#hard to kill - bleached

[nomohmoss]

after all the damage we've done

turns out I'm very hard to kill

[hetheymerrill]

Finding out that buy and large what people mean when they say "it's dangerous to reheat rice!!" is that if rice is held at a tepid temperature for an extended period of time it tends to grow cultures that can cause food poisoning. A fact that is true about pretty much everything.

[thescholars]

more half lifes sorry

[troius]

I have to believe the cut from Toshiro and Momo directly to a flashback where a repressed white-haired man is cutting his wife open wasn't meant to create a parallel. But LOL anyhow.

[kingofanemptyworld]

now that I’ve read a fic that even sort of just implies this I’m dying over the idea of Ichigo unwittingly seducing Grimmjow into switching sides, because Ichigo — oblivious fucker that he is — would have literally no clue what was going on or why it was happening

[ratsrequiem]

If ur ever wondering what an artist is working on during a con its probably some shit like this

[crehador]

i need to pick kubo up by the ankles and shake him upside down until the scene where kensei reacts to hisagi’s tattoo falls out i have been thinking about this for well over ten years there are too many possibilities i NEED to know

[supmaww]

my toxic trait is that I see those beautiful shirts that people have painted bleach onto to make intricate designs and I think “I could definitely do that” despite not being able to paint and being oddly scared of bleach as a substance

[despairforme]

Hungry but also... Horny.

[the-narwhals-awaken]

Bloody Hearts Bingo Day 21

Prompt: Awesome, Romance | Watching their love interest turn into a creature of the night and still being attracted to them

It seemed that every day they fought, Ichigo learned new depths the Shinigami were willing to sink to or new levels of blindness that the half-decent Gotei officers could pretend to. The bargain for time had been accepted, but these days he and his friends were sent out more and more on their own, with less and less supplies. Part of it, he knew, was the limits on both personell and avaliable supplies in general- the whole Gotei was on a bit of rationing, and there always seemed to be a need for more people everywhere, especially with steadily mounting casualty counts and injured who needed time to recover. The other part, of course, was the combined facts that Central 46 did not want to depend on ryoka but could not order them killed outright and the fact that few people wanted to fight alongside them anymore.

Ichigo was well aware that the changes Urahara had made stood out in combat- he'd made sure they could live well, but he was making them into beings who could survive, and in their world that meant being able to fight well. He understood that people feared differences, and seeing what seemed to be teenagers turn into 'monsters' and rip into walls of enemies was a shock at the best of times.

But he couldn't see why everybody was so upset. He thought his friends (girlfriend! boyfriends! He still couldn't believe it some days) looked amazing, coming ever-more into themselves with every change that slid forwards. Yes, they were monstrous, but there was beauty in that, beauty that it seemed none of the Shinigami could see.

Chad was the most blatant- one arm of crystal, the other of bone, always impossible to miss. He stayed wherever the fighting was thickest, breaking up attempted formations and pummeling any who dared step close to whatever he happened to be protecting at the moment. The safest place to be for a breather was right behind Chad, because nothing ever got past his shields. He was the immovable rock in the river, the mountain that kept rain away from a desert, the great canyon that ensured none could cross.

Orihime, in his eyes, was the most beautiful. The others had their grace, their strenght, but in pure visual appeal, Orihime would win. Her scales shone in the moonlight, gleaming blue and orange as she kept her fairies moving- Tsubaki flying forwards like fire out of the dragons of old, the other fairies flitting in and out of formations faster than he could keep track of in combat, her indomitable will driving back the natural order of things as she imposed her reality on the crumbling structure of the old. The front lines were defined by Orihime, all things orbiting around her, and in the depths of things, when horns twisted up out of her hair and power glassed the sand around them, Ichigo couldn't fathom not seeing her as beautiful.

Uryuu was the most subtle of them all, though that said little when considering the sheer explosive power the others brought to bear. He was hardly weak, but it was true that his techniques demonstrated the kind of precision that still left Ichigo's knees weak if he thought on it for too long. It showed in his form, too- stretched long and thin, spindly and draped in threads of shadow and light, just human-looking enough to set off every threat response. It had scared off even the quintet of Third Seats when they'd run into him in a dim room, but Ichigo loved the blatant predatory hints even as Uryuu laid more needles through the space around their enemies, laying traps to send them to their doom.

