Tessera
Folgen

vire θ

@nightsire.bsky.social

21 | he/it | deranged homo | nsfw❗️mdni | 🪦🕊 enthusiast + safe space (proship) | nightsire on ao3 read https://nightsire.carrd.co/ before you follow #virette-arts <my fanart and sketches search #wipwednesday in my profile for wips

7802 Posts316 Follower271 Folgt
ʚ₍⍝⩊⍝₎ɞ@gotnakeun.bsky.social · 10h ago

MINGI REALLY MOVED HIS MIC OUT OF THE WAY⁉️‼️‼️‼️‼️ do you think they actually like offhandedly joked about kissing or do you think mingi just wants to change the trajectory of their relationship forever?

mingi moving his mic out of the way of their mouths during day 2 of japanese fanmeeting troublemaker
vire θ@nightsire.bsky.social · 21h ago

// seongsang, angst or hurt/no comfort, funeral, MCD been rewriting what i have for Mercy. context: hwa has a neurological condition that initially took the color of his sight, and is now affecting his memory with bouts of confusion + amnesia same scene but not a direct continuation #wipwednesday

It happened as though it weren't real Recall was beyond Seonghwa. Any memories of how he'd come to be standing in the puddles of an early morning shower weren't there, not when he had exited his car nor the ride there, not dressing himself in shades of black. There was a hole in the ground. He stared at the earth's edges, tore up and softened in an even rectangle, a missing chunk of what was once whole. Spoken words fluttered around him in deafened murmurs, it might as well have been a foreign language, he could not perceive anything that was being said. But it droned like a threnode, carrying an impression of sadness in faint inflections. Everything pointed to what he knew all along, but he was still so confused in his absent sorrow. The wet dirt beneath his dress shoes melded him to the ground, rendering him as still as the sturdy old oaks in the dreary and windless morning.He stood at the edge, unknowing of what to do. He was in there. In the mahogany confines. Just as still as Seonghwa was now. Just as unaware. A touch pressed into his loose hold on the flowers, peeling away fingers with quiet reassurances. Words didn't draw his attention. It was somewhere else, distant but now fixed on the curve of the wood, polished to perfection. Had he seen what become of him? Seonghwa struggled to remember, it seemed as though that was all he was doing lately. Unable to pinpoint dates and times within memories, or sometimes they were washed away entirely, an empty recess in his life, harboring nothing but the nothingness itself. He supposed he should have remembered, and so he believed it to be so he'd seen the face of his lover lifeless and gone, resting in the embrace of cream cotton velvet "It's okay." The whispered words were delayed as he heard them, reaching him after he watched the small bouquet slip from his grasp and join the other pale flowers. Only as they fell did he recognize what they were. Honeysuckle of creamy yellow comfort, and hyacinth of pure white guidance. The small label described them as such when he bought them. his favorite flowers. It was a shame they were all shades of grey.
vire θ@nightsire.bsky.social · 21h ago

// seongsang, angst or hurt/no comfort, funeral, MCD been rewriting what i have for Mercy. context: hwa has a neurological condition that initially took the color of his sight, and is now affecting his memory with bouts of confusion + amnesia same scene but not a direct continuation #wipwednesday

It happened as though it weren't real Recall was beyond Seonghwa. Any memories of how he'd come to be standing in the puddles of an early morning shower weren't there, not when he had exited his car nor the ride there, not dressing himself in shades of black. There was a hole in the ground. He stared at the earth's edges, tore up and softened in an even rectangle, a missing chunk of what was once whole. Spoken words fluttered around him in deafened murmurs, it might as well have been a foreign language, he could not perceive anything that was being said. But it droned like a threnode, carrying an impression of sadness in faint inflections. Everything pointed to what he knew all along, but he was still so confused in his absent sorrow. The wet dirt beneath his dress shoes melded him to the ground, rendering him as still as the sturdy old oaks in the dreary and windless morning.He stood at the edge, unknowing of what to do. He was in there. In the mahogany confines. Just as still as Seonghwa was now. Just as unaware. A touch pressed into his loose hold on the flowers, peeling away fingers with quiet reassurances. Words didn't draw his attention. It was somewhere else, distant but now fixed on the curve of the wood, polished to perfection. Had he seen what become of him? Seonghwa struggled to remember, it seemed as though that was all he was doing lately. Unable to pinpoint dates and times within memories, or sometimes they were washed away entirely, an empty recess in his life, harboring nothing but the nothingness itself. He supposed he should have remembered, and so he believed it to be so he'd seen the face of his lover lifeless and gone, resting in the embrace of cream cotton velvet "It's okay." The whispered words were delayed as he heard them, reaching him after he watched the small bouquet slip from his grasp and join the other pale flowers. Only as they fell did he recognize what they were. Honeysuckle of creamy yellow comfort, and hyacinth of pure white guidance. The small label described them as such when he bought them. his favorite flowers. It was a shame they were all shades of grey.
vire θ@nightsire.bsky.social · 5mo ago

one of my favorite things in smut with ferals/hybrids/heats/ruts/monsters is when the top is so stupidly horny the bottom has to guide their cock inside. you will be hearing from me about this in the near future it WILL be in many more fics to come