#sorrybcby

although many would have considered morgan lucky, he wasn’t so convinced. for as long as he’s been alive ( practically ), he’s been forced in front of cameras and onto filmsets, making a wage for his parents; one the epitome of a stage mother, the other a supposed producer, though morgan can’t say he’s ever really respected the older man; allowing his wife to produce and direct every single sector of his and his son’s life. as a result, he didn’t get to have a normal childhood. perhaps that wasn’t a big deal to those that had, but it was to him. it’s why now, he does whatever he wants to. he turns up to the parties despite his parents disapproval, he tries anything that’s handed to him and whilst that could be a risk, he couldn’t say he was particularly phased by keeping a picture perfect image at this point -- anything to spite his parents, apparently. tonight is no exception to that rule. being invited to a party by a friend he’d met outside the barriers of the entertainment industry, he immediately answers with the affirmative, and before long he’s stood inside a relatively small home, with a red solo cup in hand, no real visual differences between him and the plethora of other young adults currently swarming the decorated abode. although a lot of child stars did end up as wildchilds, it had yet to occur for morgan...though it wasn’t completely off the cards, he was just -- ever so ignorant to the possibility. it doesn’t take long for him to want to rest his feet, since he had been on them all day. the only available seat however, was relatively small, next to a stranger. a very pretty stranger, sure, but a stranger regardless. still, if he doesn’t start conversing now, when would he really? “is this seat taken? sorry...this place is real crowded.” he remarks, his smile soft and welcoming as he looks over at the female, hopeful she’ll be okay with him sitting there, not -- somehow repulsed. / @sorrybcby​

yvie shudders when she notices the signs that someone besides them has been there. someone’s been living there, even, judging by the evidence of a bed and clothing. she gulps, hoping the darkness covers up her nerves. as gwen walks towards the closet, she’s almost startled by the way she takes charge. then she’s rolling her eyes as she watches her struggle, turning her head to look elsewhere until she has the closet door open. she can’t help but let out something between a scoff and a chuckle. “jeez, ask nicely first.” she replies softly, walking over to where she is and raising her eyebrows at the words that follow. “what?” crouching down beside her, she takes a look at the duffel bag, using her bat to try and push it open a little bit more, brows furrowing together at what she’s looking at. she’ll blame the darkness, but she can’t quite tell. “what is that?” she questions, resisting the urge to touch it because that’s definitely an awful idea.

‘ can you stop by the apartment tonight? ’ was the text she’d sent him. it wasn’t too vague to get the male worried, but it also didn’t give him too much information. it had to be better than one of those ‘ we need to talk ’ texts that she could’ve sent. mila finishes plating their dinner, carrying them towards the table and placing them down quietly. she sits across from the male, fork spinning in pasta for a few moments before she places it back onto the table. she’s not hungry; not with the news that’s consumed her mind for the entire day. “ i haven’t been at the bakery all week. it’s weird... i kept waking up sick and didn’t want to give anyone the flu or something. ” the femme pauses, gaze drifting from the pasta on her plate up to walter’s features. “ but, it’s — it’s been like a month since, uh — yeah. i thought it was stress-related with that catering order we had but — ” she pauses, hopeful that the male will catch onto the reference to her late period. mila doesn’t want to waste too much time trying to explain the semantics. “ i took a test this morning... i’m pregnant. ”

        things with edith had been fun --- especially because it was a service that willow was paying for. after all, she always wanted to support women in the industry. whether or not it was purely sex related, giving women the power to use their bodies in order to make money? amazing. and willow was all for erasing the stigma... however, it was an expensive service. and right now? all she could afford was netflix. “tonight was really fun,” willow said with a giggle, bundled up as she locked arms with the other walking home from the christmas market they were at. they were almost at her apartment, and willow was happy to make hot chocolate and cuddle --- but she didn’t want to keep this secret for much longer. “not that i expect anything, but... with the new year coming up, i really have to start budgeting. and as much as i loving hanging out with you, i feel bad... ‘cause i really can’t afford it anymore. and i just don’t want you thinking i started seeking someone else, because it’s totally not that!”

