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alexanderpearce · 9 months

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whag if i want to (macquarie harbour july 23)

eta the maugean skate is extremely endangered and facing immediate extinction and the government is the damn fucking liberals and they will not do anything about it. idk what any random people from across the world can do about it but im screaming crying sobbing begging for help

#whag if i want to #tjhe way they literally ONLY live in this one harbour... like whatever it is on that one rock #my photos #maugean skate #sea animals #endangered animals #tasmania #lutruwita #popular #i knew you people would love this #greatest hits #extinction studies

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literaila · 5 months

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i’ll tell you in the morning

tasm!peter x reader

summary:

“you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

warnings: overly considerate peter, scheming reader, fluff and stuff

*

“you’re supposed to be in bed.”

his voice rolls, like a click on a cassette, and you know that peter is not really there.

because it’s all a little blurry. his voice, the door opening, the feeling when he kneels down next to you, his breath hot in your ear.

it’s all some remanent of a dream. a brief moment where you might wake up, but decide not to.

“i’m serious,” his voice ebbs and flows, waving in and out, like your consciousness. “you know i don’t like it when you wait up for me.”

you groan and roll even further into the couch. your face is smushed, and your hair is a mess, sweaty because you’re drowning under every blanket in the house. it smells like cotton, and peter’s deodorant, and potato chips that you probably dropped through the cushions.

you dig your nose in deeper, trying to get back to that dream.

peters probably not actually there, you think, because if he was he would’ve kissed you awake. his hand would be lazily running through your hair, and his body would be pressed against yours. you would be cuddling by now.

real peter is much nicer than dream peter, who shakes your shoulder, albeit massaging you right afterward. “c’mon, bug, we’re going to bed.”

“sleeping,” you mumble, pulling away from him.

dream peter continues to try and wake you up, while you wonder—amidst the dream, no doubt—when real peter will be home. you want to be drowning in his collarbone instead of your own sweat.

there’s a kiss next to your ear. “you’re going to fall through the couch.”

“the couch would never betray me.”

“we’ll see if you’re saying that in the morning, when your neck is bent the wrong way,” he whispers, and rests his head against yours. you feel it as he breathes out, relaxes. almost like he’s purring into your ear.

so you keen into him, a bit awkwardly, considering that it’s his forehead. “why’d you wake me up?”

“you can’t sleep here.”

“c’mere,” you murmur to him, your hand wrapping around the back of his neck, fingertips just brushing his hair. “cuddle with me.”

“being cute isn’t going to stop me from moving you.”

“peter,” you try and push him away, “go to bed.”

“why are you out here?” his nose trails down your hair, to your neck. “it’s almost four in the morning.”

you ponder this, and decide that you don’t really remember what you were doing before you fell asleep here, with your hand shoved in the crook of your neck. “the beds cold,” you slur, head falling back into the cushions as you doze.

“that’s because all of the blankets are out here. why didn’t you turn the heat up?”

he’s playing with some baby hair by your ear now, trying to lull you to sleep, probably, because he loves you.

“i was waiting for you,” you whisper this like a prayer, “and now you’re here.”

“you waited in the wrong spot. i would’ve come to bed with you. there’s no room for me here,” he smiles when you finally turn your head towards him. he’s got a smudge on his nose, and his eyes are sunken in—aged from exhaustion.

“i know.”

you’re both whispering. trying not to wake that drowsy, lovesick part of yourself right now.

“hmm?” he leans into you, nose brushing your cheek. almost like he’s breathing you in. “what, bug?”

“i wanted to fall asleep with you.”

then his eyes are wide open, and he leans back, brows furrowed in a tight line. “i told you i was going out.”

you muse at his confused face, and lean back towards him. “i know. i didn’t know when you’d be home.”

“you could’ve called.”

“i’m not going to interrupt your repertoire with a burglar at midnight. it’s rude.”

“not to me.”

you tsk, and lean away, back into the pillow comforting you while simultaneously scheming to ruin your morning.