Ichigo was well aware of his own changes. He and his Zangetsu slid closer and closer every day they fought, blending their edges together. Few remembered that Quincy preyed on Hollows just as much as Hollows preyed on Quincy, though the veneer of civility did much to hide the viciousness. And Vasto Lorde were above even predators, deigning not to fight instead of remaining out of fights in an intricate calculation of energy expenditure versus hunger. He was both, balanced by the flexible straighforwardness of the Shinigami, violence in every cell of his body honed to a killing edge by Urahara's clever hands.

For now, Ichigo would love his partners and fight in the war. The Shinigami would learn to fear them sooner or later. All the rest wasn't his concern.

[teaboot]

Once I spoke with a girl who told me a friend had invited her to a pool party, but she didn't want to go because the friend's mom had HIV.

I told her that this was a common concern, but HIV can't be transmitted by sharing a pool, and in fact HIV is such a weak virus that it can't even survive on a table for more than a few hours, and it can be killed entirely by bleach.

She asked me, "if you can kill HIV with bleach, why haven't we cured it yet?"

I told her, "because we can't put Bleach into people without killing them".

She said that this was interesting, but she still wasn't going to go.

(We did not become friends.)

The other day, I saw a group of teenage boys climbing all over an electrical box in town.

I walked over and asked if they were aware this was an electrocution risk.

One of them asked what I meant. I pointed to the large yellow image of a stick man with a lightning bolt through its chest and repeated, "it has an electrocution warning on it. Don't get blown up."

The kid laughed and said, "hey, play at your own risk, right?" And went back to his buddies.

I went back to what I was doing, but kept an eye out, and did notice that within the next five minutes, the whole group had removed themselves from the box and were now gathered several feet away from it.

I can't make people do things. I can inform, and support, but I cannot make their choices.

This is something that is hard to learn.

[troius]

Hold on a minute there, Grant Morrison. It's a little rich of you to preach in the abstract about the power of imagination when you're the only one with a schrift that gives you...omnipotence, I guess, based on your imagination.

Like, Yachiru can't just imagine right back at you and have your bones turning into cookies.

[fangirlingpuggle]

SVSSS role reversal AU where Binghe is not just Peak lord but sect head it's still his story only near the middle before Sect is destroyed and he wages war and destroys all demons and forms giant harem (Something kick started by his scum head disciple who was hidden prince of demons and is killed by Binghe)

He did the Shinji in Bleach route with Aizen in the I will promote them to keep an eye on them because I know they will betray me route.

Binghe who has been monitoring head disciple Shen Jiu who suddenly appears to no longer be scheming but instead snaking into the beast peak and playing with all the beasts. He's pretty sure the qi deviation has destroyed all his self preservation instincts. Also they are now looking at him with something not like hero worship he's used to but concern and he keeps making him tea and BINGHE IS CONFUSED AND KNOWS HE IS PLANNING SOMETHING.

He also does not like all the other disciples flirting with HIS DISCIPLE (Even if he knows his disciple will betray him) he has thrown many of them off his peak multiple times, Shen Yuan hasn't noticed and Binghe will deny it.

Shen Yuan is freaking out currently enjoying his time on the peaks and around his favorite character while he can because he knows he's going end up in abyss and his plan is to just stay there. He's gonna chill in the abyss make a farm or something and just stay out the plot and hopefully not get tortured and killed thank you very much. He'll just go vibe in the endless abyss because somehow that's his best option here.(Also he really does want to see some of the creatures there)

(He's also very happy he transmigrated as around 17 as he didn't want to go through demon puberty.)

(He does end up in abyss and Binghe goes to rescue him while Shen Yuan is running away like 'OH GOD HE CAME DOWN TO THE ABYSS TO KILL ME CAUSE I DIDN'T LEAVE')

Binghe sees full demon Shen Yuan in abyss after years missing and suddenly has the '...oh...OH...' moment.

Also role reversal Moshang

Airplane gets transmigrated as demon lord Shang Qinghua and has had to be doing political maneuvering to not get assassinated and has not been able to relax for years. The only way to not get killed was to become king (he didn't want to) he now has to deal with all his territory (and so much paperwork) that he is trying to make self sufficient and maybe some chance of surviving Binghe's rampage (or at least have some safe fortified place to hide out the massacre)

All the while he has to keep saving his favorite character who keeps trying to kill him and almost getting himself murdered or kidnapped by other demons.

