#giving you a hug rn

[nopeleavemealoone]

H A P P Y A C E W E E K ! EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU IS VALID NO MAGTER WHERE YOU FALL ON THE SPECTRUM OR IF YOURE NOT EVEN SURE! HAVE A GREAT DAY!

[courfee]

people’s takes on fic stuff fucking baffles me. i see people going on and on about word counts and complaining when updates “take too long” or refusing to read wips entirely bc they’re too impatient and i just… i cannot understand this shit.

i know that the majority of these people have had to write something for a class in school at some point. it took you weeks to write a five paragraph essay for a grade. most of the time, that’s less than 1k words.

there’s nanowrimo, where the usual goal is to write 50k words in one month. which is understood by participants as an incredibly challenging goal. it’s hard. most people who start don’t complete it in time. it takes a lot of dedicated time. it’s exhausting. and there are so many fics out there that are significantly longer than this - and you can read them for fucking free!!!

it breaks my brain how people don’t seem to understand how much effort and time it actually takes to write something.

it’s even wilder to me that people will just skip over fics entirely based off of how many hits or kudos they have. why even bother searching by ship or tags or what have you if you’re just going to discount 90%+ of your search based off of how many people read it before you. the more common place that becomes, the less amazing fics will end up getting read in the first place. it takes hits to make hits.

all of this is just so wild to me i cannot wrap my brain around it. and i hate going into fic writing for this fandom knowing damn well that i’m in a fandom where people who might genuinely enjoy something i spent hours of my time on will never even consider glancing at it because i’m not “popular” enough. i don’t publish fics for clout and approval, but there’s a reason why i share them in the first place. i’ve written plenty of fics just for myself, or for a few friends to read. but if i take the time to publish and post something, it’s because i want to share it! i put it out there hoping that other people might enjoy it like i do. because sharing that feels good. and it sucks to think that there are people who might have shared in that enjoyment with me, who will never see it because we’ve started putting this weird standard on shit.

i don’t know about other writers, but that’s exactly what i’m talking about when i say that fandom dynamics as of late are sucking the joy out of creating. i write because it brings me joy. i publish/post/share because seeing something i wrote bring someone else joy, brings me even more joy. and watching this whole shitstorm of people being shit to fic writers or completely discounting most fics for one reason or other, just cuts that down so much for me.

idk i have a lot of thoughts and feeling about this but at the end of the day it frustrating and, at times, a bit heartbreaking.

honestly you said it all. all of this.

one thing i wanna add is in regards to nanowrimo: 50k words in a month (1667 words a day btw) is incredibly hard and a lot of people don't manage it, but a common factor i've witnessed between those that have done it is that they went into it having fully planned out their stories. because writing isn't only putting down words on paper, you have to figure out what to write, if you want a great plot you usually have to plan for that, and even once you've written it all you still have to go over everything and edit it. there is even more time and effort that goes into writing that people don't see and just take for granted. it's absolutely a labor of love, and the labor part is strongly emphasised here, and still we offer it for free only for people to be bitchy about it

i just hope you keep the joy of it all, because the entire point of fandom should be that it's done for fun and with the purpose of bringing you fun...

sending you all the love there, at least we are enough people in this fandom who write and draw and cosplay and make edits and all the other things there are for creation that we can support each other through it all

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Vanessa out traumas Michael Afton

[yumekai-artz]

Well..

Who TF made him cry

[chaoticwhoknows]

do you guys ever think about jamie tartt and sam obisanya bc i do. constantly. they take up so much room in my brain. going from “no one in my entire career had made me feel worse about myself than jamie did” to sam and jamie being comfortable enough to constantly tease each other like siblings and swarm each other during goal celebrations and SAM being one of the first people (along with roy) who we see being concerned about jamie in mom city. JAMIE WEARING SAM’S NUMBER WHEN HE PLAYED FOR ENGLAND. season 3 jamie and sam are so… just so… they’re soooooooo!!! and season 2 jamie and sam are like hey what if i reached out to you through a series of seemingly small gestures in very vulnerable moments of yours bc i don’t know how to properly show that i care about you given the history between us until eventually we were just completely in sync with each other? what then?