“you need more sleep than i do,” peter adds, trying to keep you awake with his sheer willpower, his hands squirm under your shoulders. “we’ve talked about this.”

“no, you threatened to tell my mom—“

“that’s not what i said,” peter interrupts, groaning into the sofa.

“that i wasn’t getting enough sleep. and i said that you could make your own decisions, but that i wasn’t going to stop waiting up for you.”

“it makes me feel bad,” he ignores your gentle protesting. “i don’t want to keep you up.”

“peter, it’s not like you’re out dancing with strippers.”

he laughs, unexpectedly. and you grin back at him, with a sheer conviction undiluted by any hints of remaining sleep.

“you’re up helping people. i don’t mind waiting for you,” you emphasize this by leaning in to kiss his forehead, tasting sweat and not minding at all.

“you’re going to be tired tomorrow. when did you fall asleep?”

you acknowledge your win for what it is, and sit up on the couch, looking around your apartment like you can’t remember where you are. “probably an hour ago. i didn’t know when you’d be home, and i waited a while, but then i moved to the couch so you’d have to wake me up if i fell asleep.”

“so this was an elaborate scheme, huh?” peter laughs at you as his teeth graze your cheek. his chaste kiss makes you warm.

“i learned from the best.”

peter chuckles against you, and the two of you sit like that for a moment. calculating each others breathing like there’s something you might miss, however brief.

and then you smile at him, and he smiles back. “bed?” he asks you, softly, fingertip running against the skin of your jaw. you nod.

his arms wrap around you as he picks you up, your head rested comfortably on his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.

“i’m leaving you on the couch next time,” he threatens as he walks, “just so you know.”

“then we’ll both wake up with sore backs. not just you.”

peter snorts. “i didn’t say i would be there.”

“like you can sleep without me.”

he doesn’t say anything to that, but you feel him murmur in your hair suspiciously.

peter sets you down on the bed softly, pushing your legs so you’ll lay down, then covering you with the comforter. he tucks you in like any average middle aged dad.

when you grin he nods, very satisfied with himself.

“i’m just gonna change,” he says, taking a step back.

“hurry. i’m tired.”

“now, look who’s talking,” he shakes his head, but moves swiftly to the bathroom. you hear it as he runs the sink, as he bangs his foot on something and curses, and when he pads back into the bedroom, looking like a young child sneaking out of bed in his pajamas.

you laugh. “where did you get those?”

peter looks down to himself. to the many cartoon styled spider-man’s dancing across his cotton pajama set. “what? this old thing.”

“i don’t think i can be seen in public with you if you’re wearing that.”

“we are in the privacy of our bedroom,” he points out.

“i don’t think i can be in the same room with you if you’re wearing that.”

peter shakes his head, pouting like he’s disappointed, but he slips the shirt off, a concession he’s apparently willing to make.

though you don’t doubt that there are ulterior motives to this move.

“c’mon,” you whine to him, “i’m cold.”

“you’re so needy.”

you roll your eyes, but sink into him as he shuffles from beside you, laying his head near yours. “you’re not coddling me.”

“i’m so very sorry, my dear,” he whispers, and wraps his arms around you.

“shh,” you nuzzle your nose into his neck, and murmur against his hot skin. “i want to go back to the dream i was having.”

peter must be laughing at you, you can tell, even slightly asleep, because something jostles you.

“what was it about?”

you smile against him, listening to his heart like a hymn you’re devoted to. “i’ll tell you in the morning.”

he whispers something, brief, a whisper in the quiet of the room. but you feel the words as he settles into the bed, his calloused hands running over your skin.

and you fall asleep; hands clutching the others heart.

*

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frognapsart · 10 months

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A little thylacine :)

#art #illustration #tasmanian tiger #thylacine #drawing #artists on tumblr #illustrator #illustrative #sketch #procreate #digital art #artist #sketchbook #drawings #extinct animals #native animals #tasmania #tasmanian blue gum

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skydarcyedwards · 5 months

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Wet beast experiences bliss (a very good scritch)

We watched this tiny platypus for a while, diving and feeding. Then it came out onto the bank, surprisingly bold, to have a scratch.

