So last Tuesday night I finally decided what to cosplay for the Adventure Zone live show at comic con on last Friday night. Three days and thirty dollars later I present my void fish costume feat. rolling duck buddy.
I am so glad I was able to make it in time for the amazing show!! Everyone there was so cool and seeing the boys in the flesh was everything I hoped for.
It has been a while since any project on this scale came together with so few hitches and I am really proud of how it turned out!
Hello everyone! Thank you so much for your continued support while I’m still in the process of figuring out this whole manufacturing thing/getting the Kickstarter together. (For those of you who are new, I am hoping to produce my popular Whale Shark Bag through a KS sometime this year!)
I’ve received more than one sample, so to show my thanks - I’m giving the extra one away!
WHAT YOU’LL RECEIVE! * 1 fully functional Whale Shark Bag (this item may have small differences from the final product that will be available later on through the Kickstarter, such as: fabric color, hardware type, etc)
HOW TO PARTICIPATE! * Reblog (up to once per day) for multiple entries. (Reblogs by giveaway-only blogs will not count.) * Follow my plush blog (plush-rumpus.tumblr.com) or twitter for an additional 5 entries! Not only do you get extra entries, but you will be able to find updates regarding the upcoming Kickstarter, and I will share other whale shark goodies that you’ll be able to snag.
GIVEAWAY ENDS ON FEBUARY 3rd, 2017 at 12:00 AM EST. A randomly selected winner will be contacted by February 5th!
ADDITIONAL RULES! * You MUST have your askbox or messages open so you can be contacted in the event you are chosen. * You MUST respond within 24 hours of being notified (winner will be contacted by Feb. 5th). If you do not, I will move onto the next randomly selected winner. * You must be willing to share your shipping address. * GIVEAWAY IS OPEN INTERNATIONALLY, however… * SHIPPING WILL BE FREE WITHIN THE CONTINENTAL UNITED STATES. Unfortunately, due to the high cost of shipping overseas, potential winners from all other countries/regions will be responsible for paying shipping. Sorry! THANK YOU AND GOOD LUCK!
This giveaway isn’t associated, administered, sponsored, or endorsed by Tumblr Anyone participating is giving information to user plush-rumpus and not to Tumblr.
A Viktuuri love child that just wants to play hockey and, "No, dad, you cannot add rhinestones to my jersey!"
“But you’d look so pretty!” Viktor whines.
“No. NO RHINESTONES.” Koichi eyes him warily, defensively covering his jersey and holding it against his chest.
“How about this?” he asked, casually fishing out a random bag of pink glitter from his pocket. There’s a long silence before Koichi lets out a high-pitched scream and makes a getaway dash towards the door and out of the room, tripping several times throughout the apartment until he (literally) runs into Yuuri in the kitchen carrying a coffee mug in one hand and a skating magazine in the other.
“Ah, what’s up kiddo?”
“Dad, dad won’t stop chasing me with glitter, PLEASE STOP HIM.”
Yuuri tries to stifle a laugh but fails. “I don’t know, you could probably pull off the sparkly shimmery look.”
“Fine. Viktor, stop chasing our son with glitter.”
“Yuuri do you want to know why his hockey games are so boring?” Viktor asks, appearing abruptly in the doorway with a huge nerf gun loaded with glitter. Koichi swallows loudly. “Obviously because everyone’s wearing the same dull outfits.”
“Viktor, you’re not going to–”
До свида́ния, boring jersey.”
Cut scene, next practice Koichi shows up at the rink sporting a jersey untastefully covered in glitter that’s painful to look at.
Typing a ship name into a tag and discovering another ship that goes by the same name and is equally adorable and gay is like reaching into your bag to fish out a pencil and finding the gel pen you thought you lost last month instead
This design of djenj (generic word for fish) includes the species namarnkol (barramundi), urnbuhmanj (black bream) and njarlkan (archer fish) and depicts a billabong scene in the ancient rock art style of West Arnhem Land with single line rarrk hatching and the backbones of the fish visible.
Fishing is an important part of Kunwinjku culture. The old people used to catch fish with djalakirradj (three-pronged spears) walabi (traditional triangular nets) and mandjabu (vine fish traps ). In the evenings they would sometimes paint the fish in their rock shelter as they explained to young people about the different species, their Djang (ancestral creation stories), or just the catch of the day. Mandem (water lily) spreads its leaves and flowers over the water in the background of the design.
He should be thinking about his history course work due in
two days or his match on Saturday. He should be thinking about the prefect
timetable he has yet to organise and he definitely should be thinking about the
niggling pain in the back of his knee and if he should mention it to his coach.
What he categorically shouldn’t be thinking about is the pretty redhead at his
bus stop and how he wants to kiss the colour out of her lips and hold it in his
She’s wearing those bloody jeans again, the same as the week
before, that hug her legs and around her waist (and other areas James
definitely isn’t looking at). The streetlamps have already clicked on, her skin
is woven gold under the amber light.
