#Modern Australian

[recipeslive]

Lemongrass and Ginger Grilled Barramundi with Bok Choy

SouthEast Asian Style Barramundi Recipe. Dive into the vibrant flavours of Southeast Asia with this lemongrass and ginger-grilled barramundi. The fish is marinated in a fragrant blend of lemongrass, ginger, garlic, and soy sauce, then perfectly grilled. The dish includes bok choy, a leafy green vegetable stir-fried with sesame oil and soy sauce. It is light, refreshing, and packed with…

[huariqueje]

Stairs to a Reflection - Paul Davies , 2024.

Australian , b. 1979 -

Acrylic on linen , 153 x 122 cm.

[mistercrowbar]

Three AUdiirns I’ve had pinballing around in my brain

Guardian - stuck in time loop hell to save those he once adventured beside. I wrote about it almost a year ago, here.

Ascended - Astarion ascended, Aldiirn built his empire then took it all for himself.

Modern - union courier committing insurance fraud to help Astarion who can’t afford treatment with his high profile but exploitative modelling gig. Goes smooth until a photo of them together goes all over social media, then they gotta fake date to keep up the ruse. Inspired by @satanicspinosaurus!

Anyway i love how two of these are like high fantasy sorta-villainous AUs and then there’s fedex aldiirn with your parcel

[thunderstruck9]

Paul Davies (Australian, 1979), Built in Forest, 2013. Acrylic on canvas, 122 x 91 cm.

[st-just]

Nothing makes me understand libertarians more than learning about modern agricultural subsidies and regulation.

[arc-hus]

Quarry House, Northcote, Australia - Winwood McKenzie

[gwydpolls]

Time Travel Question 28: Murder and

Disappearance Edition II

Given that Judge Crater, Roanoke, and the Dyatlov Pass Incident are credibly solved, though not 100% provable, I'm leaving them out in favor of things ,ore mysterious. I almost left out Amelia Earhart, but the evidence there is sketchier.

[probably-des]

heres some stuff i found on the australian boomerang website (pre 2014 rebrand)

elements from the site circa 2009

and also i wanna give a shoutout to this little dude (hes the icon for the videos minisite)

and now some more elements circa 2011

header and footer images

character icons

stock art

activity icons (wish i could find transparent version of the renders)

now some banners images circa 2013

[fanaticsnail]

Ohh, Snail, now I can't stop thinking about you writing that Corazon x AussiReader idea from the fanart you rebloged. Poor sweet baby 🥺 dealing with giant spiders and cute feral angry koalas, nooo, Cora, don't try to hug them, they may look cute, but they will eat your face 😱

Rosinante's Trip Down Under

Masterlist Here

Oh my goodness, Miss Vita! How gorgeous is it, though? Art by @rainnartt (CHECK OUT THEIR OTHER ART, IT'S AMAZING!!)

Synopsis: Modern AU, Rosinante visiting your hometown in Queensland Australia. He is overwhelmed by the cultural differences, but loves to learn the slang.

I did go a little crazy in the tags, definitely ran away with me a little here.

Could you imagine, though? As an Australian, I can confirm: if it looks like it can kill you, it can kill you. If it looks like it can’t kill you, it absolutely can kill you. Our poor, clumsy man never stood much of a chance, did he?

In this picture, he looks like could be in Bondi, the Gold Coast or Surfers Paradise by the looks of it. I am going to put him in the Queensland region for the sake of the plot. This is how I see it going. 

Drabble Fic Word Count: 1,800+

Themes: rosinante x gn!reader, platonic fic, crack fic, modern au, reader is Australian, Rosinante is Spanish, Au he lives.

Tag list: @since-im-already-here @i-am-vita @feral-artistry @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @remisloves @mfreedomstuff @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Taking your new friend Donquixote Rosinante to your favorite sights in Surfers Paradise. His eyes widen in wonder, staring at sights that come so naturally to you, but are so out of the norm for him. You are happy to play tourist in your hometown, marveling at the sights as he experiences them for the first time. 

