#inkflowd

[voulloir]

HAVING A MOMENT // @inkflowd

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎renoir left the canvas. renoir trusted her, his rising star. despite the state of his maman, despite everything they had ever discussed -- the exhaustion that seeped from his bones demanded a call to action. to finish it, to finally release his family from this cycle.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎his eyes steeled, locked onto the image of his dying maman. an image so quickly seared to the backs of his eyes. his teeth grit, feeling so easily displaced in his own body.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎it had to end. this had to be over, it had to happen now.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎shoulders tensed, body held up by an invisible chord, locked onto the portal renoir had created. he took one step towards it before lune's words actually hit. it was as if hearing her through water, but he heard her: "verso, stop. verso! stop, i'm pregnant!"

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎terror sunk it's claws deep. like being hit by an ice-cold wave, pale eyes refocused, widening. he hadn't even realized that she had moved closer, a hand with a vice grip on his arm.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he looked to lune, finally, sucking in a sharp breath. ❝ you - you're.... what ? how is that.... ❞ possible? a memory of a dead man, painted with the desire to die, creating life?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎verso's head felt as if it were spinning. another short breath, looking now to her hand on his arm. over the expedition 33 armband, the one he never truly deserved to wear. ❝ lune. ❞

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎her name is spoken softly, with remorse. with the pained expression of a drowning man.

[etoilesfantome]

Procyon  —  Sender  grabs  Receiver’s  hand  before  they  can  leave. @inkflowd / a study of stars

All the others have been chatting among themselves — and he likes seeing it, he does. It's —— human, in so many ways he's been missing for so many decades. But he feels so old ——

It's easy to get lost in it and feel like he's part of it until he abruptly feels like he's not; it's hard to say precisely when or why his mind turns so on some of these evenings, but it does and most often that's when he slips away into the shadows.

And so he rises, the soft wisp of the campfire and the warmth of the wine they've shared masking his escape —— until, that is, fingers catch his. He pauses, turning to catch her eye with his own —— and brows rise, just barely. A question, holding.

[encreved]

❝ sometimes being offered tenderness feels like the very proof you’ve been ruined. ❞

@inkflowd sent in a meme. Always accepting !!

Outside, downstairs, the road is strangely quiet. The faint chattering only coming from the cafe chantant and its customers. The next show will be starting soon, the sun is still high in the sky, the air is warm and lingers with melancholy. The same he hears in Lune’s voice.

It hurts him, what she says. He lowers his eyes on the glass of wine he’s barely touched. Frowning, Felix takes a deep breath. Her words ring true and that’s probably the worst part. He can’t argue with the feeling, because he knows it all too well. He found tenderness with his self-made family in Montmartre, and it nearly broke him entirely the first time. He doesn’t want her to feel the same.

“I don’t think you’ve been ruined,” he whispers, reaching out to brush her shoulder briefly. “But I do believe you deserve tenderness.” Pulling back, Felix offers Lune a small smile. “We all do, Lune. Doesn’t mean we’re broken, or ruined, or whatever. It means we thrive in connection. It is what makes us humans.”

[simioso]

altair  —  Sender  lifts  Receiver’s  chin,  locking  eyes. @inkflowd

Touch is such a strange thing for someone who has gone so long without — and enough time has passed by now that he knows what all he has lost. What they all had lost ——

His posture is often one of a broken man: shoulders heavy and crooked, favoring and instinctively protecting the side with his missing arm, spine bent, head bowed so his hair spills to either side, standing much like one who has carried something impossibly HEAVY for decades. Even when relaxed, even when at ease: it's just what that once proud, confident man has become.

She has been —— he's been glad she's been here. The rest of them look at him with either pity or grief, or like something fragile and dangerous in the same breath. But now that he has his mind returned and it's his own, he only feels shame for what he ever did.