and don’t even get me started on the parallels between them. ladies and gentlemen THE PARALLELS. the JUXTAPOSITIONS. the OTHER WORDS. their relationships with their fathers alone is so much to unpack. them cutting to JAMIE’S reaction when ola walked in and hugged sam in the locker room separately from the reaction of the rest of the team. the creators knew what they were doing with that

[slavhew]

reread going great

[loveofastarvingdog]

trying to find the metaphysical vegetable that may bring me less despair

[spctrsgf]

marc spector is the type of person who…

a/n: since steven got one, imma do marc and jake too also because im feeing demotivated to write but we dont talk about that

steven | jake

•••

hates swimming in open water (especially caves) because it reminds him of his brothers death

cant cook

wants to sleep in but physically cannot

bottles up his emotions and then trauma dumps steven

buys juice boxes to heal his inner child

acts like he hates steven’s vegan diet but secretly loves it

leaves a piece of meat on the countertop to scare steven

will steal jake’s hat and tries it on

he thinks he looks better with it on, jake tolerates this only because he knows marc wouldnt put a scratch on it (marc is scared of jake and his threats)

is so deprived of compliments he doesnt even know how to take one

reels when anyone says his name in the same sentence with anything good. it scares him tbh

watches rom coms in his free time

loves to visit the museum steven used to work at and get a free tour from his counterpart

when comfortable with someone, he’s a mess of words and frantic hand movements and bright eyes

gels his hair back because steven “wont let him get one fucking haircut”

has yelled at jake out loud and thoroughly embarrassed himself and gotten kicked out of his favorite grocery store

has bursts of confidence that usually last twenty minutes max

gives shitty advice

either overthinks things through or doesn’t think at all. no in between. he thinks or he doesn’t.

looks like they could kill you, could kill you but wouldn’t

is a cinnamon roll

really needs wants a therapist but cant ask for help so he uses steven instead

yells at khonsu all the fucking time but deep down loves him and appreciates what the god has done for him (good and bad, granted)

hates being calles by his full name (that fucking shitshow of a mother he had called him that when she was mad)

•••

justice for marc spector my sweet bbg

[riaki]

> under warm kitchen lights and puffy silk sheets dad!aki hayakawa x reader hcs/drabbles

man... i finally finished this. oh my word wc: 3.2k :cry: cw: fem!reader (use of mother terms but no explicit description), brief mention of hospitals, kids omg so scary boy n girl not proofread!!

i always find myself writing waaayyyyyy too much for these 'short' drabbles/hcs/whatever they are. i think this one got even worse than the yoshida one. anyways its ok cus i live laugh love aki

also thank u @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat for feeding me ideas with canon hayakawa family interactions :3

it's hard for him, to say the least.

while parenting is a new experience for the both of you, it's more than appropriate to say aki's the least bit familiar. putting up with denji and power (begrudgingly, he'll tell you-- although you never believe it) certainly has him battle-ready and prepared, albeit with a slight darkening of the circles under his velvety blue eyes and a minute downward tug on his chapped lips that need yours on them for rejuvenation when he thinks about the tiring journey lying ahead on a path of family that's only been slightly worn. but then you smile, squeezing his calloused hands that are bigger than yours and intertwining your fingers gently, and he forgets there's supposed to be blood between them as he presses a light kiss to your forehead and tells you in that smooth velvety voice that he's ready for whatever pandemonium your rascals will cause as long as you're there with him.

truth be told, there's nothing in this damned world that aki wants-- yearns for than a life of normality with you. he doesn't have a lust for a revenge that festers and infects, anymore; the only thing on his mind when his work gives the luxury of a time of rest is how wonderful it'd be to start a lively little family of your own as you smile at him or card your hands through his damp hair when you share a lukewarm bath surrounded by cold austere tiles in the darkest hours of the morning, having found him covered in a thin veneer of chilling sweat only moments ago, knuckles pale white as he clung to the duvet. more often than not you find a knot between his dark brows; a heavy weight on his shoulders that's perceivable but frustratingly intangible-- like an ugly patch of weeds in an old, worn garden that's not worth saving, but still has enough life within it to be marred by rot and degradation of soil. but when you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him flush to your chest, so close to your heart-- the place where he thinks he deserves to be furthest from-- when your lithe fingers work so gently it's almost painful to soothe the crease on his nose bridge and the tension between his bare shoulders, he's so bold as to dare to just hope for a life further than nights of hollow intimacy that, in vain, attempt to sew and patch up the gaping valley between the wants of his heart and of his mind. further than exhausted mornings littered with extinguished cigarette butts and framed with curling smoke, pale sunrises and slow, languid movement that reflect the growing shadows beneath his tired eyes; further than the bitter scent of the black coffee he always makes for himself because the pathetic attempt at at romantic in him insists that your sweet lips are the sugar and cream to his life enough. but in truth he can-- and thought he'd always be able to taste that overwhelming tang of something equitable to sourness on his tongue when he downs the bland caffeine, like the feeling that crashes and overwhelms him when he realizes that what you have right now? is just an illusion for his poorly-kept facade of something he wishes could be more. something with a shared bed and an extra room painted bright pastel, a bunk bed tucked into the corner and kids' toys scattered all over the place.