Peak lord Mobei Jun fell hard for the demon who saved him as a disciple and kept trying to find him, he heard demons courted by combat and he's been trying to marry this demon lord for years. Hell he's even tried to get himself kidnapped by him, nothings working.

Mobei Jun:How do I get a demon a bridenap me?

Binghe*tuning around from the Shen Jiu conspiracy board*:...wait what?

[drchucktingle]

sometimes buds ask’ what is it like to be a neurodivergent artist?’ and this is great summary: the charts can look like this, and at same time people will be endlessly posting on how you are ‘not real’ or ‘a bit’. you can hold bestsellers in slot 1 to 4 and still not be 'serious'

i am ultimately ok with this. i love my trot and would not have it any other way, but i think it is worth investigation. when irony poisoning has seeped into everything, how many times does a neurodivergent person have to say ‘actually this is NOT so bad its good. its just good’

when you are autistic, or queer, or both, how much proof do you need to be considered good art? or good business? what do the charts have to look like for me to be a ‘real’ author? or allowed my face mask at a library association conference? or one person not a group of writers?

im coming up on a decade of writing tinglers soon, and people are still talkin about my ‘serious’ works vs my ‘joke books’ and at every turn, as kindly as i can, i shout from the rooftops: THEY ARE ALL SERIOUS BOOKS. THIS IS NOT A BIT.

but its hard when buds have had ‘the correct way to be a writer. the correct way to be an artist. the COOL way to react to a book that is TOO weird’ pounded into their heads by internet culture. 'kill it with fire' they say. 'i need eye bleach' they say without thinking. a line.

heres the thing, the tide IS turning. theres buckaroos jumping in and saying, ‘I want to be a part of this’ and for that they are being rewarded. the publisher who took me seriously is lookin pretty dang good right now with these charts and these sales. i am honored and moved

over time there will be more buds who shed that irony mask. the tide of sincerity is powerful, and the tide of love is inevitable. it is difficult to stand strong in our uniqueness but it also pays off, and I hope to be a shining example. eventually THE TIMELINE BENDS TO YOU

so this is not a thread to complain. i have been trotting long enough that these things do not really bother me. being made fun of and disparaged as ‘not legit art’ while also being objectively successful at the things im made fun of about is kind of the ocean that i swim in.

no. my point of this is to say THANK YOU to those of you who have been trotting by my side over these years. THANK YOU for proving love to me. im so honored by your support, and you should know that YOU have seen beyond the irony poisoned veil that stops many others. YOU get it.

and to those with their own unique perspective on creation: look what you can do. yes there will likely be a lot of resistance to something different, but there is also a LOT of reward. YOU can trot a new path. YOU can prove love is real, not in MY way, but IN YOUR OWN WAY

anyway thank you for reading buckaroos. thank you for your support. LUCKY DAY comes out next summer and it is probably as FAR OUT and existential as the tingleverse has ever gone. you can preorder it here

[stillalivebydemand893]

Wet Dreams

Story:One filthy dream about Erik,now he wants the full confession.

18+(i need a cold shower after this one)

“Why are you avoiding me, Peach?”

Erik trailed after you into the kitchen like a golden retriever in heat. Your face was still flushed from the moment you saw him today in the Campbell’s hallway .

“No,nope. Fuck off.”

You dodged around the counter like a raccoon caught stealing snacks, desperately trying to not think about the vivid, X-rated dream you’d had about him last night,the one that still had your panties uncomfortably damp and your thighs pressed together .

“You’re not even looking at me.” He chased after you, grinning like he knew. Like he always knew.

“And your face is red as hell. Come on, Sweets,don’t be like that. You know I like my prey hard to catch.”

You nearly tripped over your own feet at the word prey.

“I’m not avoiding you,” you shot back, glaring dramatically at the ceiling like you were waiting for God to strike you down with lightning before you died of secondhand shame.

“You two are doing something again,” Julia walked in, sipping a Slurpee like she wasn’t stepping straight into a scene from a smut novel. “If you fuck in the laundry room again, I’m calling the fire department. On your asses. I’m serious.”

“JULES,don’t say it out loud! Jesus Christ!”

You sank into the carpet like it might swallow you whole, mentally constructing your escape route through the fridge and out the window.

“You two are the reason Bobby avoids the washing machine now. He literally has appliance PTSD.”

Julia giggled, entirely too pleased with herself.

