rather be dead than cool.

Mateo still wasn’t entirely convinced Tattoos After Dark was a real event and not something the studio owner had invented after one too many beers. Midnight walk-ins sounded optimistic at best, but a guest spot was a guest spot, and Mateo had never been particularly bothered by strange hours. He’d worked in enough shops up and down California to know that the best clients were the spontaneous walk-ins. So he stayed planted behind the front desk, one boot hooked over the other atop the counter while Hot Mulligan played through the studio speakers, loud enough to keep the silence from getting too comfortable.

The glow of his iPad lit his face as he worked at a half-finished design, dragging the stylus across the screen before undoing the same line for the third time. Silver rings flashed against the glass each time his hand moved, matching the chain resting loose at his throat. He was dressed almost entirely in black: a faded T-shirt hanging easy over baggy trousers, the hems bunching around a scuffed pair of DMs; the kind of thrown-together outfit that made him look more like he’d wandered in from a gig than spent the last few hours working behind a tattoo counter.

The bell above the door finally cut through the music. Mateo looked up, gaze settling on the stranger as he stepped inside, and paused like he needed a second to register that someone had actually taken the late-night promotion seriously. He set the iPad down, lowering his feet off the counter top and stood up. “Damn. A real person,” he said, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smirk. “I was starting to think they made this whole thing up just to keep me here past midnight.” His eyes moved over the stranger briefly before he tipped his chin toward the rest of the studio. “You here to get tattooed, or did you just wander in looking for somewhere with better music?”

At any rate, a few drinks to further self-sabotage his dwindling bank account had made his mood a little less sour. He made useless conversation with some of the regulars at the bar, and after last call he shuffled down the street. Going home to his empty apartment that he would now have to pay for himself was unthinkable right now. The neon OPEN sign at the tattoo shop at the end of the block caught his eye, and he sauntered in. Harrison had zero ink to speak of but hey, there were a few twenties burning a hole in his pocket. Surely that was enough for something, right?

"Not sure about better," Harrison drawled. "Whinier, for sure." His eyes drifted away from the other man and over the busy walls of flashes and work in progress. He stepped closer, the warmth of the studio and that smirk luring him in. "So... you actually an artist, huh? Or do they keep you here to get the alt girls interested in paying for a new mistake?"

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Alysa Liu leaving the ice after her free skate!

Estella collapsed down onto the stool in the corner of the ring with a hiss of pain. Blood spilled down over her left eye, and steady hands reached into her space to hurriedly wipe it away. Heavier hands pressed gauze against her eyebrow. It's one shot, Estella. You've had her on the defensive the whole time. A gruff voice insisted somewhere next to her. Her trainer. Her actual legitimate trainer at this actual legitimate broadcasted fight.

She could barely focus on the face as she fought to catch her breath, blinking through the sweat and smudges of red. Someone poured water into her mouth and as the buzzer rang out, hands forced her guard back over her teeth. There was just a moment as she stood back up that her eyes drifted to the crowd. Right back to the spot that had caught her attention earlier. The place where a few of her friends were gathered, but most significantly, where Maya was also sat.

Estella won the fight that round with a technical knockout, her eyes yet again seeking out that same spot in the crowd as the referee lifted her arm into the air. Distantly, hidden beneath the throbbing pain in her face and dull ache in her arms, she felt the pain of seeing the other's face bubbling up inside her too. The pain, it never took longer than a moment to remind herself, she had put there. Pain that Maya also carried and that had been so clear the last time their paths had crossed. Something Estella had not forced again.

The pain shifted into a sense of disappointment as she walked out onto the busy concourse after sorting her shit and was greeted by enthusiasm from all of her friends... but no sight of Maya. I’m hurt, and I know you know that. Those words had rung in her head every day since their last encounter, and Jen's angry tone had intertwined with it. But what had lingered the most was her ex-girlfriend's sad, sweet eyes and all the hurt Estella had put there.

"I'll be back." She mumbled, offering a tight smile to her friends before pushing past them. Her head ached and not just from the pounding in her jaw and eyebrow. Thoughts were starting to spill in, the noticeable absence of the one person she really craved to see sitting deeper than any bruise. The one person she likely didn't deserve to see. Even though she so desperately wanted to. She could change. Would change. Was changing.

Estella pushed open the back doors and stepped out into the parking lot. She breathed in hard, shoving her hair away from her face and blinking in the low light. As her eyes adjusted, she scanned the parking lot ahead of her and felt the breath rush out of her lungs. Maya. If no one else had been in that crowd, she wouldn't have cared... because Maya had been. If she never got to love another person again... that would be okay because she had loved Maya. She only wanted to love Maya.

Slowly she lifted her hand and waved, a nervous smile softening her lips and crinkling the corners of her eyes.

Which is why she'd agreed to Jen's suggestion that they all go in a big group to support Este's next boxing bout ("because when has she ever done a legit match, like ever?"). And from a couple of hundred feet away, this was actually doable. She could even find it in herself to clap a little when Este was declared the victor. In the so-called friend divorce, Maya had definitely come out ahead, but none of the group really stopped loving Este. Este was just acting stupid, was the usual refrain from them. If they couldn't be a couple anymore, they could all still be friends. She would come around, and then everything would be normal again. Este, to her credit, had left Maya alone since their last attempt at talking things out.

So she couldn't blame them at all when the group collectively decided to push towards the stage after the match. Maya hung back for a minute, eyes lingering on Este's swelling brow. Dozens of previous nights came back to her when she'd be fussing over her with ice packs for the pain and kisses for the pride. For a moment she thought she heard her name somewhere in the air as if someone was asking for her, and that was enough for Maya to dip out of the venue and to the parking lot for a breather. Jen would know to find her out there later.

