#this song has been replaying in my noggin all week

[clover-46]

What about professional figure skater Avior? This has been cooking in my noggin for a hot minute.

Avior who absolutely hates the day after getting his blades sharpened because it's all so much easier to cut through the motions but he grew used to slowly applying more effort as the metal dulled. He would much rather just have a consistent immortal level of sharpness and stick at that, but since the world has forsaken him this request, he shall make do.

Avior who makes his own routines all by himself and practices them until it feels like his calves and ankles want to kill him. And then a bit more since walking through hell makes the other side seem so much better.

Avior who wishes he had his own private ice rink instead of having to share with other people. The only solution is going late at night.

So he does, and the best way to practice a routine is wearing that skin hugging fabric so you know what to expect when your costume comes in for competition. Avior pulling on gloves to protect against ice scrapes on his palms before stepping out onto the rink as the speaker starts on his playlist.

Avior's legs tensing as he prepares for a jump and thanks to the way the fabric hugs to his long legs, the muscles shifting is so wonderfully visible.

Avior closing his eyes as gravity falls away from him at the apex of his jump and he looks more at peace than he's ever been. Clapping and a soft cheer coming from the sidelines as he lands and almost trips from surprise, his eyes flinging open.

And there's a total stranger, bag slung over a shoulder, clapping with a grin on their face. And he's flustered, unused to praise outside of his coach or competitions. And he just wants to leave, but the stranger is dropping their bag and shoving on their own skates to come join him.

And he learns their name - Starlight - and learns that theyre part of his agency and the only reason he hasn't met them before is because they do partner routines while he sticks to singular. And now they're pleading with him to help them with a set, but Avior's already decided that he doesnt need anymore practice and they can do this on their own. Even if the whole point is doing it with someone else.

The following week, Aviors coach - Circinus, who else? - says that his rhythm is slightly off and the easiest way to re-find his rhythm is to work with someone. Avior cringing as Circinus calls over Starlight.

Avior standing still as Circinus tries to convince him to stop being stubborn and just go through with the routine. Avior finally, and begrudgingly, agreeing.

Its then that Avior learns that Starlight always has something to say, whether it be a question or a statement (that he never asked for a comment about for a topic, but they gave him one anyways)

Starlight explaining the routine before Avior hears Ne Me Quitte Pas by Jacques Brel play over the speakers. And suddenly he's nervous as the energy shifts.

Starlight skating towards him, each movement fluid and he's envious. They adjust so they have their back to his chest, expression matching the emotions of the song as their hand drifts gently down his face, caressing his skin.

It doesn't even matter that the AC is pumping to keep the rink cold, because his body is heating up. He's skated to romance songs before, but it's different this time.

His hands lingering on their shoulders, waist, and hips as he goes through the motions with them. He doesn't notice the gathering crowd of onlookers.

He isn't the only one affected either.

The song is stuck in his head for hours afterwards, as well as the feeling of Starlight's body drapes across his own.

And Starlight can't stop staring at their hands, brain replaying everywhere their hands touched him.

Neither are able to face each other at practice the next day.

- 🙊

JESUS THIS WAS AMAZING. THIS WHOLE PART IS MY FAVORITE

HOW DO THEY LIKE ALREADY HAVE CHEMISTRY WHEN THATS THEIR SECOND MEETING (cause avior and starlight are just the best). you probably have the most active imagination ever

@messenger-of-stupidity

[perpetualfunk]

A Walk Through Grieving You

They say there are five stages of grief, and that they come in waves or all at once. There's no roadmap through telling your head and your heart what to expect next or what feelings will transpire. Grief is like walking through a dark room you've been in before but it's all different. It's confusing, unfamiliar, jutting out in different directions at unexpected times. In unexpected ways. Sometimes you try and shield yourself from it, pretend it's not there, act as if life itself has not been unchangingly altered. But then you realize, you're in denial.

I'm in denial. I keep thinking that the phone is going to ring at three am and you'll be on the other end talking nonsense about not being able to sleep or how your western has replayed fifty times and you don't know how to change it. I'm in denial. Thinking that when I can't remember the song we sang in the car that one time that I can call you and you'll be waiting on the other side to satisfy my noggin. I'm in denial. It comes in waves, always unwarranted, always unwelcome. I can't bring myself to remove you from my favorites list in my contacts because I'm still convinced you're waiting on the other end to hear my voice.

I find myself angry a lot. Mostly displaced anger that gets thrown on people who don't deserve it. I'm angry that you left, and I'm angry with myself that I wasn't a better granddaughter before you did so. We always think we could've been better, even if we did the best we could. I always seem to blame myself, thinking that if I had done something different, I wouldn't feel this pain in my chest. And sometimes I'm angry at you for leaving me too soon. Leaving me before you got the chance to see me place the key in the hand of the man worthy of my heart. Leaving me without two am phone calls on my birthday, and a morning coffee pal. Often I find anger takes ahold and I find myself in yet another stage of the dark room grief has staged before me.