“No, I,what the hell.” Bobby entered mid-sentence, blinked at the group, and instantly regretted it.

“Consider it a free sneak peek at our next sex tape. A little preview,” Erik said with his trademark devil-smirk, leaning against the counter with arms crossed and zero shame.

“GROSS, ERIK!”

Julia bolted from the room, already trying to bleach the mental image of her best friend riding her brother in spin cycle position.

“Next one? You guys already have one?! I’m calling my therapist.”

Bobby dropped his soda and power-walked out of the kitchen like his life depended on it.

Now it was just you and Erik.

And that fucking smirk.

Your blood boiled.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Kinky,” he said, just as you lunged.

But he didn’t even flinch. He just caught you midair,hands locking around your waist like he did this every Tuesday,and pulled you in tight, your legs wrapped around him, your heart slamming through your chest like a warning siren.

And just like that, you melted.

“Easy, tiger,” he chuckled, nose brushing yours as he kissed it.

Goddamn him.

“You are such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah,” he smirked, “but I’m your pain in the ass.” He winked.

Your eyes rolled so hard they nearly got stuck.

“Now…” He tilted his head, suddenly all slow, sexy danger. “Tell me why you were avoiding me.”

Your eyes widened. Shit. Abort mission.

“Oh hey, look—it’s Paco on the cupboard!”

“Jesus again??” He turned instinctively to check for Bobbys pet turtle, and you bolted. Straight up the stairs, laughter and shame and very bad ideas trailing behind you like smoke.

He stared after you.

“Okay, Peach…”

His voice dropped, low and lethal with promise.

“You wanna play? Then let’s play.”

Upstairs -The Hunt

He walked up the stairs slow. On purpose.

Whistling like a killer in a horror movie.

He knew exactly where you’d go.

You always picked his room.

Always hid under his bed like you didn’t want to be caught.

That only made his cock harder.

“You know, Peach,” he called as he stepped into the room, “I wasn’t really in the mood for cardio today…”

He yanked the curtains open dramatically,just for effect.

Then the closet door.

Nothing.

Until he saw it. A small, failed attempt to shove yourself between his shoes and old guitar case.

He grabbed your waist and dragged you out like it was nothing, spinning and throwing you onto his bed. You squealed. He pinned you down instantly,his hips pressing into yours, arms caging you, one hand gripping your wrists above your head.

You were panting.

He was smirking.

“Now,” he growled, lips inches from yours, “would you stop being a brat and tell me what’s got you running?”

His hips shifted,just enough to press his hard cock right into your already soaked panties.

You gasped.

“Make me.”

Your eyes were darker now,full of lust, challenge, and something else that made his breath stutter.

He stared at you like he couldn’t believe what he was dealing with.

You wanted to be caught.

And fuck, he was going to ruin you for it.

“You sure about that?” Erik’s voice was low, rasping over your skin like smoke and static.

“Because when I make you beg, I’m not stopping until you scream it.”

You squirmed, but he had you ,hips caging you in, thigh pressed right between your legs.

He rocked into you again.

Hard.

The pressure against your core made your head fall back with a moan.

“Fuck, Erik”

“That’s not begging yet.”

He leaned down and dragged his mouth across your neck, tongue hot, teeth grazing just enough to make you jolt. You felt his smirk against your throat before he bit, and your whole body arched off the bed.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, hand sliding down from your wrists to your throat, fingers wrapping loosely,not choking, just owning.

You gasped.

He watched you unravel under him with the kind of hunger that should’ve been illegal. His hips rolled again,slower now, a deep grind that made the ache between your thighs pulse.

“So wet already,” he said, dragging two fingers down your stomach and under your waistband. He pushed your panties aside and dipped in, groaning.

“You’ve been dripping for me since this morning, haven’t you?”

You didn’t answer.

He slapped your thigh,light, sharp.

“Use your words Sweets.”

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes,fuck, I’ve been thinking about you since last night,Erik, please-”

“Now we’re getting somewhere.Good girl”

In one fluid motion, he yanked your shorts and panties down your legs, tossed them across the room, and pulled his shirt off. You barely had time to look at him before his mouth was on your tits,sucking, biting, tongue flicking over your nipples until your thighs started shaking.

“I should make you come just like this,” he said, voice muffled against your chest.

“Grind that pretty little cunt on my thigh until you’re crying for my cock.”

You whimpered, grabbing at his hair, and that only made him harder.