I'm obsessed with monotremes.

#monotremes #platypuses #platypi #wet beast wednesday #wet beast wednesday saturday #platypus #tasmania #tasmanian wildlife #australia #australian wildlife #wildlife #wet beast #sky darcy edwards #animals

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oceaniatropics · 2 months

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Wineglass Bay, Tasmania, Australia

#tropical #beach #ocean #sea #tasmania #australia #island #seascape #nature #wineglass bay #coastline #scenery #travel

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moonstruckme · 28 days

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We have whimsical reader in marauders

We need one with tasm peter

Oorrrr

Can you imagine (or make) a witch/wizard reader with tasm peter!!???

Thanks for requesting love!

tasm!Peter Parker x whimsical!reader ♡ 679 words

Peter comes in through the window, more out of habit than anything else now that he’s not hiding anything from you, but you don’t startle. You’re sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the floor in front of the couch, flipping through what looks like his old physics textbook.

“Baby,” he says, “why was there an apple on the fire escape again?”

“It was still there?” You look up, disappointed to find a whole apple in your boyfriend’s hand. “I thought Ricardo would’ve gotten to it by now. I hope he’s okay.”

Peter scoffs, going into the kitchen to wash the apple and put it away. He scrubs it extra hard just in case the raccoon you’re set on befriending did get his grubby paws on it.

“Ricardo can eat without your help,” he says. “He’s hardy, he’s from Brooklyn.”

“I know,” you sigh, “but apples are his favorite.”

Peter’s eyes narrow, but you’re not looking, your attention on something in the book. “How do you know that?”

“He’ll let me pet him while he’s eating apples.”

He sighs, leaning his forearms on the counter. He’s going to have to find a way to move that raccoon to another neighborhood the next time he goes out. Before it gives you rabies.

“What’re you doing over there?” he asks you.

“Pressing flowers.”

“Yeah?” Peter rounds the counter, moving behind you to sit on the couch. His knees bracket your shoulders. The A/C is blasting to combat the summer heat, and goosebumps prickle down your arms. “What for?”

“I was thinking May could bring them to work,” you say, flattening a dandelion between two pieces of wax paper. The movements are deft and routined, and Peter wonders how many flowers are already enclosed between the pages. There’s a small pile of them sitting next to you, miraculously intact despite the fragile puffs. “She was telling me about some of the kids she works with last week. I thought they might like to have them.” You shrug. “For bookmarks or whatever.”

Peter’s insides go melty soft. “I’m sure they would.” He leans forward, setting his hand on your shoulder and his lips to your head. You only keep working. Sometimes Peter feels like a weird rock or a feather that you’d picked up somewhere, put in your pocket without a second thought. But you do love your rocks and feathers, so it’s not an awful fate. “Where’d you get these, sweetheart?”

“I found them,” you say simply. “Parks, sidewalks, you know. They grow anywhere. Do you think I should save a few in case they want to make wishes instead of keeping them?”

It’s said so seriously Peter can’t help but grin, turning so his cheek smushes into the crown of your head. “That seems like a good idea. Mind if I use one?”

“Of course.” You sound surprised. “Use as many as you want, Peter. I can always get more.”

“Just one is good.”

He slides off of the couch, sitting beside you and picking up a dandelion. He waits until you’re looking over at him before blowing.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the seeds rush towards you. Peter’s close enough that they get stuck in your eyelashes and eyebrows, a couple in your hair. His breath weakens as he starts laughing, the last few seeds coming off the flower by way of little puffs of air.

“You don’t have to blow it at someone,” you say, lips stretching into a pretty smile. You blink cautiously, opening your eyes once no dandelion fluff falls in.

He lowers the stem. “I just wanted to make sure my wish went in the right direction.”

