#JAMAIS VU

[dasnercaret]

(In this moment, you are loved.)

(BECAUSE YOU FORCED THEM TO.)

quote is from fireworks by mitski. details under the cut!

each panel represents a different member of the party! mirabelle waking siffrin up, isabeau trying to save siffrin from the tear, bonnie offering siffrin snacks on the third floor, and odile telling siffrin about her family (siff is holding the paperasse familytale)

there's a subtle color differentiation between all the characters! all of siffrin's family are slightly warmer grays (purplish), and siffrin is more of a deeper blue color. he is separated from their warmth

underlying wish in the background :) something something siffrin at his core something something it's also the wish that deleted the island and what siffrin is missing underpinning all of his memories. something something . Red. something. the universe

siffrin's eye in the first panel is based off this particular sprite from act 5 that just breaks my heart. always. he's so completely and utterly devastated

some very intentional choices made as well about when you get to see siff's eye. that is to say, never

this is HEAVILY based off jamais vu. and by heavily i mean there's a relevant quote from that fic for Every Single Panel

panel 1: [THE TRAVELLER smiles quietly, something splintered in the look of his eye.]

panel 2: [He looks so frightened, when you grab the tear.]

panel 3: So? How are they? / They're really good! Thanks for holding onto the snacks for us!

panel 4: [How wonderful it would be, to come to a place willingly, seeking. Not simply because you had no place to return to. Spat from the mouth of home like fishbones from between teeth.]

and yes, it is following the 'timeline' of jamais vu as well

[goodfellowe]

Everything inside of her being felt off in a way that she couldn’t exactly pinpoint, her head pounding in that same rhythmic motion as she blinked her heavy eyelids open. It was as if she’d stepped out of her body and hadn’t managed to fit all the way back in, leaving the entirety of her being to stand at an angle. Her memories were there, but the world they'd all happened in... wasn't. Something else had clearly taken its place, so where was she? When was she?

Jamais Vu (AO3)

Chapter 2: Home

Mu wakes up in Mafia Town— but it’s not Mafia Town anymore.

Art by @mebssann.

[calaisreno]

Bonus Chapter: Jamais Vu

Jamais Vu: Never Seen. The feeling when you meet something familiar, and don’t recognise it at all.

Some outtakes: five times Sherlock and John didn't meet. This is meant to give the feeling of drifting timelines… some hints of displacement.

At the request of @totallysilvergirl 💕

[yunessa]

I wonder who I'm writing this to. I burn a lot of these letters and some of these never existed or I never wrote them in this life. But maybe you were someone I knew? My mentor Art, my family, a friend, something else? Perhaps even a child of mine or a travelling companion? Did you know me by another name?

I don't even have an address for you, let alone an image. All that comes to my mind is a sense of habit. Like I've written these letters before. With how many times I've seen the Caves- perhaps it is? Is it a piece of a memory that was mine or one of the many fragments my mind tries to make sense of?

I chose to believe you are real and that you exist somewhere. Watching for my letters. But regardless, if these letters should ever make their way to you, as I hope, then know that while my curse took the memories of you from my mind. It could not steal you from my heart.

Speaking of the heart I have been having some troubles of my own. I call the circle of friends that have gotten a sliver of my strange power companions. One of them is named Daeran, I've mentioned him before. Often, I believe. I've found him funny, his wit endearing, and the way he speaks interesting to listen to. He's handsome, with topaz colored eyes and hair that looks like genuine spun gold. I swear to you I've seen it glow dimly in the dark.

I've long felt an affection towards him. He doesn't mind my condition and I am aware of some of his own conditions. Which I will not put to paper now. But suffice to say we're on as even a field as can be. I suppose.

He occupies my thoughts. More than I want to and while people would pay to listen to my voice, more often than not I find myself wanting to do what I can to listen to his. We're friends. It's natural one of my companions would be closer than the rest. He even lets me rest next to him when I need to run away from the rest of the Crusade to sleep.

It sounds ridiculous that I'm asked for day and night. But he doesn't complain when I seek him out. Our conversation flows smoothly and when it lapses into silence, it is easy, comfortable even. Strange as it might seem for a bard to enjoy silence! I've managed to ignore the way my mind weaved together coincidences and the words he spoke. I have no time for things like romance and without him confirming similar feelings I wouldn't consider bringing it up.

