The great @sket_one rocking our “Toy Nerd” @rotofugi collabo #tee at his latest signing and release. Get yours at #tshirt #shirt #apparel #designertoys #vinyltoys #toys #fashion #toynerd #Sketracha #sketone #Dunny #signing #Kidrobot #huyfongfoods #sriracha #3dretro @3dretro @huyfongfoods @kidrobot

Lucian haaaaates the color orange. Drives him nuts to see it and it takes every ounce of self-control not to get stab-happy in public if he comes across it. Small amounts he can bear, but clothes and toys and large signs/banners with a lot of orange make him flip out.

Purple Guy no likey. Good thing there’s not a lot of orange in Freddy’s Pizza! ….Right? XD;

@endorstoiii has tagged me to do this, thank you <3 :> Sorry it took me awhile.

Name: Desirae
Birthday: November 3
Gender: Female
Sexuality: You know dat riff from Endors Toi
Relationship status:                              :(
Zodiac sign: Scorpio
Siblings: 1 sister ( and her wife :>)
Favourite colour: Blue
Pets: One doggo 
Favourite bands/artists: Tame Impala, Temples, WAND, Melodys Echo Chamber, My Bee’s Garden, UMO, The Growlers,  Tennis, King Gizzzard,  MOODOÏD, Lykke Li, The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, I can go on forever… haha
Sleep: Messed up sleep schedule.
Type of phone: S6
Love or lust: Love
Lemonade or Ice Tea: Lemonade 
Cats or dogs: Dogs 
Few best friends or lots of casual friends: A couple of friends..
Coke or Pepsi: Neither…im sorry
Day or night: Night

Text or call: Call
Makeup or natural: I look the same shit with or without make up I love wearing it, but it feels good to have a naked face.
Ever met a celebrity: No.
Spoons or forks: Forks
Truth or dare: Truth
Pronounce caramel like “car-a-mel” or “car-mel”: Car-a-mel
Smile or eyes: Both ;>
Light or dark hair: ^
Shorter or taller: Taller
Intelligence or appearance: Intelligence
Chapstick or lipstick: Lipstick
What colour shirt are you wearing: Black and white.
Musical instrument you play: Guitar, ukulele, and kind of know a little bit of piano.hah
City or country: Depends.
Last song you listened to: Mind Games 
Last book you read: Some book about the holocaust…for my project, hah
Favourite old song: Idk.. Currently obsessed with All along the Watchtower.
Favourite TV Show: Portlandia?
Favourite animal: Dog.. Or Tiger 
Cool pillow or warm pillow: COOL
Favorite scary movie: Idk..
Blue or black: Blue
Hyde or Kelso: Kelso  
Plant or Page: Plant dewd 

John or Paul or John Paul Jones: John is my jesus 

Im to afraid to tag people, im sorry.. LOL


tagged by: @tokyo-toy

Star Sign: virgo

Height : 5′6

Average hours of sleep: Probably around seven??? I don’t know I’ve been staying up a lot later lately??

Last thing I googled: “-on biology suffix meaning” help me. i don’t know anything about biology.

Number of blankets: 1 or 2

Favourite fictional characters: Mmmm Poe Dameron and Peridot and Homura from Madoka Magica

Favourite Novel: Hundred Years of Solitude!!!

What are you wearing right now?: uh. My adidas track jacket, a t-shirt, and jeans

When did I start this blog: Like last summer?

How many followers: 42

What do I mostly post: usually star wars and other people’s art. pretty much anything I think is cute.

Do I run anymore blogs: nope.

Most active follower: I don’t know probably one of my friends?

Who made you get a tumblr: idk. probably @sleep-spirograph

Do I get a lot of asks?: nooo

Why is this my url: ah.. My friends at school call my ninjin or neen a lot. this is really complicated, but it started out as just neen and then we discovered that neen plus the Japanese word for person, jin, made it ninjin, which means carrot in Japanese. And that’s like my favorite nickname and disquiet is my favorite word, even is it makes my url extra.

tag: idk you guys don’t feel any obligation to actually do this butttt @evrgloww @sleep-spirograph @favoritelittleheartattack and i don’t know i don’t have anymore friends.

