#heath: starter

[ediblepansy]

location: mess hall muse: heath and your pick! @conquermadness

There was a sharp, bright sound coming from the large silver bowl Heath was currently at play with. Sizzling french fries landed inside, fresh from the fryer. Heath had made it his mission to discover and create the best chips recipe, perfection was his own quest. With cooking, an unending one.

"This is how I serve them--with a dash of salt." For the masses... but he wasn't serving the masses at this moment. "What topping do you prefer? Sweet, savory... I got it all. Or I could make a dip?"

[hellonexrth]

open to all ! event: laurie & hope's wedding reception

It was in his nature to stand outside the bar, eyes peeled, making sure that absolutely no one got into the establishment that wasn't invited. Even though they'd enlisted the help of other supernatural body guards, Heath didn't trust them more than he trusted himself. And despite Hope's constant wishing that he'd stayed dead—which he'd assumed was in good nature, but honestly could never tell—he did want the event to go smoothly for her and her husband.

So, he leaned against the brick wall near the entrance and kept his eyes glued to the invitations as they were shown, scanning the faces to make sure they were familiar—and not in a you look like someone who almost tried to kill me kind of way.

[grcveyacd]

open — anyone! muse — heath anderson, 35, assistant soccer coach for norte dame. plot— i've been wanting a love, rosie type plot for a while now. so, i figured i would whip a starter up for it!

“ so, how was your flight? “ he wastes no time picking up their bag, and effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder, somewhat glad that they had decided to pack light. though, with it only being a weekend trip, he figured that not much was really needed to get them through the next few days. “ did you manage to get any sleep, or did your seat buddy talk about the meaning of life with you again? “ he teases, shoulder playfully bumping into theirs. “ we have a party to crash in a few hours so you’ll have time to squeeze in a nap if you need it. “ 

[hardtchill]

Do you think Angel City will sign Tobin if she didn't retire?

they dropped 400k on a teenager and have the tactical sense of a sea slug so i can't imagine why they wouldn't...

[knotfodder]

@leagueofheros

Arthur had a fairly simple life. Followed a fairly simple routine. Wake up, feed his familiar whatever is left of the dry food before he begins to badger him for the wet food. Waking up everyday as Judgement Day came closer and closer to him. Judgment Day, oddly enough, is the name of Arthur's familiar - a siamese cat with a white pelt and brown point coloration on its face ears and tail. The cat named himself if you can believe it. The cat stares up at Arthur, dissatisfied with his choice of meal. Arthur stares back with his blue eyes, almost holding the stare until the alarm on his phone sounds off. "Fuck, I'm late!"

Breakfast would usually be next in the witch's routine, but as Arthur has found, there wouldn't be enough time. The wrath of Judgement Day might have been quelled but museum was still waiting for him. Arthur walks quickly to the museum of magic where he worked. It was a small and odd looking museum, domed in vibrant glass. He enters from the back of the museum and opens the doors from the inside. Arthur, being distracted by his mental checklist of things to do, accidentally slams a door onto someone. "Oh!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Hope I didn't... Oh." Arthur began to chuckle as he began to look over the man he'd crashed the door into. He couldn't but think of how good he smelled. "I'm not sure who I should apologize to first... You or the door."

"I think there's a dent on it now." Arthur chuckles awkwardly.

[angelvings-archived]

status     :     open     . muse     :     heath     dawson     .     plot     :     anythingg     .   open     for     :     anyone     !

« what      are      you      doing      here      ?     i      told      you      not      to      come     . »      

[angelvings-archive]

status     :     open     . muse     :     heath     dawson     .     open     for     :     anyone     !

« what      are      you      doing      here      ?     i      told      you      not      to      come     . »  

[milonavarroo]

Location: SAE Time: Early in the morning after a rush party Who: @heathtalbot

It was a long arduous task getting people to get the fuck out of the house after a party, which was why Milo usually left to go back to his dorm instead of sticking around to help. But Rush was important, and he needed to show face. Fine. He did, he even helped clean up a little bit afterwards before finally tossing himself down onto the couch next to Heath, offering some of the half filled bag of mixed nuts he was holding towards the other. "Why does it feel like every crop of freshmen just gets worse and worse?" He asked, leaning back with a scoff. "I don't think I talked to a single damn one that I wanted to be around for more than five minutes."