This is a crusade, not a dating game at a bar. I keep telling myself that. I believed it and was content with just hiding away or our conversations. Even when we've argued he doesn't raise his voice or get unreasonable- something I've always found a relief. Some people would make traveling with them worse. Rougher. But while he has his own set of peculiarities, it's not any weirder than the other companions.

That's how I've treated it. My relationship with all of them is different in its own way. But it works and no matter how tempted I am to grasp at his fingers or to try to use my charm to gain his attention, I refrain. This is a crusade. We're barely two years into this- for the rest of the crusade anyway, for me far longer- and I can't lose myself to inconsequential feelings that would hinder this progress.

This is a crusade. I'm here for these friends of mine. Woljif who pressed his hands against my throat when it was cut, for Lann, or Regil or Ember or Seelah or a hundred other times they've had my back. For Galfrey, Mendev or Kenabres I care not. But these friends, they matter so I push myself to be a good knight-commander. Someone who can end this. My friends deserve an end to this war and their hardships and I have worked hard to do what I can for them all.

Until today. I'd ascended the stairs to the room I've taken as my office. It's huge and stacked to the brim of everything I need and don't want for the crusade. A large meeting room, if that helps you picture it. I caught the smell of irises. Sweet and light as I ascended the stairs and found myself hurrying to see what the fuss was as I heard Irabath angrily complaining.

Daeran was there and my office was filled with irises. As he caught sight of me, the mischievous imp covered his mouth with the handful of purple flowers he held.

It was then I realised all my efforts were in vain. I am lost.

And in that I realise I have been thrown into the sea. I should have never teased him. Now it is three in the morning and I cannot rest because my heart will not stop its rapid fluttering. But I must try, even if he chooses to haunt my very dreams.

-Yunessa

[azzehkarla]

jamais vu; each time is the first. 🌸

[fumi08110811]

jamais vu

[judjira]

je ne sais quoi (preview)

AN: heyoooo i feel like ive let you guys go through a drought of me not producing good shit so here's a sneak peek of smtin im workin: drum roll pls,,,,,,,A JAMAIS VU SEQUEL YAAAAAY dont expect the full thing to come out any time soon tbh i need it to be PERFECT

pairing: datzu

jamais vu

wc: 1002

She wakes up.

Wake. Which means she’s been sleeping.

It’s a haze. Like a mist that hangs over the precipice of her mind, casting a curtain of fog over what she sees and feels, what she knows.

What does she know?

Peeking out into the inner shelves of her memories, she searches.

And searches.

And searches.

Only to find a sea of nothing. Blank and void, an overwhelming abyss of unknowing.

She doesn’t know anything. She doesn’t remember anything.

It’s confusing.

If she does not know, does not remember, how can she think like this? How can she expect to see past that curtain of fog? How is her first instinct to swim in that sea of nothing?

How does she know?

She comes to a conclusion.

She knew. At one point, she knew. But somehow, now she does not.

Her eyes are not open yet, not yet in perception of the world that surrounds her. And for a moment, she wonders if she even should try and perceive that which she does not know.

Then, she feels it.

In her closed state, she can still feel the warmth of the body in front of her, as one by one, her body parts inform her of the position they’re in.

Her arms are wrapped around a stomach, legs intertwined with legs, her face pressed into a neck, hot breath tickling this other in front of her.

She opens her eyes.

For a moment, all she sees is warmth.

Long flowing black hair, loose shirt that slides off the shoulder, revealing pale and pure white skin, all of a woman laying next to her in bed.

It is indescribable.

What she feels. How her chest surges with an unthinkable passion. How her fingers begin to tremble with an unadulterated weakness. How her lips quiver with an unspoken fervor.

Who is this woman?

She blinks at her, once. Twice.

It is a mystery that can be solved at a later time.

She takes stock of her surroundings.

A bedroom. Not too large, but not too small. It’s clean. There’s a dresser by the corner of the room, a closet on the other side, and a window with drawn curtains. She can just barely see sunlight peeking through, early blue hues of the morning just beginning to dawn.

She takes stock of her body.

Pajamas on long limbs, shoulder length brown hair, and a well proportioned face. At least, it feels like a well proportioned face. She hasn’t looked in the mirror yet.

There is more to this mystery, yet there is nothing else in this room that may clue her in to what it is she is searching for.

There is no sign of her identity.

The only thing that may answer who she is, she fears, is the woman lying in bed next to her.

