[center][img]http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/18200000/Fan-Arts-taylor-momsen-18299814-500-281.gif[/img][img]https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn%3AANd9GcRZYDbqMpTD_A88M-yXTGppNReFlrhgxoU_Rk72caa-DtQau8hg[/img][img]https://perezhilton.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/03/han-solo-actors.gif[/img][img]http://78.media.tumblr.com/4ebcae5c9baf64caa93c65f994010046/tumblr_n117lsDmNu1tstqeco1_250.gif[/img] [img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181015/3a3c0b8963bf0687d7aaf396d0cf0cdf.png[/img] [hr][hr] [b]Featuring: Gwen Morgan, Marci Atwood (Video Footage), Mitchell Morgan (Video Footage), Sam Morgan Location: Morgan Residence, The Boneyard (Video Footage), The Tar Pit[/b] [hr][hr] [url=https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=KisHhIRihMY]Gwens Internal Sountrack[/url] [hr] The silence was deafening. Gwen stared at the computer screen, her clothes and hair still damp from her dive into the pool and her make up smudged all over her porcelain face. As she downed yet another mouthful of tequila, the heavy metal queen grabbed hold of the corner of her desk, digging her long nails into the mahogany edge and allowing the burn of the Spanish water to sear a vocal cords. Letting out a great exhale from her aflame lungs, she slammed the bottle down and raised her head aloft to breath in even more of the silence she despised so much. Looking back to her screen with pale blue eyes, Aces reached forward and pressed play. [hr] [i]October 15th[/i] [color=pink]”Good evening ladies and gentlemen, my name is Marci Atwood and I’m here at the Boneyard in South Philadelphia, home of the one and only Endeavour Records and I get the rare opportunity of interviewing the mad scientist of music, Mitch Morgan. How are you Mitch?”[/color] Shifting in his chair slightly, Mitch scratched his bearded chin and awkwardly smiled. [color=green]”Yeah, no I’m fine. Little worn out but I’m fine”[/color] Mitchell’s strong Irish accent was like butter melting for many people. He didn’t consider himself handsome but many people despite the constant bags under his pale blue eyes and creases in his clothing. [color=pink]”Well I bet being twenty seven, running your own label, being one of the most known faces in music AND being an expectant father is pretty exhausting. How is baby and mother to be?”[/color] For a moment, Mitchell looked like a deer in the headlights, if there was one of the many many things he hated about fame was interviewers prying into his personal affairs. Privacy was a luxury that he could afford but they still wouldn’t let him buy. The Soulful Irishman shuffled in his seat again and reached out to something off camera. Pulling a beautiful peroxide blonde into focus with a huge baby bump, Mitch smiled as he looked up at her, a genuine smile from the ever miserable Mitch Morgan. Now that was a sight for sore eyes. [color=green]”They’re doing great, keeping me sane, making me happier than ever. Plus her brother can kick my arse so I have to behave”[/color] [color=pink]”That’s right, Samantha your brother is AWE superstar Gethin Rhys. Bet your house is fun st Christmas. Tell us Sam, truthfully, what’s it like being with Mitchell? No frills, no typical answers. We want the truth”[/color] Young Sam looked at her beau and they shared a loving smile. She rested her hand behind his head, running her fingers lightly through the back of his hair. [color=orange]”It can be challenging. Mitchell’s brain runs so fast and so hot that he can be awake for literally twenty three and a half hours of a day like even when we’re in bed he’s scribbling something on a notepad but at the end of the day, it’s a small price to pay for the love of a genius”[/color] She grinned from ear to ear as she also placed a hand on her stomach. [color=orange]”If I can shamelessly plug however, his new album, Parliament of Owls, is phenomenal and I can’t wait for everyone to hear it. He really poured everything into it, it’s his masterpiece”[/color] Sam was always the best hype man. [color=pink]”High praise. So both album and baby drop next month. What’s the next step for Mitchell Morgan?[/color] [color=green]”Erm, yeah no. I think once the work is done I’ll just take some time to be a dad. You know? Music is my business and my passion sure but this woman and that little girl inside her are what I love. I can’t wait to be a dad. It’s the best adventure life can offer you know?”[/color] [hr] Two weeks after this interview, Mitchell Morgan was dead. Of course, Parliament of Owls went straight to number one and even seventeen years later most people on this good planet earth had a Mitch Morgan album, a favourite song or at least knew who he was. Death had made the man a legend, something if he were alive he would’ve hated. He was the Heath Ledger of music. The circumstances of his death, an overdose, sensationalised by the media painted him as a tortured artist. The reality was far more simple; anxiety and insomnia and a bad mixture of medication killed Mitch Morgan, not the music. Watching her parents, young and in love, it increased the already unbearable pain in Gwen’s heart. Knowing full well how far they had fallen since those days, with tell all exposes and the transfer from the east to the west coast, more tears fell from her sparkling eyes.. She glanced down at her bruised wrist, every time she did all she could see was Cameron Hyde’s rage fuelled face. He had the face of an angel but there was something ugly eating away inside of him. She wiped the tears away and got to her feet, it was time to numb that damn pain. If Lee wouldn’t keep her in pills, somebody else damn sure would. After a steaming shower to clean herself up, it was time for Gwen to go to bed and Hells Favourite Harlot, Aces Morgan to come out and play. She dressed herself in a tiny black dress, thigh high black boots and a dirty flannel thar belong to her daddy. Her make up was heavily dark as usual and her lips blood red. Hurrying down the stairs, she stopped in her tracks for second as she saw her mother asleep on the couch covered in papers. It wasn’t too late just yet but it wasn’t unusual for Sam Morgan to fall asleep while working. She worked harder than anyone to make sure she and Gwen were taken care of. Aces sighed through her nose and walked over to her mother, carefully removing all of the bits of paper and placing them in a neat pile on the coffee table. They may have their differences most of the time but Gwen loved her mother. She placed a blanket over the sleeping woman and kissed her forehead. [color=azure]”Sleep tight Mom, say hi to dad in your dreams for me”[/color] She whispered before heading out of the door. [hr] The Tar Pit was one of those rat bag dirty joints on the dark side of Hollywood. It was a favoured hang out of Gearheads and Burnouts. The Heavy Metal Queen had scored herself some dirt sheep Oxy and was parking her perfect ass on a stool at the Pit drowning her sorrows in snakebites. The constant updates on her phone from BHHS couples and happier folks made her want to throw it at the wall. She washed down another load of pills with her drink before jumping from her perch and grabbing the nearest beer bellied trucker she could find. Not for nothing but damn she could shake her ass. The world was blurring, the lines between euphoria and horror had blended and the feelings had all but become one mass of joy and sadness at the same time. Falling Into dark madness was enthralling for the gypsy goddess, Pour Some Sugar On Me was the perfect sleazy soundtrack for her descent. Madness was the emergency exit and she was giving herself up to it. At least she was until the song switched to the Velvet Underground’s Pale Blue Eyes, a favourite of her father’s. She fled her chubby truckers arms and ran into the bathroom. Staring into her reflection, she placed a hand on either side of the wall and let out a howl. All the best gypsy girls had daddy issues…[/center]