[persephonyed]

closed starter for @housefircs ft. daisy & heath !

daisy could easily spend her days lounging by the pool with a good book and a bottle of wine, but the delicious addition of watching heath wyatt hard at work definitely elevated the vibe. "you look good drenched in sweat, muscles bulging and shit," the girl sipped from her glass, eyes trailing along the top of her glasses as she observed. they'd been hanging out for a couple months now, and though her parents had no idea, they recently mentioned wanting to remodel their pool house, and daisy managed to convince them she knew the perfect handyman.

[thatwaywardgirl]

Hello everyone out there reading this!

I am really excited to start this blog. Growing up I had an overwhelming feeling of isolation and being completely on my own. I felt scared, sad and ashamed of myself for who I was. The incredibly sad thing is I never knew who I was, and yet I hated myself.

I was the daughter of a narcissistic mother and I was abused throughout my childhood. This blog is for all the people who feel alone in their struggle, in their suffering. I want to be someone's light, someone's assistance in whatever they are going through. Offer a different perspective and outlook.

I'll be writing about my life over the last 29 years, where I went wrong, where I was wronged and how is do things differently if I could. My neurodivergent brain has a lot to say, so I hope you enjoy!

[wingboundwarrior]

January Activity

Status: Passed! Skill Points Gained: 1

Activity ➜ +1 Sword

Skill Changes:

Sword - D -> D+

[ediblepansy]

location: mess hall kitchen muse: heath and your pick!

The last tablespoon of frosting was pressed through the pastry bag, giving an extra cupcake the final swirl it needed. Back ups were always required, in case of accidents or demigods that might want to take a half dozen home. "Thanks for the help, I'm usually always on top of the catering." But his recent injuries had been slowing down the operation. Two fingers were missing, one from each stickied hand. The ring on his right and the pointer on his left.

"Because of you, my reputation can remain flawless." A reputation he'd obviously invented himself. "Decorations can wait till tomorrow." No need to keep a volunteer up another ungodly hour.

[zaraxkumar]

Saira had been over the moon about this ice skating date with Willa and honestly it was all Zara had been hearing about for the last week. She'd arranged her outfit nearly three days in advance and had been bright and chirpy first thing in the morning even if they weren't going to be out meeting Willa and Heath until later in the day. She was out there enjoying herself with Willa, both the girls taking small strides while Zara hung back with Heath. His words had her chuckling before she nodded. "Thankfully I do, however I would probably need to rent a pair since I didn't bring mine with me." She did sometimes ice skate with her daughter during the winter months but given how Saira had a partner for today, Zara didn't bring them along.

"They'll be fine though Heath, you worry too much," so did she but she was working on this new thing where she was trying to give her daughter some space, not wanting her to get suffocated with her mother's overprotective nature. "After this, I was thinking of taking Saira for hot chocolate at Serendipity, you guys want to join?"

@zaraxkumar

location: ice skating rink

the crisp december air nipped at heath’s face as he crouched by willa, adjusting the strap of her skate for what felt like the fifth time. she bounced impatiently, her breath forming tiny clouds in the cold "you don’t need to check it again! i’m fine!” she insisted, her voice carrying the determined tone he’d grown used to. heath smirked, tugging her scarf snug around her neck before letting her go, watching as she toddled toward the rink, her arms outstretched for balance. his heart clenched as she stepped onto the ice, her small frame navigating the smooth surface with more courage than grace.

standing back near the barrier, heath stuffed his hands into his coat pockets, his gaze fixed on willa skating alongside zara’s daughter. the holiday lights reflected in his eyes as he shifted his stance, the crunch of snow under his boots grounding him "please tell me ya know how to ice skate" the man said to zara, looking at her direction briefly "ya know, just in case we need to get out there and keep up with the gals"

[grcveyacd]

