#changing chapter 1

[theoldwest]

⛧ CHANGING. ⛧

chapter one: Living Dead Girl ! ✩˗ˏˋ 18+ˎˊ-✩

An OC story set in the Supernatural universe.

Contains Mentions Of: drugs & alcohol, sex & violence, and the further consequences of growing up a monster hunter.

༶ masterlist ⋆ playlist ⋆ taglist ⋆ next chapter ༶

- .✦˚.★.˚✦.　 -

Babe watched her parents get turned into werewolves when she was 10, and she was never able to be the same after. Hunting became her life, dropping out of school and running from foster homes to learn absolutely everything she could to track down her parents. At 16, she finally tracks them down and puts them out of their misery, mourning for weeks before suddenly deciding to pick right back up where she left off, vowing to only stop when she’s dead.

It’s only years later when she meets Bobby Singer. He takes her under his wing immediately, giving her an upstairs bedroom to crash in and introducing her to the Winchesters, hoping to break the hermit out of her shell just a little, but nobody really expected her to take it literally.

——————

⋆ ˚　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　. ✦　　　 　˚　.　⋆　　 . ★. ⋆. ˚　　　✦　　　.　　⋆. 　 ˚　⋆

Sam and Dean are the ones who watch her turn for the first time. It’s nearing the end of their hunt—they’ve been fighting off an unexpected swarm of werewolves for hours at this point, the barrels of their guns burning hot to the touch from how rapidly they’ve been firing.

But when the last werewolf drops, so does Babe— her whole body heaving. Something is happening.

Dean calls for her and goes to take a step closer before Sam suddenly stops him with a palm against his shoulder. She’s hunched over, hyperventilating— beginning to twitch erratically and flex oddly. The brothers have seen this behavior before, but never from her. They can’t even comprehend how the scene in front of them is actually fucking happening.

She moans in pain, and both Winchesters immediately feeling like throwing up and crying at the same time. They know Babe isn’t a shifter, so why in the hell is this happening? Why to her? Why now? She screams out in agony, digging her deep red acrylic nails into her own flesh to tear the skin from her back, the bones in her ribcage and shoulders wildly shifting and cracking— it’s absolutely horrifying.

It feels like hours go by in the 5 agonizing minutes it takes her to shift into the much larger, intimidating form, panting heavily and covered sinew and carrion.

“…Babe?” Sam basically whimpers, Dean holding in puke behind his palm.

She…? Continues to breathe heavily, slowly beginning to sit up. The dim lighting reveals her new form, now twice as wide and brutally muscular. The only way Dean recognizes it’s still her is that faded Martini glass tattoo on the back of her left shoulder.

They watch as she looks over her hands and arms, clearly just as the brothers are.

“…I—“ She begins, stopping as soon as she hears a voice emerge from her lips that she doesn’t recognize.

Sam and Dean are just… completely frozen in shock.

She flings shed from her face before slowly standing up in an attempt to collect her bearings, Her now torn-open shirt is clinging to her shoulders, her pants tight against her hips. Babe’s now a frightening six foot seven. It’s like when Captain America first gets chock-full of super-serum.

She looks at the Winchesters over her shoulder, speaking with a clear, deep tone.

“What the fuck just happened to me?”

—

A few years ago, maybe five, Bobby goes on a solo werewolf hunt. On paper, this case looks like a freakin’ walk in the park— sling a couple silver bullets and be done— so that’s exactly what he plans to do, loading his gun and starting his engine.

He turns his Chevy down the dirt road towards the dilapidated cabin the werewolves were last reported at, something quickly catching his eye— A huge plume of smoke in the evening sky, trailing over the tops of even the tallest trees. Not good.

Bobby floors it the rest of the way, cursing under his breath.

He pulls up to a raging fire. The flames are beginning to lick at the surrounding dry grass and trees, threatening to take the whole field in its heat.

“Balls.” He sighs, getting out of his truck to try to make sense of things when something else, about a 100 feet away, catches his eye.

He turns his head, realizing it’s rusty old light blue truck— one that has someone— or something— sitting atop it, smoking a cigarette. It looks as if they’re watching the burning building in… satisfaction.

He exhales and draws his gun, deciding against all common sense to go ahead and make his way towards the figure.