Slowly, carefully, she lays a hand on the woman’s shoulder, taking note of her soft, soft skin, and gently rolling her over onto her back.

And when she does, her breath stops.

Those closed eyes, those pale cheeks, those soft lips.

There is nothing that comes close to describing how the world has stopped for her. Her breath is short, her chest is tight, her ears are ringing.

This woman is the answer.

Somehow, she knows. She does not know how she knows. But there is no other possibility.

Then, the woman opens her eyes.

She smiles.

“Hey, you.”

And somewhere in her own mind, it’s as if a threshold breaks, and the world she barely knows seems to solidify itself around this woman she barely even knows.

Tzuyu does not know why it makes sense. It just does.

“M-Me?”

It is an odd feeling, to not recognize the sound of your own voice, softly pitched and almost warbling in uncertainty. She almost balks at the sound of it. What if the woman doesn’t like her voice?

“Is there anyone else I’m in bed with?”

The woman raises an eyebrow. She swallows, the sound of the woman’s voice ringing in her ears, only chained into laughter that tingles at her soul.

None of this should make sense. But it does, somehow. She just doesn’t have the words for any of it.

“W-where…um, who—? What…what happened?”

The woman giggles once more.

“Well, Tzu…when two people love each other very much…”

Tzu.

It shouldn’t mean anything.

But it does.

Because somewhere, sometime, it’s been said before.

“T-Tzu?”

The woman actually stiffens at that, before palming her face as she sighs.

“Gosh, I—oh, I’m sorry…I forgot to follow your protocol…I’m sorry, I’m still trying to get the hang of this…”

The woman actually looks almost distraught, and she holds back every conceivable urge to take this random woman she found in a bed into her arms.

“Um…that’s—that’s okay? I don’t—I don’t really…understand.”

The woman peers up at her, and the smile twinkles itself back up to her face.

“My gosh, you are just the cutest in the mornings, huh?”

She feels the warmth rush up to her cheeks, and she’s barely able to hide her face before the woman giggles.

“Okay, that’s enough procrastinating on my part.”

The woman sits up, revealing her slim body, overshadowed by the large white t-shirt that covers up to her thighs. Her hair is a mess, and she tries to fix it by running her hands through it, but to no avail.

Everything about this woman is strange, odd, unexpected.

But somehow, she likes it.

Then, the woman clears her throat.

“Your name is Chou Tzuyu.”

Chou Tzuyu.

The name rings, and resonates in her mind, as if dropping a rock into a still body of water, the ripples echoing throughout the surface.

Tzu.

“I-I see. And…and you are?”

The woman smiles.

And in that smile, it’s as if Tzuyu can dream a thousand distant dreams of what she knows she’s lost, twinkling stars in the distance that have just vanished.

Except for this one.

“My name’s Kim Dahyun.”

Tzuyu smiles.

“And I’m your girlfriend.”

[dedalvs]

I feel like the more i try and make a conlang the less i understand my native language. I had to pause your audio book yesterday to google the difference between this, that, and the. Now im looking up has vs had.

I'm glad that my book has done this to you. Let me introduce you to a concept that was introduced to me by Joseph Heller's Catch-22. We've all heard of déjà vu—the feeling that we've previously experienced something novel—now let me introduce you to jamais vu. Jamais vu is the experience of finding something familiar utterly bizarre. Like taket he word plaid. Like...look at that word. Plaid. How the hell do they get off saying it rhymes with glad?! Plaid. What a weird word. Plaid. The more you look at it, the less sense it makes, and the more convinced you become that it can't possibly be spelled that way. Plaid. Plaid.

PLAID.

PLAID.

PLAID.

Totally bizarre.

Plaid. Plaid. Plaid. Plaid. Plaid.

And it takes like a full day for it to be normal again for you.

Plaid.

My good lad in plaid.

My good plaid lad.

Glad my plaid lad had rad Brad as a dad. Double plus unsad.

Plaid.

[darkreconstruction]

Since this is a good space to go on and talk for a long time, i wanted to discuss my pieces for Art Fair 14C today.

The orange:

These three pieces are rooted deeply in eco-brutalism. The venom-like orange drips menacing and foreboding, equal parts inspired by soviet brutalist architecture and the chaos magic practice of sigil crafting.

