#sugarlids

[beingalones]

closed starter for @sugarlids

"please, just, i'm very sorry to keep bothering you, it's just, you look so familiar. almost identical to someone i once... someone i knew."

[beingalones]

closed starter for @sugarlids

"a lot of space between us right now, huh? like, too much, maybe."

[beingalones]

closed starter for @sugarlids

devon kneels between their legs like she's a parishioner at a pew, a devoted, pathetic look in her eyes. her cheek bumps against their knee and she swallows. her eyes sting, the threat of tears making itself known. her blue eyes glisten, the moonlight from the window giving them just enough to see each other, to understand what's happening here. this is all she has to give them, this is all she can offer. "please let me do this. i — i need to do this. i need to take care of you."

[sunliights]

a closed starter for @sugarlids featuring fallon.

"i was making sure you weren't dead... you know, since you never called!"

[egotistival]

dancing had been a passion of lila's since she was very young. body always in constant motion, she'd been through the highs and the lows of ballet only to end up with too many injuries to name. at the end of it all, dancing was balm on her otherwise busy and tumultuous mind and she didn't feel complete without it. exotic dancing was a byproduct of rebellion from her parents, but also a way to calm racing thoughts through movement. it was different than ballet, yes, but it served the same purpose - just without the constant pressure to succeed. she'd made many friends - and a few enemies - in ballet, but only kept in touch with a small percentage of people from that circle. romy came later - tucked away, unassumingly, in a cafe where they had met a second time as lila had reintroduced herself. through recognition, lila was able to recall romy - sweet and kind romy - who lila always thought didn't really belong to the world of ballet. not because she wasn't talented, but because... sometimes, when lila looked close, she thought that romy might have actually disliked being in the midst of it all. through that reintroduction, they'd begun to hang out more, to get to know one another, and lila could admit that she was quite smitten by romy. they probably didn't know that, though lila didn't know for sure as she never really hid her attraction from the other, but it hadn't been brought up into conversation. tonight was one of those rare off days that lila had from the club, and they were taking advantage of it; dinner, a movie at lila's apartment, and snacks in between them. it almost felt like a date and her eyes kept leaving the tv's to travel the relatively short distance to romy, and each time she did she would curve a path down their face, to their jawline, the slender neck, their chest... it did nothing to help the way she felt so tense beside them. "romy..." she broke the silence between them, eyes intense and wanting, "i..." she broke off, unsure how to proceed. normally confident, she was afraid of saying something that would break the fragile relationship between them. romy's friendship had quickly become something in lila's life that she needed, craved, and treasured. "d-do you want more popcorn?" she finally asked, eyes traveling down to the bowl, her heart doing this funny little motion inside her chest as she sighed. so much for being brave. @sugarlids

[egotistival]

interrogating someone came easy to isabelle. the psychological aspects of getting someone to confess were nuanced and delicate, a kind of dance that she'd perfected over the years. when alice's name came to her attention through another source, isabelle knew she was onto something. but she had no evidence and so she'd brought alice in as a witness, the game of cat and mouse that they'd been playing over the last few months building to a crescendo at the first real meeting. now, the tension lay in the cards that they hadn't shown yet. a flicker of expression crossed isabelle's face before she could do away with it - frustration and begrudging intrigue fighting for dominance inside her head. she'd offered to drive alice home after picking her up earlier, and the silence that sat between them was heavy, fraught with a kind of reluctance and awkwardness that seemed prevalent. isabelle knew - she knew - that alice played a very big part in this case. she just couldn't prove it. and she felt very much like alice was laughing at her. a huff of frustration left her lips and she shifted in the drivers seat, palms tightening over the wheel of the car. there was a diner up ahead that served late into the evening, and she glanced at her companion only once before she turned into the lot and parked the car. she said nothing still as she tightened her jacket across her shoulders and got out of the car, braving the chill in the air. "they have good pancakes and coffee," she mentioned offhandedly in defense of her decision, wondering if alice wanted to go home yet or if she'd indulge a late night dinner with an fbi agent on her tail. either decision was up to her; she could leave now if she wanted to. @sugarlids

[middlefade]

closed as plotted for @sugarlids featuring Doc & Ella

Stress has nestled itself taut between her shoulders, more well at home there than she is in her East End flat. Her hand makes a habit of attempting to ease the tension at the back of her neck but it does very little to actually sooth. One foot toes the hell of the other and then vice versa, discarding her shoes haphazardly on the mat beside the door, hand automatically moving to slip the chain lock into place. She'd gone straight to the music shop to work a shift after leaving the bar last night.

Normally she can cram in a few hours sleep between her set and opening shift but these record label guys had cornered her outside the storage closet she puts her deejaying equipment in. The bar owner's doing— he'd snuck a demo of hers into the hands of some one he knew that worked there without her knowing a few weeks back and they've been haunting her since. A few years ago she would have folded to their compliments, desperate for approval, still believing she had what it takes to make this dream come true. There had been other offers. Some more fickle, some seedier ones and while they didn't seem to be taking the same approach it was always hard to tell in the beginning. Ill intentions often take a little while to become apparent in the music industry. Their little chase was not particularly forceful but littered with promises that sounded too good to be true. That, too, was a previously learned lesson. The whole ordeal had her anxiety at the limit.

Now as her adrenaline has ebbed, exhaustion unpacks itself from the half moon shadows under her eyes, creeping insidiously to everywhere else. She smashes a button on her stereo on her way to the kitchen, a CD she'd burned slotting into place from among the five disk rotation; a relic of a childhood that teens now would consider vintage. She's selected to repeat the second track and an instrumental studio recording Elliott Smith made but never released fills the dead air. She cranks open the tiny window above her sink and drinks two full glasses of lukewarm tap water before lighting a cigarette. She holds it between her teeth as she sets up the coffee pot.

The only thing separating the living room and kitchenette is an island so she takes two steps around it to collapse into an scuffed armchair and lets her head fall back to stare at the ceiling. Smoke curls lazily upward, and she considers popping an Ativan when she hears the knock. Her head lulls to the side, equally wary and curious. As she sits up she taps her screen to check the time. Nash had relieved her at the music store, both Emerson and Dexter are on tour— and she wasn't due back to the bar for two nights. Ella exhales, smudging out the cigarette in an ashtray on the coffee table and moves to answer the door. There's no peephole so she opens it just enough for the chain to catch, peering out.

To her surprise, she recognizes him— though they have definitely never met. Anxiety flares under the knit brows of confusion. She can't figure how this has come to be. While she considers her few friends among music legends, she's never had a random one show up at her door before. Ella fumbles for what to say in this situation and without unchaining the door, lands lamely on, "Uhm— hi, can I help you?"

[sunliights]

a closed starter for @sugarlids featuring rowan.

“by the time i woke up, you were gone.” rowan tries not to sound too pathetic when she says it, though ultimately she fails since an edge of hurt manages to creep into her voice. “did something happen? did you ever plan on calling? texting?”