Outside of your local McDonalds and picking up a common comfort breakfast food for his adult adoptive son, who elected to remain back at home in the hotel as he adjusts to the time difference, Rosinante’s shriek prompted you to turn to meet him.

“What the hell is that?” he remarks, extending his pointer finger towards the large waste bin adjacent to the doorway.

“Oh, that’s a skip, Corazon. The red is for rubbish,” you continue, pointing at the other bin, “The yellow lid is for recyclables, and the green is for food and biodegradable-.”

“No! The thing with the massive beak!” he shrieks, watching as the dark-head bird pokes its head above the bin. The large hooked beak elevates a half-consumed cheeseburger before it gulps down the burger in a single motion.

“Oh!” you laugh at your blonde friend, clapping a hand over his shoulder, “That’s an ibis. We call them ‘bin chickens’ or ‘tip chooks’ depending on your region. They’re scavengers, they won’t hurt you.”

“A bin chicken, skip bin,” he hums, his brow furrowed in deep thought as he commits the name to memory, “And you call McDonalds ‘Macca’s’, right?”

“That’s right,” you hum your confirmation with a curt nod. He hums in response before ushering you along the pathway towards the hotel. 

As you continue walking along the sandy coastline, you notice he’s halted outside a petrol station. A large truck is parked beside the building: checkered blue and white painted on it’s side and large font titled “POLICE” and “0.05: DRUGS”. 

“Is this your local law enforcement?” he asks you, tilting his head to the side. 

“Yeah, that’s our local booze bus parked next to a divvy van,” you nod in affirmation, “They do regular drug and alcohol testing for drivers to ensure their safety on the road. Weird that they’re outside of a servo, though. Usually they’re on the main roads.” He nods his head and hums.

“Booze bus. Divvy Van,” he looks over to the petrol station, arching his brow high, “Servo?” 

“I know, it’s a lot,” you confirm with an apologetic smile, “I promise it gets easier to adapt to the slang the longer you practice.” He nods again. 

Passing a local park with a children’s play area, you manage to see your friend David from work, his two children playing together on the looped climbing frames and plastic slide. 

“Davo!” you call out to him, waving your unoccupied hand in front of you - considering the other contains a paper bag filled with the fruits of your labor. 

“How the bloody hell are’ ya goin’, Darl’?!” his nasally voice cracked to you, “Who’s the fella ya got there with ya?” You smile at him, walking to embrace him.

“This is Rosinante Corazon, the friend I mentioned was visiting from Spain,” you informed him, “How’s the missus back at home? How’s the kids?”

“Mate! Howzit goin’?” he extended his hand out to Rosinante, who placed his hand within and gave it a gentle shake who mumbled a soft ‘pleased to meet you’ in response.

“Ah, and the ankle biters are doin’ great. Givin’ the missus a bit of a reprieve here at the park, tough gig bein’ an ambo driver.” He glanced over his shoulder at his children, ensuring they were safe now they’ve climbed to an elevated height. 

“Oh I’m glad she’s managing to take a break. She’s a tough lady,” you nod to him, smiling over at the two children who wave at you while playing with a make-shift telescope. 

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you,” he confesses, gesturing down to the brown bag clutched in your hands, “Don’t want that brekky gettin’ cold now, do we?” You laugh at him, waving him off before waving at his children. 

Rosinante remained silent, only muttering a few words that stood out to him: “Darl’, fella, mate, missus, ankle biters, ambo driver, brekky,” on a perpetual loop.  

“You okay there, Rosi?” you quirk up at him, a soft smile pulling at your cheeks. 

“I’m alright, Darl,” he attempted, his voice falling to his nose and emulating the accent he heard moments prior, “Is that a common term of endearment here? ‘Darl’ and ‘mate’? How do you go with gender neutral titles?”

“Both of those titles can be used interchangeably, regardless of gender,” you inform him, “It all depends on context and the way you say it.” he hums again, nodding along and muttering several phrases he learnt. He reaches into the circular cup cardboard and pulls out his coffee and takes a small sip. 

