#GET HIM POPTART!!

[crocuta1]

We did it, guys!! Fuzzy au's are no more!!!

Everyone, say thank you, Poptart!

[intotheelliwoods]

Haha sort of a lead up to this post! And some bonus matching shirts-

[dandylovesturtles]

57 👀

(this is actually my Leo song of all time)

cw: violence, dismemberment, blood, hurt/no comfort

contemplating why you're here floating through the atmosphere laughing through your crocodile tears as your moment disappears - Say it Louder by Panic! At The Disco

Leo remembers getting in a fight with Mikey over an action figure when they were little. Mikey had tried to run, and Leo grabbed the hand of the action figure and yanked, to pull both of them back.

The arm had popped right out of its socket.

Leo remembers looking at it, dangling from his fist, at the bulbous ball joint at the end of the arm. He remembers Mikey sniffling, and then bursting into big, angry tears, yelling, "You broke it!" in a betrayed way. He remembers feeling terrible, that he broke the toy and made his brother cry.

Then Donnie had come in, snapped the arm back into its socket, and called them both dum-dums for the trouble.

Now, Leo watches as Krang Prime grabs his arm and puts a foot on his chest, and he wonders if this is how the toy felt.

Krang kicks.

And Leo tumbles through space, leaving his arm behind.

"Pop!" Leo says, and then laughs hysterically. It doesn't feel real. How can he be over here, and his arm be over there? It just doesn't make sense.

He thinks this will be a little harder to fix than just pressing it back into the socket.

He's still laughing a second later when the pain hits, great, fiery waves of it. Ripped skin and exposed nerves and sundered muscle all scream at once. His laughs get mixed up in sobs, and he feels like he might choke. Drops of blood float off into the strange gravity of the Prison Dimension, and his tears stream out to join them.

Krang throws his arm aside, then leaps off the platform to follow after Leo.

Leo closes his eyes.

Over his shoulder, a golden light appears, and grows, and grows.

[tomwambsgans]

greg said actually i wanna take YOU out and I'M gonna pay for it

[pocketramblr]

you know im thinking. im thinking maybe Yoichi wasn't even that into captain hero as an adult, but AfO kept bringing LITERALLY every conversation back to that because he decided to Be The Demon Lord and so Yoichi like, can't get an argument in unless he uses the same material so he's like 'oh my god i haven't even thought about that comic in ten years but even i know the bad guy didn't win. you should not be basing you whole identity, business model, and world destruction plan on your five-second impression of a comic book bad guy who didn't even win! also you shouldn't kill people!'

[voiider]

We started rewatching Young Justice recently and all of the "sidekicks" were upset at being treated like children and being kept in the dark and not having access to information and i just?? I don't think Batman would believe in withholding information from Robin

Dick gets into everything everywhere all of the time there is no peace or privacy from him. And Bruce has never dealt with children before how is he supposed to know whats 'appropriate' for a child to know or have access to.

Speedy: it's such bs that they don't trust us with information Robin: haha what? Green Arrow: It's hard keeping information from my partner/subordinate but it's for his own good. He's a child and he can't be trusted with that sort of power yet. Do you struggle with Robin wanting access to information he doesn't have the clearance for? Batman, who's never kept a single secret from Dick and couldn't if he tried: um. yeah. absolutely.

[alitteraladhdmess]

Found a mysterious package sitting on my table yesterday

Ripped it open and found a goober so I slapped him onto my backpack and took him to school today

Very happy that I got this little guy from @intotheelliwoods

Your arts amazing btw, it gives me so much joy to look at:)

[lovebirdgames]

DnD/Fantasy AU! What would the boys' races be? (Cadence would be human)

Sorry for the wait! I’M GLAD YOU ASKED because I’ve been meaning to draw this forever since I’ve been obsessed with Baldur’s Gate 3 (it basically makes up my DnD knowledge)! I had their race/classes jotted down in my notes for months. Here’s what I came up with, hope you like it!

