It's Worth Knowing

I am no bird & no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.                           Corruption points: 68

[hannahchronism]

Pure Cinnamon Roll Caught In the Apocalypse, Doing Her Best

–

I’m in the middle of a long process of experimenting with my style but  boy do I like this 

[antoniosvivaldi]

Moodboards: Ravenclaw

[xflorencekingsley]

onyour-markos:

He wanted to ask her more about her life before Braddock, but the distracted way she brushed off his comment kept Mark quiet, waiting to see what Florence had planned. He kept his silence while she manipulated his hand, just watching. Before his shift, his senses had been enhanced, but they were even more so now. Now, Mark could hear the rhythm of his heart pumping blood through his body, the pace even and calming. Now, he could hear- or rather, he couldn’t hear- the distinct lack of a heartbeat coming from Florence’s chest. He kept his silence and he listened to all the new sounds in the world around him that had only been background noises to him before. He kept his silence up until she told him to squeeze. He felt a sickening clench in his stomach, heard the sound of his heart rate as it picked up ever so slightly, opened his mouth to protest. He took a breath to let out a slightly panicked “I can’t do that” but was cut off before the first sound ever formed in his throat. 

Florence knew, of course, what was giving him pause. She always seemed to know. Even before she knew his truth, she seemed to know when he felt off- when he was scared, when he was angry, when he was anxious. She knew, and that’s why he had always trusted her with his rawest emotions. He didn’t feel the need to hide them when she knew anyway.

“What you’re saying makes sense,” he began quietly, making no moves to tighten his grip, “but I’m still completely terrified.”

        “I know.” Was all Florence said at first. How couldn’t she? She could hear his heart just as clearly as he could feel the sense of dread. Even without that, she could see it in his hesitance, the slight downward grimace of his expression as he inhaled. Despite her previous intention to borrow Alex’s stillness and confidence, her serious expression softened into a gentle smile, endeared, as always, by Mark’s openness.        She’d like to think it was what had drawn her to him in the first place, that very first day. Truthfully, she didn’t know what had made her speak to him in the moment. She had barely known his name, and could never have predicted that he would become so important. She only really knew that he was important now, important enough to suffer a few minor injuries over. She squeezed his hand carefully (using just a fraction of her strength, it was still a grip which would make even the most assertive politician grimace) to bolster his courage. “Trust me anyway.”

[xflorencekingsley]

julietxhawthorne:

At first, Juliet couldn’t bring herself to care. The way the girl was explaining the situation made Juliet believe that she was hiding something. She couldn’t have just lost her pendant. Especially not since it was on a necklace. It just wasn’t possible. Unless she took it off on her own accord or someone yanked it off of her neck. Something about her story just wasn’t adding up.

“Yes, it does seem a bit foolish.” Juliet muttered as she stared at the girl. “Especially since you claim to not know what really happened when you clearly there.” 

“No need to apologize. You obviously have other things on your mind.” She said to the girl before holding her hand out towards her. “I am Juliet. And I can help you. Although, we might need to wait until this evening since you can no longer go out into the sun.”

        Florence drew back, slightly affronted. In truth, she had grown accustomed to having people simply believe her whenever she spoke. It had nothing to do with her honesty (though now she was telling the truth - she wasn’t sure when the thing had vanished, only that it wasn’t around her neck anymore) but rather the way she was perceived. Most humans took a glance at her and just assumed she was trustworthy. She looked “too nice to lie” to them. It was jarring to have so much doubt pushed forward so quickly.         But then, it was a reminder: she had not asked any human for help. This was no school official or PTA parent seeing her through the lens of a sixteen-year-old girl, this was another vampire, likely just as old or even older than Florence. There was no facade thick enough that would pull the wool over Juliet’s eyes; she knew immediately and irrevocably just what, exactly, Florence was.          What a sudden and unspeakable calm that was, the knowledge of the truth. Florence accepted the offered hand with a strangely vacant look.        “Juliet,” she repeated the name quietly, “I’m Florence.” Successfully derailed from her moment of total panic, Florence now seemed a bit lost, like she couldn’t figure out what she ought to say. It wasn’t every day, after all, that she spoke to another vampire - one that wasn’t Alex, anyhow. “Oh, and,” she rushed to tack the thought on to her introduction, “thank you. I .. I didn’t think it would be so simple..”

