abominablemothman:

paandi:

weaslee:

(Source: dontbetardyfortheparty, via brokenheartedfestivities)

(via exxhaust)

(Source: sugar-motta, via beautifulwhatsyourhurry)

fowlie:

coelasquid:

beesmygod:

fuckyeahbehindthescenes:

Most of the actors weren’t told of the prop corpse of Eddie under the dining room tablecloth. When it was revealed during filming, their looks of horror are genuine.

Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975)

ahahah rad

Riff Raff yelling at Magenta to shut up was for-real Richard O’Brien yelling at Patricia Quinn, because she couldn’t stop laughing and he was worried she would ruin the take.

Rocky Horror is un-ironically one of my favorite movies.  

protowilson:

arpeggia:

Yang Yongliang

Cement Dragon 
cement, fiberglass, ceramic, cotton, model flies
510 L x 220 W x 210 H cm

Excellent!

(Source: drawing-bored, via teratomarty)

(via starsinthegutter)

eyecager:

Tutorials done by Stanislav Prokopenko who is an instructor at Watts Atelier.

Right click + New Tab to see the images in their original size. There are 10 images, sorry I had to chop them up because Tumblr has a image size limit and starts resizing.

(via dutchbag)

foodboners:

green tea ice cream with dark chocolate earl gray fudge sauce!

• 1 cup heavy whipping cream
• 1 cup whole milk
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 3 tablespoons matcha green tea powder
• 1 pinch of salt

____

1. Put the cream, milk, sugar, matcha powder, and salt in a heavy bottomed saucepan and whisk ingredients together until combined. Try and whisk the majority of lumps away, but don’t worry if it’s not perfectly smooth. The next step should help eliminate most of the lumps.
2. Heat the mixture on medium-high heat until it comes to a full boil. Keep whisking until it starts to foam. At this point, your mixture should be pretty lump free — the heat will have eliminated most of the lumps. Remove from heat.
3. Transfer the mixture into a large bowl and let it cool down. Cover, then refrigerate the mixture in the coldest part of your fridge for at least four hours, or, ideally, overnight.
4. When the mixture has chilled, remove cover and give the mixture a whisk to bring it together. Churn for 20 - 25 minutes in an ice cream maker, or, according to your manufacturer’s instructions. Serve freshly spun — it will have an incredibly creamy texture (almost that of soft serve) at this point. For a more traditional ice cream texture, transfer to an airtight container and freeze overnight. 

fudge sauce recipe at the source!

(via beautifulwhatsyourhurry)

isayrather:

“The Egg” by Andy Weir

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

(via dutchbag)

Something quick and sketchy, experimental. Eh.

A more accurate depiction of Roméo.

I might post more sketches as I make them today, I’m finally feeling a little more artistic flow than usual.

(Source: tubofcoolwhip)

scifi-surrealism:

Pleassssssssssssssssse! 

Why not?

(Source: karma-fucks-us-all, via benedick-cumberballs)