heathmorgan

[heathmorgan]

Send Smash or Pass + a name and my muse will say if they would smash or pass on that person.

[heathmorgan]

willa was back in italy and the penthouse felt almost haunted without the contagious laughter of a child, the drawings and toys scattered throughout the rooms. heath, in turn, regretted leaving his daughter the moment he got on the plane heading back to new york city. with his brother in texas and rahi making his debut as a wag, the only person who would listen to endless hours of complaints was his cousin thaddeus - the rational part of the family. heath entered the loft, each step he took the guilt weighed on him, knowing he'd arrived unannounced, invading his cousin's space without warning.

their eyes met, and the words uttered by his cousin were like a burden lifted from his shoulders "close 'nough, i brought whiskey" he admitted, taking the bottle out of the bag with a smug "ya need a hand with that?" asked, nodding towards the ingredients "well now, reckon my 'mastertrash' skills might come handy"

@heathmorgan

Tracking all the ingredients for this meal had proved to be difficult being that he had been late coming home from work. The neighbor's daughter had been texting him for over an hour trying to touch base with where he was but their last call had taken them out of service longer than he had expected. Fourty minutes later he was elbow deep in ingredients, when he heard the door open. Only a few people had a key to his loft so seeing the familiar face of his cousin hadn’t been surprising. 

“Hey, want  a beer?”

[heathmorgan]

securing a frothy pint of amber hued craft beer in his hand, heath weaved his way through the crowd - careful not to spill a drop of the brew. the glass was cool against his palm, condensation trickling down its sides as he maneuvered through the sea of bodies. he stopped next to one of the tables; it was taken by a man who, to heath's surprise - or rather, misfortune - decided to try to start a conversation. the stranger was nice enough to offer a seat, which was enough to convince the other "ah, man, bless your heart. it sucks - but we all have those times" not him, but he had heard stories from others. heath took a sip of the craft beer, savoring the strong flavor that still lingered on his palate. almost as intense as the venomous words he uttered next "i ain't one for courtin'. more of a laid-back fella, acquaintances here and there" his lips curl into a self assured smirk, jawline casts a shadow over the subtle arrogance that emanates from him. he knew better, it had always been like this. no one could hold his attention long enough to seem interesting. no soul could captivate him as much as his own presence does "but reckon ya done left a trail of broken hearts behind ya. or are ya the straightforward kind, lettin' folks know yer intentions from the get go?"

" it appears as though i've been stood up. " he declared with a sigh, " and this place is packed. if you're looking for a free seat, you're welcome to join me. honestly, i'd appreciate the company before i start to spiral. " jamie said with a chuckle at an attempt to lighten the mood. dating at his age felt IMPOSSIBLE most days. attempting to find a significant other felt like trying to find a needle in the hay stack. " do you like wings? i ordered some. crispy brussel sprouts as well if you're a vegetarian. how are you at dating? " cheeks immediately tinted pink, quickly backtracking, " not- not that i'm asking YOU on a date. just. thought. well. i'm pretty shit at it so maybe you could help me out? "

[heathmorgan]

the cold bricks of the alleyway offered a reluctant assistance as he slumped against it, his body crumpled in pain. the blood stained heath's shirt, the fabric clung to him, a macabre canvas revealing the severity of the injury. a crimson tapestry traced the contours of his body, stark against the fading hues of his once white shirt. a silhouette cut through the shadows, approaching - a woman. her eyes, a mix of concern and determination, fixed upon him.

"shhhh! what in tarnation ya fixin to do?" heath said, trying to contain the stranger. his breaths came in ragged gasps "hollerin' 'help, somebody' in a dark alley with me in the dead of night, don't sit right, now does it?" he admitted, unsuccessfully trying to get up. he groaned, glancing down, his hand now pressed tightly against the wound "if ya fixin' to stir up more trouble, mosey on out of here 'cause the last thin' i need is doctors or the cops sniffin' round"

Night time, anywhere in the city.

