trying on a metaphor
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One Nice Bug Per Day
JBB: An Artblog!
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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wallacepolsom
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Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies
styofa doing anything
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TVSTRANGERTHINGS
AnasAbdin
todays bird
Kiana Khansmith
if i look back, i am lost
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
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@katrinaturned
IT'S NOT HEAT LIGHTNING THIS TIME. .͟ ͟.͟ ͟.͟ ͟ ⌕ ⩩katrinaturned⠀⠀* ୯ independent and selective portrayal ✎͟ of felix of ᴵᴺᵀᴱᴿⱽᴵᴱᵂ with the ⱽᴬᴹᴾᴵᴿᴱ. entirely self——canon with book and show 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. backstory here. a muse belonging to @talamasked.
held dearly by saph, twenty——five, she / they / he. minors do not follow.
WI HA-JOON as DO SHIK in MIDNIGHT (2021)
SINNERS (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler
mina remains with her back pressed against the wall, legs stretched out straight, hands in her lap as she took a few more deep breaths. her attention and eyes remain fixed on him, listening to him speak. the words fall from his lips, familiar -- keeping score. she knew all about keeping score, she's done it times before. there were some names that she'd keep with her forever. some people. and suddenly, he calls her on it. the observations. the analysis of her composure and the laboured breathing. the calm after the storm that raged inside of her. she notes as his posture shifts. how could she blame him for the questions he brought forward? she didn't understand the why's or how's of it all and she had damn near killed herself trying to find out, more often than she'd choose to admit - especially to a stranger. mina clears her throat, considering her answer. the wind and rain rising structure groans from the building they occupied. how could she admit to him what she struggled to admit to herself?
" dead or alive. yes and not. " she said bluntly, straight to the point without a beat ( i have done terrible things. there is nothing more to it. )
her answer lands lighter than he expected, something soothing about the emotional detachment that he hasn't been able to fully grasp, and his maker is not keen on teaching him. the wind punches through the blown-out window, scattering debris across the tile. rainwater crawls in thin fingers along the floor, finding every crack, pooling around the body’s slack shoe like the building is trying to drink the evidence back up. somewhere down the hall, a loose door knocks itself open. felix’s gaze follows that sound for a second, then returns to her. “ so it’s not a distinct preference. does one taste better than the other ? ” genuine with his interest, dark eyes illuminating green and reflective as lightning strikes and drags the third floor into a surgical daylight it hasn't seen since he was human and here during katrina. . . . “ you don't got to answer that. uh, “ the room darkens again. ” charity’s empty, but it’s not abandoned. people drift in here when they’ve got nowhere else to go. there is a security guard. he watches the gates, though, not inside. kids come in, too, record ghost hunts ‘n whatever else. ” he shifts, boots scraping, and reaches down to snag a half-collapsed plastic curtain from a nearby doorway. it’s mildewed, stiff with old disinfectant residue that never fully died. he tosses it, not at her, but toward the corpse, letting it land like a lazy shroud. “ cover him, i’ll burn it later. " then he looks back at her, head tilted, eyes narrowed with that same feral curiosity that brought her into focus in the first place. “ you’re not like me. you’re not like anyone i’ve met. i'd like to help you out with this, at least.”
@lorelodge . . . rest now. I’ll be here when you wake. ˋ°•*⁀➷ FROM HERE.
he's waiting for the lightning to strike, for the static around them to have a reason. just teetering on the edge of all his questions, making sense of what cannot be fathomable to his mortal self. the exhaustion is too intense —— battering him down bit by bit, disintegrating him like the buildings around them. there's still no power. felix is unbearably hot and the fact that lestat doesn't even seem to be sweating makes him bitter. as bitter as he can be, anyway. re-adjusts himself, looking scornfully at the hard floor he's calling a bed for the night. a stifled yawn followed by surrender, he curls into himself. lestat's right. he should sleep. but before, quietly: “ you won't be, though, you disappear. ”
"My first fledgling demanded I do this" he kissed his cheek. "Ask me not why Gabrielle demands I give you 'kisses' we are going with it" and then the other cheek as was customary to Europeans.
felix freezes for half a second, eyes narrowing. just … startled in a deeply confused way. “ jesus christ, ” he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face like he can physically touch the moment. “ you know normal people just shake hands, right ? ” a glance sideways, suspicious. “and don’t put this on gabrielle like she’s running some kind of undead etiquette committee. i know she ain't like that, and i know when you’re enjoying yourself. ”
"What did I say about the fucking fern."