He can’t look away, won’t look away as she wanders up and
down the bus stop, her fingers tapping at her phone screen and her mouth
lifting into a lazy smile as she reads a text. Thunderous grey clouds hang
heavy in the sky and he wonders if he is going mad, standing in the cold about
to be soaked when with one call he could have a car pick him up with
complimentary tea and biscuits.
The girl smiles again and he knows he’s going mad because
his heart is pumping in his throat and flowers are growing through his ribs.
His phones rings and he lifts it to his ear, noticing there is still a smear of
blood across his bruised knuckles.
“We need your help,” Sirius tells him. James can hear what
he thinks is Pete trying to move a bed. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the bus stop,
I need to nip to the flat to grab something.” James tells him, craning his neck
to see if the bus is coming. The girl glances at him, pulling her bottom lip through
her teeth. James flashes her a grin and blood burns up the neck he so
desperately wants to press his lips against.
“I thought that’s what you were doing last week?” Sirius
“Yeah, I just need something else.” James winces at the
silence that follows. There’s another crash and Pete is violently swearing.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that redhead who was
on the bus last week, would it?”
James can’t stop his eyes flickering to where she stands,
leaning against a lamppost, her silhouette cut from the shadows. “Err-
potentially- anyway why did you need me?”
“We’re trying to find
Moony’s philosophy notes, he’s hidden them.”
He runs his hand through his hair, it needs a wash to get
rid of the remnants of mud. “Obviously, last time you used them you spilt gin
all over them.”
“That wasn’t my fau- oh you utter bastard you know where
they are don’t you?”
James laughs and leans against the crumbling brick wall
behind him. “Look, Pads, I’ve got to go, I’ll see you tonight.”
There’s more crashing and what sounds like ‘James you
fucker’ before James can press end call. The girl is staring at him, the corner
of her mouth twitching. He pockets his phone with a sheepish grin at her. He’s
about to ask her something, anything. Words are climbing up his throat and
dancing across his tongue, a ballet of letters held between his teeth.
Then the sky opens.
The rain isn’t particularly heavy but it’s the sort that
seeps under the skin and lingers in the blood, James’s hair is already damp by
the time he gets his hood up. The girl is shivering, her thin jumper soaked
through. James’s legs start moving before his brain does, his hands unzipping
his rugby bag and fishing out his school hoodie. The girl looks confused, James
must too because he’s not really sure what he’s doing.
“Here, it’ll stop you freezing to death.” He says, offering
it to her. She reaches for it, uncertainty spilling out of her eyes. “I’m
James, by the way.”
“You’re not a serial killer, are you?” she asks once she’s
tugged it over her head. He almost misses the question, thinking too much about
how she would look in nothing but his rugby shirt.
She’s staring at him expectantly, her brow crinkled ever so
“Only on Thursdays, you should be safe.”
She laughs, sunlight falling from her lips, her fingers
tucking strands of copper hair under the hood. “I’m Lily,” she says. Lily. He nods, it settles in his stomach
like it’s always been there, Lily. The
rain keeps up it’s symphony on the pavement.
“So how posh are you, on a scale of Eddie Redmayne to Prince
William?” she asks. Her eyes are alight, her voice bubbling like cheap champagne.
He thinks he might be already drunk.
He raises an eyebrow, pretends to look offended, drinks in
the light that’s pouring out of her. “Me, posh? Never.” Her phone beeps but her
hands stay tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, he lets a drop of warmth creep
into his bones.
“Seriously though, I hear your school fees are insane.”
He glances at the crest stitched into his jacket, into the
hoodie, into his skin. Red and gold and laughter and adrenaline and home. “I’m
not that posh. Sirius, he’s a lord, but I’m nothing special.”
He knows the weight the name carries, knows the looks in the
street, the eyes noting the tie and blazer, the polished shoes and tailored
trousers. He knows what they think of, arrogance smirks and burnt fifty pound
notes, wrecked cars and opportunities thrown about like paper in a classroom.
They’re not all like that, he’s not
“A lord, huh?” she says, “Can you get me his number?”
“Is Bruce in here?” Tim figured he might be— Bruce spent a lot of time in the children’s wing of Wayne Enterprises. There were a dozen or so kids in daycare most weekdays, and Bruce liked to hang out.
Tim liked to hang out too. They had nice snacks, and he’d known most of the kids since they were toddlers. And sometimes naps were mandatory.
“Conference call,” Damian told him. (For someone who claimed to hate naps, snackfood, kids, and humanity in general, Damian also spent a lot of time in the children’s wing.) “I don’t know where.”
He went back to what he was doing, which was arranging a set of pewter soldiers into a complex model of a battlefield, presumably for the benefit of the preschooler sitting next to him.
“The Battle of Issus, 333 BC.”
