Latest Posts by elliot-gay-boi - Page 2
Oh yeah, she deserved that Oscar bad
I know that it's a book. I do. But sometimes it just looks like he walkin' around with a box of cereal....
The Middle
I wrote and illustrated this story as a birthday present for my partner, I hope you enjoy it!
The Need to Stay
(Thought I’d upload my recent comics to Tumblr! I totally forgot it only lets you upload 10 pics at a time, and this is 11, but fingers crossed it works!)
truly,
soft bed
is best bed
bed so soft
soft, soft bed
bed so soft u lay down hed
You know those anime meta posts along the lines of “I was born with pink hair. The doctors told my parents I was a Main Character and ever since my life has not known peace from demons/spirits/sports competitions/harems who find me”
Well I see that, and I raise you this:
An anime boy whose appearance is, by absolutely anyone’s account, completely and utterly average. Mundane hair. Mundane eyes. Not even glasses to set him the tiniest bit apart. A simple, unmemorable, unrecognizable civilian among a backdrop of millions.
And he has a lot of passions, and a lot of ambitions, which he hones every chance he gets. He’s dabbled in sports and archery and cooking and just about anything you could wrap a competition around. And he’s competed in many of these. Every chance he gets. With all of his passion and all of his might.
He’s crushed by the competition every single time.
Until one day–one day something clicks for him. Something that should have seemed obvious from the start and yet never was–as though everyone, including himself, was unwittingly blind to it. It clicks, when he realizes every kid who’s beaten him in competition, every kid who’s gone on to fame and glory and acclaim, has been some candy-haired gel-spiked ridiculously-dressed fucker.
There’s some trend there that this Main Character boy can’t explain and can’t understand but he decides, this one time, fuck it. He’ll play along too. He’s got a model train competition in four days, and he’s got nothing more to lose. He hits up the department store, buys the pinkest, noxious-est, fruitiest hair dye he can find, the spikiest hair gel available, and the gaudiest clothes on the thrift rack. He enters the model train competition looking like a bubble gum gijinka.
And he wins.
Suddenly, the other candy-haired contestants notice him. They talk to him. They pledge rivalries. Girls notice him. Judges applaud him. Acclaimed model train aficionados offer him internships across the world. He’s hit on something.
The main cast expands to cover just about every candy-hair cliche in the book: from the mostly-normal-looking demure school girl with the blue hair to the Naruto-est, yelling-est boy with the red-and-green spiked hair. The cool megane senpais, the purple haired tsunderes, suddenly everyone is interested in him. They’re prodigies and upstarts and underdogs and they truly believe that this main character boy is one of them.
So the main character boy maintains his ruse. He touches up his roots at dawn every morning and carefully attends to his gelled spikes and tells absolutely no one about this great, uncanny, unfathomable secret he’s stumbled upon. He wins his competitions left and right. He racks up the acclaim. He’s hailed as a prodigy of all trades, just now bursting onto the scene, and boils to the top of all his candy-haired peers.
He’s rising up, his every dream within his grasp. Until one day he gets a note under his door, taped to an old picture of his Normal Boring self from middle school, that says “You don’t belong”
i am about to bestow upon you the secret butter technique. i am sorry, but it is french. i am sorry again, this only works with cow butter. i am certain plant based butters wouldn’t work, and alternative animal butters may or may not work
has this ever been you: you have a nicely steamed vegetable, or maybe you want to make the best butter noodles, but you know that if you put butter on those it’ll just melt and you end with kind of greasy noodles or vegetables? don’t you wish it was instead a luscious buttery glaze?
introducing: beurre monté
you will take a small sauce pan, and begin heating it with 1-2 tablespoons of water (use very little water) and bring it to a hard simmer or boil
turn the heat down slightly, and add Butter. how much? however much you dare. (start with 3-4 tablespoons and go from there)
you are going to either whisk Aggressively or you can pick up the saucepan, still holding it over the heat, and swirl aggressively so the butter is skating around the sides of the pan
done correctly, you will have liquid butter that is still emulsified. you have made Butter Sauce. season it with a little salt, and toss whatever you want in it.
if you’re butter splits, i’m sorry. you didn’t agitate it enough to maintain the emulsion, and now you have melted butter.
you can use this knowledge to make other sauces by swapping out the water for another liquid. white wine becomes beurre blanc. red wine is beurre rogue.
you want to CUM? sweat minced shallot in a tiny bit of butter, add white wine and cook it out until it’s reduced by about half. then whisk butter in hard. a few flecks of minced thyme or fennel frond stirred thru, and you eat that with a nice seared fish? or scallop? or even shrimp? wow. you will Nut
your boxed mac and cheese game can also be elevated by cooking your pasta and making a beurre monté first, tossing your pasta in that and adding the cheese packet. wow. hey; you’ll cum
go forth now with this butter secret
oil painting (29,7 x 42 cm) of that bumblebee from last week <3
i post more traditional art on my instagram !