“ it’s not a marriage proposal — it’s just one drink. “ he calls over the music, eyes never averting from the shitty cover band playing in the corner of the bar. “ we can talk shit about how out of tune their instruments are, and how the vocalist has been slurring since the second song. “ he chuckles, finally looking down at them. “ just one drink and you’ll never have to see me again — or you know, you won’t have to see me until the next time my sister chooses to invite me out at least. “ // @writtn liked for a random starter from heath

[theirlives]

this  is  a  bit  dangerous,    but  consider  this  a  blog  -  wide  christmas  starter  call.    because  i’m  in  a  very  merry  mood.    please  specify  a  fandom  and/or  muse,    otherwise  you  probably  won’t  get  a  starter.    happy  for  you  to  give  multiple  options<3    and  to  make  it  all  a  bit  easier,    i’ve  put  my  full  blogroll  under  the  cut  for  you  to  find.  

multi  -  muse  blogroll: please note all these blogs are sideblogs.

btvs  /  angel  the  series    —    @hllmouths

charmed  (1998)    —    @chaermd

cobra  kai  /  the  karate  kid    —    @cobraes

mixed  film  media    —    @mediocrisfaebula

mixed  medical  &  first  responders  drama    —    @saivelives

mixed  television  media    —    @imperfectafabula

shameless  (us)    —    @scamsteal

supernatural    —    @huntaers

the  hunger  games    —    @burntodds

the  walking  dead    —    @livesrisked

tvdu    —    @vervaeins

twilight    —    @eclpsis

canon  solo-muse  blogs: the  following  blogs  are  not  tied  to  this  hub  and  you  will  receive  a  follow  back  from  them.

andie  star  from  tvdu    —    @reportergirl

allen  francis  doyle  from  angel  the  series    —    @frstsoldier

amara  from  supernatural    —    @amoralforce

ansel  from  the  originals    —  @northsalpha

barbara  kean  from  gotham    —    @barbarabtch

bela  talbot  from  supernatural    —    @hellsbelas

william  "bill"  harvelle  from  supernatural    —    @harvhells

carmen  berzatto  from  the  bear    —    @yeschhef

cordelia  chase  from  btvs  &  angel    —    @visiongrl

denny  duquette  from  grey’s  anatomy    —    @duquete

fiona  gallagher  from  shameless    —    @caretkr

illyria  from  angel  the  series    —    @smurfdemon

lexi  branson  from  tvdu    —    @towelgrl

lucille  smith  from  the  walking  dead    —    @saviormatriarch

negan  smith  winchester  taken  from  the  walking  dead  and  placed  within  supernatural or cobra kai    —    @unclenegan

sierra  morton  from  shameless    —    @spprtstaff

victor  zsasz  from  gotham    —    @contractkills

original character  solo-muse  blogs: the  following  blogs  are  not  tied  to  this  hub  and  you  will  receive  a  follow  back  from  them.

lord anton  bevell  based  in  supernatural    —    @antnbvll

heath  smith  from  the  walking  dead    —    @ironedson

spencer  masters  based  in  supernatural    —    @lostsistr

[thehardy-boys]

The Platform Part 6 (Tommy Shelby x Reader)

Hey there! Thank you all again for your incredible kindness and encouragement! I'm so glad you are enjoying following this little story! I've tried to tag everyone who asked but if I've missed somebody please just let me know! Thank you all again for taking the time to read this!

Warnings: Finally some smut but literally not heavy...like hot kissing basically, vague talk of mental health problems

Part 6

Accompanied by Thomas’s pronouncement came Evelyn’s constant nagging. It got to the point where (y/n) finally snapped, “I don’t know! Please Evelyn, leave me alone so I can work.”

She huffed and sullenly returned to her desk and now (y/n) had to deal with the sour stares Evelyn gave her anytime they crossed paths.

It was true that (y/n) had no idea where she stood with the holiday party. She hated the idea of being surrounded by strangers, even worse upper class London strangers. This wasn’t really her area; never mind the fact she had nothing to wear to such an event. So, (y/n) never decided. She told herself she would think about it but when Saturday night came, and she found herself without realizing it hunting through her small closet and carefully placing her makeup it looked as if she had made her mind up a long time ago.

