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"Bring your own lampshade, somewhere there's a party. Here it's never ending, can't remember when it started. Pass around the lampshade, there'll be plenty enough room in jail.
If being wrong's a crime, I'm serving forever. If being strong's your kind, then I need help here with this feather.
If being afraid is a crime, we hang side by side, at the swingin' party down the line."
--Lorde
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Forever is never an empty promise or compromise. Learning how to be loved falls somewhere between both.
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"Christ, Max, I hope your communication skills improve before Michael is my age. I don't think the latest parenting books really advocate for giving a teenager the silent treatment when there's a learning opportunity at hand. Or is it safe to assume that you wouldn't treat your own kid this way? I understand, you know. A lot of my clients are like that. The politicians? They'd never touch a real kid, especially not their own. It's just not worth the scandal, not when there's always a bought and paid-for whore available, no questions asked."
That was it. That was the tipping point. Max's head snaps up, and he glares at Ash with a vitriol Ash has never seen on him before. He takes a half step closer to Ash, leaning in, and Ash instinctively braces himself for the incoming hands on his body.
"This, Ash! This is my problem!" Max screams. His voice doesn't quite break, but it's got the desperate, unsteady pitch that comes on near a vocal passaggio. "Have I really not made that clear to you by now?"
Max wasn't ready to parent a teenager, not yet. Sometimes he makes mistakes, and sometimes he's even forgiven.
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"You hath thit o' your fath," Ash mutters through his sandwich, unlocking their hands and scooting backwards half a foot for good measure. (It'll take just short of a miracle to accept he's worthy of Eiji. Baby steps.)
"Say that again?" A bewildered smile replaces Eiji's sympathetic one.
Ash leans over again to wipe his sticky thumb on Eiji's bare collarbone. "You had shit on your face."
In which Ash attempts to cope with a heatwave and a crush.
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Sometimes he feels like Ash’s dog. Just a thing that sits and cries and scratches at locked doors. An inconvenience to a working man. Like some useless leech who loves his friend but can do nothing but steal his cigarettes.
And he can’t even do that. Eiji doesn’t smoke. Smoking kills.
Eiji waits, as he feels he knows nothing else.
Bookmarked by Tearin_up_rn
11 Nov 2025
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Ash returns to the apartment late one night after a job goes bad.
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"On edge? Why?" Max asked, sounding genuinely curious.
"I dunno.” Ash sighed, looking over the open window. “It's really just me and him here, so it must be somethin' I'm doing." Ash's mind returned to the exchange that had just taken place.Eiji's acting weird, and Ash is having a real hard time figuring out why.
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Kaz Rietveld died in the harbor when he was nine. Soon after, Kaz Brekker appeared in Ketterdam, spinning the story of two lives he’d taken already at such a young age. The deaths of two farmboys from Lij he insisted were his own doing, his own fault.
Rumors of the deaths of the Rietveld boys at Brekker's hands spread.
One day, they circled around and reached the ears of a strangely not dead Jordie Rietveld.(Or: Jordie lives and comes to believe the mysterious Dirtyhands is the one who ran the con that supposedly killed his little brother)
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Front-man Ash Lynx goes from coast to coast with his bohemian band. Photographer Eiji Okumura goes from journalist to groupie with his newfound freedom.
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“I cannot speak for people. But I can speak for myself. I do not want to hurt you, Ash.”
He abandons his work on Ash’s arm, just to place a hand on his heart.
Well, that’s one of Ash’s theories disproven. If his soul truly had claws the way he thought it did, it would’ve torn through his chest by now and jumped into Eiji’s palm. But even if he isn’t an animal…
“There’s nothing there, Eiji. It’s just a pump for blood.”
“No. I know you. You read too many books to believe that. Too much Fitzgerald, too much Hemingway.”
“You like Stephen King. What do you know about Fitzgerald and Hemingway?”
“Not much. Only that they were drunks, and romantics.”
Alternatively: The 59th Avenue apartment at 2 AM, featuring Ash's battle of attrition with his yearning.
Spoiler alert: he loses in the best way possible.
Set after Ash's escape from the Institute and before the arrival of Blanca.
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“Heaven is comfort, but it's still not living.”
― Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones -
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'Beneath his dangling feet, the drop is far and the ground is hard, cracked concrete. The worn soles of his Chuck Taylor’s would provide little relief. The laces would snap at his ankles in the wind and the red would be but a blur in motion.'