(and as much as you tell him otherwise, some small part of him that he's tucked into the darkest recesses of his mind will always, always believe that you deserve someone immensely better than him-- better than a cynical devil hunter with nothing to offer but years of bottled tears, unspoken words that die on his parched tongue, and withered feeling in his heavy limbs that come with the sensation of dragging himself through the pool of molasses that is the routine of life-threatening missions he throws himself into by a hollow ambition. but he's never, and if he's being honest, he doesn't want to have the heart to end things with you. and imagining you, holding hands with someone else, laughing that bubbly bright melody and smiling that cheery grin in any direction but his, makes his heart hurt uncomfortably and his cold blood boil.)

and so, when the fever dream that's your wedding day comes around, he wishes he had met you early enough to be addicted to the taste of your lips instead of the rough, paper end of a cigarette and the numbing thrill that settles in his diluted veins at the hit of nicotine clogging his lungs, before it's disillusioned and the despondent cycle repeats. you don't know the half of what he'd give for that. either way, he believes it a miracle that he even got the chance to see the starstruck look in your gorgeous eyes when he slid that silver band onto your ring finger; that he lived to see the day where the familiar touch of your tender hands coupled with the refreshing bite of cold metal on his skin, treating him like some elegant thing in your garden; a lily of the valley when in reality he's just some weed that should've been rid of. a flower who's bell shaped bunches of milky petals hang from the stalk like a condemned man on a court platform, yet still so bright and graceful you could forget the plant was poisonous. when aki had laid eyes on that pretty ring, tucked into a black box of deep velvet on a shaded patch of street one sunny afternoon, he immediately thought of how nicely the elegantly-cut gem would match your dazzling irises; he takes extensive care to make sure the luster suits as an addition to your appearance instead of a distractor-- after all, when he looks at his then future spouse, he wants to be drawn to your eyes, then the ring tying you two together like a red string on your pinky fingers. that, and the way your gaze will soften as it lands on him, in the way that could only happen when the purest angel from heaven chooses to spot the bastard straight from hell out of the crowd who dared to nose his way into your ethereal presence. it's truly befitting, he thinks; your touch is featherlight even when all he does is weigh you down like a ball and chain locked to your ankle, bound by softly-spoken vows and a promise amongst the white of veils and pretty cream flowers. and aki is a selfish man, so he's only glad he decided to weave your fates together, even if it meant the good and bad mingled to paint a splash of gray on love's canvas.

that's the story of your love on weighted scales that runs through his buzzing mind the night your sweet little kids ask their mama to recount the tale of your plunge into devotion together to them, far different than the telling words which seem to sweeten tenfold as they fall from your lips onto eager ears that soon turn deaf, sleeping soundly in your arms. for all the aloof, coldness and silence he's ever turned out into the harsh world your family lives and breathes in, aki's surprisingly loving as a father-- he can't help the gentle soft spot he has for your children when he remembers the big, teethy grins with little cinnamon pastry crumbs scattered around their curved lips and round cherry cheeks are a result of your combined efforts; the streak of tenderness you unearthed in him finds itself being yanked wide open by two pairs of small, grubby hands that are tiny enough to wrap around the length of his thumb, like a little pair of gloves that sponge the inpurity from his hands and make his eyes soften, crinkle around the edges in the way that you love. it's certainly not an unfamiliar feeling; the one invoked deep within his hardened chest buds and unfurls within his organs when your kids take their first breath of fresh air-- well, as fresh as clinical hospital air and stark white lights can get-- is the same one that hit him like a truck when his gaze inevitably finds its way back to you every moment you're near him. cupid's arrow has long burrowed into the cavity of his chest, and if he's honest, he doesn't mind at all. if you had the energy to, you would've snuck a quick picture, if not mental, and made a little sweet teasing fun of him for being so dumb-- no, starstruck; a fool absolutely enamored with two little reflections of you and him. the product of literal years in blood, sweat and tears; maybe some coffee, and definitely some love.

