n. Visual hallucinations, illusions, or false perceptions @pseudopsia - Tumblr Blog

burgers are awesome. so are pussies. so you'd think something called the "borgussy" is something very good, but according to my friend Karl Marx such is not the case.

themadknightuniverse

Loustat short comics - There is nothing else until the storm is over - Interview with the Vampire TV Series

text transcription under the cut ⬇️

Fake magazine illustration

maxillis

anyway actually i do actually want to explore an elysium with an innoccentic harry. every time he steps foot in that church and looks up at the mosaic of dolores dei, it makes me think. every kind of apocalyptic omen that comes out of nowhere, every superstitious layman that believes harrier du bois is some kind of harbinger, every revacholian that dreads the ground harry walks on...harry is a broken, sad, empty, lonely and desperate man. he has profound and insightful things to say about the world. he observes it with care and love. we have the sodium lights. this is somewhere to be. he observes it with cynicism and deep dissatisfaction. he knows when the numbers are wrong. he knows when the suit at the desk is going to fuck over old widows and their children. sometimes he loses his sense of reality and begins to instead count the days that remain. the city connects to him through the invertibrates. he has done atrocious, unforgivable things. he fights for the people, he's a real common hero. he is a person no one wants, or is eager, to hear from.

and no one that knows him, really knows him, is ever in a position to see an innocentic harry. they see the radiation instead. they see the bloated corpse of a drunk. he survives heart attacks out on the bombed, rotting roads of history and they wonder how he hasn't left himself out to dry in the pale by now. to them, he may as well have been the body in the tree. the imperfection of his chin, from a bout of polio when he was young, is not quite a combat injury like lely's. they both nonetheless had to learn how to speak to the rest of the world through it.

harry is often discounted as a competent person because of his drinking, and the most intense pushback against harry comes from his partner, who was scorned by harry's ego and condescension. jean, a satellite-officer, one of harry's last few believers. but none of it matters anymore, because all of harry's words have been tainted. there is nothing he can say to inspire jean's forgiveness, or happiness, or relief. when i think about THE NEXT WORLD MURAL i think about how jean wanted to keep it, and how it must have been harry, his superior, who agreed to take that back to precinct 41--agreed to debate it and demand to vote whether it should be conserved or removed. of course they couldn't get rid of it. true love is only possible in the next world. for new people. it is too late for us.

in precinct 57, a moralist in a revolutionary jacket wonders if his superiors care that they're sending him to work with the human can-opener. the 50's era, moribund drunk, somewhat of a street legend (or was it a tall tale?) and also a sordid promise that the case would be solved to the ends of the earth. kim had forgotten the man's name somehow. it was only mentioned once before, when kim was determined not to pay attention to who exactly the poor son of a bitch was, getting caught on the short end of the pissing-contest shit-stick, in the maw of martinaise. but even without a name, kim had known what to look for. that goddamn jamrock shuffle. he could have named it as he watched harry shamble down the stairs.

kim is no saint. he is no devout founder's party service boy. but there is no point where he can't bring himself to believe harry's hunches, warnings, and instincts. one of them saves kim's life. another finds a bullet that has already taken a life, in a hanged man's head. harry finds ruby because the wind speaks to him. there is a 2mm hole in the world, and harry has seen it. he knows what it will do, he understands what it is made from. something got you this far, kim thinks. however, he too knows he is not imaginative enough to think of what, in particular, that could be.

this innocentic harry, shrouded in pale and ravaged by the world he was born into, will also likely do nothing but fall on deaf ears that have been both put off by his substance abuse and quite frankly fucked over by dolorianism, and the last vestiges of belief in his word will be those who altogether reject the imposition of the past (AKA the overlap in a venn diagram between delinquents and kim kitsuragi) on any bearing of the present. that's how harry works; he is discounted because people believe he is nothing but a rambling drunk, or a paranoia case. but kim saw his service history. he also saw the startlingly low kill count.

but if the only way for harry to start anew was to rewrite himself out of an old wrecked frame, while older, out-of-date copies of harry du bois were still open on jean vicquemare's desk, then true love really would only be possible in the next world, and harry's infection-by-pale would be the last nail in his coffin. so harrier du bois is no longer permitted to live in the past and he suffers the consequences when he slips back. he can't un-speak jean away from the past where they both once stood. his boon, and bane, is that he must now surround himself with what is to come. and his curse is that nobody believes him. he will not go down in history. he will not live to see the change. nobody has faith in him, even when he succeeds. and he has succeeded so often; statistically more often than he has faltered. just like you cannot call kim a revolutionary for wearing a jacket you cannot call harry a revolutionary regardless of how he chooses to serve the people but "harrier" is a gift from his mother to keep him strong during war and he was born in a hospital where people would usually go to die if you even care

frodo-a-gogo

BANG!

Become a supporter of Ly Ri today! ❤️ Ko-fi lets you support the creators you love with no fees on donations.

gothsbian

i should have been born a flamboyant aesthete fag in the early 20th century so i could go to audacious parties and write mediocre poetry and die of alcohol poisoning at 32 without having contributed anything to society except serving cunt in a fur coat and semiregular emotional breakdowns

beaft

i love paintings that look as if they have ghosts in them

beaft

this painting by andrew wyeth has got SO many ghosts in it. most andrew wyeth paintings have ghosts in, but this is off the scale!

this painting by dragan bibin has only one ghost as far as i can tell, but it’s a really scary ghost (the dog thinks so too)

this painting by meraud guevara looks very peaceful, but unfortunately it has a ghost in it. i can’t tell you where, but it does

you might think you can see the ghosts in this dorothea tanning painting, but you’re wrong. the little girls are just ordinary girls. the actual ghost is behind one of those doors.