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⠀⠀⠀ ASH. Professional poker player.
⠀⠀⠀ Ships with Chem. Dom-Lean.
⠀⠀⠀ Literate. Selective. MDNI. He/Him.
An OC inspired by Satoru Gojo.
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⠀⠀⠀♡ and ⇄ to be mutuals ╱ dm
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tired of asking people to be in a book club! this time i am going to add directly! barging in your doors with a couple of books in hand! we will discuss and there's nothing you can do! no more democracy!
I never know when to share the things I write. Only that now feels right.
So here. A dove into the sky.
May peace find you, across every version of you that was once so entangled with mine.
16th October, 2025.
To the you, who will never read this
Sometimes I listen to an entire drama OST, having never watched the dramas at all. Yet I let the song unfurl with the memory of us. Memory has always felt like an unwashed film roll to me. Life passes by, and memories pile in my head like dust in a forgotten corner.
All it takes is one trigger - the sweep of a brush - and suddenly the dust begins to scatter and dance. I am pulled into that forgotten moment. Like a figurine in a snow globe, the moment shakes back to life.
Right now, I think of the day you gave me that song, the Old Boy OST, in exchange for Tchaikovsky's Valse Sentimentale. We were just sitting at the kitchen counter on a random October afternoon, autumn leaves falling like snow outside. You told me the song was beautiful, that you had watched a movie and wanted its tune to touch my ears too.
I didn't understand it then. Looking back, I still don't understand why the song was called The Last Waltz, and what the movie Old Boy was even about. But I do know it was that kind of memory - the kitchen counter, the October light, you feeding me lettuce and likening me to a bunny, small enough to make a burrow out of your heart.
Now I sit in the present, inside my apartment, scrolling through an iPod I didn't even know still worked. I search online for traces of your username, but you've become an absence in every place I look. Even in my mind, the best I can remember of you are screen names that no longer point anywhere.
How are you these days? You, who dreamed of studying somewhere beyond home. You, who delivered mail to strangers and came back smiling, eager to tell me about them.
I hope you are well. I hope you remember the song you left me. I hope you know that Old Boy (The Last Waltz) is something I haven't heard in eight years.
And now, listening again, I think what you wanted to tell me was hidden in the first three words of that song.
That soft, tender whisper: 사랑해.
https://t.co/hBNJnIVbCB
@fleurlecri More than fine Lyric, thank you for asking. It was just the random passing thought of a fellow grandpa. You know at our age we just think a lot-
So eternally grateful for meeting you, Jadyn. A friendship like ours feels like one in a gazillion. I’m still amazed that we met three years ago by the graveyard, if I remember correctly. Since then, it’s been endless underground sewage pipe crawling adventures, supernatural shenanigans, and so many memories I wouldn’t trade for anything.
I can’t wait for the day we meet again, Jadyn. I adore to the bone, my sentimental little nerd of a best friend.
Bound together for yet another century, he has always cherished the other’s wit and vibrant presence—and even in quieter moments, when laughter wanes, he remain no less precious to him. @deIusioned
Bound together for yet another century, he has always cherished the other’s wit and vibrant presence—and even in quieter moments, when laughter wanes, he remain no less precious to him. @deIusioned
@__denouement_ That’s why not everyone will be able to uncover treasures in this life. Treasures show themselves to those who are willing to go the extra mile.