He pulled away just long enough to shove his sweats down,no boxers, not a fucking chance,and his cock slapped against his stomach, thick ,pierced and aching.

You bit your lip hard.

“See something you like?”

“Baby I ve been dreaming of this.”you smirked

“Oh, you’ll have it.”

He grinned wickedly.

“But not before I tease the sanity out of you.”

He grabbed your legs, spread them open wide, and lowered himself,his cock dragging along your soaked slit, rubbing slow against your clit without pushing in.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re soaked, Peach. Slippery as hell. One thrust and I’d slide right in, but…”

He rolled his hips. Just the tip pressing, then pulling away.

“You don’t get it that easy.”

“What? No,please, Erik. I’m too horny for games,” you whimpered, already breathless.

His grin was dark, dangerous, maddening.

“Oh, now you’re impatient? Imagine how I felt watching that ass of yours bounce when you walked into the kitchen.”

You blushed so hard it burned. His voice was pure sin,low, taunting, full of promise.

“Brats like you, Peach,” he murmured as he lowered his head to bite your collarbone, “have to earn their fucks.”

Before you could sass him back, he grabbed your hips and pulled you down onto his lap like you weighed nothing. Your breath hitched. You loved being on top,seeing him needy, hearing him moan your name,but tonight felt different.

Tonight, you were the prey.

“Come on, Peach. Earn it.”

His voice dripped control, daring you to take it,if you could.

Your heart pounded. He wasn’t guiding you like he usually did. This was you, raw and exposed, riding him like you were learning how for the first time.

And fuck, he looked so good under you,sprawled out, cocky grin, muscles flexed, dark eyes fixed on you like he was going to devour you the second you slowed down.

You swallowed hard, lined him up, and let his tip slide against your slick folds.

Then,you sank down.

“Fuck-”

The stretch made your body light up, made your walls pulse around him as you gasped into his shoulder.

But right as you tried to ease down slowly, he grabbed your hips and slammed you onto him, bottoming out with one rough thrust.

You moaned,loud,and he swallowed the sound with a bruising kiss, tongue battling yours, biting your lip until it stung.

“I’m getting a little impatient here, Peach.”

He smirked, absolutely wicked.

“You better ride me like you mean it.”

So you moved,hips rolling, thighs shaking as you rode him hard and messy, the piercing in his cock dragging against your walls with every bounce. You saw stars. He never looked away, his eyes glued to your tits as they bounced, hands roaming,grabbing, groping, biting your breast until you cried out again.

You were close. Too close.

And just when you were about to fall apart,he stopped you.

He slammed you down, holding you flush to him, his cock buried deep.

“What-Erik,I was about to-”

“Who gave you permission to cum, baby?”

His voice was like silk-wrapped steel.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear with a gentleness that didn’t match the ache he was inflicting.

“You don’t get to come until you tell me why you were avoiding me.”

You dropped your head into the crook of his neck, humiliated, breathless, soaked.

“I… I had a wet dream about you last night.”

The words barely escaped.

He tilted his head.

“Didn’t catch that.”

He spanked your ass hard, just enough to sting. You whimpered.

Oh, he’d heard it the first time. He just wanted to watch you squirm.

“I said I had a wet dream about you last night,” you repeated, eyes wide, lips trembling.

He yanked you into a kiss so raw, so feral, it stole the breath from your lungs.

“Tell me, Peach. What was I doing to you in that filthy little dream?”

“Don’t make me say it,Oh God-” You covered your face with your hands.

He rolled his hips up into you, and you cried out, the friction unbearable.

“God is far away from this hell you’re in, Sweets.”

He licked the shell of your ear.

“Now tell me, or I’ll make damn sure you don’t come at all tonight.”

He smirked. He knew you’d break.

You inhaled sharply.

“You were fucking me from behind… and choking me… and telling me what a good girl I was.”

His cock twitched inside you.

His eyes darkened,gone full devil.

“Show me, Peach.”

That voice. Commanding. Possessive.

It stole every ounce of air from your lungs.

You slid off him,already missing how full he made you feel,and got on all fours on the bed, your back arched, ass high.

He moved behind you slowly, deliberately. Like a wolf about to feast.

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he purred.

“Brats like you have the dirtiest fucking minds.”

He spanked you,hard. You moaned, thighs trembling.

Then again.

Your wetness dripped onto his mattress.