The urge to create a symbol that manifests something into reality, a sign that MEANS SOMETHING, while not universal, is a common desire. It is a practice that, I personally feel helps me to connect to the past while planning for my future.

Many people find brutalist architecture to be boring, ugly, an eyesore. There will be photos of blank, featureless soviet buildings, with no inhabitants or surroundings,and all anyone can say is, oh, how ugly. However, to me, these don't exist in a vacuum. A granny will put a flowerbox on her balcony. Another neighbor will hang up the laundry to dry. Maybe you'll get moss or some green climbing thing growing. Maybe some seeds will take root in the cracks of the cheap, shoddily made concrete. People will be born there, live there, die there, and the echoes of their laughter and the stains of their tears will color the walls and the stairwells.

I felt the urge to bring brutalist architecture and chaos magic mysticism together, to symbolize that no matter how far forward we will push, how far away we will go from the organic shapes and colors of life, we will always feel the urge to look up at the sky to make a wish on a shooting star, to influence the world around us, to make a connection with a higher consciousness, to take a physical step toward making our dreams come alive.

I also was visually inspired by apocalyptic scenes, especially those from 90s anime and manga, where skeletons of ruined buildings rise up from dust and the abyss. Think X/1999, Evangelion, the Legend of Basara, or even more modern examples such as the gorgeous ruins in My Time at Portia.

The greenery also is meant to bring forth the organic, the natural, the growth and healing and our origins. The trees, the forests, the orchards. The things that grow, an easy and clear symbol of things that come from the earth.

Titles

The titles are jamais vu (a volatile system), deja vu (blood and apricots), and presque vu (the stars are afraid of you)

The titles are a two part equation - one half deals with the common human experience of unreliable nature of memory and the other half, with the much awaited apocalypse.

Jamais Vu (as you Disco Elysium folks may know) is the sensation of encountering a place /situation/moment you have lived through previously, and yet having no memory of it.

Deja Vu, the most easily explained, is the sensation of having been here before, though you have never been here previously.

Presque Vu is the sensation of almost, but never, remember what it is you've forgotten. It's at the tip of your tongue, you can almost taste it, but it just isn't coming to you.

These feelings have been experienced by every human who has lived, and every human who will come after.

The secondary parts of each title come from a certain conversation 🦗from the end of Disco Elysium. It is a conversation that discusses the end times.

Also - how many apocalypses have we humans lived through? Our worlds have ended a thousand times over. Yet here we still are, and here we'll remain.

During the process of coming up with the names of these pieces, I definitely had at least an hour long meltdown over what direction to take them in, so Uhh shout out to my Disco buds who were there for me in my darkest hour, when I actually had to name something.

I wanted to bring a bit of Disco to these pieces, because Disco has brought a bit of Disco into me.

The colors:

A soft sky blue, labeled at the store as "Aztec blue". So many native cultures, slaughtered in the name of expansion of empires and growth of wealth, and now in the paint aisle at the hardware store. It's a little weird. The blue was the prefect shade though, for what I wanted out of this.

Multichrome and metallic blues add dimension to an otherwise flat sky

The greens... I used about 10-15 different acrylic paints in various shades to create the depth and dimension of the leaves.

Orange - neon, vivid, acidic, venomous, vibrant, violent. The antithesis of a natural color. Glows ominously under blue lights.

All together

Together these pieces are a visualization of the past, present, and future of humanity. It contains the roots of our past, the promise of future apocalypses brought on by our own actions, and a hope for a future that we can build to our own imagination. It's a discussion of the unreliability of our memory, and the common things that bind us together.

If you have any questions let me know! Thanks for checking out my work!

[kp777]

The Opposite of Déjà Vu Exists, And It's Even More Uncanny : ScienceAlert

[revacholianpizzaagenda]

While we're here one year late with Frittte, the other day I saw an old pic of Hindpere in a rabbit onesie, joked "lol now we know where Jamais Vu's furry Harry agenda came from", and as I was looking for something else entirely (as these things go) I found out that the leopard scene does in fact have her name on it. Furry agenda real and true!

So out of seven Jamais Vu scenes I could find (some additions, like the hemp, don't have their own dialogue hub), two are anonymous, one could be... Tuulik? "Arx" for Argo?, and four are Hindpere's.

