I Am Such A Whore For Your Art

And they were soulmates...oh my god they were soulmates 🌈✨

love to be paid a leather pouch heavy with coin that makes a satisfying clink as the mysterious stranger sets it down meaningfully on the oaken table

Imagine what was going through Andrew's mind when he touched Neil's abs scars for tge first time. I mean he kept it there for as long as he could and I can only imagine him slowly dying a painful gay death on the inside all while trying to talk in German about lies and secrets. Hm.

Back from the dead 2 post this bad boy 🦊

Been going to gay bars and thinking about Eden’s a lot recently!

@aftgexchange pinch hit for @gluupor (sorry you had to wait so long for this!)

prompt: gardening

We love a bit of a disaster bi Kevin day heheh 🌈

Girls girls girls

I have a fondness for graffiti, the tags that crop up around your street, the names you see over and over. It’s like hello stranger. I don’t know you, but I’ve seen your name on postboxes my whole life. I know you print your own stickers and believe in aliens. Sometimes I’ll be on the other side of town and see a tag that’s local to my parents house and I think, oh it’s you! Still carving your name into bus shelter glass. I love the sharpie scrawled blabber and the toilet stall drama, the nick is a bitch doodled on a fence post.

When I was a kid someone had spray painted miss piggy on the side of a bridge that we would pass to get to my grandmas house. I loved her, I used to make my parents drive back around so I could see her if I forgot. One day when I was older they sandblasted piggy away and I was pretty sad. She wasn’t hurting anyone, she was just the little guardian of the bridge.

I was reminded of miss piggy recently when a new piece appeared on my bus route from college. Scratched in white paint over brick it said ‘Why Not?’. Everyday I would get on my bus in the dark and I would travel for an hour and everyday I would think, I can’t do this. And then I would see the tag I would feel a little bit less alone, like at least someone is out there and wants me to be brave. And I would, every day, even though it was the most depressed and anxious point my life.

Suddenly cave paintings made sense to me. Living alone in a world where you know there are others, but you don’t know where they are or how to find them. And then you see a painting of a bear on a cave wall and think yes. People have touched here.

My point is, even if you sandblast, paint over, fine and erase you can’t take away the fact that we are all just humans living together in a mess of colour and language. All throughout our existence too. I think it’s pretty cool.

Watching my ipad replay videos on my art and bruh this shit looks exhausting I just redrew Neil’s eyes EIGHT TIMES fjfkdkss is this bitch okay