#gaylo

[lemniscate-graphics]

Heat set screen printed hoodie for @galway-bae shipped out today! Gradient prints are way easier than I thought they'd be!

Things learned here: I knew that working with RBY was going to give me problems on account of being pigments, but I was surprised at just HOW grey my purple turned out. So I ordered some other inks to round out my options and once the red and blue are gone I'm probably going to stick to CYMK for future prints.

[razgrizgirl]

MARCH 3, 2553

Thel 'Vadam (right) shares a moment with his funny little sweetums Rtas 'Vadum

Once again fuck you I'll make my own gay halo content and its lore now you can't stop me no take backys

[infinityactual]

Friendly reminder that

[gamelpar]

we all know Fred is in love with Veta but IS he a straight man or did he use to subconsciously check out John’s ass or what before he went MIA

[azulzstupidity]

Me looking at the 2 charbiter fanfics on wattpad:

[gothictherapist]

Every outspoken Anti is unequivocally homophobic. Sorry I don't make the rules. 🤷🏻‍♀️

[how-about-gay]

Ha I love rare pair hell @5amanthus

[lesbianladyblackhawk]

i couldnt get artist!Julian out of my head. (for @khemeioa​)

Julian Albert had beautiful hands.

It was a secret Barry prided himself on knowing. He often distracted himself gazing at those long fingers, curled around a test tube, the elegant flick of the wrist Julian gave as he swirled its contents.

But what he noticed about Julian’s hands wasn’t the worry-bitten fingernails or the expensive wristwatch—a memento of his old life. It was the way they were never without color. Often they were grey with charcoal, but from time to time they varied, with a paint swatch on the back of his hand. The colors were a masterpiece in itself.

Occasionally, he would catch a glimpse of the callus between his index and middle finger, further proof that these were artist’s hands. He could practically see Julian standing in front of a canvas, rotating a finely bristle brush between his fingers.

Barry lamented the fact that Julian was so private about his art. The only reason he knew about it was because it was his job to observe (that, and Julian had a shock of dried blue paint in his hair). He could only hope that one day, Julian would feel close enough to Barry to share one of his works. He didn’t dare ask to see them; It felt like intruding on Julian’s privacy.

One day, though, Julian finally brought his art to work. Barry watched from afar as Julian took out his chalk pastels and sketchpad. He wanted to speak up, to ask to see what Julian was creating, but was entranced by the way a single lock of Julian’s hair had fallen in his face as he poured his heart onto the paper. That in itself was art.

It wasn’t until the next morning that he learned what Julian had been drawing.

Waiting for him when he arrived was Julian’s art, straight out of his sketchbook. The spiral edging had been ripped off meticulously, and it was attached to his computer monitor with a blank sticky note. Barry removed the picture from the monitor and held it in his hands as if it were worth the world. To him, it was.

He felt honored to glimpse a piece of Julian’s artwork. Julian had captured his likeliness almost perfectly, from his windswept hair to the freckle just under his eye. But the only thing that didn’t match was the eyes. This Barry’s eyes were joyful, full of love and with no hints of regret. Barry hadn’t looked that way in a long time. There was so much feeling in what Julian had gifted him.

“Julian, can I buy you a coffee?”