@katrinaturned wanted a one-liner <3
“ i didn’t put the fern there, ” felix says, flat and tired. “ it was already here. i walked in, it was green, i kept it alive.” he glances at it once, then back at lestat. “ you hate ferns. i know. you hate a lot of things. i can’t keep a running inventory. ”
full. that's how she felt. complete - for now. she had done what was needed to feed the monster inside of her. the thing that would not give. the mystery to which she had no answers. mina leaned back on her hands, soon dragging herself back far enough to lean her back against the wall with a soft sigh. she could feel her body starting to regulate, the hunger that once fuelled her had put itself to bed for now. mina brought her right hand up to her face, wiping the blood from her chin onto the back of her hand and then onto her dress. another garment that would find its way to a landfill at some point, she mused to herself. " yes i noticed. " she murmured plainly, tongue sweeps over lips, listening to him speak. listening to him explain his observations of her. of what he perceived. extending it. harvesting it. chasing the moment. all of this sounded strange. unfamiliar. mina looked at him, dazed.
" why do you talk about it like that? chasing a moment...extending it? survival is exactly what it is. it isn't a game. " she hissed, looking at him with a slight tilt of her head. all she knew was surviving. at least not tonight - it wasn't a game. tonight was nearing two days without feeding, cutting it close, and she had been weary. mina knew that charity hospital was a gift that continued to give despite its conditions.
the hiss doesn’t offend him. it lands where it should — on the nerve. he watches her wipe the blood away like it’s sweat, like it’s rain. another dress to be thrown out. another night to be survived. her normal is violent. felix swallows. unnecessary gesture. “ i talk about it like that, ” voice low, even, “ because if i call it what it is every time, i start keeping score. ” score like the bodies he pulled during the hurricane. his eyes flick to the opened body, then away again — not in fear, but disinterest. she has all of his attention. “ you think i don’t know it isn’t a game ? ” he asks, quiet. not challenging. “ i’ve lived on the edge of empty long enough to recognize that look. two days. three. whatever you can stretch it to before you start shaking inside. ” softens, falling onto the backs of his thighs. giving up the prayer. “ but there’s a difference, ” continues. “ i call it chasing because that’s how it feels to me. the last seconds when they realize, when the blood spikes with fear and the body convulses in itself. ” his mouth tightens. “ it’s not pretty. it’s not romantic. it’s just… i don't know. ” hesitation, accented by thunder pounding louder. ” i'm —— uh, i'm not trying to make an observation out of you. i'm just —— i've never seen anything like that. you eat them only when they're freshly dead ? you eat the organs every time ? "
mina pays him no mind as she continues. instinct taking over and that gnawing hunger inside of her that demanded its fill continued as it had time and time before. her stomach aching, mouth salivating with the mans kidney held in her hands. blood seeped down her fingers, organ brought to mouth, teeth ripping through flesh. her face scrunches up, soon lacking interest before dropping the organ, hands returning to the body, digging through until she reached what she wanted - the heart. a heart that once beat. a heart that was once the life blood of a man already dead. mina can hear the other speak, raising her gaze enough to watch him slide down the wall and soon to his knees, muttering something about 'that's not how i learned it'. it? mina wasn't sure what she meant and in the moment, didn't care. she brought the heart to her mouth and began to eat.
as she had finished, a low hum leaves her, swaying ever so slightly until she sinks down into a sitting position on the floor. the rain continued its assault on a building that was already so weathered. dazed, mina brings her eyes over to him. blood smeared along her chin, staining the off-white dress she wore. the charity hospital ghost - some would say. " how you learned it? what does that mean? " she finally asks him, voice heavy.