[thekuraning]

ok so ok ok ok so so so i just had to doodle him... my poor little wet creature..... my silly little guy that ive put in One Situation Too Many..... Alton Beckett, the catalyst of MOM who has used his evil powers to convince the world Kotetsu and Barnaby are dating (i mean is it really evil if he's right......)

Alton Beckett is a resident of Stern Bild living in the Brox area who seemed very easy to dismiss the first time Barnaby met him. Despite his ragged looks, he claims to work as the managing director of a well-known theater in the arts district. He's a big fan of HeroTV! Wild Tiger and Barnaby are his faves.... right after Mr. Legend, of course!

His NEXT status is currently unknown.

[granolabird]

I love when silly pieces of media affect people I love when you share your fav thing with others and they not only make an effort to be interested in it but they UNDERSTAND and want to know more and. What a delightful feeling

[slumbz]

ignore the fact that i can never have a normal fucking posting schedule please im sorry <//3

anyway so i drew one of @yeetguy424's ocs on his birthday ^^ happy birthday old fuck

[intotheelliwoods]

I got.. so huggy and cuddly with this one oops.

Takes place very shortly after the last update!

Masterpost

[xeneric-shrooms]

YESSS i got one more item to get to finish my scry project!!

My baby Poptart is almost done !!

[intotheelliwoods]

SPLIT PEA????🥺AAAAH ThATS SO GOOD. Split pea soup even!!!!!

congart @intotheelliwoods !!! 4000 is big and thinking about that many people makes me nervous lmao

[cupcakeslushie]

Fun Collab with @intotheelliwoods!

Ell came up with the idea of Sprout seeing Big Leo in Poptart, and we workshopped the layout! I provided the hurt!

I had so much fun running with the idea and was intent on causing maximum damage (╹◡╹）♡!!

💚 ya Ell! Thanks for letting me play with your boys for a bit! (I cry every time I get to draw Poptart. He’s so small and tiny and baby. It pained me to draw him looking anything less than perfectly happy)

[inbabylontheywept]

Memories of Grandpa Hank

I'm eating a bag of mormon gorp that tastes like gasoline while watching the rain run down the mountain. The taste doesn't even bother me anymore - all homemade gorp tastes like this. It's just a natural consequence of everyone keeping their prepper shit in their garages. 

My dad's out in the clearing, wandering around with his GPS. He's got some pieces of wire out on top of it to try and make the effective antennae bigger, but it just makes it look like he's dowsing. Another mormon tradition. I ask him if he's close to find water yet, and he looks up at me, little rivers flowing off him, and says yeah - he can feel it. 

I'm sure he can. I settle under my tree and watch the droplets roll down the needles. Awaiting the final judgement of Judge GPS. 

A few minutes later, it provides: 

Turns out my dad forgot to record the location of the car this morning. The GPS remembers where we parked yesterday, but by luck my dad knows how to get from there to our car. Downside is that it's a nine mile walk just to get to yesterday's position, then another five miles to backtrack. That's fourteen miles total. 

I'm only thirteen. 

Think you can make it? my dad asks. And it's a kindness that he's worried, but it's not like there's an alternative. What else would I do, sit down in the murk and cross my fingers he finds me again? Ask him to carry me 14 miles? 

I'll be pretty jelly legged, I say. But yeah. I'll make it. 

Attaboy, he says. He fishes a bag of poptarts out and offers me one as - I think - a peace offering. A, sorry you're gonna have to walk 14 miles in the rain because I goofed kind of gift. 

I take a bite and, despite being individually wrapped, it still manages to taste like diesel fumes. We start hiking our incredibly long distance in terrible weather for foolish reasons, and I joke to my dad that the only way to make this day any more mormon would be by pushing handcarts. 

He laughs. Neither of us laugh again until 11 pm, when we stumble like drunkards into camp. My grandpa has stayed up late to make sure we weren’t lost, but he only stays up long enough to see us arrive. We try to eat a dinner of sweet potato stew, but after falling asleep in the middle twice, we agree to just go to bed. 