Day 4(?) of learning pixel art
Added another lemon to this :3
Been doing some reading about colors and shading
Day 2 of learning pixel art
made some mushies. my boyfriend inspired me to do one of those drippy ink cap mushrooms :D
bass makes a dollar. i make a dime. that's why i think about lesbian sex on company time
At the gate for my flight home from visiting friends and there's a woman here with a service Shiba Inu. No pics because he has a Do Not Disturb vest and taking pics of strangers is illegal but I need to stress how ON DUTY this animal is. Ears up. Eyes doing Lazer scans of everything. Examining everyone who passes within 10ft like a security guard. Ass planted on her feet. I have never seen a dog with such intense chivalric guardian energy before. He has tiny eyebrows and they are FURROWED with concentration.
last "vent" comic... i want to keep moving forward, so let's all keep doing our best! 💗
hourly comics? hourly comics
(feat. @evegwood @elljwalker and @stoutstoatpress and my beloved perfect baby dog penny)
So, I was reading this post by @modordracena about DP AUs where ghosts get swapped out for some other kind of monster. Absently, not intending on creating anything, I started thinking about Danny as different fantasy creatures – and, somehow, my brain got stuck on centaurs.
Which, not the worst idea, right?
[Image description: A greyscale drawing of Danny Fenton as a rearing centaur, grinning and pumping a fist victoriously. The fur of the horse half is black, with a white sock on each leg. The background reads, in large letters, "Half human, half horse." End image description.]
But then I started thinking... The halves are there, all the time, connected. Unlike with for example werewolves, there is no transformation happening. Danny is stuck with the horse half.
How does he hide it.
I ended up creating something after all:
[ID: A drawing of Sam, centaur Danny, and Tucker. Sam and Danny are freaking out about Danny's horse half. Sam gestures at his legs and says, "Holy shit you're a horse!" Danny yells "I'm a horse!" Tucker, smiling, corrects them: "A centaur!" End ID.]
[ID: Danny is anxiously jumping from foot to foot, which makes Tucker step out of the way with a "Whoa!" Danny wails: "My parents hate centaurs! What do I do?" Sam looks at him thoughtfully and says: "Hm... I might have an idea." End ID.]
[ID: A box in the upper left corner reads "Soon:" Danny is looking down at himself with an uncertain grimace. An obviously handmade horse head has been connected to his front. It has a mane made of yarn and its eyes are green buttons. There is a bright green saddle where Danny's human half connects to his horse half. A boot has been put into the stirrup, with a fabric fake leg coming from inside it and wrapping around Danny. All in all, it kind of looks as if Danny is a human riding a horse – only he is sitting on the base of the horse's neck instead of on its back, and his legs and the horse's head are obviously not real. Danny asks: "Are you sure this will work?" A speech bubble from Sam's direction says: "Of course it will!" A bubble from Tucker's direction says: "Not like we have better ideas!" End ID.]
[ID: Bird's-eye view of a street. Danny is standing in front of the Fenton home. He is wearing the disguise from the previous panel and contemplates the stairs that lead to the front door. End ID.]
[ID: Carefully, Danny enters. He is too tall for the door, which makes getting in even harder. Someone yells his name, which makes him hit his head on the doorframe. Maddie is looking up at him with an angry expression. She asks: "What are you doing?" End ID.]
[ID: Danny looks at the horse head and sweats nervously. He sweats even more as he looks to Maddie and gestures at the head. Uncertainly, he says: "Riding a horse?" End ID.]
[ID: "Obviously!" Maddie tells him, and Danny stares. Maddie continues: "Why are you doing it indoors?" End ID.]
[ID: Maddie looks away, shadows covering her eyes. "And..." She looks up again, and she is smiling and her eyes are huge and sparkly. She has a hand on her heart. "When did you get into riding?" she asks. A text with an arrow pointing to her reads: "former horse girl." End ID.]
She's so happy that he's found such a nice hobby for himself
It took four calls before Lena answered. It crawled across her side table, vibrating angrily like some persnickety insect until she gave it the attention she wanted.
You could just turn it off.
“What do you want, Danvers?”
Alex’s voice was thick.
“We can’t find Kara.”
Lena let out a slow, long, theatrical sigh. “So now you’re accusing me of crimes over the phone. At least your ex had the courtesy to cuff me in person.”
