i keep seeing comments/tags/post lately about how fic authors should always try to respond to comments to show love and appreciation to their fans, and i just wanted to take a moment to shout out to all those authors who can’t do that, whether due to other commitments, limited time online, or any number of mental or physical reasons that make it hard to reply. and i fucking hate this ‘it only takes two minutes’ and ‘it isn’t hard to reply to reviews’ mentality. you don’t have a clue HOW fucking difficult it can be for some people.

the great fandom secret is that no one is actually entitled to your time - and as much as we writers thrive on feedback and appreciation, please also remember to look after yourself, and put yourself first ♥

Furiaka Week - Day 2: Family

It has ben a long time since Seijuurou last tasted home-made food. Not since his mother passed away. Seijuurou still remembers the warmth and comfort in everything she cooked for him. When he felt upset or frustrated, when his father scolded him, when he couldn’t succeed in something in his first try, his mother would smile at him, stroke his head gently and serve him a bowl of tofu soup. It was a simple dish, but it was delicious and it made him forget everything that may have gone wrong during the day. After she departed, his father had hired a private chef who could cook a lot of different, sophisticated dishes, but none that made him feel loved and safe like his mother’s simple soup had.

The first time Seijuurou visits Furihata Kouki’s house, it’s not part of his plan. A series of unfortunate events had lead to drop his cellphone into the river and get his wallet with all his money and identifications stolen (it has been a bad day, his father scolded him and threatened to force him out of the basketball team if he loses again), all of which apparently happened half a block away from Furihata’s home. Two hours and fifteen unsuccessful attempts to contact the main house later, what was supposed to be a “you can come to my place and use the phone to call someone if you need” became “it’s started raining pretty badly, if no one’s coming to pick you up you can stay for dinner.” As he waits quietly on the empty dining table, he starts pondering on the kindness he was receiving from a boy with whom he hadn’t exchanged more than two dozen words.

His thoughts are interrupted by an embarrassed “Sorry, we haven’t gone grocery shopping this week, so this is the best I could do.” and a bowl of tofu soup being placed in front of him.  But he doesn’t pay that apology too much mind (“Don’t apologize, I am the one imposing on you”), because the first spoonful fills his chest with that kind of warmth that he has not experienced in many years, the one that reminds him of a loving smile, a gentle embrace and a soothing voice “It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay.” and it is so, so comforting he doesn’t even mind the warm tears that start spilling down his cheeks. 

When he looks up, he finds kind brown eyes furrowing with worry, and he almost doesn’t hear the panicked voice “Oh god, Akashi-kun, are you okay? Is it really bad? I should’ve ordered takeout, I’m so sorry.”, but he shakes his head and smiles, holding the bowl with his two hands, letting its warmth seep into his fingertips and over his skin.

“No, this… this is perfect… Thank you.”

The Fox Spirit (pt. 1)


*cough* uh, okay, first of all I just want to say, pls don’t have high hope in this. this is complete shit. i’m really bad at writing stories. i am very sorry.

second, i thank you all for actually stopping by and read this.

well then, go on ahead lol //slapped (P.S. read it from left to right)

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