It had been a particularly bad day at work, having lost one of her favourite patients, one she had been caring for since she moved to New York City. It happened, she knew that. She also knew that it was out of her control but that didn't stop Isabelle from feeling sad about it. On her way home, she could've sworn she heard something in one of the alleyways. The woman knew New York could be dangerous, but it sounded like someone needed help and she couldn't just walk away from that. "Are you okay?" Isabelle asked, lowering herself quickly to the ground to try and access for injuries. "What happened?" A pause, and the familiar wetness of blood was felt on her hands. God, this lighting was so shit. "Help, somebody! I need a little light over here!"

[heathmorgan]

🐦  + heath

send  🐦  + character name or subject for a tweet  my muse would have made about it — RAHI | LEE | TRISTAN | LOLA

@heathmorgan

[heathmorgan]

@father-jude said: ❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . [ prompt ]

the metallic taste of blood lingered on his lips, a stark reminder of the brutality of the bullet that had torn through flesh and muscle. each heartbeat reverberated as an agonizing throb, syncing with the pulsating pain consuming him. struggling to remain upright, heath gritted his teeth as beads of sweat formed on his forehead, his breaths came in ragged gasps, the simple act of drawing air now a laborious task.

“ fuck” he groaned glancing down, taking in the sight of a spreading pool of crimson staining his white shirt “ya know what, mosey on outta here and let me be” the man stated, leaning against the wall of the small alley. the hand pressed tightly against the wound, bright red taking over the long fingers

“ya got any knack for patchin’ up wounds? ‘cause, father jude, yer ’bout to witness a downright bloody miracle.”

[heathmorgan]

heath / vince

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    (a  series  of  nonverbal  prompts .   mature  themes  present ,   ‘ my ’  muse  belongs  to  the  one who  posted  the  meme  -  send   “ + REVERSE ”   to  reverse  the  prompts .)

→     𝐈 .    GENERAL

❛   hush .   raise  a  finger  in  a  gesture  to  silence  my  muse . ❛   sit .   gesture  for  my  muse  to  sit  down . ❛   door .   hold  a  door  open  for  my  muse . ❛   tap .   tap  my  muse  on  the  shoulder  to  garner  their  attention . ❛   hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink . ❛   cook .   present  my  muse  with  home - cooked  food . ❛   brush .   work  a  brush  /  comb  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   read .   silently  read  a  book  alongside  my  muse . ❛   hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take . ❛   dressed .   help  my  muse  put  on  an  article  of  clothing . ❛   note .   give  my  muse  a  note  saying :   [ content ] . ❛   amplify .   turn  up  the  music  in  the  car .

→     𝐈𝐈 .    ANGST

❛   patch .   help  my  muse  patch  up  a  wound . ❛   night terrors .   hold  my  muse  after  they  wake  up  from  a  nightmare . ❛   company .   silently  sit  with  my  muse  to  comfort  them. ❛   hospital .   my  muse  is  told  that  yours  is  in  the  hospital . ❛   revelation .   show  my  muse  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . ❛   indulge .   find  my  muse  drinking  to  cope . ❛   downfall .   find  my  muse  collapsed  on  the  ground . ❛   console .   comfort  my  muse  as  they  cry . ❛   nurse .   give  my  muse  company  in  the  hospital .

→     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .    AFFECTIONATE

❛   wink .   wink  at  my  muse .  ❛   wrap .   wrap  an  arm  around  my  muse’s  [ shoulders  /  waist ] . ❛   caress .   gently  caress  my  muse’s  face . ❛   tousle .   mess  playfully  with  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   chest .   place  your  head  on  my  muse’s  chest .    ❛   comb .   comb  fingers  through  my  muse’s  hair . ❛   grasp .   run  to  my  muse  &  jump  into  their  arms . ❛   lean .   lean  on  my  muse’s  shoulder . ❛   tender .   kiss  my  muse  on  the  [ forehead  /  cheek  /  nose ] . ❛   abrupt .   kiss  my  muse  out  of  the  blue . ❛   chaste .   chastely  kiss  my  muse . ❛   good morning .   kiss  my  muse  the  morning  after . ❛   volumes .   gaze  at  my  muse  in  a  way  that  silently  says  ‘i love you’ .