the sound she makes —— that low hum —— does something to him he doesn’t have coherence for. felix doesn’t look at the blood on her chin at first. keeps his eyes on the floor between them, cracked tile flooded with rainwater, reflecting light like a broken mirror. when he finally lifts his gaze, it’s deliberate. like surfacing. “ how i learned it, ” he repeats quietly, “ did you not notice half of his blood is gone ? ” his hands rest loose against his thighs. thunder adds to atmosphere, lightning casting her blood——stained visage in a mimicry of daylight that he'll never witness. rain rattles through the blown-out window, loud enough to almost drown him out. he wonders if she has preternatural hearing like he does, or if she is different all together. a demon, witch, god, ghost. he would follow any form. he studies her then. the blood, the stillness after the act, the way she looks feral then simply finished. “ you’re not chasing the moment, that's how i do it. ” he murmurs. “ you’re extending it. harvesting it. ” a pause. his jaw tightens, releases. “ i didn’t know there were people who survived like that. ”
its dead already. he announces. as if the body slumped in the corner hadn't been a walking, talking and breathing person prior to dying. as if that body didn't have a name. as if it were nothing more than food. felix speaks as if he's far removed from the act of killing. mina can't say she blames him. there had been times before in which she had spent too long fixated on the identity of the life she took. how she'd had journal pages filled with names of those she's killed - to remind herself of the humanity that she lacks. she tries not to think of the body on the floor as anything other than a cadaver. a donation for her to indulge in. the less time she spent thinking about it, the less likely she would be to break down. as he moves away from the body, she moves past him. " yes, the essence is dead but the organs are still good for a few hours after death. " she says plainly, as if reciting medical text. routine and monotonous.
" death is a science. " mina sinks to her knees beside the body, first rummaging his pockets for anything that may be considered useful - cash, bus tickets, bank card, etc. cleaned out. as she had time and time before, mina lifted the mans shirt out of the way and without a second thought, she removed knife from her bag and began to slice through his stomach. slender and pale fingers reach in, removing the closest available organ she could find before removing it from the body and sniffing it -- not dead, yet. her throat felt hot, stomach churning with a hunger that demanded to be satisfied. what she could get from him would be enough to do her for a few days at least.
he doesn’t stop her. that’s the first thing that surprises felix. the second is that he does look away, just enough. not out of disgust. out of something closer to calibration. the words death is a science settle wrong in his head. his jaw works once. lightning mutters somewhere far off. “ . . . right, ” he says quietly, after a beat. not agreement. acknowledgment. the kind you give when you realize you’ve misidentified the species in front of you. he leans back against the wall, steadying himself. the cigarette burns down between his fingers, forgotten, like the two of them. “ that’s not— ” stops himself. amends. “ not how i learned it. ” his eyes track the ceiling instead of her hands. the building groans around them, complicit. the rain hammers down harder as if it's finally going to take the old hospital down with them in it. the heat emitting from the body's opening makes him dizzy, even if it's just a product of his own imagination. his body rocks with the building and he finally lets the floor take him. blood, thready pulse, dizzy, heat, high ———— infatuated, scared for the first time in a long time. he pulls himself onto his knees, remains still —— enjoying from a prayer position.
WI HA-JOON as DO SHIK in MIDNIGHT (2021)
already gone. the words fall on her ears and it takes everything within her not to laugh. she wonders just what he knows about being gone. what that truly means. she knows something is off. different about him. despite the familiarity of halls, he is a stranger to her. and yet, the scent metallic scent remained presence. her throat felt hot, she swallowed her saliva. she was hungry. it was why she was lurking here this evening. charity hospital remained the easiest place to find lost people - he was right about that. nobody ever came looking.
mina listens as he speaks. an introduction and an assumption. eyes combing over him. " more like someone who already did. " she said. it was the truth. mina had managed to get away a decade after faking her death and framing the high school janitor for it after an incident. he introduces himself just as her eyes settle in to the body slumped behind him. " mina, " she says briefly, pausing and really studying him. " you gonn' try and kill me like i sense you did that fella' back there, " she nods her head as if to point with her chin. " or might i also indulge? " she inquires.