"If only..." There are many endings to that statement, if only we spoke more, if only I called that night, if only I checked in a little more often, but they're only means to avoid the inevitable reality that there was nothing to be done. That what I did was enough. Who I was to you was enough. Sometimes there are moments when I sit in my car and I make promises and bargains with the man upstairs to just give you back to me. This happens in waves as well, in the shower, in the car, walking across the railroad tracks on my way into work. But I can't bargain back what's already gone.

Looking up I see the lights I bought and hung above my bed. When I see them I think of the picture that shows up when you'd call. "It looks artsy, do this one" you said to the photo of one of the lights hanging from the wire. I'm filled with a constant sadness. A pull you to the bottom of the ocean heaviness than engulfs and envelops. I used to find comfort in this place. This is the only familiar part of that dark grief sized room. Depression is an old abusive lover, but it comes hand in hand with losing you. It's ever apparent and relentless. Its worrying about everyone else when I'm secretly falling apart. It's a quiet corner to sit in when the room feels a few shades darker than it was before. But for all the negative, there is this slow creeping feeling of potential acceptance lurking somewhere in this darkness.

I'm not sure how long I'll stay in the dark. Could be days, weeks, months. But I know that somewhere in the dark is the key to turning on the light. You always told me I am the key to my own success. So maybe the key to turning on the light will be found in the heart that's still healing from a loss so great. The light of acceptance lies within that room. And I know I won't stay in the dark forever.

[startfreshh]

A Walk Through Grieving You

They say there are five stages of grief, and that they come in waves or all at once. There's no roadmap through telling your head and your heart what to expect next or what feelings will transpire. Grief is like walking through a dark room you've been in before but it's all different. It's confusing, unfamiliar, jutting out in different directions at unexpected times. In unexpected ways. Sometimes you try and shield yourself from it, pretend it's not there, act as if life itself has not been unchangingly altered. But then you realize, you're in denial.

I'm in denial. I keep thinking that the phone is going to ring at three am and you'll be on the other end talking nonsense about not being able to sleep or how your western has replayed fifty times and you don't know how to change it. I'm in denial. Thinking that when I can't remember the song we sang in the car that one time that I can call you and you'll be waiting on the other side to satisfy my noggin. I'm in denial. It comes in waves, always unwarranted, always unwelcome. I can't bring myself to remove you from my favorites list in my contacts because I'm still convinced you're waiting on the other end to hear my voice.

I find myself angry a lot. Mostly displaced anger that gets thrown on people who don't deserve it. I'm angry that you left, and I'm angry with myself that I wasn't a better granddaughter before you did so. We always think we could've been better, even if we did the best we could. I always seem to blame myself, thinking that if I had done something different, I wouldn't feel this pain in my chest. And sometimes I'm angry at you for leaving me too soon. Leaving me before you got the chance to see me place the key in the hand of the man worthy of my heart. Leaving me without two am phone calls on my birthday, and a morning coffee pal. Often I find anger takes ahold and I find myself in yet another stage of the dark room grief has staged before me.

"If only..." There are many endings to that statement, if only we spoke more, if only I called that night, if only I checked in a little more often, but they're only means to avoid the inevitable reality that there was nothing to be done. That what I did was enough. Who I was to you was enough. Sometimes there are moments when I sit in my car and I make promises and bargains with the man upstairs to just give you back to me. This happens in waves as well, in the shower, in the car, walking across the railroad tracks on my way into work. But I can't bargain back what's already gone.

Looking up I see the lights I bought and hung above my bed. When I see them I think of the picture that shows up when you'd call. "It looks artsy, do this one" you said to the photo of one of the lights hanging from the wire. I'm filled with a constant sadness. A pull you to the bottom of the ocean heaviness than engulfs and envelops. I used to find comfort in this place. This is the only familiar part of that dark grief sized room. Depression is an old abusive lover, but it comes hand in hand with losing you. It's ever apparent and relentless. Its worrying about everyone else when I'm secretly falling apart. It's a quiet corner to sit in when the room feels a few shades darker than it was before. But for all the negative, there is this slow creeping feeling of potential acceptance lurking somewhere in this darkness.

I'm not sure how long I'll stay in the dark. Could be days, weeks, months. But I know that somewhere in the dark is the key to turning on the light. You always told me I am the key to my own success. So maybe the key to turning on the light will be found in the heart that's still healing from a loss so great. The light of acceptance lies within that room. And I know I won't stay in the dark forever.