[xflorencekingsley]

julietxhawthorne:

Juliet was at the Red Rose, waiting for a human prostitute to be brought in for her to feed off of. She had drank quite a few drinks but now she was ready for some blood. Juliet licked her lips and tried to wait as patiently as possible. 

Until someone whispered loudly behind her. Juliet clenched her jaw and turned around to see a flustered girl. She was talking nonsense and Juliet couldn’t quite understand what she had lost. Juliet pursed her lips then realized she was someone like her. 

“Alright, calm down.”  Juliet groaned and got up from her seat. “Let’s go talk somewhere more quiet.” Juliet said as she turned on her heels and began walking to one of the private rooms. 

Once she was there she sat down on the plush couch, placed her feet up on the ottoman, and stretched out her arms before staring at the girl. “Okay, slow down this time and tell me what’s wrong.”

        Florence’s eyelashes fluttered in confusion for a moment, and half dazed she allowed herself to be led off to some corner of the club she hadn’t known existed. For some reason, she hadn’t expected it to be that easy. On her own with the graceful vampiress, Florence became self-conscious of her own disheveled state and tried, with little result, to smooth her ruffled feathers into a more suitable appearance before perching hesitantly near the other. More put together than before -though still visibly upset- she explained her situation.         “I was up near the mountain with a..” she blinked twice, hesitating on the word before deciding it didn’t matter and pushing on, “a friend, and one of those things just came out of nowhere and - we escaped but we also were separated from each other and somehow I lost my charm.” Without noticing, Florence reached up and touched her hand to the center of her chest, where the pendant would sit if it were hanging around her neck like it ought to be. It was strange: in same ways, she felt lighter without it there, like she had shed some kind of heavy cloak, yet at the same time not having it make her tense and jittery, made her feel exposed, as if the heavy cloak had been the only thing she was wearing and now she were running over hill and country in nothing but underwear. Perish the thought. She tried to banish it with minimal success.          “It seems foolish, just not knowing what happened, but I truly don’t, and I can’t get in touch with my father and the sun will be up soon so I can’t very well go triapsing over town looking for it and-” Florence cut herself off before she could work herself back up too far, peering through her eyelashes shyly at the vampire. “And I haven’t even asked for your name before I’ve asked for your help,” she voiced in time with the dawning realization. “I’m sorry.”

[xflorencekingsley]

|| @julietxhawthorne

        Florence felt lucky to know where the Red Rose was as she slid in the door, her hair uncharacteristically wild, tangled. She wasn’t sure if it was the best plan in a grander scheme, but it was the only one she could think of in the moment, running from the rays of the sun. For the span of a few human heartbeats, she was still, staring (as she had the first time she’d set foot in the Red Rose) at the collection of supernaturals. She knew they were mostly witches and vampires, though for all she was worth couldn’t calm herself down enough to spend any time trying to tell one from another. Instead, she skirted along the wall until spying and literally reaching out to the first creature that seemed like they might be sympathetic to her plight. She stopped just shy of actual contact, hoping to avoid accidental offense. She just needed someone and the odds of making it anywhere else where she could fully explain seemed slim. The shadows of buildings offered a fickle and shifting protection at best, and her phone had died long ago - no Mark and no Alex.

        “Please,” she said in an airy whisper that somehow still seemed too loud, “I ... I lost my charm - my talisman. Can you help?” If the sun didn’t kill her first, Alex certainly would - Florence couldn’t begin to imagine how impossible it would be to obtain another while they were trapped in Braddock, assuming they could even afford the price it took to entice a powerful witch to make one.

[uptional]

by ginaballerina.

[xflorencekingsley]

onyour-markos:

Mark scrubbed at his chin in the short silence that followed Florence’s “oh” of surprise. Sure enough, he’d managed to drop frosting on his face. He debated between just licking it off of his fingers or actually using the napkin he’d taken from Florence, but he decided the moment was a bit too heavy for his usual teenage-boy antics.

He’d just finished cleaning his face and hand when Florence suddenly straightened her shoulders. It was such a simple gesture, but it was one that captured his attention, like so many other things about the strange girl he’d somehow fallen into friendship with. Simple, but elegantly demanding his attention all the same. 

