taylor price
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
if i look back, i am lost
Andulka
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
we're not kids anymore.
Mike Driver
d e v o n
NASA
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
izzy's playlists!
Monterey Bay Aquarium
RMH
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
No title available
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Cosimo Galluzzi
JBB: An Artblog!
KIROKAZE
seen from Netherlands
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@sophroniel
whenever someone asks what kiwis are like I tell them that a few years ago there was a tsunami warning in tauranga and people went out with surf boards
what does that have to do with small green furred fruit
this week on ‘i can’t believe its not a new zealander’
I just don’t understand where this concept of ‘fake geek girls’ came from. Like, AT ALL.
Cus when I look for fandom related stuff like 90% of the fan art and the fanfiction and the meta, zines, comics, etc. Like 90% of the shit that I’ve seen is created by women & girls.
And all that stuff take’s a lot of work and research and critical analysis and staring at reference photos for hours.
We are literally the most well versed and invested group in the fandom. So, like, What the fuck boys? You mad you can’t keep up?
I saw an argument, and I can’t find it now, but it totally made sense, that there’s a gender split in fandom. Male fandom tends to be a curator fandom; male fandom collects, organizes, and memorizes facts and figures. Male fandom tends to be KEEPERS of the canon; the fandom places great weight on those who have the biggest collection, the deepest knowledge of obscure subjects, the first appearances, creators, character interactions.
Female fandom is creative. Females create fanart, cosplay, fanwritings. Female fandom ALTERS canon, for the simple reason that canon does not serve female fandom. In order for it to fit the ‘outsider’ (female, queer, POC), the canon must be attacked and rebuilt, and that takes creation.
“Male” fandom devalues this contribution to fandom, because it is not the ‘right’ kind of fandom. “Girls only cosplay for attention, they’re not REAL fans!” “Fanfiction is full of stupid Mary Sues, girls only do it so they can make out with the main character!” “I, a male artist, have done this pin-up work and can put it in my portfolio! You, a female artist, have drawn stupid fanart, and it’s not appropriate to use as a professional reference!”
In the mind of people who decry the ‘fake geek girl,’ this fandom is not as worthy. It damages, or in their mind, destroys the canon. What is the point of memorizing every possible romantic entanglement of heterosexual white Danny Rand if someone turns around and creates a fanwork depicting him as a bisexual female of Asian descent (thus subverting Rand’s creepy ‘white savior’ origins)? When Danny Rand becomes Dani Rand, their power is lessened. What is important to them ceases to be the focus of the discussion. Creation and curatorship can work in tandom, but typically, in fandom, they are on opposite poles.
This is not to say that there aren’t brilliant male cosplayers or smashing female trivia experts, this is to say that the need of the individual fan is met with opposing concepts: In order for me to find myself in comics, I need to make that space for myself, and that is a creative force. Het white cis males are more likely to do anything possible to defend and preserve the canon because the canon is built to cater to them.
This is genuinely the best post I have ever read.
Comment bolded by me because effing important that’s why.
This.
“I, a male artist, have done this pin-up work and can put it in my portfolio! You, a female artist, have drawn stupid fanart, and it’s not appropriate to use as a professional reference!”
Seeing this spelled out was revelatory to me.
This. Is. Absolutely. AMAZING
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shitty horoscopes book ix: the body and the wreckage.
each sign rules a body part, though which part will vary depending on who you’re talking to. this volume marks a year to the inception of the shitty horoscopes series.
amrit brar (musterni), 2015
buy the zines | read them all | instagram | redbubble
Beautifully named New Zealand places
What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
“Yeah, some of our clothes are from victims. You might bite someone and think, “Ooh, those are some nice pants.”
Hinemoa and Tutanekai
A beautiful Maori mythological tale, the earliest written accounts of which dating back to 1855.
Hinemoa was the daughter of a great chief who lived at Owhata, on the shore of Lake Rotorua. She was very beautiful, and because of her beauty and her high rank, many young men desired her as a wife. One of these was Tutanekai, but he knew that though he was of good birth, his rank was not high enough for Hinemoa’s father to accept him as his daughter’s suitor.