[goodfellowe]

little guys

[lightsunki]

⠀⠀⠀⠀ BTS — Jamais Vu

⠀⠀⠀⠀ Phone Lockscreen

[yunessa]

When I dream about the fragmented memories I have about my past they collide with each other to form strange things.I know the dreams aren’t real, but the me in the dream continues  on heedless.

There are no faces but mine in these dreams. No colour to them save for shades of black, white, and grey. No sound either, but I react in the dream as if it was It is a patchy landscape.

In the dream I was sitting atop rubble watching a sea of grass as the wind blew. The grass flowed like water beneath the wind’s gentle caress and I had, for a moment, peace.  The me in the dream heard noise and so I turned to greet a person I could not see. It wa as their very image had been torn out of my dream. Like a piece of paper torn out.

I remember putting a finger to my lips. I am certain I asked if they came to find me. They spoke but the me in the dream just chuckled and asked them not to tell ‘our favourite healer’. I realised then that the me in the dream had bandages wrapped around their abdomen. I could feel the trickle of blood as it creeped between stitches.  What injured me to that point I do not know. A fall? Emergency field surgery?

In the dream I complained I could not sleep  with the medicine the healer had given me- it gave me nightmares and sleeping was difficult. My companion responded and I gave my most charming smile despite the pain. 

I promised them a song and a song I gave, playing my lyre despite the pain. I remember seeing the grass flow like water. The companion that had come up to  turned and further down the hill another companion came up. Their face scratched out but the dream self that was me winced. The healer, I think.

The dream was peaceful enough.  But it wasn’t me. I dreamed another when that one faded away. It was a birthday party. So many excited faces, so many streamers hanging wherever they could be tacked on. There was a conjured animal covered in fur. It felt like it could have been real, and not just a strange dream. Though the memory of that drips through my fingers like water and I have lost most of it.

I write it down now, hoping to find some sort of connection between the scraps of memory. But are any of them real? My mentor was real, but I feel like I’ve still lost a lot of that as the curse had ‘fed’ throughout the decade since we parted.

There’s a scene in  a play called ‘Lost among the Waves’ where the amnesiac character screams to the sky  and demands to know who he was, what he was.

I think about it sometimes. But more often, I think that, to me, it doesn’t matter. I am not dead. Why do I even make room in my mind for such nonsense?  Even if I regained who I was, am I hoping I feel something more? Or less? These notes are nothing more than the notes of a cursed elf who has been far luckier than they deserve to be.

Strange thoughts come with strange dreams, I suppose.

-Yunessa

[thatitaliandubber]

Jamais Vu, journal Scene 1 "Caldwell investigations"

OOC: Hello everyone, this is my attempt at journaling for the first time a solo game. I'm not the best writer and English is not my first language, but any type of tip or suggestion on how to make this journal better is open. I'm playing "Jamais Vu" the RPG based on my favorite game disco Elysium. And here's the introduction to the story.

???- I wake up slowly from my deep sleep. The blackness all around me disappearing as a string odor of perfume hits my nostrils, like miniature needles tickling and pricking the inside of my nose. The world might be visible but it is wrapped in a blur.

I try to focus the blur away [Perception, trivial 6] (rolled a 7)

Perception- The Blur recedes... a clear image at last. A small apartment room, with some furniture here and there. And you also feel your body resting on a chair... leather... feels pricey.

???-As the blur disappears I look at the desk and notice the 2 bookshelves to the sides, full of old dusty books. What is this place? What is this smell? Wait s sec... who am I?

I get up from the chair, but not before noticing an unopened letter on my desk.

I can hear the rain outside. I'm still smelling this perfume, where does it come from? I smell the air around me... Yup it's coming from me. I look down to see a white buttoned shirt that is covered by the Odour. What kind of perfume is this? [Encyclopedia, medium 10, -2 the smell is overwhelming] (rolled snake eyes)

Encyclopedia - Oh god!

???- What is it?

Encyclopedia- This shirt has been doused in gasoline. We need to remove it NOW

???- I quickly remove my shirt by ripping it off. Buttons fly out like an explosion. It's a mess, I feel like a mess, I'm a mess (-1 morale).

Okay this is going nowhere, let's just open this letter.

Letter- the writing is very intricate and also in cursive. The writing goes as follows:" Dear Caldwell Investigations

I, Mrs. Deva Thorne, request your humble services to solve an horrible accident that has befallen my family" the rest of the letter is some weird explanation of the writer's family history, I notice that nowhere in the letter is specified who died. The letter ends with a road name and a number. An address that's where I'll need to go.