“…This your place?” The unknown person asks as soon as Bobby is within earshot; the light from the flames creating a golden halo of curls around their head.

“No. Is it yours?” Bobby responds, the barrel of his gun steady, his finger on the trigger.

“No.”

Bobby’s eyes flick to the rapidly growing flames before going back to the truck in front of him.

“…Did you—?”

The figure shakes their head yes, taking a final drag from their smoke before flicking it towards the flames.

“…I had to.”

It’s only then that Bobby can fully see the state this person is in. She’s very clearly a hunter— sigils and symbols tattooed on her torn up arms and bruised legs, her right eye swollen shut from a claw that tore through her face earlier. He can’t help but look up at her with pity, knowing the look spent rage and that dirty, guilty feeling that comes with revenge when he sees it.

“…When’s the last time you ate, kid?”

—

Bobby hasn’t seen someone demolish a burger like this since Sam and Dean were teenagers on their 80th growth spurt.

“You got a name?” He asks, watching her in a mix of fear and respect. He’d introduced himself on the way over just for her to answer with silence.

“Babe.” She responds through a mouthful.

Bobby just nods once, pushing his uneaten meal towards her with his pointer finger while taking in that gnarly gash across her face. Babe picks the burger up and begins to eat again, humming her thanks.

“…You should go to a hospital.” He says.

“And you should mind your business. I, uh, appreciate the meal, but—“ She takes another enormous bite. “I don’t do privatized healthcare, Robert.”

Bobby Singer is a very smart man. He can field strip a Mossberg 835 in minutes, is fluent in multiple languages, and has built multiple cars from the ground up for fun. Bobby Singer also almost always tends to put his heart before his head. He looks Babe over and sees a bitter, broken kid who’s tired of fighting—not just the attitude she uses as a front. He sighs and runs a hand over his scruffy beard before continuing.

“How old are you, kid? Nineteen?”

“Twenty-one, thanks.”

He nods. “…You been hunting long?”

Babe looks up at him with an unreadable expression, but eventually answers, her shaken trust won by the burgers and the fact she’s too goddamn tired to try and evade.

“…Yeah.“

He waits for her to continue, raising an eyebrow.

She clears her throat and takes a sip of her drink, trying to keep her head on straight.

“When I was a little kid… my, uh, parents were… turned in front of me. Werewolves.”

Bobby’s face sinks.

“And, uh, after that, I was in foster care and stuff for a while, then— my sixteenth birthday came around. I… had saved, like, five hundred and fifty dollars, walked into the first pawn shop I saw, and… bought a gun.” She visibly flexes her jaw and takes a settling breath, clearly not used to recounting this.

“I… didn’t know for sure what I was gonna do with it, if I’m honest. I had hit a huge wall with tracking my parents and… I just thought…” She sighs, going to run a hand over her face but wincing when she remembers the state she’s in.

Bobby’s only known her for about two and a half hours at this point, but her admission makes his eyes water. He blinks it away and continues to listen.

“…Anyways, one night I found ‘em, so I fitted the gun with silver bullets and took care of it.” She clears her throat once again, cutting the sentence short and hiding her emotions as best she can.

“…Kid, I—“

Babe shakes her head, interrupting his pity.

“…Tonight was the last of the pack and their alpha. They knew I was coming.” She sniffs back tears, fighting the way her lip trembles.

“So that’s why I had to—“

Bobby understands, immediately standing from his side of the table to wrap her in a hug.

Babe freezes at the kindness, not at all used to simple, necessary affection like this—she inhales sharply in response. It’s then the sobs completely wrack her body— the cologne Bobby has on is the same one her father would wear. Babe takes it as a sign, leaning into him and sobbing, absolutely fucking exhausted. She feels as if she has no driving force now that the last of the pack is gone; no reason to live with all this blood on her hands.

Bobby knows. He holds her to his chest tightly, providing stability. He tells her he’s sorry. That he’s here.

It takes a while before Babe can pull herself together. Bobby doesn’t mind. He pays for their food, and they just… sit and talk for a while. About music, about interests— jobs Babe’s had and places Bobby’s been. They talk about hunting, about Sam and Dean—and by the time they’re done, Babe realizes she doesn’t feel like absolute shit. She trusts Bobby— which is way more than she can say for just about… anyone she comes across.