“Right, obviously.” Tim decided he was curious, so he settled down on the mats to watch. Damian finished his model; he pulled a marker from the art table and used it as a pointer.
“Okay. This is the Macedonian army, outnumbered but in the better tactical position, south of the Pinarus River. Their leader is Alexander the Great. And this—” He pointed to his enemy line. “—is the Achaemenid Empire. They’re about to lose.”
Damian tapped his marker on the Macedonian right. “This is the companion calvary, Alexander’s elite force, and they—” he cut off when he noticed his pupil digging in the toy bin, clearly distracted. The kid came up with a battered Transformer, which he set behind Damian’s lines.
“Elliot. Alexander did not have robots.”
“But,” said Tim, rummaging through the box himself, “did he have wizards?” He pulled a bearded magician out of the tub and held it up for Damian to see.
“You know he didn’t.”
Tim passed the wizard to Elliot. “But what if he did?”
“How would that go?”
“Abracadabra, Alexander!” Elliot yelled, gleefully smashing through Damian’s entire left flank.
“Damn it, Drake.” Damian sighed in frustration— not quite the rise Tim was hoping for, but still something. He dropped Elliot’s discarded robot back into the box.
“I don’t know what you were expecting,” Tim told him. “Elliot’s four. He’s too young for— what is this— military history?”
“He was doing fine before you showed up.” Damian started to re-erect his soldiers, but he gave it up after Elliot came in for a second pass. “Which is typical, isn’t it?”
“Thank you.” Damian crossed his arms. “Fine. I’ll bite. When is he supposed to learn this kind of thing?”
“High school? Maybe never.”
“That can’t be right.”
“Have I ever lied to you?”
“Frequently.” Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m getting a second opinion.”
Damian checked the room for potential allies. “Thomas?” he called over his shoulder, “You learned military strategy as a kid, right?”
Duke looked up from the book he was reading to a pair of kindergardeners. “Just you, man.”
“Told you.” Tim fished a bag of plastic ninja from the toy box and arranged them pointedly into a row. “How are you still surprised by this kind of thing?”
Damian glared at him. “Okay, first of all? I’m not a— hold on a second. Elliot!”
Elliot froze with a large, plastic dinosaur held aloft over the battlefield. He drew it sheepishly back to his chest. “Sorry.”
“Not in the calvary wing,” Damian told him. “You’ll scare the horses.”
“Here?” Elliot pointed to the front of the phalanx.
“Aim for his center.” Damian turned back to Tim. “Anyway. Why are you still talking to me? I thought we had an agreement about unnecessary contact.”
Y/N chewed her lip nervously. Everything had happened so fast and it just kept going faster. Within the past year, she had confessed her feelings for Jensen in a drunken haze. He had kissed her the following morning and 6 months later she owned a house in Austin with him. 10 months after their first kiss, Jensen had asked Y/N to marry him to which she had said yes. The wedding had taken place among their closest friends the same afternoon.
Y/N loved Jensen dearly and she did not regret a thing that had happened between the two of them. The speed however meant she had never gotten a chance to talk to him about the things normal couples talk about before they get married. Hell, Y/N hadn’t even gotten to talk to Jensen about much after the wedding, since the two of them hadn’t been able to keep their hands off each other for the two months his hiatus later. That exact lack of self control around each other had been what had landed her in this situation in the first place. She knew that and still she didn’t regret a thing. Y/N loved Jensen more and more with each passing day, even if she didn’t think it possible. She loved the way his hands and lips felt against her skin and the way his muscles flexed under her caresses. He was all she had ever wanted and so much more. She couldn’t regret anything that had to do with him. Not that her new situation was a regret, more a concern that she wasn’t sure how to approach Jensen about.
You run a hand through your hair, wishing you had brought a hair tie to get rid of your main distraction in order to focus all your attention on the essay rested before you. It’s meant to be a three-feet roll of parchment for your Transfiguration class, but it’s hard to keep yourself motivated. With the rapidly approaching N.E.W.T.s, and your desperation to remain in the good graces of all your professors and classes, the stress is starting to eat at your nerves.
You’re about to start on your second roll, when you suddenly feel a pair of cool hands cup themselves around your eyes. At once, you stiffen at the sensation as you straighten and bring your hands up to gently tap at the mysterious hands. “Uh, who is this?” You inquire, an airy quality to the question.
When the voice doesn’t respond, you drag your fingers over the hands. They’re familiar. You’ve spent one too many times running your hands over these, the course skin and callused fingertips, and the corner of your lips turn up as you briefly envision his face—how he would rip his hand away from yours, only to sport a soft smile from the gesture when he thought you weren’t looking. You know him better than either of you like to admit, like how he’s always had a soft spot for you despite his reputation and how you’ve always looked forward to his visits despite your own reputation.
You finally decide to start speaking: “I thought you had detention today.”