Your head tilts. “What’d you wish for?”

Peter combs a bit of white fluff out of your hair, grinning. “C’mon, baby,” he tsks, shifting his fingers to your jaw. You’re pliant to the touch, angling your head at the slightest cue from him. You keep your eyes open, curious, but your lips are soft against his. “You know that’s not how it works. I’ve still gotta make sure it comes true.”

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j-k-i-ng · 1 year

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“You & Me” 🔥 (revisited) by | Jono Rose

Tasmania, Australia

#tasmania #landscape #nature #seascape #campfire #gif #repost #australia #curators on tumblr #uploads

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nando161mando · 3 months

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"Nationalists not welcome, your hatred is the problem!"

"Refugees Welcome, Bring your families"

Ulverstone, Lutruwita Tasmania, Australia

31/1/2024

@antifainternational @radicalgraff @kropotkindersurprise @anarchistmemecollective @left-reminders

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sitting-on-me-bum · 6 months

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The Tasmanian devil (Sarcophilus harrisii) is a raccoon-sized marsupial—the world's largest carnivorous marsupial, in fact—found almost exclusively on the Australian island state of Tasmania.

Dave G. Houser / Getty Images

#dave g houser #photographer #getty images #tasmanian devil #sarcophilus harrisii #animal #mammal #wildlife #nature #marsupial #tasmania #australia

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hoiist · 1 year

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Know an Australian? Send this too them! Know someone who's spent time in Australia and has an opinion? Send this to them too! We can start a fight

#Australia #straya #im expecting a tie #this is so stupid but here me out #western Australia #south Australia #new south wales #victoria #Tasmania #Australian Capital Territory #act #northern Territory #nt #wa #sa #nsw #vic #tas

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manusuchus · 8 months

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Tasmania , just a blink of an eye ago

September 7th, 1936. The last captive thylacine, a male nicknamed "Benjamin", died from unknown reasons at the Hobart´s Beaumaris Zoo.

Two months later, thylacines became a legally protected species.

In 1982, park ranger Hans Naarding was surveying in north-west Tasmania when he stood for several minutes with his torchlight fixed on a thylacine. It is the last credible sighting of the animal in the wild.

That same year, the IUCN declared the Thylacine, commonly known as the "Tasmanian tiger", officially extinct.

Photos, videos and sightings have been regular since then, none really worthy of consideration as late evidence of the species' late survival.

Companies of questionable morality have promised to bring the species back from extinction through cloning and genetic engineering.

But the thylacine is gone forever. That's the hard truth.

We can try to convince ourselves that somewhere, hidden and far away from humans, they are still alive. We can try to convince ourselves that our advanced technology will reverse the mistakes of the past and change the natural order.

But the thylacine is gone, and that will not change.

This sad story leaves us with an important lesson: We must put all our efforts and resources into conserving the species that remain in our world.

May the Thylacine always remain an eternal reminder of what extinction means.

#zoology #animals #art #nature #wildlife #paleoart #endangered species #tasmania #australia #thylacine #tasmanian tiger #mammal #tasmanian devil #animal art #animal behavior #extinction

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adora-birds · 9 months

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Cape Barren Goose at a sanctuary in Tassie

#id: wild #cape barren goose #goose #birds #australian native birds #Tasmania

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literaila · 5 months

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hey v ! what about peter and reader getting ready to go somewhere and after reader puts on some red lipstick peter can't stop kissing her ?

lipstick

warnings: ugh, peter

*

“how many times have you done that?”

peter is standing behind you, leaning against the wall, probably ruining your focus, or your makeup, or your sanity. he’s probably staring just to mess with you.

you refrain from smiling in the mirror. wipe a smudge with your nail. “i don’t know, peter,” you meet his eyes, and his nefarious smirk. “how many times have you watched me do it?”