Your feet finally carry your way over to the lobby of the hotel where he was staying with Law, his body immediately halting in front of the surf, dive and ski shop. His head cocked to the side, staring at the large, rectangular basket outside the shop. You follow his line of sight, which remained locked on to a large, canvas sign attached to the basket. 

“Ah,” you click your tongue, noticing they’re focussed on a common shoe worn in this area, “Do you and Law need a new pair of thongs? I know the bottoms melt a little when the bitumen gets a bit hot.” 

“You want me and Law to wear what?” he turned towards you with his eyes wide and jaw dropped. It took a moment for you to understand the miscommunication, your eyes growing wide and your nervous laughter propelling your anxiety further. 

“No, no, no, no, no!,” you managed to choke out, “No, we call ‘flip-flops’ ‘thongs’ here. Is that what had you a little confused? A basket full of shoes where you thought lingerie should be?” Rosinante laughed alongside you, shaking his head from side to side.

“You got me,” he chuckled, raising his coffee to his lips once more, “Our differences are quite vast, aren’t they?” 

“I suppose they are,” you acknowledge with a shrug and a broad, tight-lipped smile. He hums once again, muttering several phrases as you step into the elevator. 

Clicking the button to the appropriate floor, the doors open wide to reveal the carpeted corridor of the hotel room. You offer to hold the coffee tray in your unoccupied hand as Rosinante clumsily attempts to fish out his key-card from his pocket. He thanks you, his hand getting stuck in his pocket as he shimmies his shoulders to break it out. 

Finally clutching the key card, he places it in the door and swings it wide to reveal Law sitting on the plush bench beside the large window. His left knee was bent, his right leg extended as he reclined against the window. His gray orbs draw away from watching the gentle crash of waves towards you both as you enter the suite. 

Before you had a moment to greet the younger man, Rosinante’s broad grin and best nasally voice interrupted your train of thought. Rosinante gently took the brown paper bag from your hands and offered it to his son.

“Howzit goin’, Darl’! Brought you some Brekky from Maccas!” he walked forwards, thrusting the bag into Law’s hands, “Saw a bin chicken eating some scraps from the red skip, and passed a booze bus outside the servo on the way back.”

Law chose to remain silent, wordlessly taking the brown bag from Rosinante and maintaining unbreaking eye contact. Rosinante took that as his queue to continue relaying his adventure. 

“Saw Davo being a good fella at the park with his ankle biters, his missus has been working hard as an ambo driver,” he continued, biting his lip as he attempted to relay the trip back to his absolutely unamused son, “Then we passed a shop on the way up. Was gonna get us a pair of matching thongs for the trip, but thought you would get embarrassed to be matching with your Dad.” 

Law’s fingers stuttered their descent into the bag, choosing to take a lengthy breath instead. 

“Dad?” Rosinante quirked his head up, turning to look at you over his shoulder. You were doing your best to stifle your laughter by clutching your lip in your palm, “Do you still call parents ‘mum’ and ‘dad’ here? Is there an Aussie term of endearment he could use for me instead?” 

“‘Cunt’ comes to mind,” Law murmured, prompting Rosinante to snap his head back over to his son. His heart shattered as Law drew up a hashbrown and began nibbling at its golden exterior. 

“L-Law-?” Rosi’s heartbreak was depicted in the quiver in his tone. You walk over to your friend’s side and offer him his forgotten coffee with a smile.

“-Rosinante,” you broke him away from his sorrow with a soft giggle, “‘Cunt’ is also a term of endearment here. Law and I had a little conversation about cultural clashes last night when we were playing cards. You fell asleep early, remember?” 

“It is my favorite Australian term of endearment,” Law admitted with a soft hum, reaching up his outstretched hand to wordlessly ask for a coffee, “But your insults are far better. Quite original.” 

“Okay, Champ,” you mock Law, passing him his cup of coffee, “Big words coming from a guy with a face like a smashed crab.” 

“Coming from a Drongo with the personality of a dropped meat pie,” Law smirked in return, taking the cup from your hands. Your joint laughter ricocheted from the hotel walls, prompting Rosinante’s prior sour mood to pick back up. 