Flee on Your Donkey - Anne Sexton

 Because there was no other place
     to flee to,
     I came back to the scene of the disordered senses,
     came back last night at midnight,
     arriving in the thick June night
     without luggage or defenses,
     giving up my car keys and my cash,
     keeping only a pack of Salem cigarettes
     the way a child holds on to a toy.
     I signed myself in where a stranger
     puts the inked-in X’s -
     for this is a mental hospital,
     not a child’s game.
     Today an intern knocks my knees,
     testing for reflexes.
     Once I would have winked and begged for dope.
     Today I am terribly patient.
     Today crows play black-jack
     on the stethoscope.
     Everyone has left me
     except my muse,
     that good nurse.
     She stays in my hand,
     a mild white mouse.
     The curtains, lazy and delicate,
     billow and flutter and drop
     like the Victorian skirts
     of my two maiden aunts
     who kept an antique shop.
     Hornets have been sent.
     They cluster like floral arrangements on the screen.
     Hornets, dragging their thin stingers,
     hover outside, all knowing,
     hissing: the hornet knows.
     I heard it as a child
     but what was it that he meant?
     The hornet knows!
     What happened to Jack and Doc and Reggy?
     Who remembers what lurks in the heart of man?
     What did The Green Hornet mean, he knows?
     Or have I got it wrong?
     Is it The Shadow who had seen
     me from my bedside radio?
     Now it’s Dinn, Dinn, Dinn!
     while the ladies in the next room argue
     and pick their teeth.
     Upstairs a girl curls like a snail;
     in another room someone tries to eat a shoe;
     meanwhile an adolescent pads up and down
     the hall in his white tennis socks.
     A new doctor makes rounds
     advertising tranquilizers, insulin, or shock
     to the uninitiated.
     Six years of such small preoccupations!
     Six years of shuttling in and out of this place!
     O my hunger! My hunger!
     I could have gone around the world twice
     or had new children - all boys.
     It was a long trip with little days in it
     and no new places.
     In here,
     it’s the same old crowd,
     the same ruined scene.
     The alcoholic arrives with his gold culbs.
     The suicide arrives with extra pills sewn
     into the lining of her dress.
     The permanent guests have done nothing new.
     Their faces are still small
     like babies with jaundice.
     they carried out my mother,
     wrapped like somebody’s doll, in sheets,
     bandaged her jaw and stuffed up her holes.
     My father, too. He went out on the rotten blood
     he used up on other women in the Middle West.
     He went out, a cured old alcoholic
     on crooked feet and useless hands.
     He went out calling for his father
     who died all by himself long ago -
     that fat banker who got locked up,
     his genes suspened like dollars,
     wrapped up in his secret,
     tied up securely in a straitjacket.
     But you, my doctor, my enthusiast,
     were better than Christ;
     you promised me another world
     to tell me who
     I was.
     I spent most of my time,
     a stranger,
     damned and in trance - that little hut,
     that naked blue-veined place,
     my eyes shut on the confusing office,
     eyes circling into my childhood,
     eyes newly cut.
     Years of hints
     strung out - a serialized case history -
     thirty-three years of the same dull incest
     that sustained us both.
     You, my bachelor analyst,
     who sat on Marlborough Street,
     sharing your office with your mother
     and giving up cigarettes each New Year,
     were the new God,
     the manager of the Gideon Bible.
     I was your third-grader
     with a blue star on my forehead.
     In trance I could be any age,
     voice, gesture - all turned backward
     like a drugstore clock.
     Awake, I memorized dreams.
     Dreams came into the ring
     like third string fighters,
     each one a bad bet
     who might win
     because there was no other.
     I stared at them,
     concentrating on the abyss
     the way one looks down into a rock quarry,
     uncountable miles down,
     my hands swinging down like hooks
     to pull dreams up out of their cage.
     O my hunger! My hunger!
     Once, outside your office,
     I collapsed in the old-fashioned swoon
     between the illegally parked cars.
     I threw myself down,
     pretending dead for eight hours.
     I thought I had died
     into a snowstorm.
     Above my head
     chains cracked along like teeth
     digging their way through the snowy street.
     I lay there
     like an overcoat
     that someone had thrown away.
     You carried me back in,
     awkwardly, tenderly,
     with help of the red-haired secretary
     who was built like a lifeguard.
     My shoes,
     I remember,
     were lost in the snowbank
     as if I planned never to walk again.
     That was the winter
     that my mother died,
     half mad on morphine,
     blown up, at last,
     like a pregnant pig.
     I was her dreamy evil eye.
     In fact,
     I carried a knife in my pocketbook -
     my husband’s good L. L. Bean hunting knife.
     I wasn’t sure if I should slash a tire
     or scrape the guts out of some dream.
     You taught me
     to believe in dreams;
     thus I was the dredger.
     I held them like an old woman with arthritic fingers,
     carefully straining the water out -
     sweet dark playthings,
     and above all, mysterious
     until they grew mournful and weak.
     O my hunger! My hunger!
     I was the one
     who opened the warm eyelid
     like a surgeon
     and brought forth young girls
     to grunt like fish.
     I told you,
     I said -
     but I was lying -
     that the kife was for my mother …
     and then I delivered her.
     The curtains flutter out
     and slump against the bars.
     They are my two thin ladies
     named Blanche and Rose.
     The grounds outside
     are pruned like an estate at Newport.
     Far off, in the field,
     something yellow grows.
     Was it last month or last year
     that the ambulance ran like a hearse
     with its siren blowing on suicide -
     Dinn, dinn, dinn! -
     a noon whistle that kept insisting on life
     all the way through the traffic lights?
     I have come back
     but disorder is not what it was.
     I have lost the trick of it!
     The innocence of it!
     That fellow-patient in his stovepipe hat
     with his fiery joke, his manic smile -
     even he seems blurred, small and pale.
     I have come back,
     fastened to the wall like a bathroom plunger,
     held like a prisoner
     who was so poor
     he fell in love with jail.
     I stand at this old window
     complaining of the soup,
     examining the grounds,
     allowing myself the wasted life.
     Soon I will raise my face for a white flag,
     and when God enters the fort,
     I won’t spit or gag on his finger.
     I will eat it like a white flower.
     Is this the old trick, the wasting away,
     the skull that waits for its dose
     of electric power?
     This is madness
     but a kind of hunger.
     What good are my questions
     in this hierarchy of death
     where the earth and the stones go
     Dinn! Dinn! Dinn!
     It is hardly a feast.
     It is my stomach that makes me suffer.
     Turn, my hungers!
     For once make a deliberate decision.
     There are brains that rot here
     like black bananas.
     Hearts have grown as flat as dinner plates.
     Anne, Anne,
     flee on your donkey,
     flee this sad hotel,
     ride out on some hairy beast,
     gallop backward pressing
     your buttocks to his withers,
     sit to his clumsy gait somehow.
     Ride out
     any old way you please!
     In this place everyone talks to his own mouth.
     That’s what it means to be crazy.
     Those I loved best died of it -
     the fool’s disease.