“i got lost somewhere around the first time.”

you laugh at him, crumbling the napkin you’ve been using, now filled with kiss marks, and turning it around so you can throw it at peter. “are you sick?” you ask him.

instead of answering, he licks his lip and unfolds the napkin, staring at the red marks, creases and tireless efforts arranged in a messy pattern. “this is like art.”

“why are you acting like you’ve never seen anyone wear lipstick before?”

“what?” he asks, hand to his chest. “i cant watch you get ready? i’m banned from being in the bathroom when you are?”

“yes, and yes.”

it does not escape your notice when peter tucks the napkin into his pocket for safekeeping.

he shrugs. “i don’t mind breaking the rules.”

you scoff at him and pat his shoulder as you walk past him through the doorway. “i would’ve locked you out if i knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“weird? how am i being weird?”

“you were lurking. you’re still lurking.”

“i’m talking to my girlfriend. that’s part of our contract.”

“you’re following me.”

peter smiles. “well, i like you.”

you roll your eyes, almost—almost—smiling when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. “please don’t make me argue about your stalker like tendencies.”

“we don’t have to argue,” peter says, kissing the space beneath your ear. his breath is hot.

“i need to put my shoes on, peter.”

he smiles, his teeth clashing against your skin like a dreadful reminder. some type of jumpscare—minus the fact that you merely lean into him, sans jumping. “we can spare fifteen minutes.”

“how can you be thinking about anything besides the fact that we’re already late to meet may?”

he nibbles on the skin by your collarbone, then licks it, as reprieve. “it must be the lipstick.”

“you’ve literally seen me with lipstick before. i wore some on our first date.”

“‘s probably why i like it so much.”

his lips are needy as they crawl around your skin. his hands are stationary, but they pose their own threat as they lurk.

“peter, we have to go.”

“i’m not known for my punctuality,” he spins you around, his lips curled in mischief, “you know.”

“i’m aware.”

you refuse to indulge him. your brows furrow, your hands held in the air—just so you can avoid accidentally touching him. purposefully.

“then why are you so worried?” peter asks, kissing your cheek.

“i’m not kissing you,” you say, instead of answering.

“you’re not?” peter pouts like a child. he is far too grown.

“no.”

“how come?”

you try to pull away from him, but, shockingly, peter is stronger than you are. your will is weak. “you’re going to smudge my lipstick. i just finished.”

“you have more, don’t you?”

“not the point.”

“what?” he asks, his voice so serious and teasing. “you don’t want to kiss me?”

“no, i do not.”

you look away from him, admiring a wall that has always been there.

“are you sure?” peter asks, ducking so he can catch your eyes again, because he is nothing if not cruel.

you break, pouting. “peter,” you whine, “we’re not going to be late again.”

“i think we are.”

“you can kiss me when we get home later,” you promise, trying again to wiggle out of his grasp.

“that is a terrible compromise.”

“you won’t compromise,” you snap back. “what else am i supposed to do?”

peter grins, tilting his head. “okay. i have an idea. how about i kiss you, and then we leave? you don’t even have to kiss back, even though we’d both prefer it that way.”

“i’ll kiss you,” you mock him. “you’re the worst negotiator i’ve ever met.”

“then how come we haven’t left yet?”

you scowl at him, and he scowls back, but his eyes are alight.

your skin is ravenous with an ache to touch him, he’s so close that kissing him would be nothing—merely breathing, really—but you don’t want to lose this game to peter. and you dont want him to stop looking at you.

he pretends to check a watch. “hmm, it’s getting awfully late.”

“are you british all of the sudden?”

peter grins, biting his lip before he tries to bite you. you lean away. “if you like my accent, all you have to do is say so.”

“i like it when you get out of my way, and stop trying to sabotage me. i like that a lot.”

“no clue what you mean, dear.”

you roll your eyes and manage to cross your arms in his hold.

“i wonder how we could solve this,” peter muses, tapping his finger on your waist. “it’s a big problem.”

“i could leave you behind and have lunch with may myself.”

“that’s one option.”

you roll your eyes again.