→     𝐈𝐕  .    VIOLENT

❛   strike .   [ slap / punch ]  my muse in the face . ❛   gun .   wield  a  gun  at  my  muse . ❛   twist .   twist  my  muse’s  arm  behind  their  back . ❛   throttle .   aggressively  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   parch .   burn  my  muse  with  a  hot  object . ❛   take down .   forcefully  bring  my  muse  to  the  ground . ❛   gouge .   wield  a  sharp  object  at  my  muse . ❛  shunt .   shove  my  muse  backwards . ❛  stickup .   yell  at  my  muse  to  put  their  hands  in  the  air. ❛  shoot .   [ fatally  /  non-fatally ]   shoot  my  muse . ❛  stab .   stab  my  muse with a  [ knife / other object ].

→     𝐕 .    NSFW

❛   surprise .   send  an  unexpected  nsfw  image  to  my  muse . ❛   pin .   push  my  muse  against  a  [ wall,  table,  other ] . ❛   go down .   go  down  on  my  muse . ❛   choke .   intimately  wrap  your  hands  around  my  muse’s  throat . ❛   belt loops .   pull  my  muse  closer  by  their  belt loops . ❛   skinny dipping .   go  skinny  dipping  with  my  muse . ❛   rip .   tear  a  piece  of  clothing  from  my  muse’s  body . ❛   mark .   leave  a  mark  on  my  muse’s  body  [ specify where ] .

[heathmorgan]

[heathmorgan]

habit was what had taken heath there that night. contrary to popular opinion, it could never be neediness because he felt complete alone. perhaps melancholy - with subtle nuances of self-destruction. ordering a cowboy whiskey, he took a moment to quickly survey the diverse crowd, each person a character in the unfolding atmosphere. as he savored the first sip of his drink, a exquisite redhead with cascading waves of hair approached, she carried an air of confidence and her blue eyes holding a malicious glint. the subtle exchange of glances laying the foundation for what was to come.

heath felt a burst of anticipation as she gracefully settled onto his lap. the soft brush of her fingertips against the wild rag tied on his neck sent a shiver down his spine, igniting a subtle tension. the scent of her perfume, a delicate fragrance that mingled with the subtle undertones of the bar's ambiance. her eyes, pools of intrigue, held his gaze, and he found himself entangled in that magnetic pull. a flirtatious smile curved on her lips as she leaned in, their proximity heightened, the warmth of her breath against his ear sparked a tingling sensation.

that was when he first noticed the enraged figure approaching them with quick steps, her light blonde hair looking almost white under the lights. he locked eyes with diana, her gaze sharp and discerning, her expression a complex blend of rage, resentment and disappointment. truth be told, he had been with diana a few times after they broke up, so he wondered how deep the cut she now felt in her chest was. perhaps almost as deep as his "shit - daddy’s in a whole mess of trouble now” he admitted, helping the stranger to get up from his lap “here, sugar, grab yerself a sweet tea ‘nd mosey on, there’s more charm in a firefly’s dance than in fussin’ over troubles not worth a nickel. ya go on nd enjoy yer night” said, placing the still full glass in her hands and watching her leave. gaze focused on the only woman who could keep his whole attention “easy, kitten, no need to stir up a ruckus” teased, a playful grin on his lips “u’re sneaky as fuck, i ain’t even notice ya”

Where: Random Bar Who: @heathmorgan When: Jan 15, 2024

Diana sat in the corner of the bar, half hidden by the shadows, azure hues glancing around the room. A random bar she selected, another night drowning herself in a drink, that the last person she expected to walk through the door was the one that broke her heart.

Part of her hated him, for leaving her like that, showing that she wasn't worth it. A part of her hated her family for the way they acted. But most importantly, she hated herself, because no matter what she did, changing for the best, it didn't matter.

She pushed back, watching him, contemplating going over to say something, or throw something; the latter most likely happening, that when she finally talked herself into doing it, a woman approached Heath. A bold ass bitch who found his lap her seat and she could feel herself seething.

The blonde waited, an arm snaking around his neck, that she couldn't hold herself back anymore. Abruptly pulling herself from the chair, she made her way over, malice vibrating from her hoes.

"What the fuck is going on?" She had no right to approach like this, but she couldn't help the jealousy that rippled through her.