tagged by @tokyo-toy

Star Sign: aquarius

Height : 5'8

Average hours of sleep: like 5 maybe

Last thing I googled:  who voices rin matsuoka

Number of blankets: 5

Favourite fictional characters: mikasa, rin, and tsukiyama


What are you wearing right now?: cat pajama pants and a black sweatshirt

When did I start this blog: too long ago

How many followers: 131

What do I mostly post:neko atsume, random stuff

Do I run anymore blogs: @cheshireerwin and i co run @buzztalia

Most active follower: intothedarknessigo and tokyo-toy

Who made you get a tumblr: who the FUCK knows honestly

Do I get a lot of asks?: lmao not at all

Why is this my url: bc i use to like hetalia 

@iflostreturntomcr @intothedarknessigo and uh,,,, i guess @hetphobia

We’re happy to announce that we’ll have the one and only @nathanjurevicius signing at our Nightriders release party on Feb. 6 from 3-6pm in our flagship store in Markham. The team at @kidrobot have sponsored some really great prizes and we’ll also have light refreshments and snacks too!

Come pick up the new Nightriders blindboxes toy and get them signed! It will be fun! (at Mindzai Flagship Store)


megatron ! 

Little Einsteins Toys | Sign in to see details and track multiple orders.

Little Einsteins Toys | Sign in to see details and track multiple orders.

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Baby Einstein Baby Einstein Party – Little Twins Celebrate Einstein Birthday Theme Einstein Baby First Birthday Shirt The Envelope Project
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MCM Comic Con Continues EU Expansion In 2016 With Hannover And Brussels Events

With their London event standing as the world’s current third largest comic convention and similar events being held across the UK, MCM have announced their continued expansion into continental Europe with two new events. Already hosting events in Stockholm and Malmo, MCM Hannover Comic Con will be hosted 4th-5th June at Hannover Messe and MCM…

MCM Comic Con Continues EU Expansion In 2016 With Hannover And Brussels Events was originally published on ToonZone News