Avengers Giveaway!
In honor of the ridiculous amount of followers I have, I will be giving away some Avengers-themed swag to one lucky winner!
SWAG:
- You Were Made to Be Ruled moleskin notebook. It’s 3 1/2 inches by 5 1/2 inches, and ironically unlined. The front says “You Were Made To Be Ruled” and the back has a mini-Loki wielding a pencil staff.
- Tony Stark sticker. It’s about 2 x 2 1/2 inches in size and water resistant.
- Thor laminated keychain. It’s 3 1/2 x 2 1/2 inches in size, with the chain about 3 inches long.
- Loki mini print. About 4 x 5 inches in size. Can be signed, if you want.
- Loki pin-back button. 1 1/4 inch.
- I Do What I Want, Thor! necklace. The resin pendant is 1 x 1 inch, with glitter and a two layer paper effect. The cord necklace is 23 inches long.
RULES:
- You don’t have to be following me.
- I will pay for shipping.
- No more than one reblog per day!
- Likes don’t count; it has to be a reblog.
- At the end, I’ll count up the notes and use a random number generator to decide the winner.
- The giveaway lasts until May 20th. I’ll announce the winner that evening (pacific standard time).
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Good luck! :)
That… isn’t the expression of someone who’s defeated, guys. That’s the expression of someone who’s biding their time and plotting
That’s the expression of my panties flying off my body.
So when this came on in the theater, I actually audibly gasped. Like. Loki. What are you doing. You could have raised your head to look up and it would have saved maybe ONE of my ovaries from complete annihilation, but noooooo you had to keep still and flash your eyes up over that goddamn thing on your mouth. You. Fucking. Asshole.
i have never seen a more insulted looking cat
This made my life
80 years from now;
- Me: //falls//
- Granddaughter: GRANDMA ARE YOU OKAY?
- Me: //laughs// HELP I'VE FALLEN AND I CAN'T GET UP
- Granddaughter: Grandma this isn't the time for your old 2000 jokes!
- Me: WATCH OUT WE GOT A BADASS OVER HERE
- Granddaughter: GRANDMA!
- Me: YOLO
Peeta turns to us, panting from his work on the tree. The tone of my request is so odd that it’s alerted him to some irregularity. “Okay,” he says casually. He begins to move through the jungle, and although I know he’s trying hard to be quiet, this has never been his strong suit, even when he had two sound legs. But it’s all right, he’s moving, the monkeys are holding their positions. He’s just five yards from the beach when he senses them. His eyes only dart up for a second, but it’s as if he’s triggered a bomb. The monkeys explode into a shrieking mass of orange fur and converge on him.