jana’s been in the middle of studying for the last few hours, a youtube video playing on her television but going mostly ignored. she likes the background noise of it and occasionally looking up to see another component of the woman’s makeup done. if she had her way, she’d be the one making the makeup tutorials, but it’s not exactly a realistic goal in the oversaturated market. so instead, she studies and she works for something more concrete. the only thing to truly pull her out of her reading is a knock at her window. at first she thinks it’s a bird, but when she lifts her head to glance at the mirror which reflects the window and sees mateo, she almost jumps out of her skin. slamming the book closed, she gets up off her bed and walks over to the window, helping to pull the heavy thing open. “what the hell are you doing here?” she questions, a little alarmed but certainly impressed that he’s at a second story window. once it’s open, he can properly get inside and she glances behind her at the door with a little bit of fear. “you know, you must have a death wish or something! if anyone saw you...” she doesn’t finish that thought, whisper yelling as quietly as she can though she knows her brothers sleep like the god damn dead. still, why had she let him in, if she was so worried?

kamran couldn’t get a grip of himself. it’d been weeks since he’s heard from margaret. the two had been circling around in this vicious cycle of theirs. constantly breaking things off when things go from good to down right awful. whenever things got bad for the two, it was bad. they’d fight and yell at each other. things were even worse when they were apart. he knew that he’d pull off something dramatic like “accidentally” sending her a picture saying how badly he wanted her to be in bed with him but would use a random name. just what was it about her that kept him coming back for more? he knew that they were both bad for each other. just the fact that they both went out of their way to make the other jealous was enough to make his own friends question why he was drawn to her. that must explain why he battled with himself on whether or not he should get out of his car that was parked right outside of her place. he shouldn’t do it. in less than a month, things would start to get rocky between the two. he should not get out of his car. there were far better things to be doing than potentially making a fool of himself on this fine evening. and yet here he was, slowly getting out of his car and making his way to her door. kamran was ready to risk the fact that she could have someone over. his hardened heart was ready to face the disappointment. perhaps that’s why he knocked on her door twice before shoving his hands into his pockets. tired eyes looking down at his battered up converse. “open up, marg. it’s me.” he said loud enough, foolishly hoping that some random person wouldn’t open the door in front of him. 

gideon doesn’t really appreciate the notion of responsibility. of course, he’s a man just a few years short of thirty, he does have responsibilities and deals with them adequately, but he does it under protest. if he could, he’d probably have his mother take care of everything for him, even though she drives him nuts. it’s less about the responsibilities themselves, more just having them in general, and he tries to blow off as much as he can, as much as he can get away with. it’s not easy, having people count on him, especially a publishing house that’s wondering when he’s going to finally start working on his next novel. sometimes, he just wants to give it all up, take his royalties and trust fund and fuck off somewhere, a place where only his little sister will be able to contact him and that’s only when he wants to talk to her. of course, he can’t just fuck off into the unknown, but maybe he can take a little break. go on a little impromptu trip to paris, just like they always talked about in high school, dropping everything and hopping the next plane to france together. perhaps a little high, gideon’s pounding on their door until it opens and he’s briefly left knocking on air. with their face in front of his, he quickly grabs their forearms and looks at them a little too intensely. “listen, i know i haven’t seen you since that christmas party last year, but i want to go to paris. just pack your fucking bags like right now and we’ll go, like we used to dream about as kids.” okay, perhaps he’s more than a little high, but he’s never felt clearer.

it’s over for sally, then, with those words her heart could explode; it flutters, instead, and she begins to smile. "how could i be?” it’s not rational, to sally, to fear the image of her girlfriend covered in blood. it’s not as though she burst in guns blazing, knives poised for the kill. imogen has been nothing but gentle, with sally . . . and to sally, nothing else matters. it’s not as normal as discovering your girlfriend dabbles in juggling or amateur radio, but sally doesn’t judge. “you could never scare me away.” confusion would be the closest thing, longing for explanation. and the blonde continues to amaze her, like a mind-reader (a really sexy mind-reader). sally, with wonder, looks down & admires the splatters and smears of blood on her girlfriend’s hands, her thumb caressing genny’s gently. it doesn’t seem frightening but as more of the blood that hasn’t quite dried stains her skin, sally feels a chill run up her spine, and she knows: fear is not what she is feeling. sally brings their interlocked hands to her lips, where she places a soft kiss to imogen’s fingers and says, “tell me.” from here!