“i was thinking something else, though,” peter says, and he’s closer now, but you’re sure that you never saw him move. “something more… proactive.”

“shove it, peter.”

“you don’t even want to hear it?”

you sigh, leaning your chest into him, out of pure delusion. “fine. what?”

peter smiles at you, eyes catching eyes.

the look on his face is soft, delirious. he’s got that look in his eyes, and that smile on his face, and he’s still staring at you like he’s mesmerized by whatever you’re doing.

“what?” you repeat, but softly, like you can’t find your voice in the chest cavity peters taken hold of.

“kiss me,” he says, softly, and it’s really not your fault that his lips are already brushing yours.

and it’s not your fault when you lean in, sighing in relief at the mere feel of him.

you’re almost breathless, from the tiniest of kisses.

but then you kiss peter again, and again, and your hands finally wrap around him—keeping hold of something real in this fake reality—and your voice isn’t your own when you groan at peter for making you do this.

you have evacuated your body. you have lost common sense.

but it doesn’t matter, because kissing peter has always made you forget all of that.

and it still does, when he pulls back, grinning like he’s won. “see?” he says, voice ragged. “it was simple.”

“we’re going to be late and it’s your fault.”

peter laughs, kissing you again, staring at your red lips. “gladly. i’ll take all the blame.”

“and you’re making it up to me later.”

“whatever you say,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

he releases you and watches as you finally put on your shoes.

you don’t think it necessary to mention the red marks on his lips. it’s not like it’s your fault they’re there.

*

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you-need-not-apply · 9 days

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LISTEN UP: A LADIES LOUNGE IS BEING REMOVED DUE TO "SEXISM"

TERFS DNI - I'm trans

The Tasmania's Museum of Old and New Art (MONA) is a popular place in the state with free entry for TAS residents. But the ladies lounge is one of the best places inside. It seeks to highlight historic misogyny by banning male visitors, making men feel the exclusion experienced by women for thousands of years.

However, it is now being removed due to discrimination against "people who do not identify as ladies", and as someone who doesn't ID as a women (most of the time) FINE BY ME! Keep me out when I ID as a man. A New South Wales man (Jason Lau) took legal action against Mona, claiming that being denied entry into the Ladies Lounge when he visited the museum last April due to his gender was against the Tasmanian Anti Discrimination Act (1998)

HE DOES NOT EVEN LIVE IN THE SAME STATE

Artist Kirsha Kaechele and MONA director David Walsh

Artist Kirsha Kaechele has said:

"The men are experiencing Ladies Lounge, their experience of rejection is the artwork"

Why is it being banned?

The Tasmanian Anti Discrimination Act (1998) states that you are not allowed to treat someone differently based on an attribute or characteristic like, gender, sexual orientation, race, religion, or disability. source1

But there are exceptions to this rule.

"A person may discriminate against another person in any program, plan or arrangement designed to promote equal opportunity for a group of people who are disadvantaged or have a special need because of a prescribed attribute," the Act states.

Things like women-only gyms are for women to feel safe, promoting equal opportunity, and men's sheds are to promote men's mental health. source2

Mona's Ladies Lounge, however, is not a club and has no membership.

The judgment has ordered Mona to allow men to access the installation within 28 days.

#sexism #MONA #aus #auspol #ausgov #tas #tasmania #australian #australia #Museum of Old and New Art #Kirsha Kaechele #art #artist #David Walsh

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emeraldcityminerals · 3 months

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Red crystals of crocoite (PbCr6+O4) and yellow gibbsite (Al(OH)3) on matrix. From Adelaide Mine, Dundas mineral field, Tasmania, Australia. Size: 4 cm x 3.5 cm x 3 cm

#crocoite #gibbsite #minerals #Adelaide Mine #Tasmania #red #rocks #crystals #geology #nature photography #mineral collection #source:emeraldcityminerals

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myxomycota · 9 months

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developing Cribraria sp. by Sarah Lloyd

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