“…Hey, you know of a decent motel around here? I’m getting tired of squattin’.” She chuckles, like that’s a normal thing to consistently subject herself to.

Bobby just blinks at her for a second before beginning to shake his head, flabbergasted by the question.

“Wh—? Dammit, kid, no. I’m… Babe, I’m sorry. But— I have’ ta ask you to come with me. I’m— I don’t mean this to cross a boundary, or like you can’t take care of yourself or anything, but—“

He cannot physically handle the idea of her recovering in this state alone. His face shows that. In these few hours he already feels responsible for her— it’s just his nature.

“There’s a whole upstairs you can have to yourself. My boys’ll stop by every now and then, but— Jesus, kid. You’ve been through it. I just want to put… hot showers and some goddamn clean sheets on the table.”

Babe blinks at him, not really expecting that. But she takes a moment to think; she was gonna be dust in the wind after this anyways— halfheartedly hunting until she dies young to vampires or tetanus or something. She also has gone home with much stranger men than Bobby that offer much worse.

“…Okay.”

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a/n:

hiiii if you’ve read ‘Man In The Wilderness’ this is the same story but I like it more! :3 heheh thanks so much for reading <3 I appreciate you loving Babe like I do.

taglist ★ @moss-feratu

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[snarkspawn]

I really enjoy playing through tnp again like hi it's been a while

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three 

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition. 

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place. 

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip. 

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck. 

 The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital. 

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten. 

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled. 

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but. 

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.) 

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen. 

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair. 

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants." 

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him. 

Would Harrington pitch a fit? 

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did? 

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper. 

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life? 

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it. 

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--" 

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out." 

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.  

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying. 

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness. 

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone." 

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box. 

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home. 

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope. 

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet. 

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand. 

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list. 

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that." 

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face. 

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him. 

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

 "You'll check up on Robin too, right?"  He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?" 

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years. 

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here. 

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder. 

Several somethings, in fact. 

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck. 

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick. 

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie. 

An unfair advantage, really. 

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly. 

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie. 

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting. 

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie." 

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

 "What do you mean Si--Wayne." 

"Nice catch.”  Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.” 

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much. 

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither. 

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat." 

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked. 

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?" 

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret. 

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt." 

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle. 

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end." 

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink. 

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?" 

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when  he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be. 

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless. 

"Anybody else?" He asked. 

"Nobody human." Steve replied. 

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that. 

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?" 

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency,  I'd be happy to." 

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through. 

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation. 

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus.  "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER." 

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword  home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it. 

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair." 

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound. 

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble. 

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…" 

"You take any today son?" 

Steve his head. 

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack. 

Course he hadn't. 

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in. 

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once. 

[clockworkreapers]

Tales From The Gas Station if it was out of context and told though meme redraws.... most of it ended up being Jerry doing Jerry things

[callmegaith]

"They don't get the fucking depth of what will happen when we land"

[loganswdc]

who wants to go commit a crime with me !!!!

i am actually ready to go start a war for logan , the way he's been treated and all this new information after carlos has been signed is absolutely incredulous . the weak goodbye to logan . the 8 posts about carlos and how excited everyone is to work with him . and nothing about logan . i know this is about carlos , but seeing logan be so insanely under-appreciated is sickening , honestly . it's something we always knew , but seeing it practically pushed in our faces even further is genuinely disgusting . and i'm genuinely excited for carlos !! i hope things go well for him !! but logan is the driver i will defend first and the driver i will always support above everyone else , no matter what . and i can't fathom what logan is going through right now .

i hope he's somewhere in florida , fishing on a boat with his family . i hope he's got a good support system around him . and i hope that he know we're all proud of him . that we'll still be here , we'll follow him wherever he goes . and i hope he's able to rest , knowing that the team that's been so adamant about destroying him recently will finally be out of his life: he'll be free of them :')

[cryptidmullet]

reddie redraw bc ive been thinkin about them recently

[givemedamage]

ultimately!

[sirmanmister]

💥💥💥 BOOM POW GET KILLED GET KILLED GET KILLED!!!!!