Her touch is gentle: but he jolts, fingers flinching reflexively as though reaching for a blade —— but then he blinks and looks to her, the deep golden cracks 'pon chiseled features like golden fissures. Dark eyes — ringed with gleaming chroma, but otherwise like most others, now — look to her, brows deeply creasing. Guilt flickers, and he doesn't know why — but either way, he suddenly desperately doesn't want that touch to go away. It's so very, very human, and he allows it and even relaxes into it a moment later — but the eye contact remains for a heartbeat, two.

He breaks it first, but something about it feels so desperately familiar and he wants to hold on to it and so they lift again a moment later. Questioning, but not accusing. Why, why? ( Don't leave. )

[encreved]

❝  i am myself. that is not enough.  ❞

@inkflowd sent in a meme. always accepting !!

Lips press thinly together, the ache in his chest is familiar, as are her words. Lune is a friend. She’s probably one of the few people in Paris who knew him from before and still care for him. One of the few who refuse to let him sink, despite his best efforts. So it pains him to see her like that. Broken, defeated; adjectives he never thought he’d use for her. Words are the lens through which he stares at the world, and yet they fail him now. What’s there to say? What’s there to look? If the weight of expectations crushes down on her like it did on him. Lune is not a coward, though, unlike him. And he won’t have her talk about herself in such a way.

“Not enough for who, Lune? For what?” He blinks, looking down at his legs. The trousers are stained with the dust that rises from the park’s ground, but he doesn’t mind. Taking a deep breath, Felix glances at the girl sitting beside him, one hand moving to find hers. “You don’t have to be anything you don’t want. It’s your life, Lune. Not theirs.” He squeezes her hand and brushes the back of it with his thumb. “I know it’s scary, but isn’t it scarier to spend the rest of your life trying to make yourself smaller to fit into the mould they cut for you?”

He lets go, then, and offers her a small smile. Of course he is familiar with the feeling, it is the reason why he left it all behind, after all, but all he’s ever been good at was running, whilst Lune has a brilliant future ahead of her. “Let go. Let go and hold on to yourself. I mean, what’s the worst thing that could happen, then?”

[flowithers]

hear me out

praise, positive and reassuring not being filled in is absolutely KILLING me. sophie wants her, she wants that autistic woman

[voulloir]

what's their stamina like? can they go for hours? do they need to rest and hydrate regularly? have they always been like that?

is your muse adventurous? does it outside of the bedroom / in public or somewhere they're not supposed to? why do you think that is?

are they vocal? in turn, do they enjoy vocal partners? (just pretend im sending these from lune hehe)

ROMANTIC / SEXUAL HEADCANON QUESTIONS / accepting !

OOC. rubbing my hands together over this

stamina's pretty average, he tries to match his partner and meet their needs but he does get tired at around the 2.5 hr mark. water breaks are important but aside from that any breaks are usually him still smoochin on his partner bc he's touch starved as Fuck, he's worked to get there

not rlly adventurous on his own, but always open to whatever his partner may want to do/try! much more nervous about anything public, even innocent pda makes him flustered but always smiling. he's not used to it, and mostly he just wants to please!

when he gets over stimmed he gets really whimpery, this man is a service top at most. vocal partners are his favorite, he loves knowing he's doing his job correctly and loves being called a good boy can't be helped!

[tristese]

@inkflowd asked : i should really go.

morning after starters / accepting!

why does it always feel like as soon as sciel has lune in her arms, she’s pulling away? she’s never been allowed close enough to climb those walls around lune’s heart. always kept at an arm’s length, she is. she’d thought that the night they shared maybe would change things, but she guesses she was wrong. lune’s pulling away again.

“stay. please.” her voice is quiet, her fingers gently wrapping around lune’s wrist — not tightly enough that she couldn’t easily escape her grasp. a small frown is on sciel’s lips, a look of disappointment in her eyes. she should’ve expected this. how long will sciel be able to withstand being kept away from her heart like this? she can’t do this forever. she’ll crack eventually.

the silence is killing her. she hesitates before dropping lune’s wrist. she won’t stay. she never does.