“Imagination and Objects of the Future”, 1975-1976.
Complete suite of 10 drypoint etchings, lithographs, and screenprints, 6 with collage, from the French edition of 250, edition 238/250, each signed and numbered in pencil in the lower margin, with accompanying title page, introductory texts in French by the artist and publisher, on BFK Rives paper, engravings printed by J.J. Rigal, Paris, lithographs printed by Desjobert, Paris, all published by Merrill Chase Publishing Associates, Chicago, contained in the original paper folders with text in French. Titles are as follows: “Spectacles with Holograms and Computers for Seeing Imagined Objects”, “Liquid Tornado Bath Tub”, “Liquid and Gaseous Television”, “Intra-Uterine Paradisiac Locomotion”, “Breathing Pneumatic Armchair”, “Cyclopean Make-Up”, “Melting Space Time”, “Anti-Umbrella with Atomized Liquid”, “Cybernetic Lobster Telephone”, and “Biological Garden”.
Pairing: Reader x Bucky Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: Angst, swearing, fighting
A/N: Sorry for only making this a short one, but I actually planned to include this idea in a future fic series!
It hadn’t been long since Tony had reluctantly agreed to allow Team Cap move back into the compound, and there was still an uncomfortable vibe that hung around. But everyone was trying their best to move on, to mend relationships and forgive. It was a tentative step in the right direction. Bucky was still dealing with life after Wakanda; T’Challa’s people had successfully removed the trigger words, but he was could never forget the faces of the people The Winter Soldier had murdered.
You tried your best to be there for him, to be a good girlfriend, but there was only so much that you could do. This was a personal journey for him, he wouldn’t be able to heal until he allowed himself to. You understood his pain, having been used by Hydra yourself. Nightmares still haunted you.
Tony gives you a soft smile as he places a coffee mug next to you, “You should really get some sleep, kid,”
You make sure to keep a nonchalant expression on your face, “Nah,” you dismiss.
Elise, what are your thoughts on Courfeyrac and Joly as twins? I'm thinking Courf always drags Joly into pranks (Fred and George style) - Joly insists it's juvenile but secretly loves it.
Oh my god no, I’ve never thought about it before but:
Even in primary school, Joly is the calm one, always listening and raising his hand to ask or answer questions
While Courfeyrac is the wild one, always running around, a living and breathing tornado, always up for arts and crafts and doing STUFF
The teachers can barely believe they’re related because they have such different interests
Little Joly is really into dinosaurs, finding fossils, studying the solar system and understanding how the world works on a biological level
While Courfeyrac wants to understand how the world works on a social level. How people work and think, etc etc
But they’re still really close!
Little Courfeyrac is a feisty little fellow and will fight you if you make fun of his baby brother. “Courf, we’re twins.” “I’m 15 seconds and 3 tenth of a second older, thank you very much!”
Joly being the jolllliest of them all, Courfeyrac always finds a nice audience for his jokes in him
Courf also gives Joly a lot of piggyback rides, because Joly’s left leg get tired quickly. So they play a game called the explorator, in which Joly describes what he sees “from up there” to his noble steed
Summary: Life is strange in Riverdale. 8 Months ago Jughead Jones’ best friend Toni Topaz dissapeared. When he’s about to get shot, Betty can safe him by rewinding the time. Together they start to investigate the vanishing of Toni Topaz.
So this is my first multi-chapter fic. And it’s obviously AU. It is based on a request by @birdlovesafish ! (x)
I’ve got it all planned, I just have to write it, haha. I’m not always inspired and I’m really not the fastest writer, but I’ll try to update this fic once a week though <3
Also a big THANK YOU for @allskynostars for beta this little something! <3 You’re the best and I love you <3
Also WARNING: A gun will be used in this chapter! Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Life was strange in Riverdale. At least, that’s what Betty thought. No one seemed to notice the little things that made Riverdale this strange. However, this would change in the coming weeks…
The wind pulled at her hair, so severely, that her usual ponytail had dissolved itself long ago. Where was she? She had no idea how she ended up here. She lifted her gaze towards the dark heaven. There were no stars. Nothing. It rained fiercely, her clothes were completely soaked. It was freezing cold, Betty shivered. It was so dim that she could hardly see her own hand. The blonde looked for a sign. Anything that could tell her where she should go. Eventually she saw Pop’s’ neon-sign, flashing between the trees that surrounded her. She headed towards that sign, she ran, as if the devil himself was chasing her. She clung to the hope that at Pops she could find out what this was about. She just had to reach those damn neon signs. Everything would be fine, once she was there, right?
However, as she reached Pops, pure horror seized her. Her legs trembled, and she could hardly breath. A tornado of monstrous size was headed towards Riverdale. This storm would destroy everything, there would be nothing left in Riverdale. Betty opened her mouth, because she wanted to scream. But she couldn’t, no sound came from her lips. She felt as if she would choke. Her lungs were empty and she couldn’t breathe anymore. Pure fear ran through her whole body and hastened her heartbeat.
Betty blinked against the bright light. She looked around, completely confused. Was that just a dream? Everything had felt so real. Not like a nightmare, more like a vision. Her heart still pounded way too fast. A vision? ‘That is ridiculous!’, Betty reminded herself. What was wrong with her? A few days ago she had started dreaming about this storm. And now, she even had this dream during the day? Musing about it, she played with the necklace she was wearing today and looked out of the window. Her thoughts slowly returned to the present. She was at Southside High, helping some of the children with their homework. Her mother was convinced that this honorary work would look good on her college-applications.
Last weekend, I sat in a room with my alcoholic mother who told me that she had relapsed. We sat in silence for two hours, and believe me when I tell you that they were the slowest two hours of my life. Every movement felt like an earthquake, every breath felt like a tornado and every glare seemed like thunder. Every time one of us wanted to say something, we couldn’t bring ourselves to get the words out. How do you tell your own mother that you just can’t carry her through life anymore?