So for a long time Tutanekai hid his love. He saw Hinemoa only when there were great meetings of the tribe, for his home was far across the water, at Mokoia Island in the middle of the lake. When the people gathered together he would content himself with gazing at Hinemoa from a distance, and yet it seemed to him that sometimes she would return his looks. But he thought to himself, ‘There are many other young men more worthy than I of winning Hinemoa’s heart. If I approach her to declare my love, perhaps she will be displeased.’
Now Hinemoa did love Tutanekai, but she too hid her love, thinking, ‘If I send a message to Tutanekai, perhaps he will not care for me’.
At last, after many meetings at which their eyes only had spoken, Tutanekai sent a messenger to Hinemoa, and when she had heard him, Hinemoa cried joyfully, ‘Have we each then loved alike?’ Then Tutanekai asked Hinemoa to leave her home and come to him, and to this she agreed.
‘At night’, he said, ‘when you hear the sound of a flute across the water, it is I; come in your canoe’.
Every night Tutanekai sat on a high hill and played his flute, and the wind bore his music far across the lake to Hinemoa’s home. But Hinemoa did not come. Her people had suspected her intention, and they had pulled all the canoes high up on the shore. Every night Hinemoa heard the sound of her lover’s flute, and wept because she could not go to him. Then she thought at last, ‘Would it be possible to swim?’ She looked at the wide water and her heart failed her; but then she heard the flute again and knew that she must go.
Then Hinemoa took six hollow gourds and fastened them to her body to buoy her up, three to either side. The night was dark, and the great lake was cold. Her heart was beating with terror, but the flute played on. She stood on a rock by the shore and there she left her garments. Then she entered the water and swam toward the music. After a time she was exhausted, and drifted with the current of the lake, supported by her gourds. Then she recovered her strength and swam on. In the darkness she could see no land, and had only Tutanekai’s flute to guide her; and led by that sweet sound she came at last to the island.
At the place where she landed there is a hot pool, and Hinemoa went into this to warm herself, for she was trembling with cold; she trembled as well with modesty, at the thought of meeting Tutanekai.
Just then Tutanekai happened to feel thirsty, and said to his servant, ‘Go, fetch me some water’. So the servant went and filled a gourd with water close to where Hinemoa was sitting. In the darkness she disguised her voice and pretended to be a man, calling out gruffly, ‘For whom is this water?’
The servant answered, ‘It is for Tutanekai’. Then Hinemoa said, ‘Give it to me’. So he gave her the gourd, and when she had drunk from it she broke it in pieces. Then the servant said, ‘What business had you to break the gourd of Tutanekai?’ But Hinemoa did not answer.
The servant went back, and Tutanekai asked him, ‘Where is the water I told you to bring?’
He answered, ‘Your gourd has been broken’.
‘Who broke it?’
‘The man who is in the pool’.
‘Go back again then, and fetch me some water’.
The servant took a second gourd and returned to the pool. Again Hinemoa called to him, ‘For whom is this water?’ Again the servant replied, For Tutanekai’.
‘Give it to me’. And she took the gourd and broke it in pieces as she had the other.
When the servant went back to Tutanekai, and Tutanekai heard that the man had broken a gourd a second time, he was wild with rage.
‘Who is this fellow?’ he said.
‘How can I tell?’ said the servant. ‘He’s a stranger’.
‘Didn’t he know the water was for me? How did the rascal dare to break my gourds? I am furious at his insolence’.
Then Tutanekai caught up his spear and went to the side of the pool, and called out, ‘Where is the fellow who has broken my gourds?’ Hinemoa knew by his voice that this was Tutanekai, and she hid under the overhanging rocks at the edge of the pool. She did this from shyness, so that Tutanekai might not find her at once, but only after trouble and careful searching. Then Tutanekai went feeling along the edges of the lake, seeking everywhere, while she lay hidden, looking out and wondering when he would find her.
At last he caught hold of a hand, and said, ‘Ho ho, what’s this?’ And Hinemoa answered, ‘It is I, Tutanekai’. And he said, ‘But who are you? Who’s I?’ Then she said more loudly, ‘It is I, it is Hinemoa’. Then he said, ‘Ah, can this really be? Come then to my house’. And she answered, ‘Yes’, and rose up from the water as beautiful as the wild white hawk, and stepped upon the side of the pool as graceful as the shy white crane; and he threw his cloak about her, and took her to his house, and thenceforth, according to the customs of those days, they were man and wife.