and while aki may involuntarily be an intrinsic liar to his very core by nature (you still love him either way, even when he tells you he tried to stop your baby boy from crawling onto the kitchen counter over the sink and clambering onto two shaky toddler legs to paw at the jar of peanut butter in your cabinet), you're not. so you'll enjoy the strawberry blush that seeps its way across the soft skin of his cheeks that you've mapped with fluttering kisses and trembling hands when you tell him just how much of a great father you think he is to your kids, on the nights when he gets home with sufficient energy to whip something up for the haven of cozy warmth he calls 'home'. you'll prep a warm stew together that makes your daughter's mouth water and eyes go round as saucers as she clings to aki koala-bear style, legs wrapped around his neck and fingers curling into his raven hair as she watches him stir the broth with one hand (the other resting firmly, yet gently on her ankle) to melt the icicles clinging to the awnings of your windows for frigid winters. or, maybe some cold soba for those humid summer nights to enjoy amongst the symphony of cicada buzzes and city sounds, watching lights flash by as you laugh and reach out to wipe the soup off of your son's cheeks when the noodle he was indulging on goes up a little too fast, missing the way your husband's eyes fall on you ever so affectionately. you'll enjoy a sweet, tender kiss in the golden hazy glow of your warm kitchen bubble, full of lively mirth as you carve out silly little smiley faces and stars out of potatoes and bits of cucumber and carrot. on the rare occasion you decide it's a good idea to let your kids contribute a little, the immediate and guilty regret you feel when you watch your daughter slip up and knick her little finger gets washed away by a familiar, blooming feeling of adoration, almost sickeningly sweet in its intensity as you pause to watch aki kiss away the beads of ruby red blood welling on the cut, rubbing her 'boo-boo' so tenderly it makes your heart hurt as you gently plaster a cute sunflower bandaid over the cut while your baby girl stares at your husband with such wonder you think he might be a knight-in-shining-armor in her wide round eyes. and it makes his bleeding heart skip a beat when you tell him you see him the same way, too. there's always guaranteed to be a fresh plate of intricate bunny-shaped apple slices as dessert after dinner, and on slow nights spent in the company of family, there'll be a quick and intense battle of rock paper scissor or sticks between the love of your life and your beloved children on who'll be the lucky winner to put their head in your lap tonight.

(although, aki rarely lets himself win, because he knows he'll be able to later that night if not in that fond moment, sure to become a treasured memory.)

aki sees himself as a good father; he's strict when he needs to be, and he always tries to make time for his kids. he's even stopped smoking in front of them; in the house, as a whole. he had to pepper you with a few sweet, slow and intentional kisses and light-hearted apologetic words when you demanded to know why your requests for him to stop slowly killing himself with each drag fell to deaf ears, but suddenly you got a little more intimate and out popped a few kids-- and he'd stopped. of course, those were enough to pacify you; he made your resolve weak, like the sweet wobbly jello you indulged your daughter to as you watched your husband work out a crossword puzzle with your son. sometimes, you have to remind him sternly not to curse in front of his kids. but when he reminds you of the vehement stream of swears that always left you when you had to change less-than-pleasant diapers in your earlier parenting years, he’ll chuckle at the flush on your face, because you seem to elicit a lot of those from him. he’ll smile, because he’s finally found something worth the effort. and he'll run a hand through your hair and press a kiss to your forehead because you've made him capable of caring (and he knows how to distract you). sometimes, though, he thinks he's a little too soft on their pleading looks and puppy eyes on the nights when lightning streaks across the sky in frightening arcs, claps of thunder rumbling across the dark clouds when the streets of tokyo are enveloped in curtains of rain showers, when one (or both) of your beloved kids peeks their head from the doorway, a little 'can i sleep with you guys?' escaping as a timid peep. he watches in a sleepy sort of amusement as you nod, one hand lazily curling around your waist to keep you close to his side as he rests his chin on your shoulder. and it's your turn to stifle your amusement when a small, quiet mumble of protest leaves his mouth as your kid sidles into the covers between the two of you, effectively splitting you from your husband. if he was impatient, you know he'd have half the mind to pick them up and plop them at the edge of the bed to have you all to himself, but on most nights he'll just observe in quiet affection when you scoop up your son or daughter in your arms, cradling them to your chest and playing with that head of soft hair, humming gently in a way that makes his heart melt at the edges