He grabbed your hips, spread you open, and dragged two fingers through your folds,soaking.

“Fuck-look at you,” he muttered.

“You’re dripping down your thighs for me.”

You whimpered.

“Erik… please…”

He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean like he was tasting dessert. Smirked like a man with no mercy left.

“Remember the safe word, Peach?”

He always made sure. Always.

“Yes,” you gasped, trembling. “Now please fuck me.”

That was all he needed.

He slid his cock along your folds—slow, teasing, deliberate.

You moaned, pushing your hips back, needy, desperate for friction.

“So greedy, Peach.”

He chuckled, low and warm.

“But I like you greedy. Makes it more fun to break you apart.”

His hips slammed into yours again, hard and smooth, the kind of rhythm that wasn’t rushed,it was deliberate. He knew exactly how to tear you apart one thrust at a time.

Your arms were shaking, body arching, moans pouring from your lips with no shame left to hold them back.

“Fuck, Peach.”

His voice was wrecked now.

“You take me so good. Like you were made to ride my cock.”

Your only answer was a strangled moan. You could barely breathe from the way he filled you. From the heat. From the way his fingers were starting to drift higher, from your hips,up your ribs,over your spine—until one hand curled around the front of your throat.

And there it was.

That buzz of adrenaline. That high-voltage tension.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured, voice suddenly quieter, more focused.

Even now, even like this, he made sure.

“Don’t stop,” you panted. “Please,do it.”

He tightened his hand,not enough to hurt, just enough to control. Enough to take your breath and give it back to you only when he wanted to.

Your head fell back, spine arching like a bow, your body helpless beneath him as he fucked into you harder, hips snapping with a bruising rhythm.

“That’s it,” he growled into your ear. “Be my good girl. Take it. Don’t you fucking run from it now.”

His grip around your neck held you exactly where he wanted you,vulnerable, shaking, right on the edge of too much.

You could barely moan anymore. It came out choked, breathless, needy.

“You love this, don’t you?”

He licked the side of your neck.

“Love being my filthy little toy.”

Your walls clenched around him, the pressure building like fire behind your ribs.

“I’m-fuck, Erik-I’m close”

He slammed into you again, and again, fingers tightening just a little more around your throat. Your vision blurred with heat, skin slick, body writhing under his control.

“Then cum for me.”

That command? It broke you.

You screamed,or tried to. Nothing came out but a cracked gasp as your orgasm crashed into you, legs shaking violently, cunt pulsing around his cock like it never wanted to let go.

He lost it the second you did.

With a broken, guttural groan, he shoved deep and spilled inside you, hips grinding, cock twitching, hand still gripping your throat like your whole body belonged to him.

And in that moment?

It did.

He didn’t let you fall.

His hand loosened instantly, warm fingers stroking your throat gently now, the other wrapping around your waist to hold you up as your body collapsed, completely wrecked.

He kissed the back of your shoulder. Then the side of your neck. Soft now. Careful.

“Still with me?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

You nodded, breath shaking, face buried in the sheets.

“Good girl.”

Face-down. Ass in the air. Hair a disaster.

Somewhere beneath your tangled moans and the aftershock tremble of your thighs, you were pretty sure you’d transcended.

Erik, still behind you, groaned like a man who’d just sprinted a marathon while carrying the weight of his own poor decisions.

“Jesus Christ,” he panted, slowly pulling out of you with a wet sound that should’ve been illegal.

“I think I just blacked out. I saw the fucking void.”

You made a noise that sounded like a dying pigeon.

“You blacked out?” you croaked into the sheets.

“I left my body. I’m pretty sure I was watching us from the ceiling fan.”

Erik flopped next to you, absolutely zero grace, arm draped over his eyes.

“If I die right now, don’t let Julia touch my stuff. Especially not the drawer.”

You lifted your head, squinting.

“What drawer?”

He cracked one eye open.

“...The drawer.”

You blinked.

He blinked back.

“Erik. Is it full of sex toys?”

He didn’t answer. Just rolled over with the slowest, most suspicious nonchalance known to mankind.

“Erik.”

“Babe.”

“Is your ‘drawer’ bigger than mine?”

“…Define ‘bigger.’”

You let your face fall flat into the pillow.

“We need couples therapy and matching safewords.”

Erik reached over and smacked your ass, light and lazy.

“I like our chaos.”

Then, a pause.