This is a redraw from January 6 2023, in honour of it being 1 YEAR since I posted the last chapter of The Father(s) and Son(s)!!!!! A little bit over a year actually because it was April 10th and it took me a little while to draw this lol

So much has changed in the span of a year omg. And for THE BETTER?? Like I’m going to school, I made and lost friends, I’m slowly but surely getting over some social anxiety (still a wip tho!!! 😭😭) and I’ve found so many cool mutuals and artists and just!!!! AAA!! Not to mention my art skills have improved a whole HELL of a lot!! LMAO

I don’t write as much as I did when I wrote my fic initially, and I feel bad for that sometimes, but it’s just a testament to how things have gotten a lot better for me and it’s not bad that I’m busy. I’m still trying to cobble together some more writing to eventually get another fic out, cuz I do genuinely miss it, but we’ll get there when we get there!

Anyway. TYSM TO EVERYBODY THATS STUCK AROUND FOR SO LONG/CAME HERE FROM MY FIC IN THE FIRST PLACE I LOVE YOU ALL AND YOU MADE MY LIFE BETTER!! 🫶🫶🫶🫶

Pspsps closeups/old pic under the cut!!

[evesedenramblings]

I want to take a moment and make a quick post about what I think Grace’s animal motif means, because I’ve seen a lot of in-depth analysis for other motifs but the discussion around the rabbit gets reduced to fertility which I think is a huge bummer. Funny initially, but now just a bummer.

The rabbit is considered “unclean” in the Bible, but that comes from a mistranslation from the original language being changed to English. Unclean means “morally wrong”, “impure”, and “evil”, so food for thought. Typical ominous motif implications aside, from what else I could find, Grace is basically the opposite of what a rabbit symbolizes: sensitive and gentle. I don’t think I have to explain how those two terms aren’t necessarily the first to pop into mind regarding Grace. However, the rabbit still holds other meanings. The rabbit also represents rebirth and new beginnings, which I think could indicate an upcoming Grace character arc. Since Wolfgang wanted to keep the group together, Grace could be motivated by Wolfgang’s death and try to uphold his wish (or talked/forced into it- we know how Damon is lol) Grace could work towards being *the group’s* loose canon rather than *a* loose canon. Assuming the ‘unclean’ passage is relevant, a character arc for Grace would represent her moving away from being ‘unclean’ (behaviour like how she treats Eloise) to ‘clean’ (closer to the gentler bullying she used with Wolfgang), and growing as a person.

Frankly I’m unsure what direction Grace’s character is currently going in. Before and during most of Chapter 1 she was definitely Wolfgang’s muscle, and even after he died she was still demonstrating aggressive behaviour. It would have been a logical assumption to say the group (or whoever the next leader will be) needs to secure her loyalty now that Wolfgang is gone, but after Eva’s execution Grace went silent, and couldn’t even look at anyone. She bounced back quicker after being shot by Mara than the aftermath of the 1st trial- whether or not Grace will be herself for chapter 2, I’m not sure. It seems like either Grace will “go back to normal”, or she’s tired. It seemed like she was barely holding on through that trial and now that Wolfgang is avenged, she has to recognize that he’s gone and there’s nothing more she can do. The second route, I think seems more plausible, and it also seems like something that better aligns with this theory- someone can offer her something new to fight for. I find Grace a really interesting character and I hope she sticks around for a long time.

[cinderduck]

Prev / -

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Finally got around to posting the first chapter of the fic 👍

[beaulesbian]

I was once again thinking about this goofy Luffy moment after his Lucci punch™ and i had to see it frame by frame.

first the force of it throws them both away, and while Lucci is seen on screen tumbling for a long moment, Luffy is just away in a blink of an eye.

and then his funny scene - his legs are like jelly that he tries to get under control,

he stumbles, falls, rolls into a mix of all his limbs and eyes,

and then only the cloud behind him cushions his fall

- which would be interesting if he can subconsciously control that while he tries to regain the control over his movements - that the environment around him still adapts to his awakened Devil Fruit abilities and morphs to help him. Where others would probably fall through that cloud, for Luffy that cloud backs him up like a trampoline.

It's just fascinating!

[coolmagoloraskblog]

magolor, until you start becoming comfortable being around and thinking about taranza, we’re going to continue to taunt you

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[henswilsons]

(not like do you wait for a work to be completed btw, just how you format your reading on ao3)