sometimes, when 'uncle' denji and 'auntie' power are over, they'll poke fun at him in their usual, disrespectful and chaotic manner, because it doesn't take a pair of keen eyes to see the way he looks at you like you've hung the very constellations in the sky; like the stellar designs in the firmament were all carefully crafted by your hand. he's no overdone zodiac freak, but he dares to say the stars aligned the night he was finally able to call you his and only his. denji and power get along incredibly well with his kids; it almost makes him jealous. like you, his resolve is incredibly easy to weaken with the right expression and the right words; your kids must've picked up a few tricks from your book, because they know exactly how to play him into the palm of their tiny little hands. denji and power spoil them to no end; the wonder duo indulge the kids through games of tag and roughhousing, treating them to a wide array of candy and sweets that guarantee a doctor's visit the following week. he swears the pinch between his eyes you worked so hard to eliminate returns little by little when he watches them run around the place he used to call his safe haven, leaving a trail of absolute destruction and havoc in the form of torn magazines, splintered puzzle pieces, apple sauce sludge, tiny lego blocks (that leave a lifetime of pain), and pairs of his socks. it only gets worse when they learn how to negotiate; he makes a mental note to blame denji and power, because there's no way in hell your children figured out how to bargain from you or him. whines of "aww, but uncle denji lets me take the toys outside, dad!" and "buy me that neko charm, or else i'll tell mom you knocked over her plant pot yesterday!" (which, for the record, isn't true. that was 'auntie' power.) that being said, it's a given family outings are narrowly avoided disasters; as the kids grow, aki swears he'll have to start keeping them on a leash, or they might end up accidentally shoplifting your local 7/11's supply of sour gummy cubes, or have fed daffodil seeds to each stray cat on your condo's street under one blink of a weary eye. at the end of the day, he always caves with an exasperated sigh and an irritated 'fine. but don't tell your mom, okay?'. after all, he's always been a sucker for you; who's to say he's not the same with your kids?

unserious hcs... :3

def the type of dad to mutter 'no she didn't' or 'they probably deserved it' under his breath when ur daughter's school principal calls u both in to tell u she stuck her chewed melon gum in three different girls' hair that day

unreasonably competitive w his children. god knows why

yells at ur kids a lot and starts pouting like the grown ass man he is when u scold him for it ("sorry, love. i got used to it. power and denji were a hell of a handful.")

tucks them both in n denies it with everything in him when u ask if he likes making them beg for goodnight smooches

tells them to fuck off (in childrenspeak) when its ur marriage anni / date night

when they were rlly young, u guys used to all do family showers and or baths together but then water would get everywhere and the rubber duck would be fought over n bathbombs would overflow and the kids would get mad at each other so u dont do that anymore...

an absolute goof and doesnt know what the hell hes doing at first... one time ur son was choking on a cherry pit and he didnt know what to do so he just. shook him. by some miracle it worked (if it was denji or power he wouldve js smacked their back unnecessarily aggressively)

unrolls his cigarettes and makes origami shapes out of them; once ur daughter got her ears pierced he made a pair of crane earrings for her from the paper (clean ofc. i hope)

thoroughly enjoys forcing himself into mother daughter nights and he grumbles but secretly loves when ur daughter practices makeup on him or braids his hair

hopes and prays like an idiot that his kids see him as a cool epic devil hunter awesome sauce dad and not a silly pathetic failwife househusband (that's only for u to think)

stitches up any clothing, pillow cases or stuffed animals that r falling apart, also makes sure that no color bleeds when washing clothes and that nothing shrinks cus he does all the laundry for evryone

helps u make a family photo scrapbook and tape polaroids to ur fridge. lets the kids cut out patterns and shapes (his fav r the nutrition facts for some weird reason) from their juiceboxes and kids' magazines to put in the scrapbook

whenvr ur napping he always tells them to shut up. or he just forces them to nap too so he can be lazy and crawl into bed w u

a very good dad !!

hes such a loser oh no.. i should've just used the unserious hcs for the entire thing. i rambled im sorry it will happen again. i love himr

my (riaki) stuff. don't repost and/or plagiarize !