Okay, okay, I see what’s happening here You’re face-to-face with greatness and it’s strange You don’t even know how you feel, it’s adorable Well, it’s nice to see that us heroes never change. Open your eyes, let’s begin Yes it’s really me, the Velvet Tornado, breathe it in I know it’s a lot: the hair, the scars When you’re talking to an adventuring star!
What can I say except “you’re welcome”? For the stories, the myths, the time. Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re welcome I’m just an ordinary hero-guy!
Hey, who has a sword and a really cool vest and a villager bud that’s totally the best! When the fights got rough, who protected his friends from the end? It’s pretty cool to see you again Vos, old friend. Oh, also I traveled the world, Searching for adventure and treasures unheard Also, I have an emotional past So get me out of this Sea Temple, fast.
So, what can I say except “you’re welcome”? For the legends we’re here to defy There’s a small need to pray, okay, That statue is a pretty scary guy! You’re welcome, you’re welcome
Don’t just love me when it’s easy or convenient for you. Love isn’t meant to be like the M'n’M’s in the vending machine, there waiting for whenever you crave something sweet. Love is waking up early in the morning: sometimes it’s wonderful and you see the sun sparkling through the blinds and have a glorious breakfast and your whole day ahead of you; other times it is hell and all you want is to refuse, curl back under the covers and shut out the world. You should love me both days, especially on the days you don’t want to and those covers seem all too tempting.
Because I am not always going to be your campfire keeping you warm and bright. I am not always going to be beautiful and smiling. I am not always going to have kind words for you. Some days I will be shattered on the floor and I need more from you than just tiptoeing around my pieces. Some days I will be tear-stained and swollen with mottled hair and clothes I haven’t washed in two days and I need you to still see beauty somewhere under that. Some days my breath will be a tornado that will tear at you ferverously and it will hurt you and I need you to brave out the storm.
Those are the days I need you to love me the most. It’s easy to love me when I’m sunshine, but I need you to love me when I’m a hurricane.
[s.bucks] #80 // excerpt from a book I’ll never write
and I’ll tell you no lies AU where you can’t lie to your soulmate. For Tim/Kon week: Young Just Us/Soulmates [AO3]
Robin wants to hack into the servers before they go into the facility, which means it’s float-above-Rob-and-bother-him time.
“You got a name, Wonder Boy?” Kon asks idly, twisting around upside-down so their faces are level.
“It’s Tim,” Rob replies, absent-mindedly, before freezing completely. His hands lie still on the keyboard, and his mouth is hanging open a little; Kon wishes he had a camera.
Trust Rob to freak out this much just over giving someone his name. Bats, man.
Rob–Tim– recovers and turns towards him, hands closing into fists. “Superboy,” Tim says urgently. “You can’t tell anyone, all right? It could put my family in danger.”
“I’m not gonna do that!” Kon says, insulted. “Come on, Tim. You know you can trust me.” Tim’s head spins around, checking the cavern for signs of life. “We’re alone, I checked. I can use it when no one’s around, can’t I?”
Tim is biting his lip so hard it looks like it hurts, but he doesn’t say no, so Kon takes it as permission.
wow, I said I would write this up quite a while ago, sorry, I haven’t done much on this blog for ages. :C
but here’s the post now! hopefully this post might help anyone who wonders how to decide a godtier title for themselves or their oc, etc. it’s pretty much based on my theories/ideas, others have completely different ones! of course until gigaupdate reveals there’s still a ton of information not revealed. ;c
A back-and-forth dialogue between Widowmaker and Tracer in the form of a fan mix. Moving through ambivalence when they meet as enemies, to the delicate and difficult beginnings of partnership when Widowmaker leaves Talon and begins recovering with Tracer’s help, to the blossoming of full-fledged love and healing for both women as they look to the future and each other.With cover art courtesy of @bythehalfpint.
Chelsea Wolfe - “Iron Moon” / Yael Naïm - “Toxic” / Light Asylum - “Dark Allies” / Ariana Grande - “Dangerous Woman” / The Mountain Goats - “Autoclave” / Lower Dens - “Your Heart Still Beating” / Colleen Green - “Deeper Than Love” / Grimes - “Pin” / Say Anything - “Spidersong” / Poliça - “Very Cruel” / Neko Case - “This Tornado Loves You” / Dreamers - “Wolves (You Got Me)” / Type O Negative - “Love You to Death” / Ladytron - “Destroy Everything You Touch” / The Gathering - “Frail (You Might As Well Be Me)” / Foals - “Spanish Sahara” / Holly Miranda - “All I Want Is To Be Your Girl” / Angus & Julia Stone - “For You”
I love how the fraymotif for time-mind is like, looking at all the possible timelines and selecting one and putting it into the present to resurrect Dirk without appearing to affect anyone else present. (gif from @toastyhat)
There’s an earthquake in your mouth. A shuddering, shaking confession ready to raze entire cities to the ground. You clench your teeth and hope they don’t turn liquid like the dirt when the trembling starts.
There’s a hurricane in your chest, swirling and slamming debris into your rib cage. The winds howl but your bones will not break. You will not succumb to a storm of your own making.
There’s a wildfire in your stomach. It eats you up from the inside out and there’s not nearly enough water to tame it. You could drink the ocean and still smell the smoke on your own breath.
There’s a tornado in each of your fingertips. Myths will be written about them, stories that travel through generations. Long after they forget your name they will still know your touch by the lives you scrambled.
There’s nothing in your lungs. No air, no light, no hope. A vacuum that threatens to suck you in, implode you like a building to be demolished. One cut and you’d take everyone with you.
You’re a patchwork of disasters sewn together to look human.