new dream buddies?" He scoffs, acting more like his older, more envious brother for a moment.
"...I...." You look away from him. "Don't tell Lucifer....but...when I was in the Human Realm....I might've maybe....messed around with some stuff?"
Belphie stretches intertwining your legs with his, "What stuff." It was hardly a question.
"...Ouija boards?"
"You idiot." He says as his tail smacks you, before wrapping around your waist like a shackle.
"...Don't worry, MC." He says in a softer tone, though the sinister look on his face said otherwise, "...I'll flush those bastards out."
"....Thanks Belphie."
He looks at you through half lidded eyes as he rests his chin on your chest. "If you do something stupid like that again while in the Human Realm, I don't think I'll let you leave next time you come back down here."
Belphie smiles as the both of you fall asleep, the low life demons he originally thought were secret boyfriends (he doesn't think straight when he's jealous) but were actually just stupid enough to latch themselves onto you had actually done him a favour. This would be a great thing to bring up to a certain six brothers he had if you ever tried to leave the Devildom for so long again.
croaker, I made a mock up of what you'll look like when you get your hair cut. I hope you see the same amount of beauty we do
I will be showing this to my barber. God I am so excited. The other monks are going to be so happy and so proud of me. They will pat me on the back and say that I clearly belong with them and also that I am worthy of love
belt. coat. guns. holster
belt. coat. guns. holster
I'm going to be doing a different colored version as well, but I thought this worked best for a T-shirt :3
P.S. The designs now up for voting on Threadless, so if you have a moment (and like my design) stop on by and show it some love ♡
Challenge 50: Lowbrow Threadless: Werk!
Really LOVED this challenge!! I was able to just let myself relax and just draw whatever came to mind (which is something I definitely needed atm). ♡
Elizabeth B.