what he knows about being gone. mina's thoughts infiltrate his own before he has a chance to ignore them. careless habit. he should have shut the door. he never remembers to when the blood starts to really kick in. he has been missing and found time and time again. rejected by nature, by state, by maker. discarded by systems bigger than himself —— like an old party trick, simply becoming irrelevant to the story. useful, not really wanted. remembered, not chosen. the rain picks up, pulling his thoughts to the present. lightning splits the sky white——hot, and in that brief illumination is when she asks to indulge. “ it's dead already, ” he says, almost absently, eyes flicking to the body and back. “ ain’t going to be good. ” her scent still doesn’t line up. wrong notes. but he’s only known a handful of vampires, and fewer people who survived long enough to complicate the categories. who’s really to say. he'll trust that she knows what she's doing. “ go ahead. ” a deliberate step away from the body to give her space. another cigarette is lit.
forgotten and hidden places were her bread and butter. ever since she had left natchez, she'd been wandering. looking for something. looking for herself somewhere to call home. sometimes it was abandoned and forgotten homes, sometimes it were the nights that she favoured in the old charity hospital of new orleans. there was always someone roaming the building , some lost soul that made for an easy meal. a silent place for her to remain hidden with the others that society easily cast aside. she'd been wandering the building tonight for just that. until a voice carries, loud enough for her to hear.
" they say you're already gone the moment you enter. " she responds to the voice, following it's sound to the man standing there with cigarette burning. the scent carried too. a mix of cigarette smoke and something metallic - the tell-tale sign of somethings impending end. " you are? "
the corners of his mouth lift, not quite a smile, moreso a manifestation of interest. the cigarette glows, flickers into the rot. he doesn’t turn right away. lets her voice settle into the bones of the place, listens to the sighs of the building deciding if they like her or not. “ already gone, ” tastes it, realizes he might have more of that serial killer —— vampire gene than he thought. it's good coming from her lips. felix knows she's not scared, maybe that's why it feels right. finally, he glances over his shoulder. skin dewy in the low light, eyes reflective like something feral. “ that’s one version. ” ash taps loose, falls into the moist concrete below. he studies her the way he studies anyone who gets this close —— not hungry, just . . . curious. melancholic and metallic, he is drawn to her. he shifts his weight, boot scraping the sill. rain spits in sideways, misting him enough to dampen his hair down onto his forehead.
“ this place is good for letting people think you’ve vanished when you’re just . . . out of reach. that's all i am. ” his gaze drags over her, slow. recognition, maybe. a kindred vacancy. “ you don’t smell like someone looking to disappear, ” discards the cigarette, “ more like someone who already tried. ” little attention is spared to the body lumped in the corner, once again, she is not scared, so why bother. “ i'm felix. ”
where anti——septics used to flood the space with intensity, the mold takes over. spoiled and heavy, clinging to the back of one's throat. in immortality, it does not reach him. sometimes he wishes it would. rain steadily seeps into the concrete exterior, creating puddles where the brutalist surface refuses to entirely give way. felix has been offering visits to his old haunt, charity hospital, for years now. it's an easy way to eat. it adds to the mystery of new orleans. hell, it gained him an *uncredited spot as the charity hospital phantom. it doesn't matter what it is or does because the cops won't check it out due to its poor conditions, and new orleans police department especially doesn't care about whatever sorry fucker wants to do drugs in the old hospital. just don't stand outside the gate for too long, and you're good. he lingers on the third floor because sound travels strangely there. footsteps echo wrong, stretch themselves thin, arrive too late or too early. he's found he has a taste for panic. bravado, too. both taste the same in the end. he stands near a blown——out window. one boot braced against the sill, cigarette burning between his fingers. it tastes like nothing. “ you know, ” voice carries just enough to meet her halfway, “ most people don’t come up here unless they’re looking to disappear.”
for @eatsraw. ♡
it’s coming back to me.
Wi Ha Joon as Hwang Jun Ho in Squid Game 2.02 — 'Halloween Party' (3/?)
tag drop.