Logic- From what I can gather you seem like this Caldwell guy

???-You sure? I don't really feel like a Caldwell.

Logic- if you've got any other possible idea of who you are, I'm here... Tell me .

???- okay you won this round. I'm probably this Caldwell the letter speaks of. Let's just go there. [Add clue identity, letter to Caldwell (coincidence)].

Before I left I ought to gear up. I found some latex gloves, an old baseball cap and... a crowbar under the bed? What the hell I was doing before I lost my memory? [Add clue identity, crowbar under bed (oddness)]. Before I left I caught a glimpse of my face on the windows. Blond scruffy hair, an unkempt beard and of decent height and weight. I left the apartment, I open the door, today is gonna be a long day and I don't even have an umbrella...

End scene

Thanks for reading

[judjira]

breathless

AN: posting a quick little drabble i wrote for @gaylittleinnkeepers, this takes place in the past of jamais vu, after dahyun and tzuyu’s graduation from the police academy, so go read that if you haven’t yet otherwise this might not make sense

pairing: datzu jamais vu wc: 616

"i'm not becoming a cop." the resolute look on tzuyu's face steels something similar in dahyun, even though she doesn't know the reason for it.

"okay."

"okay?" tzuyu's eyebrow twitches, and dahyun knows that's her way of posing an unasked question.

"okay. i'm going with you."

the incredulous look on her face is matched only by the resolve in dahyun's words.

"dahyun, you don't even know what i'm going to do."

that's where dahyun stops her.

"no. but i know who you're going to be."

she smiles at tzuyu, the younger girl in her police uniform, a uniform she's going to discard soon enough, and dahyun's going to be with her as she does it.

"you're going to be chou tzuyu, the world's soon-to-be greatest detective, and my best friend."

my first love.

"i'll follow you to the end, tzu. you know i will."

tzuyu's eyes shine, sparkle, glitter with emotion, her lips curling just the slightest bit. dahyun's mesmerized, starstruck, hypnotized by the way tzuyu just...is.

perhaps this is how she'll have to live with it. live with her. at an arms distance, never able to close the gap and embrace her as she's always wanted to.

but dahyun's selfish desires come to an end there. all she wants is for tzuyu to be happy. and if following her wherever she goes is what does it, dahyun would gladly do so.

but then, tzuyu's eyes shift. there's a clean glare to her gaze as she directs one of her infamous intense stares towards the ground, body stilling as her breath catches.

"tzu? you okay?"

the concern in dahyun's voice is palpable, there's been no visible cause for the shift, but tzuyu's always been one to ruminate so thoughtfully on her own actions. what could possibly be bothering her now?

then she looks up.

and oh.

her eyes. 

an intense flame burns within them, softly yet passionately. she gazes into dahyun's eyes, lips parting to speak as dahyun's heart stills imperceptibly.

"what if...what if i don't want you there as my best friend?"

the world stops. down to the very breath that leaves dahyun's lungs, catching so abruptly in her chest that she feels faint.

the words are easily misunderstood. perhaps if spoken to a stranger, they could have been taken as an insult.

but the way tzuyu's eyes gaze so ardently at hers, dahyun knows there could be no other meaning to her words.

and it leaves dahyun breathless.

"y-you mean...?"

tzuyu is so still, dahyun would have thought she was a statue, but a bare whisper trails from her throat, carrying itself to dahyun's ears so profoundly.

"i've...i've kept you waiting too long, dahyun."

the world resumes, and it's too fast.

her heart hammering in her chest, the oxygen leaving and entering her lungs, the rapid blinking of her eyes to prevent the tears forming in the corners from leaking.

"i-i...tzu, you-"

tzuyu takes dahyun into her arms, hands curling around her smaller frame oh-so-gently, and dahyun feels her world slow, back to its normal pace, back to the way it was, back to how it was meant to be.

"i...i love you, dahyun."

she can't help it. a sob chokes out of her throat as she grips tzuyu's uniform desperately. how many nights has she dreamed of this? wished for this? yearned for this?

the answer is not enough. never enough. there are not enough days in a year, a decade, a century, a millennia, to define how great dahyun's heart has swelled to accommodate her passion for the younger woman.

and so she wraps her arms around tzuyu’s waist, lips parting to whisper back to her beloved.

"...i love you too, tzu."