She took the evening train alone, her shawl wrapped around her shoulders for warmth. (y/n) had brought a small book to read on the train, one that fit into her handbag. But she found herself much preferring to watch the window. The frantic blurring of the darkening landscapes. (y/n) had moved from London to Small Heath a few years ago now. She had always wanted to go back but never found the excuse. She was somewhat worried that if she ever visited, she might never come back.

The fancy hotel that the party was being held in wasn’t that far a walk from the train station. The streets were crowded with the London night life. (y/n) fit right in with her shimmering dress. With each step closer her pulse thrummed louder in her ears. Her palms started to sweat. She would stay an hour, just an hour. The butler graciously took her shawl when she entered the decorative building and she steeled herself before she walked past him into the lion’s den.

(y/n) had never seen anything like it before. The entire room was made out to be a winter wonder land. Hanging baubles, mistletoe, pine trees lining the room, fake snow resting on surfaces, and twinkling fairy lights hanging on the walls. It was overwhelming. This was how the other half lived.  She wasn’t standing alone for long before Evelyn swooped out from a mass of people to grab her arm and drag her into the swarming herds.

(y/n) found herself joining a group of chattering people and then Evelyn was nudging her pointedly. (y/n) looked around and found Thomas, already watching her, whiskey glass in hand, and cigarette already fuming. He licked his lips slowly, they glistened and (y/n)’s eyes were drawn to them like moth to flame. One could describe Thomas’s look as hungry bordering on ravenous. It tickled something inside of her, knowing that it was her that was teasing this out of him.

“Mr. Shelby,” She started, and his eyes raked over her face, body, “Ms. Lowe wanted to pick your brains about horses. She’s very interested in the races.” And with the conversation starter done she slipped away, over to the bar. She wasn’t exactly playing hard to get but something similar. The moment they shared in the field was prominent in her mind. The heat of his body. There was something unspoken between them, a tether, a rope, some kind of connection.

She ordered herself a whisky and rested against the bar. It wasn’t long before a gentleman made himself known to her. This dress was doing her wonders. He was kind and respectful. He worked for a paper importer. He was rich. His hair was brown but not the same brown as another man she knew. His eyes were brown, as well. And when she looked up into them occasionally during their chat she was always hit with a wave of disappointment. They weren’t the ocean she had grown use to. She wouldn’t have been able to find them on the platform. But she brushed it off. He was kind she reminded herself. That was already asking too much these days.

She felt his hand first, on her lower back before she caught the familiar scent of oak and smoke. Then his voice, “Do you mind if a borrow, Ms. (l/n)?”

The man in front of her, like a deer in the headlights shook his head and gave his best effort at a nonchalant smile. But he was afraid. If the devil of Small Heath asks something of you, you give him it and thank him for not taking your soul.

Thomas guided her through the crowds, the room heavy with people’s laughter and words. He opened the back door, leading them onto the balcony. (y/n) took a deep inhale of the fresh air. She hadn’t realized how starved she was indoors.

She went over to lean her forearms against the cold stone banister that overlooked lavish botanical gardens. Thomas came up to stand next to her and when she looked over, he already had a cigarette hanging between his lips. Carelessly.

“Did you need something, Mr. Shelby?”

He shook his head, “I though’ you looked bored.”

Now she shook her head, “I wasn’t. He was a nice man.” And she could see in her peripheral how he turned to look at her head on. She returned his stance, one hip leaning on the stone now.

He ran a hand roughly through his hair, disturbing the carefully styled sweep of it. He inhaled, exhaled the tar, and then threw the rest over the balcony to land in the swirling darkness below them.

“A nice man, eh?”

She nodded. He took a step forwards.

“What does that make me?”

She swallowed, eyes flickering over his form, “What does it matter what I think of you? You can be any kind of man you want.”

He clenched his jaw. And then he was suddenly all over her. Crowding her in, crowding her out. His chest meeting her own. The rough exterior of his jacket rubbing up against her. His legs on either side of her own, caging her in. His arms swallowing her torso, pulling her into him. His face inches away. He was the only thing she knew. The only thing she could feel. She gasped at his movements. Her arms coming up to his shoulders without anything else better to do. She saw his pupils blown wide, like two voids. They sucked her in. No hope of escaping. No hope.