'It’s okay, though, really. Nobody needs to know him well, anymore. There’s nothing spectacular to offer. It’s better this way. Better for people to not know him and leave him be than know him and hate him.'
'It’s as if the world is holding its breath, preparing for the creation of their future relationship. Like this moment, depending upon Ash’s decision, is a precipice. A catalyst. The tipping point for all change to occur.
Ash feels it in his gut. His heart. He wonders if Eiji does, too.'
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They meet and suddenly the world feels a whole lot different. -
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What Eiji doesn't understand is that Ash needs savagery. He needs violence and blood. He needs Eiji to shatter him beyond recognition, to turn him back to dust, so he can be melted down and shaped into something new. Something worth loving.
Endless suffering is a heavy burden to bear, and Ash isn't coping.
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Tomorrow morning Eiji would finish up the laundry and scrub out all the bloodstains. He would pad around the apartment and throw away the towels that weren’t worth saving and add rubbing alcohol to their grocery list, making sure they were well prepared for the next makeshift surgery.
Tomorrow afternoon Ash would swallow down three Advil dry and take a shower and check up on his boys, making sure they were well prepared for the upcoming gang war. He would buy more bullets and forget how Eiji looked at him.
But right now, in that gentle aftermath, Ash let himself feel it all. The shame and the pain and the care that congealed across a ruddy wound.
"Are you okay?"
Bookmarked by Tearin_up_rn
21 Oct 2025
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“Hello.”
His voice is pleasant, pitched in a way that lays soft on Aslan’s ears. He has fluffy black hair that creeps out beneath his winter hat and flips up around his neck; Aslan traces the curls with his eyes.
He’s still warming up to these people, still unsure what his place is among them. He manages to say hello back, though, earning a genuine grin from the boy with the bird backpack. Eiji.
Growing up together in shy stutters. It takes a village.
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His fingers look pretty up close, so slender and knobby at the knuckles. Each of his nails are cut in neat ellipses and blush the faintest of pinks. Ash would call them delicate, but the pads of his fingers on his jaw feel terribly rough and calloused— probably from the fiberglass of his pole or reckless burns from a stove. But they hold the same charm as when they handle cameras and tend to every inch of him with meticulous care and considerate deftness. He almost leans into his touch. Almost.
Everything is tended to, even the tiniest of parts. His eyelids, the dip of his cupid’s bow, curve of his brow and his ears. He caresses his helices and behind them as if they were seashells he had plucked from gilded sand. He wipes his cheek steadfastly, enough to erase the freckles dotting there.
Ash feels completely and utterly bare.
Ash walks home, and dreams, and loves.
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🖼️ Illustrated fanfiction 🖼️
Ash Lynx, a foreign student in Tokyo, sought peace when he crossed the ocean, but the nightmares and memories that haunt him have followed, leaving him restless and aimless.
Across the city, Okumura Eiji, the reluctant heir to a powerful yakuza empire, gazes over Tokyo from the rooftop of his father’s building. He feels the suffocating weight of duty, wondering how much longer he can pretend in a world that feels so wrong.
When Ash crosses paths with Shorter Wong, the eccentric leader of a Chinese gang, he’s drawn into a different side of Tokyo—a world brimming with danger, alliances, and the unexpected rush of feeling alive.
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White His Shroud As the Mountain Snow by HonorThySalad
Fandoms: 光が死んだ夏 | Hikaru ga Shinda Natsu | The Summer Hikaru Died (Manga)
22 Sep 2023
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“Yoshiki,” came the gentle knock at his door. “We’re leaving for the funeral.”
He curled tighter on the bed, the springs groaning under his weight. He couldn’t bring himself to rise out from the sheets. His limbs sank like thick blocks of ice, useless and heavy.
She sighed. “I know it’s hard for you to see him again, but you shouldn’t have your last memory of him be that one.”
His last memory of Hikaru, was it one worth keeping?
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Strange Eyes by HonorThySalad
Fandoms: 光が死んだ夏 | Hikaru ga Shinda Natsu | The Summer Hikaru Died (Manga)
12 Nov 2023
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Yoshiki has a bit of a staring problem. It leads him to notice something he hadn’t before.
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- English
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Bookmarked by Tearin_up_rn
11 Oct 2025
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~
Faroe and Jane find themselves in New York and Faroe is very insistent on getting a haircut.