It was an odd request coming from Florence. Even now that she was used to his casual touching, Mark was more-often-than-not the one to reach out first. He trusted her, though, so he silently did as she asked. “Are we about to have a Disney moment?” he quipped once he’d slipped his hand into hers, not at all sure what to expect. 

        “I don’t know what that means,” she said distractedly, “I haven’t seen I Disney movie since my friend Elizabeth and I climbed out of her window and walked to the nearest town to see Lady and the Tramp.” In 1955, when the title was new. Two years before she met Alex. Her parents had locked her in her attic for an entire week after. She swept the memory aside with a brush of her fingers, curling her hair behind her ear.         With his hand now in her possession, Florence turned his wrist until his fingers were stacked vertically, then slid her cool hand into his, intertwining them like she would if they had made a deal and were now going to shake on it. Satisfied with the weave of their fingers, she raised her chin with a somewhat haughty air, unshakably confident. She looked him straight in the eye, uncharacteristically forward.

        “Squeeze my hand as hard as you can.” She knew right away he would protest - after all, that was his whole hesitance. “If you’re always afraid that you’re going to hurt me, then it is inevitable that you will.” The cold lesson Alex had taught her that frightening first week. If you’re scared to hurt someone, Florence, you will. Know how strong you are. Control it. She was going to borrow Alex’s analytical voice for the moment, and she hoped he wouldn’t mind. “Fear is the opposite of control. Fear is when you let it control you. If you know what you can do, you know what not to do. So. Squeeze my hand as hard as you can.” There was risk. Florence knew it. She had broken Alex’s arm once, in an exercise not unlike this. She was only risking a few fingers, however, and knew enough about anatomy that it would probably be her pinky finger, maybe the knuckle. Either way, it would heal quick enough and simply be another point well made. There is always room for a little error.

[xflorencekingsley]

bold any which apply to your muse. italicize what they like.

fire. ice. water. air. claws. fangs. wings. gold. diamonds. grass. leaves. trees. roses. metal. iron. rust. rain. snow. lace. silk. cotton. sun. moon. stars. blood. dirt. mud. silver. steel. sugar. salt. lavender. glass. wood. paper. wool. fur. smoke. ash. ocean. bruise. scar. laceration. brand. burn. wind. spices. light. dark. paint. charcoal. wine. hard liquor. sweat. dust. bare feet. canine. feline. coffee. tea. books. scratches. petals. thorns. hay. glitter. heat. cold. steam. frost. candle. sword. dagger. arrow. hammer. shield. spikes. sand. rocks. roots. feathers. pearls. rubies. sapphires. emeralds. herbs. waves. lightning. sunlight. moonlight. clay. stone. brick. marble. fruit. meat. poison. medicine. snake. bird. clock. shell. leather. chain. ribbon. tie. hat. heart. spade. map. boot. love. loss. healer. killer. liar.

[xflorencekingsley]

onyour-markos:

Mark had somehow found himself constantly surrounded by girls who hated when he treated them gently. “I’m not made of glass, Mark.” “You won’t break me, Mark.” “I’m not a damsel in distress, Mark.” “I can and will kick your ass, Mark.” It was sort of funny to him that the truth of the extra care behind his actions was a fear of his own strength, not a fear of their fragility. He opened his mouth to tell Florence as much, but he was unsure of how to begin. 

He made a big show of shoving the cake in his mouth whole to buy himself more time to think about his words.

“I’m… good,” he said when he’d finally swallowed down the sugary confection. “Kind of strange, I guess. I had my first shift.” Mark was still processing exactly what that first shift meant for him now: the nights he would lose to the wolf, the danger he would be to his family, the complete lack of control he would have. He was terrified of hurting Florence when she was only just getting better. He was terrified of losing her at his own hand when he had been so angry with Oliver so recently for his role in the loss of innocent life. How would he live with himself if he were to hurt- or worse, kill- someone he loved? 

He busied himself with folding the wrapper of the cupcake into a triangle, letting Florence come to her own conclusions. Would she want to stay friends with him, now that he was truly a danger to her? Untriggered, he’d been about as dangerous to her as a human was and he would never purposefully harm her, but now? He could lose control so easily. He was afraid, not of her fragility, but of himself. 