In the morning, when all the people in the village came out of their houses to get their breakfast. Tutanekai remained inside. His father said, ‘This is the first morning Tutanekai has slept in like this; perhaps he isn’t well’. He sent a servant to see, and the servant slid back the wooden window and peered inside. Then to his astonishment he saw in the room not two, but four feet. He ran back to his master and told him this. Then Tutanekai’s father said, ‘Who is his companion? Go quickly and see’. So the servant went back, and saw that it was Hinemoa.
Then he shouted out in amazement, ‘Oh, here’s Hinemoa, here’s Hinemoa in the house of Tutanekai!’, and all the village heard him, and there arose cries on every side, ‘Oh, here’s Hinemoa, here’s Hinemoa in the house of Tutanekai!’ Then some of the people said, ‘It can’t be true, Tutanekai can’t have won Hinemoa’.
But then Tutanekai came out of his house, and behind him came Hinemoa, and everyone saw that it was true.
All this was a long time ago. The descendants of Hinemoa and Tutanekai are living at Rotorua to this day, and still they tell the story of how the beautiful Hinemoa swam across the great lake to her lover. (x)
scar’s brother was ultra hot and im so mad he is dead
I JUST REALIZED THAT I SHOULD CLARIFY THAT I AM WATCHING FMA: BROTHERHOOD AND I AM NOT IN FACT LUSTING AFTER MUFASA, SCAR’S DEAD BROTHER IN THE LION KING
Pretty simple solutions.
How much you wanna bet these are college kids
Man I hate it when people use the pronoun “you” as a singular pronoun in an informal setting. “You” is plural, unless thou dost speak to an unfamiliar person. The correct singular second person pronoun is “thou” in most cases. Grammar never changes. Pronouns must always stay one way until the end of time. Learn thy proper English. *sigh* Kids these days.
If thou this mistake shouldst make on thine own blog, then know, villain, that thou art a dirty descriptivist, and no friend of mine. Ne'er should language itself alter, it doth remain fixèd as such, untouch’d by change. Wouldst thou, vile descriptivist, that we forget the heritage of our great tongue? Nay, say I. Thou art but a dickhead who sayest so.
stynt ðy clappe! beoð ðo writerris be wetleas knafen. ðy langag o engelond diffoulened be, ille usenid bi sclaundrous novelri.
Comics > Pictures In Boxes
→ those meddling kids and their damn dog
Steve Rogers leaves dishes in the sink.
In 1938, Bucky Barnes comes home from a long day at the docks and looks down at a full sink. He directs a halfhearted glare in the direction of the small lump doodling something at the kitchen table. “Goddamnit, Steve. Dishes.”
In 2016, Steve Rogers rubs his face and drags himself into the kitchen before heading out to search the city — the cooling trail — again. He drops his plate into the sink. There’s already some other things in there. He’ll get to them later, probably. When he has time. It doesn’t really matter.
He turns to go.
The shadow behind the refrigerator shifts slightly, and the Winter Soldier hoarsely whispers, “I swear to God, Steve, there’s a fucking machine for it right there.”
*SHRIEKING*
DID EVERYONE SEE THIS
Originally posted by manicsuccessive
Jfc it’s not like JKR came out of the womb clutching the first draft of Harry Potter, have people forgotten that she’s not always been rich and that she was actually pretty fucking poor not so very long ago and remembers what it’s like?
Have we forgotten this is the woman who took herself off the Forbes list because she gave away so much money?
Her first few drafts of Harry Potter were written on napkins because she couldnt afford paper
how to “get” fahrenheit temps
think of it as a percentage of heat
40% hot? eh, kind of on the chilly side
75% hot? that’s pretty warm now
20% hot? that’s actually not warm at all
110% hot? we’re dying
IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW
tumblr gothic
you see a drawing on your dash. it’s a conventionally attractive blond man doing sexual things with a conventionally attractive brown-haired man. you have no idea what pairing it is. it is every pairing. it is no pairing at all.
can i just
allow me