“Also… you’re definitely walking funny tomorrow.”

“You literally choked me while telling me I was your filthy toy.”

“Because you are my filthy toy.”

He winked.

You tossed a pillow at his head.

He caught it.

Used it as a prop.

“So. You gonna tell me what else happened in that dream of yours?”

You groaned into the mattress.

“Erik, I already confessed that you were bending me over and praising me while choking the life out of me. You want bonus features?”

He nodded.

“Director’s cut, baby. Deleted scenes. Blu-ray extras. All of it.”

You kicked at him.

He caught your ankle and kissed your calf.

“C’mon, Peach. Give the people what they want.”

“The people???”

“Me. I’m people.”

You couldn’t help it,you burst out laughing, still half-naked, post-sex high, tangled in bedsheets and bad decisions.

Erik leaned over, brushed a kiss to your forehead, and whispered:

“Next time you dream about me, save a seat. I’ll bring the rope.”

[kxsagi]

𝟎𝟏. 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭

“THANK YOU, TOKYO!!!” 

isagi’s voice tore through the crowd, raw with adrenaline and sweat-soaked pride. he stood at the edge of the stage, one hand gripping the mic, the other raised like he was holding up the sky. 

“EVERYONE GET BACK TO WHERE THEY’RE STAYING SAFELY TONIGHT! WE LOVE YOU!” 

the stadium thundered back with a wave of cheers. fans sobbed. phones waved in the air like gospel. 

behind him, kaiser stepped forward with the confidence of a man born to be worshipped, flicking blond sweat-damp strands from his forehead. he didn’t speak, he didn’t need to. his guitar wailed, high and violent and perfect. his fingers blurred through a final solo that tasted like fire. 

even isagi glanced back, jaw tight, as the outro shredded through the stadium speakers. 

bachira took the opportunity to leap over his kit, landing like a feral cat. he skidded toward the front of the stage and ripped the mic from isagi’s hand with a wicked grin. 

“I’LL BE GOING LIVE IN A COUPLE HOURS, YOU FREAKS!” he shouted, eyes wild. “LET’S SEE WHO CAN STAY AWAKE THE LONGEST!” 

the fans lost it. 

and then the lights dropped. 

the replay was already making the rounds on social media:

“that kaiser outro solo??? we need that in the next album 🔥” 

“isagi yelling like our divorced dad telling us to get home safe 🥹” 

“no one talk to me i’m mourning the end of the best concert of my life 😩” 

backstage nearly two hours later, bachira’s livestream notification pinged phones like a bat signal. 

[LIVE started] 

@bachibachi 🥁 

LIVE: 102.6K viewers 

caption: “vibing <3” 

bachira’s face filled the screen, upside down. 

“HEEEEYYYYY!!!” he screeched, bangs flopping over his eyes. “my ears are still ringing and i think i chugged a red bull meant for rin.” 

the camera flipped as he sprawled across a couch. dim light glowed behind him. the background was filled with makeup-smeared mirrors, towels on the floor, and faint rock music in the background. the growing chat was exploding with hearts and comments. 

@bachirasdrumsticks: “BRO YOU KILLED THAT DRUM SOLO”

@kaiser_kisser94: “where is kaiser tell him i love him” 

@isagishotassgf: “i swear isagi looked at me and i saw god” 

@rinplssteponme: “no one is gonna talk about rin with his bass???”

@shidousrightnutsack: “PLS GIVE SHIDOU THE PHONE”

“okay okay okay,” bachira cackled. “i know you’re here for tea. let me see who’s still awake.” 

he panned to shidou eating pocky on the floor and rin giving the camera the finger. sae stood in the corner, scrolling on his phone mindlessly. 

“kaiser’s somewhere, i think he went to grab a glass of wine. isagi’s– hey! yo, say hi!” 

isagi appeared, grabbing a towel. he nodded, giving a half-smile. 

@tokyonoisejunkie01: "why does isagi look pissed lol" 

@kxsagi: "his eyeliner is SMOKED he’s hot as hell wtf"

bachira smiled and turned the camera back towards himself, resting it on a table to give a clear view of the whole room. “anyway, Q&A time. drop your questions, i’m bored.” 

@saintegoday1fan: “who parties hardest after shows???”

“‘who parties hardest after shows?’ oh, that’s EASY. it’s shidou. we lost him in osaka for like four hours. man came back with a bleached eyebrow, a matching tattoo with a bartender, and no memory of either. rin tried to fight him. 10/10 night.” 