Alex’s patience was clearly short enough, and wearing thinner.
“I’m not calling you to accuse you. I’m calling you to ask for help.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because she’s burned out her powers and we can’t find her, Luthor. Supergirl is missing and she’s powerless.”
Lena licked her lips.
“Is this some kind of weird test to see if I’ll try to kill her? An entrapment scheme or something?”
“First of all,” said Alex, “fuck you.”
“Mutual,” said Lena. “What was the second part?”
“The second part is that I know you. I know you’re pissed off at her. I also know that you don’t react the way you’ve acted because your BFF lied to you, Lena. Just like I know that buying a $875 million company isn’t what friends are fucking for.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” Lena snapped.
“Right. Help us find her.”
“No,” Lena said, coolly. “Goodnight, Director.”
Lena stabbed the end call key with her finger, resolving to herself that L-Corp was going to release a smart phone that made it more satisfying to hang up on people.
Then she very pointedly did not go out looking for Kara. Instead, she boiled water for tea, and spread open a technical journal on her lap.
After ten minutes, she had not drunk the tea, and her attention was sliding off the abstract like the wrong end of two magnets jammed together. Rubbing at her eyes, she decided she’d had too long a day for even light reading, and decided to enjoy a news broadcast with her tea.
Of *course* the lead story was Supergirl. She tried putting on the Lakehawks game, but that had been preempted for Supergirl coverage.
She turned to the science channel. Oh, of course they’d decided that tonight was the night to premier some ridiculous companion documentary for the World of Krypton exhibit running downtown at the convention center, and of course Lena works tune in right as Kara appeared on screen, grinning ear to ear as she charitably gave some literal kid reporter the interview of her lifetime, fielding softball questions about her dead planet.
“What do you miss most?” the kid asked.
Lena saw it, saw it the way only someone who knew Supergirl was just Kara Danvers, the nerdy, dorky, kinda basic goof in a pompous costume, could. The flash of real pain in the hero’s eyes, the softness in her voice, like she was apologizing for the honest of her answer.
“Red sunrises,” said Kara.
Lena threw the teacup across the room, and it shattered across the screen, leaving the dregs tricking down the surface. Lena wished the TV had been knocked out, but the screen was shielded by a transparent aluminum she’d invented herself.
So she changed the channel, just in time to get a face full of The Princess Bride, just as Buttercup was shoving a then-disguised Westley down the hill as he shouted the line the revealed his identity.
“Oh fuck you all,” Lena muttered, as she scooped her keys from the kitchen counter.
Lena decided it was a night for subtlety, so she took the BMW, driving with the top down and and her phone in her jacket pocket, so she could feel it if someone called.
Lena drove for the better part of an hour, reflecting on the absurdity of simply looking for Kara in a sprawling city; National City had about two thirds the population of Metropolis, but it covered nearly four times the land area and was surrounded by sprawling suburbs that extended the entire metro area to the size of a small state.
This was hopeless, unless Lena knew where to go.
You know what you have to do. You know what you’ve always had to do.
Kara answered on the third ring.
“Hi.”
Her voice was tiny and small, and Lena felt like she was clutching some small fragile thing to her cheek.
“Hey,” she said, with all the softness she could muster with the top down. She pulled to a stop on the side of Ocean Avenue so she could soften it further. “I heard what happened.”
“I beat the monster.”
“I know,” said Lena. “You always do. Where are you, Kara?”
There was a beat of silence.
“I don’t know who out you up to this, but you don’t have to do it, Lena. I know how you feel about me now.”
No, you fucking don’t, Lena thought, before she could silence her own frantic mind. If you knew you wouldn’t have lied to me.
“Tell me where you are.”
“I’m where I belong,” Kara sighed, the hint of slurring in her words hinting that she’d been drinking.
Then she hung up.
A wave of anger welled in Lena’s chest, and she clenched her teeth, seizing the shift lever to throw the car in drive and head home; Kara and her sister could handle their own bullshit.
She didn’t drive home.
Lena arrived at the convention center in a frantic five minutes, parking crazily in a towing zone. Finding a way in took another few minutes, and soon the flat soles of her tennis shoes were squeaking as they echoed across the polished granite floors of the lobby.
She found Kara in the exhibit, surrounded by quiet, dark displays as she stood in front of a bannered exhibit proclaiming “RAO, THE SUN OF KRYPTON”.
Kara ignored Lena as she approached, tipping back a sloshing, mostly empty bottle of Jack Daniels to take a hearty gulp.
“Kara?” said Lena.