[heathmorgan]

"fair play. reckon if i was mixin' them drinks, this joint would be buzzin' like a beehive, no doubt" joked, a jovial smile lighting up the masculine features "no offense, man, u're great" he quickly explained to the bartender with a nod. reaching for the whiskey bottle exposed on the counter, he poured a shot "heath - and ya could do me a solid, and quit throwin' that word 'mister' my way? that just gets my goat" he drank it all in one gulp, placing the glass back on the counter. that was perhaps the most tricky part, pretending not to know the person he had been observing for so many weeks "and you? does miss darlin' droll have a name?"

"I'm... what?" Alex asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she leaned back and stared at the man. She had no idea who he was and he didn't look familiar to her in the slightest. And his way of speaking... well, if she was being honest, it was throwing her off completely. She found herself staring, trying to piece his words into something that made more sense to her. Did he really just say darn tootin?

"Yeah well... it's not your job to move people's drinks, is it?" She quickly snatched the bottle and moved it until it was out of reach for him. "You shouldn't be grabbing what isn't yours, either." She poured more wine into her glass. "All the more reason to leave the wine bottles alone Mister..." Her head tilted to the side as she glanced towards the man. "What do I call you?"

[heathmorgan]

"real thin'? no fights allowed? the job requirements these days are gettin' worse and worse" heath playfully replied, furrowing his eyebrows "is it still considered a fight if the other person doesn't stand the chance? cause i bet ya could end him in a heartbeat" he brought the flute to his lips, taking another sip of the champagne that felt too refined for his taste "how do ya like the party?" questioned, dark brown eyes scanning the room, hoping that at least they shared the same opinion.

Riley laughs at the man's words, his idiom not one that she's ever heard before, but she can guess the meaning. "No, they really can't, and it's unfortunately universal," she shrugs. A truth she's sadly gotten used to a long time ago. "Nice to meet you too, Heath. And don't tempt me with a good time," she laughs. "I can't get into fights these days. My bosses frown on it. Something about it being unprofessional," she rolls her eyes playfully.

[heathmorgan]

it was clear from the abrasive way in which their interaction had begun that lola's plans from the beginning were to get heath off the hook. and regrettably for a man with such a volatile disposition, the successful outcome was more than foreseen.

truth be told, he didn't give a fuck about who the woman thought she was or the imaginary protection she supposed her last name gave her. all the rich rot in the same way, and at the end of the day, it was his job to hunt them down one by one.

heath's eyes flared with a sudden blaze of fury as the cold drink splashed across his face. his jaws clenched, muscles tensing with restrained violence. his gaze bore into lola's with a predatory gleam, a storm of malevolence brewing beneath the surface. the wet tendrils of his disheveled hair dripped, and he slowly wiped the moisture from his face, tasting the remnants of the drink. a sinister grin played on his lips as he said low and venomous "mocktail huh? lev wasn't full of shit, after all"

"congrats, lola, you've just added another layer to our game. you'll hate every second of it, it's demanding and their safety hangs by the fragile thread of their mother's obedience - i wonder if the only lullaby they'll know is the cruel melody of your remorse, cause for every drop of that drink, i'll make you taste a deeper, more bitter regret" his whispers hung in the air, almost papable menace that lingered long after the whispers had faded "choose wisely and stay the fuck out of my way" with a sudden, chilling calm, heath turned around without uttering another word, a dark silhouette retreating into the room shadows.

Satisfaction is all there is. She'd poked the bear, and it did what she'd hoped.

It snarled.

"Hey, it's fine," Lola tells him. "Anyone would get defensive and start behaving like a bratty teenage girl if called out on their creepy fucking bullshit." Beat. "Keep going, dude. I got the time."

And keep going he does.

"There he is. I knew it." She did know it. There is a reason why she clung to women, their softer ways. She hadn't predicted an outburst out of thin air. "Some old dude who isn't afraid, actually, to come up big against a girl half his age." She's standing with her back against the bar, looking up at the mountain that is Heath. "Bold fucking words though, to be saying to someone with two names in media." She's not one to broadcast nepotism, unless she has to. "Keep being a prick an' Villarin and Movska will have a grand ol' time dragging your whole fucking life through the mud." Drink, all over his face. Heath's rotten luck that it isn't liquor. "Asshole."