        Florence watched Mark shove the entirety of the cupcake in mouth with a mixture of amusement and disgust. She was sorely tempted to make a vacuum cleaner comment, but settled instead of a indisputeably sarcastic use of the word “Charming.”         He said good. He looked okay, but hadn't been acting so good. Then again, no one really seemed 'good' so she was prepared to accept it at face value and move on, smile in tact. She flapped the napkins she had brought along in his face. At the same time she told him “You have frosting on your chin” he elaborated. 'I had my first shift.'         “Oh.” Short. Suprised. Oddly affected. That certainly explained his caution.         It went without saying she didn't fully understand what it was to be were. In almost all ways, it was the opposite of being a vampire - an abundance of life as opposed to a stunning lack of it. So much life they were forced to split it between two forms, whereas she barely felt like half an individual a majority of the time. All the differences aside, however, there was one thing she did know: to be newly reformed. The redefinition of everything you knew. Suddenly all it takes to destroy everything is one small moment of forgetting. She straightened her shoulders.

        “Give me your hand.” A seemingly nonsensical demand given with complete expectation of being followed. It would make sense in a moment  she hoped.

[xflorencekingsley]

We should get together, you & I. I could show you a good time because I am just your blood type. XOXO your secret admirer

“…. ”

“I suppose you think yourself clever.”

[xflorencekingsley]

onyour-markos:

Mark stared at the sad cupcake cupped in his best friend’s hands, completely speechless with emotion. With all of the crazy happening in town, he hadn’t expected anyone to remember, and he hadn’t mentioned it. His parents had remembered, of course. There’d been a lot of hugging and apologies over things they had no control over, but other than that, he hadn’t expected anything. 

The smile Florence was giving him now both broke his heart and mended it. He was aware of how close he had come to losing her- it was visible just how close she had been to actually dying- but here she was, thinking of something as trivial as his birthday.  For a moment, he worried the swell of emotion in his chest might trigger another shift, which was probably ridiculous. Finally, he dragged his lips into a grin. “Thank you, it’s perfect,” he said before closing his eyes and blowing out the candle. Make a wish… 

Gently, he took the cupcake from her and leaned over to place a loud, smacking kiss right on her cheek. Though it was silly, he hoped she knew that he was conveying genuine gratefulness in the gesture.  “How are you feeling today?” he asked when he pulled away, removing the wrapper from the cupcake while taking in the dark circles around Florence’s unusually lackluster eyes.

        She very nearly hadn't remembered. The days had snuck passed her at an alarming rate since she had gotten sick, rolling past in a monotony of uncertainty and worry right into the new year. The new year which didn't feel bright or renewed at all. Just the same. Uncertain. Just like how she felt, literally and figuratively. Uncertain.         “Better,” she told him, letting the quiet laugh that his kiss to her cheek had stirred up carry into the assurance. It wasn't entirely true nor technically false. She was feeling better, as compared to just a few weeks before. Conversely, she was still .. off seemed the best word. She had become so fragile in the last month, dare she think it, so human. Now it seemed as though she hadn't wholly been restored. In a way, it was like being freshly turned all over again. She had strength enough to crush a person like paper, and yet felt she could be undone as easily as an improperly tied shoelace. To add to it, Mark’s hand-holding and hugs had been feather-light of late, and, despite Florence’s recently developed tendency to self-reflect, his skittishness hadn’t escaped her notice. She had admitted her fragility to herself, but wasn’t quite prepared to accept any continued acts of special treatment. She’d get better. If he had to worry, she’d rather it be about something worth worrying over. “I’m not made of glass you know.” She certainly sounded like her old self, impish attitude intact. “What about you? How are you doing today?”

[xflorencekingsley]

|| @onyour-markos

        “Happy Birthday!” Florence announced in a voice both soft and enthusiastic, presenting Mark with a somewhat tragic looking cupcake perched in the palms of her hands. The top had caved in slightly, and a single lit candle was sticking out of the top lopsidedly. She didn’t look much better herself. The sickness itself was gone, or at the very least fading, but the shadows around her eyes were deep, her cheeks lacked almost all color, and her golden eyes were dull and flat: in short, she was looking more dead than usual. Her smile, however, was as sweet as it had ever been, if a little subdued, and almost made up for it.         “It’s pathetic, I know,” she confessed, “I missed the real day by at least a week and I ran out of flour halfway through, but I just figured, you know... you can’t have a birthday without something.” A little bit of kindness, if nothing else.