“What kind of man do you want?” He asked her, his Birmingham accent heavy over his words. She could feel his breath ghosting over her lips.

“You want a nice man?” And he complimented his words by a gentle stroke up and down her back. The goosebumps breaking out over her skin at his movements.

“Or do you want a man who will make you feel something?” And with this he pulled her flush against him. So close she could feel his excitement for her. The heat of it. And she responded in kind, she pulsed for him. Eyes fluttering. Desire pooling heavily in her belly. It made her want to roll over and open for him. He watched her reaction, her eyes, then down to her partially opened mouth, and then down her neck to her chest. She knew her nipples were hard, and he licked his lips seeing their inviting shape through the softness of her dress.

Then he kissed her. It was different than the platform. The platform was about comfort, reassurance, something secret and unspoken. There was nothing unspoken about this. His lips enveloped her bottom one, sucking, tugging a little. Before she knew it, she had opened for him with a whimper, her hands tightening around his shoulders. His tongue swept in, warm and hot. He pushed himself further against her if that was possible. She responded by trying, in vain to move her hips a little, get some kind of friction but she was trapped between the stone and his own weight. She had to take whatever he was willing to give. And tonight, him seemed generous.

His mouth moved to her neck. Breathy kisses, biting that caused her to let out small moans before he soothed her with his tongue. He nibbled behind her ear and found a spot that drove her out of her mind.

“Mr. Shelby...” She whispered. Her hands trailing up the shaved sides of his head to anchor in his dark, dark hair.

He went further, followed her collarbone, and gently pushed the small straps of her dress down each shoulder and all at once she was exposed to both him and the cold night air. But she wasn’t cold for long. His mouth latching on to her right nipple. Licking and tasting. He molded his hand over the other. Then switched. He tweaked her other nipple, stroked it. She was out of her mind. Her body was pulsing with desire. It was raw and he was real.

“Please…” She clutched his hair, tugging.

“Please what?” He moved back up, chest, collarbone, neck, cheek, and lips. He stole her breath again with another kiss. Slotting their lips together, licking in, tasting her, savoring her.

Thomas drew back to take her in. She must look like a wreck. Lipstick smudged, cheeks flushed, and hair loosened. Not to mention her dress half way down her body. (y/n) watched him in turn. His lips were swollen and carried the hint of her own lipstick. His hair was a mess due to her pulling. But he was beautiful, still.

“Please what?” He asked again, his voice rough. His hands caressing her waist. He then carefully took each of her dress straps and dragged them back up to her shoulders, shielding her once again from the night air.

She opened her mouth to respond but the door behind them opened, “Mr. Shelby? Mrs. Chestisen would like to see you.”

Thomas made sure to adjust his body to hide her from the newcomer. He just turned his head to respond, “Alright. I’ll be there in a minute.”

He stepped back from her as the balcony door closed and the butler returned to deliver the message. Her lower back protested as she pushed away from the hard stone. (y/n) brushed down her dress and fixed her straps. She wasn’t entirely sure where she stood with Thomas. She wasn’t sure how she let it happen but what she did know is that she wanted more. More of that mouth. The hands and the warmth.

He offered her his hand, “Come with me.”

Mrs. Chestisen was the rich wife of a politician. She was curious about expanding her investments into the Shelby Limited or that’s what (y/n) gathered while sipping her drink and listening to Thomas and the lady chat. They had met in a back room, still decorated with the winter theme and still incredibly ornate with a personal bar. (y/n) wasn’t entirely sure why Thomas had bothered to invite her to the meeting. Thomas had led her through and offered her a drink. Mrs. Chestisen didn’t even bat an eyelash at her presence, in fact she hadn’t even acknowledged her before jumping into her business. She was an uptight lady, crisp white dress, shiny, pointed shoes, a dramatic Christmas brooch. Her hair looked like it had been glued in place. (y/n) didn’t like her.

“Ms. (l/n), wasn’t it?” (y/n) looked over from her position in front of a large panting on the other side of the room. Mrs. Chestisen had spoken to her. (y/n) walked over to the two of them. Thomas was leaning against the bar and the lady was sitting on one of the bar stools. Her back ram rod straight.