[heathmorgan]

heath made his way to the faux follie's entrance, the night enveloping him. checking his phone discreetly, he seemed unfazed by the surroundings until the female voice caught his attention "yah, sure thin' sugar - catch" said, carefully tossing the lighter towards her. always carried an extra lighter for situations like that, due to the high probability of not getting it back. at least that was what he had learned from past situations. every smoker's worst nightmare "well darlin', ya go ahead and han' on to that one. i've got me another in the back pocket" admitted with a shrug, taking advantage of the opportunity to also light a cigarette himself. despite the inner unease, he made a determined effort to mask any external traces of cocaine influence, striving to maintain composure in the bustling night scene "hows yer night goin'? is it plum full in there?" asked with a nod towards the entrance. the cigarette ember glowed as he took a drag, the smoke lazily blending with the cold night air "gotta know if it's worth moseyin' on through the hullabaloo"

For: Open 0/5 Location: Outside Faux Folie

Freshly clocked off, Aurora did not hesitate to make her way outside of her establishment of work for a quick little breather. Well, sort of. She was in need of a quick bump to keep her energized for the night ahead of her, not that she truly knew what she wanted to do with her night other than feel elevated in some form or another. There had been talk about a karaoke night at a nearby bar that she might attend if nothing else came her way. At the moment though she was fumbling around trying to find a lighter that she swore she had pocketed before leaving her place earlier in order to light one of her 'dirty joints' after her shift, but now she was having a difficult time locating it.

Thankfully she wasn't at the point where she was irritated because she hadn't yet gotten her fix but if she continued to struggle that irritation was going to escalate rather quickly, and she did not want that. Seeing someone approach the entrance to Faux Folie the curly haired brunette's facial features lit up, her eyes twinkled with a bit of hope, and she greeted them with a friendly smile. "Good evening," she greets, "would you happen to have a lighter I could borrow for a moment? I seem to have dropped mine."

[heathmorgan]

heath stopped in the middle of the stairs as soon as he heard father jude's modest request. eyes pressed tightly closed, his jaw tensed as he bit the inside of his cheek "them fuckin' idiots just 'don't know what in tarnation they're doin'" he grumbled, letting out a deep sigh of frustration, opening his eyes again "my apologies, father - i sure as shootin' can't stand for this mess. ya can bet yer boots, movin' forward, it's just you and me handlin' things. ain't need to fret" words of choice might be misunderstood by threatening, but it was only a pragmatic solution to the issue brought to him "'verythin' will work out, come hell or high water" stated, with an unapologetic grin "pardon my drawl, southern habits just dont up and die" heath admits, placing his hands inside the warm pockets of his leather jacket, pointing with his head in direction to the church "now if ya don't mind, father jude, please you go on and lea’ the way"

On the surface Father Jude showed the appearance of calm; of peaceful benevolence as he was approached by the other man. Jude saw a heaviness of soul in Heath or perhaps he just imagined it. The Priest was aware of how secrets and sin weighed on someone. Even if they had long ago grown accustomed to the weight. Everyone had their own chains, those things that bound them up to the Earth and all of the temporal things that seem so immediate and important. There was that unspoken history between them. An agreement made in a desperate moment. And Jude had to believe that their was still a chance at redemption. "Thank you Mr. Morgan." He responded to the returned well wishes. A quick cold blast of wind rushed through the yard, trapped by the bricks on each side and Jude shivered. But he nodded, "I always have time for anyone in search of something. Saints and Sinners alike." He shifted the broom into his left hand to put weight on it as he listened and sighed. Nodding his head he ran his teeth over his lower lip for the briefest moment and then nodded again. "Come inside and I'll make sure you find what you are looking for." He paused then added, "I would appreciate it if your boys were a little more respectful when they come by. If that isn't too much to ask?"

[heathmorgan]

@levmovska asked: 🌠 SHOOTING STAR - if they could make any wish with no repercussions, what wish would they make? [ prompt ]

diana

[heathmorgan]

@levmovska asked: 😭 CRYING - what makes them cry? do they cry easily? [ prompt ]

there aren't many things that affect heath, he has been through a lot in his life, and he's not the type to let it shine. however, oppression is something that really get on his nerves. hates to see any harm affecting his family and friends. he also hates having his word questioned, as well as his morality. he's not and has never been a criminal, he just fulfills his role as captain doing what has to be done. they don't cry easily, and for that to happen, it has to be something intense or a situation that takes them to their breaking point.

[heathmorgan]