Kara swayed slightly on her feet. She’d gotten a raincoat somewhere and put it on over her suit, cape and all, and even from a distance she stank of whiskey. She was staring at the display in front of her, an expansive orrery surrounding a lit model of Rao. Lena had never seen her so haggard, even her lustrous hair limp sallow.
“Hi,” Kara said, taking another drink.
“What are you doing?”
“Chasing a red sunrise.”
Lena approached slowly, until they stood side by side.
She stole a quick glance. Kara had a black eye and she was swaying slightly, and Lena wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the fight. She started to take another drink.
Grasping the bottle by the neck, Lena took it from her. Kara didn’t resist as Lena tipped back a long pull on the bottle herself. It offended her palate in every possible way but one, but it was a good way to numb herself.
“Alex send you?”
“No,” said Lena. “She just had to tell me. She knew I’d send myself.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s a lot more observant than you are.”
Kara studied her for a moment, then reached for the bottle back.
Lena looked at it. “How much of this have you had?”
“Not enough,” said Kara, taking another drink.”
“If you insist on destroying your liver, at least let me give you something that actually tastes good.”
“It all tastes like paint thinner,” said Kara.
Lena sighed. “Get in the car.”
Kara shrugged and followed Lena out, flopping extravagantly in the passenger’s seat. Lena drove in silence, using the excuse that the wind noise made it too hard to talk.
When they arrived at Lena’s apartment, she practically shoved Kara inside, and poured the rest of the swill down the drain.
“Hey,” Kara muttered.
“There’s still some of your clothes in the guest bedroom. Take that damned suit off and put on something else.”
Kara complied, trudging into the bedroom. She emerged a moment later, looking small and sad with her hands tucked up inside an oversized hoodie, wobbling giving Lena a glassy look.
As she sat down, Lena handed her a glass of wine and perched on the edge of the couch cushion beside her, gently pressing an ice pack to her eye. Kara leaned into it and let out a soft, unsteady sigh.
“Pain hurts,” she observed.
“It’ll do that.”
Then she went quiet, sinking into Lena’s couch with Lena’s ice pack pressed to her face. Lena stepped into the kitchen and pulled out her phone. Alex answered immediately.
“I have her.”
“Thank God. I’ll be over to get her in a few minutes.”
“No you won’t,” Lena sighed.
Alex didn’t answer her for a too-long pause.
“Yeah. Call me in the morning.”
“Will do.”
Kara had found the wine bottle when Lena came back, and was taking a drink form it. Lena sat down next to her and took it, drawing on it hard before passing it back.”
“What now?” said Kara.
“Is the ice still cold?”
“Yeah.”
Kara curled up next to Lena, bringing her legs up, her toes wiggling in empty air. Lena sighed and found her a blanket, spreading it over her too carefully.
As soon as Lena sat down, Kara spread the blanket over her, too, and Lena noticed that her absurd body heat hadn’t abated from the loss of her powers.
“You have tea on your TV,” Kara observed.
“Yeah,” said Lena.
It took her a few minutes to find something on television that wasn’t Supergirl or The Fox and the Hound.
(Fucking seriously?)
Nature documentaries were Kara’s kryptonite, to turn a phrase, and soon she was sleeping on Lena’s shoulder, the ice bag fallen into her lap. Lena stared down at the soft features of the surpassingly lovely little goddess snoozing against her and couldn’t help it anymore.
She started to weep softly, her shoulders hitching as she struggled to stop it, knowing the attempt was hopeless.
It got worse when Kara began to purr, a deep and soothing rumble in her chest that seemed to seep into Lena’s bones. After a moment she realized that Kara was crying too; she’d woken up.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I’m so fucking sorry, Lena. I can’t… I can’t breathe I’m so sorry. I lost my red sunrise. I can’t lose you too. I’ll do anything. Please let me make it up to you I promise I will, please.”
Lena shifted to a more comfortable position, known this was it for the night, that something had shifted. No, shattered. She was tired of being angry, of being afraid, if thinking of could-have-beens and come-what-mays. Yes, Kara had lied. Lena had lied. They’d kept secrets and been stupid and and they’d hurt each other, but nothing in the world, no principles or closely held rules or petty anger would justify watching her suffer like this.
She was careful as she cupped Kara’s jaw, avoiding the injury, feeling a flash of rage at whoever had done this to her. (That his ass had been throughly kicked by an angry Kryptonian was irrelevant; her vengeance would not be forestalled.)
The kiss was quiet and gentle, at once too soft and quick, more request than declaration, and Kara swiftly answered with one so fierce and honest and hopeful that Lena didn’t care that Kara’s mouth tasted like whiskey and wine.
When it was over, Lena found herself whispering, “As you wish.”
You said you weren't into women - I like you oh you like me?