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Growing up in an extremely ultra religious, cult-like family was a mindfuck for multiple reasons but that doesn't stop unfortunately, even when you escape. For example, see: The overwhelming feeling of boiling hatred and shame for who you used to be.

The angry hatred for the past person I used to be, the version of myself that mindlessly parroted my family's beliefs and listened to their every command, constantly simmered under my skin and invaded my every thought. I was embarrassed of what I used to be- even as I made friends of different ethnicities and faiths, as I listened and explored new ideas and worlds that I never knew existed, as I started the first LGBTQ+ club at my school and volunteered with kids who deserved so much more- there was always a little voice in the back of my head.

"They would hate you if they knew what you were. They would hate the horrendous teachings that were seared into your mind, the things that you used to say and believe. You are nothing but a pretender."

And it is true that my beliefs were bigoted in all the worst ways. It is true that I believed truly heart-wrenching things without a second thought and judged others in such harsh and unfair ways. I told myself that there was no coming back from that, not really. There was nothing I could do to ever make up for it.

Then I remembered that the person who said those things wore velcro light up sneakers and collected finger puppets that the librarians handed out as awards for reading picture books. The person that held signs at pro-life rallies and anti-LGBTQ+ protests had a cherished sticker book and hunted minnows in the creek after school and adored their puffle on club penguin and was really into greek mythology and had skinned knees from climbing trees at recess and knew every Disney song by heart and was absolutely terrified of the dark.

That person was a child.

I was a child.

It took a really long time. Years and years of reflection and distance, but I've decided that I can't hate the past version of myself anymore. I feel pity and remorse, I feel anger- I feel so much fury and violent rage- at what my childhood was and I grieve what could- no, should- have been, but I no longer resent who I was.

I'm not ashamed.

I am so, so, so unbelievably proud of that little kid. For being brave enough to leave the comfort and safety of what I was told was right. For not being afraid to be wrong. For seeking out information and knowledge in a culture that praised ignorance. For questioning everything, relentlessly.

I am by no means a perfect person, I never have been and I never will, but I am proud of myself in every iteration that has ever existed because I know that I have never stopped trying to understand and learn and grow, and I never will.

If you have ever been in a similar situation and feel similar things, first of all: My condolences on your lost childhood. Second of all: Please be nice to that past version of yourself and recognize all the hard work they did to make you who you are today. That person was a survivor and an inspiration. They deserve nothing but love.

[jennycalendar]

not overly vibing with the way martha is presented as decisively Not Rose and therefore Not Understanding the doctor as intrinsically as rose when she is literally following his lead in exactly the same way that rose did initially. she is given a halfhearted presence but she is just so hesitant rn and the fact that the doctor is treating her like an inconvenience for being romantically interested in him???? yet still kinda vaguely stringing her along??? YIKES. get her OUT of there

[brahmenbones]

GRABS MD TUMBLR AGGRESSIVLY

Omgeee hii!!!!

[upperranktwo]

"The accumulation of those little despairs is what makes a person an adult."

Happy Birthday Adrienne ♡ @tenkoushimura

[skylarbee]

(09.02.2024, London, Electric Ballroom)

[raining-starshine]

Enjoy a MLB doodle dump bc I fell back into it HARD (little comics inspired by @ladybeug ueueue)

[signedjehanne]

dont even have the words to describe my reaction to the way that white mcr fans act with the rising sun!!! its fucking horrible, it makes me sick, it ignores the brutal fucking history of japanese imperialism. they literally tried to turn taiwan into a fully japanese country by genocide and assimilation of indigenous peoples, and treatment of the other ethnic groups. they took our men as soldiers for their war efforts while they suppressed the cultures of all taiwanese ethnic groups, some more violently than others. my own fucking family went through this so it is literally a slap in the fucking face to see how people are treating this. this doesnt even mention what happened in korea. sickening. as a taiwanese person i dont have anything else left to say.