Maya had a few minutes to herself on a nearby bench until the door opened again and Este stepped into the night. From a few feet away, Maya just turned her head a little and stared, doe-eyed until Este waved at her. It felt so awkward, hesitant, so unlike Este that no initial irritation came to Maya like she expected. Just familiarity. It was... almost nice.

She hesitated before returning the smile. (If this blew up in her face, she had a session with Lane tomorrow, at least.)

"Heading out so soon? You should let Jen and them treat you out. They were really excited to come out."

In memory of Naya Rivera (12th January 1987 - 8th July 2020)

SANTANA LOPEZ in Glee (2009 - 2015)

"What? C'mon," he chuckles a little in disbelief. "It's fine, we'll share. This is huge," he gestures to the bed they're on. "Back when I was in boarding school we'd share beds all the time. I'm not gonna like, freak out." He rolls to one side of the bed and pats the empty side next to him.

tired of bumping into each other in the coffee shop? try these:

muse a tries to stand up for muse b in a bar but unfortunately cannot fight for shit. 

muse a is having plumbing troubles in their new house and muse b says they can fix it: except they can’t, they just wanted to spend more time with the cute neighbor. (bonus if muse a has to spend the night at muse b’s place because of it)

muse a works somewhere that’s open late and muse b comes in to take shelter from the storm. 

muse a is assigned to be muse b’s partner in an undercover assignment. 

muse a needs money and signs up to be in muse b’s clinical trials. (bonus if some kind of accident gives muse a superpowers and unwittingly makes muse b their accomplice in their goals)

muse b is a siren and muse a is one of the few people immune to their song, so after drowning the rest of the crew the two are stuck together. 

muse b accidentally creates muse a, the world’s very first AI. (Can work with or without a body for muse a, or muse b can struggle to build a body for muse a)

muse a and muse b as Olympic athletes forced to do PR together, photo shoots, interviews, cheese montages. 

muse b is an anent for a time travel protection agency and has been assigned to protect muse a after they have been targeted by another time traveler. 

but he was worried about sam- he was in pretty bad shape, mentally. understandably so. blaine couldn’t totally relate to his situation, but he wanted to be there for him.   ❝ it’s gonna work out. i promise. i can tutor you in— well, everything— and no one’s gonna let anything happen to you guys. you’re not going anywhere. okay? ❞

He turned to look at Blaine, brow furrowed. "You've already given me a lot. Letting me stay here, and listening. Seriously, I don't know who else to talk to. Mr. Schue knows about the school stuff, just not the other stuff. I just want to feel normal again. Like the universe isn't trying to screw me over." He leaned over and rested his cheek against Blaine's shoulder, deep in thought. "...Would it be weird if I slept in here? I'm used to sharing, so your living room is kinda... loud, somehow."

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When Maya didn't hold back even the slightest with her first statement, Este felt every shred of hope in her chest evaporate. She had no punches of her own to throw, and she just had to let every word of the other's hit... because she was right. Estella knew how fucking right Maya was. Breathing in deeply, she stared down at her feet and let the words wash over her in powerful waves. Este wasn't even sure where it had started to unravel beyond her control. The odd night here and there of acting a little more cold and defensive. Missed dinners to square up against a nameless stranger in the ring. Her final fight before the break-up where she'd actually felt scared she might not go home to Maya in one piece. The way her self-esteem had crumbled and blown Maya's hopefulness apart with it.

"Fun?" She asked in complete disbelief as her eyes flicked to her ex-girlfriend's. "Is that a serious question, Maya?" She fought to keep her voice level, but she could already feel the heat pouring up her neck as her heart started to thunder. Nothing had ever felt less fun in Este's entire life. It felt agonising to even think about spending the rest of her life without the other. She shook her head and breathed out hard.

"I'm not trying to act like nothing happened, and maybe I should have texted, but holy shit, Maya..." Her hands were trembling slightly as tried her hardest not to bunch them into fists. "I know that I blew this up. I fucked up. I fucked us up." Este's chest shuddered as she pulled in a harsh breath, fighting another losing battle to stay fully composed. "That's all I've thought about for eight days, and it fucking hurts. I hurt you. I hurt you so badly."

Her shoulders sagged and she looked at Maya's face. The most beautiful face to her in the entire world. The face she was so used to pressing her lips against or running her thumb across. Soft smiles across the pillow. The way her eyes had brightened when Este had brought her home a little gift. Gentle gazes across busy rooms. "I want to talk. I want to apologize. I - I can also just... go. I don't want to, but I can't force you to do anything."

“No, it’s obviously not seriously a question,” she gave a hollow laugh, holding onto the little rage that lingered. “But it’s how you’re acting. I’m done listening to you say sorry, okay? It’s done, I’m hurt, and I know you know that. Nothing’s different from eight days ago.” Wow, that one stung to say. Maya did her best to try and continue putting smaller items away, because she needed things to be ready for open and her regulars at the cafe could not see her like this. Miraculously she’d still been able to show up to make coffees and small talk with guests, but they’d been subject to a week’s worth of “sad girl music” in return. She’d taken extra breaks in the walk-in fridge to let herself cry it out in between rushes. Being around customers all in their own little worlds reminded her of how alone she felt.

“You do need to go. I’m serious. When… I mean, if we talk, it can’t be here,” she tripped over her words and kicked herself for it. “T-this is my space, okay? And Jen is coming through to help put up holiday decorations, and you know she’s going to be mad if she sees you here.” She knew it was pathetic she had to drag their mutual friend into this as ammo, but Maya was low on emotional support these days. Just go, her mind pleaded. There was only so much time before she’d break down all over again.