HE'D TRADE HIS GUNS FOR LOVE-

     Jack knew something was up when they felt a tug on the trawl. Tugs, in essence, weren’t uncommon. It’s pretty normal to snag on debris, coral, rocks- and though it’s a bit of a hassle, it’s not the end of the world. But this pull was different. It was immediate, sudden, and then desperate. It tugged backwards and made the boat rock slightly, and Jack could hear the ropes strain. There was more pulling for a while, then a bit of stillness, and the commotion dissipated. But Jack knew better. 

     That was the tug of something living. 

     When the trawl was brought up, he knew he was right, because tangled in the mass of yellow rope and buoys was a curled, fleshy grey tail that had cocooned around it’s self. The skin seemed smooth, but rising up from the dorsal line were menacing spines, mostly broken and jagged, and the immaculately cream color was marred by old and fresh scars that reminded him of the war wounds on sperm whales. As the trawl was heaved up onto the boat, Jack instinctively pushed people back. The catch dropped, and everyone got an eyeful of snarling, hissing, and decidedly pissed mer. A leviathan, which Jack never thought he’d ever see in his lifetime. It was pale from lack of direct sunlight, and bigger in size than what humans typically are. 

@llacus

Although she was distrusting of humans, she wasn’t about to let one die because she chose not to help. Popping her head out of the waters, despite how choppy they were, she yelled out to the man on the boat.

“Hey! If you keep going that way, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

     Morrison stopped moving as he heard a voice, distinctly female, delicate over the soft crashing of waves. It’s not as if he hadn’t heard a mer before in his life- they’re prolific in any waters. But typically, they’re not that friendly. Especially not their women, for understandable reasons. 

     But he responds out of politeness, leaning over the side of the boat to look down at a blonde head of hair poking up from the dark waters. 

llacus replied:

omlette of cheese

thanks soldier 69

     Jack stares far up at the high ceiling of the Gibraltar base, his body slouched LOW in the couch he’d been occupying for about three hours now. Of course, he would have gotten up and found something else to do much sooner, if he’d not suddenly been weighted down by a very small ( and very heavy ) Steel- guess she was living up to her name. But really, it’s just the prosthetics that get so cumbersome. Sometimes they’re light polymer- other times they’re LITERAL steel and copper. Whether or not he can lift her into his arms like she loves so much just really depends on the day. 

                    eat. man, he couldn’t remember the last time he actually sat down and had a meal. he was surprised he hadn’t gained on fifty pounds from all the stolen gas station cakes he’d had, stuffing his backpack full with enough until the cashier seemed to be suspicious. then it was back onto the road to stuff his face with twinkies and jerky. “i’m not actually heading anywhere in particular,” nate admits, resting wearing bones back against the beaten up seat. anything was better than being on his feet. “anywhere that isn’t new york is fine with me. i’ve never been to new orleans, though. have you been there?”

                    as he speaks, nate reaches into his backpack, producing a very warm bottle of water that he takes a few drinks from. well, the bottle itself was beaten and old, and he’d been refilling it when he had the chance. sinks and water spouts from houses he’d passed. better dirty water than passing out from dehydration.

                    “if you’ll have me, i’m more than happy to tag along. never been to texas, either, though. could be fun. don’t know if i could pull off a cowboy hat though, and i think it might be a requirement.” a smile cast in her direction, capping his bottle and setting it alongside his thigh on the seat. a road trip sounded much better than hitchhiking his way across the us, anyway.

     “ New York? Damn, you’re far from home, Cher.” She says it the cajun way; sha, with a sweet smile and her hand loosely clasped on the bottom of the steering wheel. Her left arm relaxes against the door as she steers them into the fastest lane. “Texas is the worst- I hate it out there.” She scrunches up her nose in distaste. “Everyone is rude and angry, and the climate sucks- so dry.” Not to mention the crime, the empty space, the danger. But she lives for that sort of thing. 

     “ It’s on the way to Nevada, though, so I’ll just have to suck it up.” Wild horses. That’s what she’s going to see. Then, who knows what else she’ll go looking for. It’s her car, her money, her life. And since the Marines aren’t working out, she might as well spend her time doing the things she’s always wanted. 

TAGGED BY: @sxngre TAGGING: @thinkoutsidethesl0t @samayoo @burysong

BASICS:

name: GRACE age: 19 preferred pronouns: she/her sexuality: bi/male prefrence zodiac sign: scorpio

three facts

I can make zebra sounds

I eat anything and everything, especially pineapple on pizza

I live in Louisiana and I’m cajun

EXPERIENCE:

How long (months/years?): 7! Platforms you’ve used: Tumblr, email, omegle Worst experience: being in an rp group that slowly forced me out and neglected my character as well as many oc’s I made for their group.  Best experience: playing Blue from Jurassic Park, being in that fandom, meeting one of my most enjoyable and lovely partners, fully rping a plot that ended in marriage and a happy life

MUSE PREFERENCES:

Typical muse gender: equal mix Favorite face: Probably... David Giuntoli. He has a lot of resources and fits most character archetypes. Least favorite face: ugh I just had to use jake bell and he has NO RESOURCES but he’s so gorgeous!!!! Multi or single: at the moment, single muses on their own blogs. I have been multi-muse int he past.

WRITING PREFERENCES:

     Jack Morrison       Human      Fisherman / Sailor

Jack is a well seasoned sailor born and raised on the Northern East coast of America. Frequently as a child his father would be away, off somewhere in the vast oceans, catching god knows what and earning what money he could. On shore, Jack’s mother worked at the market selling catch. When Jack was twenty, his father went overboard and drowned at sea. His body was never recovered. For most of his young adult life Jack followed in his father’s footsteps wearily, his mother begging him day after day, not to go where she could not protect him. When Jack was twenty nine, his mother died of a heart attack, leaving him their coastline house and a small fortune in saved money. And yet, Jack took to the sea. Each day he grows more reckless and more willing to do dangerous work. He has no attachments to the land, nothing keeping him in his hometown. He lives and works for the love of the sea. 

,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,do you crave it……