“just saying, don’t take it so personally, man,” kaiser’s voice can be heard in the background. 

“you hijacked my moment again. you always do. the solo? after i told them goodnight?” isagi retorted. 

bachira freezed, trying to laugh it off. “okay, woah, chill, we’re live–” 

“your moment?” kaiser stepped closer to isagi. “it’s our band. you’re not the fucking messiah, yoichi.” 

isagi lost it and shoved kaiser hard. the wine glass fell from the blonde’s hands and shattered into pieces on the hardwood floor. 

“you also dragged my name for a soundbite. what part of that isn’t personal?” isagi’s voice was low, sharp. “and you’ve been doing this for months. undermining me in interviews, on stage, behind my back.” 

@isagibitesconfirmed: “wait what is happening rn”

kaiser shoved him back, harder this time – jaw tight, movements deliberate. isagi barely caught himself from stumbling. 

“yeah?” he snapped. “because i’m tired of pretending this band belongs to you just because you cry in a notebook.” 

@kaiser_apologist: “NOOOO NOT LIKE THIS”

@rinsdeluluwife: “STOP THIS RN”

@saintegostan420: “can't believe we're witnessing this live holy sh–” 

“in that interview last week, you said the band got famous for your looks.” 

“i said ‘stage presence.’ but hey, if the truth hurts–” 

“this band was never yours, kaiser. no matter how many times you try to act like you’re the reason we’re here.” 

“you’re just mad i said what everyone’s been thinking since the second tour started: you’re dead weight in eyeliner.” 

@yoichicoded: “ISAGI STAND UP” 

@saintegogettherapy: “HE DID NOT” 

“guys– yo. chill. seriously,” bachira tried, half-laughing, half-panicking. 

“say that again,” isagi threatened. “say it to my face.” 

“I JUST DID.” 

suddenly, isagi swings. a punch connects with a sickening thud. kaiser reeled back, crashing into a chair. the phone hit the carpet with a muffled thud, landing crooked. fans watched pure chaos in a tilted frame – sae trying to pull isagi off, rin yelling something nobody could hear, bachira cackling “holy SHIT–” 

and then the screen went black. 

twitter, ten minutes later

#ISAGIWASRIGHT trending. 

#kaisersupremacy trending. 

#saintegoimplosion trending #1 worldwide. 

#bachirastiktoklive

#letthemfight

#rinjustwatching

#PRmanagerwhereareyou 

#notthenotebookcomment

#saintegounhinged

@crustybachirafan: NO WAY THIS HAPPENED WHILE BACHIRA WAS LIVESTREAMING TO 300K VIEWERS 

@rinthevoid: rin’s face during all this... he was calculating whether murder is legal in some areas 

@saeishotidc: sae’s job is actually horror 

@eyelinerwars2025: not kaiser calling isagi “dead weight in eyeliner” i would NEVER recover

@kaiserbrokeme: no bc i’m team isagi but that line... that line was crazy. 

@isagiprotectionsquad: MY BOY SWUNG FIRST AND I’M STANDING BY HIM 

@thebandgroupie: they are gonna make a GRAMMY-WINNING breakup album after this omg

@kaiserscoldfeet: WHY IS NO ONE DEFENDING KAISER??? ISAGI PUNCHED HIM FIRST???????

@chokiigan: hey guys, it’s nagi. i go live ONE HOUR from now. we’re dissecting this whole mess. 

sae stared blankly at the TV monitor in his office, arms crossed, jaw tight. 

the replay had been clipped, slowed down, and meme’d in under fifteen minutes. the fight was everywhere. and so were the fans – choosing sides, writing threads, digging up old interviews, turning the whole thing into a war. 

he sighed loudly as he ran a hand down his face. 

“they had ONE fucking job.” 

masterlist | ch. 02

taglist: @nensi @ro4love @avaxoxo13 @levisgoonerr @jnkosstuff @simpingmyassoff @sunsettsguitar @trinkets-of-time @cinneorolls @silverwings920 @mymeloreo @satorella @gkattdoesstuff @lovingmayday @pixelpancakes @vverie @nicfics @nevvynev @astro-3000 @mihyas-dieehefrau @i-eve-i @ohagiyoo @aadahyax @yumerinns @rie-cecooker @neeeooon

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