As you all ate your brekky in comfortable silence, you gazed out onto the beach below. Law followed your eyes, looping at the large swell of the waves. The choppy waves crashed against the golden waves, the vendors beginning to set up their canopies to sell their wares along the boardwalk. 

“You did well, Rosinante,” you complimented the tall, blonde man, “Using our words in the appropriate context, I mean.” Rosinante smiled at you, placing his paper rubbish in the brown paper bag.

“Thank you, Mate,” he said with a soft wink, “I appreciate the praise for my efforts.”

“No wakkas, makka,” you smile at him with a shrug. Both men quip their head up, their ears pricking and confusion written on their face. 

“We’ll get into that later, I guess,” you chuckle at the two of them as their confusion deepens.

The large Australian crowd began to take out their surf and boogie boards, set up nets for volleyball, and their wickets for beach cricket. The variety of populus below in various designs bathers, placing sunscreen on their bodies to protect from the deadly UV rays. 

“Beach day?” you ask them, smile drawing up over your features once more.

“Beach day,” Rosinante nods in confirmation, excited to learn more slang and cultural differences as the day broadens its rays over the oceanic backdrop. 

[arthistoryanimalia]

#TurtleTuesday 🐢:

Lesbia Thorpe (Australian, 1919-2009) Young Turtles, n.d. linocut on Japanese paper, 23 x 29 cm

[kaitaiga]

Happy (early) Valentine’s Day 🐻❤️

A little picture taken in an old photo booth that Lachlan and Talullah found in a secluded area after escaping a really boring mandatory event lol

Enjoy :)

[troubleinmind]

After visiting so many gorges and spectacular lookouts up here in The Blue Mountains, NSW, Australia, I guess it was inevitable that I would have to momentarily return to figurative painting and… just for fun… create something to celebrate all those views... Acrylic on Canvas Board 58 cm x 48 cm

[buff-muffin]

A list of more things that happened in my childhood that totally fucking happened for the ASL brothers:

While they act all grown up and cool they still play games like tag and hide and seek, and usually Luffy being the youngest sucked at it. But once, he snuck into a crate in Dadan’s hut and they spent HOURS looking for him and each time Ace and Sabo left the hut frustrated he would poke his head out and giggle. The bandits were trying so hard not to give it away and Dadan was seconds away from bursting out with laughter.

Oh you can not convince me these fuckers didn’t go sledding all year round. We do know it snows on their home island. But they’re not gonna let the WEATHER tell them when they can and can’t sled. Luffy probably whined and whined till they grabbed some cardboard from the grey terminal found the steepest grassy hill and barrelled themselves straight down it. There were many face plants, grass stains, blood and broken cardboard but they certainly sledded.

I can’t help but think they still went swimming even if Luffy couldn’t, maybe they found something that floats well enough that he can join them in the deep end. But I can totally see them jumping off a certain cliff into the river trying to do flips and screaming. One of them also definitely belly flopped and had to lay still while the other two laughed their asses off. The amount of attempted drownings in those waters would be alarming

On the same topic as cardboard sledding I feel like they would also make other things out of the materials of the grey terminal. Like they found a perfectly good tire wheel and decided that’s their toy for the day. They got Luffy to climb in the centre and rolled him down a hill till he screamed and crashed into a tree. He did throw up but it was still funny. Maybe they made the dingiest saddest excuse for a go-kart to roll down those hills. Either way Luffy was the test dummy and always crashes.

These boys totally just had a day where they decided to just. Dig a hole. Luffy probably started it, Ace and Sabo said that’s stupid but after lunch they found themselves joining. They didn’t know why. It just looked fun. In the end they made a huge pit and not bothered to fill it back in Sabo turned it into a pitfall trap. They had fallen into their own trap too.

They spent a week fighting over a stump. Ace stood on it once and said something and all of a sudden Luffy and Sabo wanted it. It was king of the castle war until Ace and Sabo gave in cause it was suddenly ‘boring.’ they found a cooler stump.

[icecreamwithjackdaniels]

Roy de Maistre (Australian, 1894–1968), "CRUCIFIXION", c. 1958 [oil on gold leaf on board]

[speedilydeepruins]

Spiraling out of control