“Yes?” (y/n) stopped in front of her.

“Your brother, Matthew (l/n)?”

(y/n)’s blood ran cold. Matthew.

Thomas’s head looked over at her, taking in her sudden change of character.

“Yes?” Her voice soft.

Mrs. Chestisen smirked, “He served with my son. I heard what happened. I wanted to express my condolences.”

“Thank – ”

“Not that you need them.”

(y/n) blinked, “I’m sorry?”

“Yes, you should be.” Mrs. Chestisen snapped back.

Thomas looked between the two of them, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” (y/n) responded hoarsely. She was caught off guard. Who was this woman?

The lady slipped off her chair and walked towards her, “I’m talking about what you did to him, Matthew.”

“What I did to him?”

“That you killed him.” She hissed out, “When my son found out he was beside himself. I had to send him to a sanatorium for months, months. It tore my family apart!”

(y/n) stood stock still. Her blood turning to stone. Her heart thumping in her ears. A fire burning deep within her suddenly alighted.

Matthew. Poor Matthew. He came back from the war, but he was…different. Absent. Twisted. Gaunt. Haunted. He moved back to Small Heath to be with their mother. He needed family. He needed warmth but he was unraveling. Unraveling and when (y/n) moved back to take care of him he overwhelmed her. He fell apart in her hands as she desperately tried to put him back together again.

“Killed him!? I looked after him. I took care of him. I tried to help him but he, he couldn’t be saved. He couldn’t – I couldn’t help him. I didn’t know how.” Her breath came short, her fists clenched in anger.

Mrs. Chestisen scoffed, “It’s clear you couldn’t help him.”

(y/n) stood there in utter shock, in complete anger, “I don’t have to stand her and take this. I don’t have to stay here and listen to you judge me, re-write the past. I don’t know you. I don’t owe you an explanation.” (y/n) left and she didn’t spare a glance at Thomas because she had a feeling. A terrible, terrible feeling.

She pushed through the crowds, the throngs, she ignored the heavy tones of Christmas carols and the sharp scent of nutmeg and cinnamon. She dodged Evelyn’s outstretched hands, and she broke out into the lobby. The butler placed her shawl around her shoulders and bid her a goodnight, but she couldn’t stop. The freezing winter night slapped her in the face, and she took a deep breath to steady her trembling hands. She was so angry. That lady had no right to speak to her like that. To say his name, to accuse her. (y/n) felt rubbed raw, split open.

She walked further up the street debating the options of catching a late train or just ordering a car but then she heard him call for her.

“(y/n)!” He came down the front steps of the lavish building and walked briskly over to her. His arms reaching out to her, and they just brushed her waist before she walked backwards to maintain their distance.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” (y/n) hissed at him, clutching her shawl tighter around her. Their moment on the balcony seemed miles away now. The desire she had felt for him, that had pulled her forward into his arms was iced over. She felt humiliated.

“Don’t touch me.” She repeated softer and he held up both his hands as a sign of acceptance, but he didn’t look happy about it.

“Just let me explain—”

“No, No, I don’t think I need an explanation. You knew she knew me. You knew that she knew my brother, didn’t you. You used me. All this time, then? All this fucking time? I’m sick of people taking my life apart. I’m tired of people telling me what happened. I know what happened!” Her voice broke and she trembled under the dark gaze of the winter air. Thomas made a move to walk forward but she shook her head. His face was unreadable, indifferent and it angered her.

“You’re a terrible man. To use my brother against me. I didn’t kill him.” She whispered out feebly into the street, “I didn’t kill him.”

Thomas stood there; his mouth slightly parted at her tirade. His breath came out and clouded around him.

“I regret it.” (y/n) broke the building silence between them, “I regret that moment on the platform. I regret tonight.”

She turned and walked back up the dark road to the train station. She caught the last train to Small Heath. She sat and looked out the window, but it was so dark out there that she could only see her own reflection. She had been right all along, silly girl, stupid girl.

Part 5 --- Part 7

Tags: @black-kitten-imagines, @illuminwtesz, @slutforcoffein, @madeinuk, @in0320, @globetrotter28, @txmxav, @christina-who,