#kixboxer

((I took screencaps in the hopes that finally I could sensibly reply to comments and then life got overwhelming and I promptly forgot))

ahhhhhhhhhhh @kixboxer​ I’m so glad that you got a chance to see and enjoy this fic!!!!! I had so much fun writing it but part of me was dramatic-single-tear-regret like “superman probably would have liked this too and yet I took until she may have left tumblr to write it whyyy”

Also, your comments always fill me with such joy!

From top to bottom:

I WILL ALWAYS DARE

1 2 3 4 you declared that fic war so many years ago and I will never let it die

You are correct you are 100% correct about Mido cat. He is the butt. I love this about him. I love the amount of time and attention and energy and cunning (?) he devotes to making sure Link knows how much Mido-cat doesn’t care for him (except it’s not working. Link does not know the depths of Mido-cat’s Not Caring.)

ahhhhaha actually I did not see what I did there but now I will remember you pointing this out every time I reread it.

I did not spare a single feeling

5.) my five year plan is to maybe go out for ice cream this afternoon? (Live every day like the ice cream store is closing.)

“Alright, so…the Rostelecom Cup ends on the 21st,” says Yuuri, pouring over two different calendars, the ISU Official Season Schedule, Viktor’s Aeroflot Platinum Membership Card, and a laptop open to Discord where Phichit Chulanont is spamming the “#SKATE_IS_LIFE” chat with memes. “And Skate Canada starts on the 27th. We have time to come back to Saint Petersburg, so I think we should, because the Cup of China starts five days after Skate Canada and I think we’re going to have to go right to Beijing, since I don’t want you to be jetlagged for your short program.”

“Uh-huh,” says Viktor, drawing hearts and poodles on a corner of his planner. The only thing he’s written down so far is “National Bologna Day” below the date October 24th.

“Then we’ve got a pretty long break before Skate America,” says Yuuri, scribbling something onto one of the calendars. “And I was thinking we could go see my parents for a few days, since–”

“Yes,” Viktor says immediately. “Let’s do that.” He flips to somewhere in November and writes “MAMA AND PAPA” with a green gel pen.

“And then after Skate America, we have ten days to go back to Saint Petersburg, get ready for the Final–assuming one of us is in it–and go back to Japan, and–”

“Hey,” says Viktor, sitting up all at once from his luxurious slump against the half of the table that isn’t taken up by the physical manifestation of Yuuri’s neurosis. “Do you want to go get ice cream?”

Yuuri looks up over his glasses. “I’m…lactose intolerant.”

“Do you want to get froyo?” Viktor says instead, raising his eyebrows to a pleading latitude. 

“But we haven’t even gotten to Nationals yet,” Yuuri says, looking down at his calendar and tapping the week of Viktor’s birthday, which Yuuri has underlined and labeled “HELL WEEK” in red marker.

“It’s July,” Viktor whines. “We should by enjoying our summer, not panicking over how many days we have to get from Canada to China in November.”

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously enough,” says Yuuri shaking his head. “The I.S.U is obviously trying to pull some–some bullshit with giving us completely different Grand Prix events, and–”

“So wouldn’t it be just a kick in the face,” says Viktor, as he reaches out and takes Yuuri’s hand, pulls the pencil out, and closes the lid of the laptops. “If we didn’t worry about it? If we just…made it look fucking easy?”

Yuuri sighs, and Viktor can tell that he’s not totally on board, but that he also sees that Viktor has a point. 

“How can you be so calm about this?” Yuuri mutters, moodily flipping the pages of his planner. “I’ve been worrying about this since last December.”

“Well, I don’t know if you know this,” Viktor says, winking, “but I’m a very impulsive person. I once moved to a different continent to tell a boy I loved him.”

“Did the boy fall for it?” Yuuri murmurs, tilting his head. 

“He did.”

“What a stupid boy,” Yuuri says, and Viktor laughs into their kiss.

“Will you get froyo with me?” Viktor asks, already rising to go find his shoes.

“Fine,” says Yuuri, “But you better find a place with good flavors.”

NO, I say, attempting to forget the 8k Gundam Wing AU I also said I wouldn’t do.

fun fact: i still have the gundam wing AU open on my computer with like, a three-page academic essay crying about how good it was to me, how it added fifty years to my life and cut the crusts off my sandwich, and maybe i will actually finish writing it some day to give you the praise you deserve if i don’t end up just publishing a full journal titled KIXBOXER: A FANFICTION RETROSPECTIVE that is just 200 peer-reviewed articles of me crying into an ao3 comment box about how much i love your shit

(AND PINING YOU SHALL HAVE)33. I cannot help but notice we are sitting-in-a-tree.  So, you know, maybe we could think of something to do… verb-wise. (I want us to gerund, essentially.)“I always knew this was how I’d die,” Victor says.

Yuuri smiles like he’s startled into it. He doesn’t duck his head when he smiles, not anymore, so Victor can see clearly the way his nose scrunches. He looks tired under the harsh overhead lights, and there’s a sheen of sweat across his forehead, either from the exertion of practice or from the abrupt outage of the air conditioning when their train ground to a halt.

He’s so goddamn cute. Victor wants to ask, daily, what he did right along the way, so he can do it as often as possible.

“You knew it would be this specifically?” Yuuri says.

“It was a really good guess,” Victor says, drawing another soft laugh out of Yuuri.

“They’ll get us moving soon,” Yuuri says. And he’s probably right. Even in sleepy Hasetsu, the trains work faster, more smoothly than anywhere else Victor’s been. They’ll be on their way in five minutes, maybe less.

But even under the harsh overhead lights and the humid press of the summer night seeping into the train car, Victor hopes they’ll take their time.