[williammarksommer]

Fogged in

Sacramento, CA

Hasselblad 500c/m

Kodak Ektar 100iso

[angelvitello]

The moon was high above his head– just as the man wanted it. He stood outside on the street, cigarette in hand, his head upturned to the moon. Any onlooker would think he looked peaceful. But that was perhaps furthest from the truth. The footsteps that came up to him barely made him blink, before he spoke just loud enough that anyone, human or not, could hear him. 

“–Can I help you?”

[xflorencekingsley]

        Florence had always enjoyed the moon for company herself, a friend across the cities and years as relatively unchanged as she was. She liked to take solitary walks deep in night when the moon high and bright. She didn’t often encounter people, and it surprised her to see someone now, all things considered. Florence would have been more than happy to walk swiftly by the too-still stranger and mind her own business, until, of course, he spoke out to her.         “That’s a perfectly dangerous thing to ask a perfect stranger,” she pointed out, taking a second, much longer look. “Especially here.” A place she had encountered more of the supernatural than she ever had before ... which begged the obvious question, asked silently by the gentle tilt of her head and inquisitive golden eyes.

[xflorencekingsley]

rosie-reyes:

“Oh! Shiiiii-uuuger honey iced tea, I’m sorry, I thought you were Molly. You re definitely not Molly.” Rosie babbled as she looked at the teenager, half relieved that she wouldn’t be pestered about blind dates and marrying someone and every other little thing that had to do with her and her ‘singleness’, as Molly had put it.

“You’re Alexander’s kid?” She asked, even though the answer had already been given to her. “Yeah, he went in about five minutes ago. Is it something important? I can go back there and let him know that you’re here to see him if you like. Or you could chill out in here ‘til he’s done. Um… what do we have..” Rosie rummaged around in the cabinets. “We have… Oreos, cheese doodles, and pop tarts up here, and there’s fruit, water, and soda in the fridge. Oh- and we have coffee. But it sucks- you’ve been warned.” She said as she took a sip out of the very strong, kind of awful cup of coffee.

       Florence never knew what to expect from nurses. Sometimes they were meeker than sheep, good at their jobs but shier than anything. Others were fierce as lions and only slightly less tempermental. Her favorites, she had long ago decided, were the ones who knew how much healing a gesture of kindness could do - and Florence was already, unwittingly, trying to decide where this coworker of Alex's fell on her scale.         “Oh uh - no, I mean..” It was important, but Florence couldn't pull him away from his work in good conscience over it. “It can wait.” Shyly, Florence stepped into the break room with a distinct sense of being out of place. She let her eyes wander the semi-cramped space but kept her feet where they were, only a few steps in. She was reluctant to get too far from the safety of the exit. “I'm fine,” she shook her head at the offer of food, an amused smile touching her lips, “thank you.” She found the candor relaxing, and ventured a question. “Have you been here a long time? You seem to .. know your way around.”

[xflorencekingsley]

arlo-fuentes:

“I could bring her new books and she probably still wouldn’t like me. It wouldn’t matter if I brought her the most beautiful books in the world.” She joked, leaving out the fact that said librarian had arrived to the library one day to find her and her drinking buddy for that night slumped at the door napping with an empty bottle between them.

“Alright,” she agreed. Her mind raced over the dangers, what if she found some piece of information that answered all of her questions, would the other woman be able to figure out why she was searching? What if she was a hunter and this resulted in a new someone wanting her dead? Over and over her thoughts went, scolding herself for agreeing without thinking it over, but knowing she probably would have agreed anyway. “Lead the way.”

        Florence smiled, small but genuine, at the joke. She couldn't help but to be curious about what, exactly, could cause such a spat, but thought better of asking. She had, after all, only just recovered the situation from a spat itself. She could imagine being thoroughly irritated with someone who had all but shoved an entire door into her face, so she was pleased for it to have turned out so pleasantly.         “It should be open already, and it's more or less a help-yourself sort of thing only .. well they're sorted by date, you know? Not topic, so it can be a bit hard to find anything particularly noteworthy unless you just read until your eyes fall out of your head.” As she spoke, Florence had doubled back on her previous path, pulling open the voice and dropping her voice into a whisper appropriate for the library. “If you headline skim it's a little better, and- oh,” she interrupted her own thought, belatedly realizing she had yet to introduce herself, “I'm Florence, by the way.”