I sleep in well past nine and wake up to nobody in camp but my grandpa. My dad left with my sister to keep hunting around 5 am. I know that everyone assumes that their dad is invincible when they're 13, but I'm 28 now and part of me still thinks he's gonna live forever. That God made exactly one perpetual motion machine, and it raised me in the desert. 

---

Around noon my grandpa suggests hunting again. If it was my dad, I'd probably tune him out, but I like my grandpa's style of hunting. My dad hikes and hikes and hikes until the elk get tired and just let him shoot them. My grandpa finds the sleepiest, sunniest, coziest field and takes a nap there, figuring if the elk have any decent taste they'll come there at some point.

Man's got a knack for knowing what elk like - he's right more often than not. I think he might've been an elk in a previous life. 

I go with him, and much as I hate to admit it, the hike is good for me. I start off walking like a pirate on two peg legs, so stiff I might as well not have knees, but by the end of the mile and a half walk I'm almost normal. We make it to the edge of the clearing, and my grandpa finds a patch of grass taller and softer than the beds inside the trailer, and he curls up to sleep there. I look across the grass and I watch the comings and goings of critters through the field. Sometimes I use the scope to get a magnified view, but I never do so with my hand on the trigger. The thought of accidentally looking a person through that glass is something that sends a chill up my spine. 

Some deer wander through the glen, but it'd take a fool to mistake one of them for an elk. A few hours later, my grandpa wakes up and asks if I want to wander around a little. It's a lovely day. Rain comes in bursts in Arizona, and the day after is almost always clear as can be. And for a short while, all the desert browns turn green and lush. Hard mosses turn squishy and cacti swell up like fresh baked muffins and for a while you can get why people settled in these god forsaken wastes. 

So I go with him, and we walk on, me with my gun, him just taking in the forest. He looks so peaceful that I get a little jealous, but it's not until my grandpa stops and looks at me that I even notice it myself. Takes a mirror, sometimes, to know yourself.

Being near my grandpa is always a strange thing for me. He's quiet, and he doesn't talk much, and I don't ever get the feeling that he's particularly emotionally intelligent - but it's like he's interacting with a reality more raw and real than mine. Like I'm watching symbols on a screen and he's counting atoms. And sometimes, just being near him gives me access to that raw matter. Just something about how he is breaks the illusions of the world.

He looks at the gun like a foreign object, like he doesn't recognize it, then he looks at me. He speaks and he doesn't mince words. 

What would you do if an elk came across the path and you shot it right now? he asks. 

Well, I'd start cleaning it, I say, and he waves the words away like cobwebs in his face. 

But would you celebrate? he presses.

And I look at him, and I don't actually see any judgement staring back. He knows the answer, and he's at peace with it. He’s asking so I can see it too. He’s being a mirror so I can see my own face.

I think I might actually cry, I admit. And he nods along in agreement before reaching forward to take the gun off my shoulder. 

Lets just walk today, he says. No chance of killing anything. No worrying about that. 

Right, I say. 

He pops the chamber open and tosses me back my bullet. I catch it, and the relief I feel is palpable. 

Can I change my mind? I ask, and he shrugs.

Whenever you want. Hunt or don’t. It’s not the hunting that I’m worried about. It’s seeing you ignore your conscience.

And for a moment, I'm there in the real world with him, and my gloves are off, and reality is a metal cube in my hand: Sharp and cold and heavy.

Or maybe that’s just the bullet.

---

We make it back to camp a bit later than my dad. We get there and he’s waiting for us. If he's tired, he doesn't show it. 

How'd it go? he asks. My grandpa looks at me, and I don't know how to respond. I don't know how to explain it, and I am scared. 

Great, he replies. It's a shame Babs only has a doe tag. We saw a five-point out there. Close enough to hit with a football. 

No, my dad says. If his grin was a half inch wider, both ends of his mouth would meet in the back of his head and everything above his tongue would slide off.

Tell him Babs, grandpa says. And, not for the first time, and especially not the last, I try my hand at spinning a yarn. 

It's pretty good. But at 13, I still have a lot to learn.