#and i owe someone a wip since wip wednesday was hell

[black-cat-babe]

The silly

[stars-and-darkness]

WIP Wednesday!!!

week #3

okay, so i find the fact that both klaus and lexi consider themselves stefan’s best friends of all time hilarious. what would be even more hilarious is if lexi had lived long enough for the two of them to butt heads about it. therefore, i give you tug of war.:

Stefan casts a horrified look towards the guy on the counter, and then he’s grabbing his friend by the upper arm and hauling her out of the shop.

“You can’t be here. You have to leave.”

“What? Stef, what the hell—”

“You have to leave, before he sees you, Lex, quickly—”

“What? Who? Stefan, you’re not making any sense. Who are you talking about?”

“I do believe that’d be me, sweetheart,” comes Klaus’s accented voice and Stefan sees him at the mouth of the alley, twirling the wooden cross hanging from the rosary around his neck between his thumb and forefinger. “And who would you be?���

Lexi straightens—and a defiance that will get her killed enters her eyes, God no—

“I’m his best friend.”

Klaus pushes off the wall. His expression, in the flash that is all Stefan manages to see of it, is terrifying, but then it smooths over and makes way for his usual cruel amusement. “Are you now?” he drawls, though there’s a rough edge to his voice. “How … quaint.”

It doesn’t set the alarm bells in Lexi’s head ringing as it does in his.

“Alexia Branson.” Her name doesn’t have the notoriety that Stefan’s, Katherine’s, Klaus’s do. It is not a name that would drive fear into anyone’s heart. “And you are?” she asks impatiently when he doesn’t say anything more. “You know, when someone introduces themself, it’s customary to reciprocate.”

“So I’ve heard,” Klaus mutters, probably only to be difficult. “Very well, love, you asked for it. I am Klaus.”

Lexi laughs. Then she notices Stefan isn’t doing the same, so she stops.

“Wait what?” she blurts out. “No! That’s crazy. Klaus isn’t real. Stefan, where’d you pick up this lunatic?”

But Stefan’s not looking at her—he’s looking at Klaus, whose eyes are gleaming gold.

“Well,” he drawls, cutting off Lexi’s tirade. “Stefan and I really must be off. Lots to do, after all.”

“Yeah, no one is leaving until I get an explanation that makes sense,” she growls. “And until then, I’m not letting Stefan go anywhere with you.”

“I’m amazed you think you have a choice in the matter, sweetheart. Regardless, we’ll be off now. Stefan!” To heel goes unspoken.

Stefan grits his teeth together. For Elena.

This is all for Elena. For Damon.

“Fine,” Lexi exclaims, and then she’s pushing past. “Then I think I’ll be hanging around for the foreseeable time, if you don’t mind, Mister Klaus.”

“I do, as a matter of fact,” he hisses out, smooth and all the deadlier for it. “Stefan—”

“Don’t,” Stefan pleads. “I owe you, remember? I’m not going back on my word. Lex, you gotta go.”

“You owe him? Stefan, what is this bullshit?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t know who you are, but Stef doesn’t owe you shit. So—”

“Lexi …” Stefan swallows. “It’s not so simple, okay? I can’t—I have to—I owe him, okay? He saved Damon’s life.”

“Damon? Since when does Damon matter?”

“Oh, sweetheart, clearly you haven’t been paying attention,” Klaus says, condescending. “I mean, I agree that Damon is a waste of air and Katerina Petrova’s blood, but he and dear Stefan appear to have mended their bond somewhat. So when Damon had an unfortunate run-in with a werewolf’s set of teeth on the night of the full moon …”

Lexi’s brow contorts. “What?”

“He saved Damon,” Stefan says tiredly. “And in exchange I accepted to be his lackey for ten years.”

“You make it sound so boring,” Klaus protests. “We’re gonna have so much fun, you and I.”

“I’m not gonna let this happen!”

“As already established, sweetheart, you don’t get a choice.” His smile is bright and handsome and all the more terrible for it.

“You can’t stop me.”

“I can rip your head off. That’ll stop you just fine.”

[pvthfinder]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by: @streetkid-named-desire Tagging: UH... I'll have to see who's open to sharing their WIPs, but if you are, consider this your call.

I started writing this months ago and it's been sitting in Google docs ever since. It was never really going to be a finished piece, but I wrote it to start getting Sif's 2077 voice (and cyberware) down. Just a little peek into a moment in time when she was picking up jobs, trying to get her foot in the door in Night City. The woman she's working with needs to be fleshed out but I'd like to make her a recurring character.

—

"Do you even have iron?"

Sif gave a mildly insulted look at the question. In this city? But she shrugged, her head bobbing back and forth in a non-committal way. "What do I look like? I've got a li'l .45 that does the job."

"Let's see it", her tablemate said over her coffee. Ringed fingers tapped the foam cup, and Sif forced a huff as she leaned back to reach into her jacket. The hell did it matter what she was packing?

More than she knew, apparently. What she set on the table nearly made the woman spit, but she managed to swallow in time for an exasperated laugh-turned-sigh.

Sif rolled her eyes and leaned further back into her seat. Sure, the old Unity was worn, had some obvious replacement parts, and looked as humble as the price it would fetch on the secondhand market, but it fired. Most of the time.

"Look, I know it ain't much but it's better than nothin'—"

"Oh, honey, this is nothin'." A delicate hand scooped the pistol off the table and turned it, brow rising as she felt its weight. "This is one jam away from a paperweight. Is it even loaded?"

Sif threw her hands up. "Ammo's more expensive here."

"It's Night City. Everything's more expensive," the woman chided, gently setting the pistol down and sliding it back across the table. "I— look."

She was the one to let go of a deep breath this time. "I have an op that I want to make sure goes smoothly, and that means having the right people with the right equipment. It's not personal."

"Didn't take it that way. This..." Sif picked up her gun, wiggling between her fingers before tucking it away in her jacket, "...is just what comes with startin' from the bottom."

She picked up her bottle, ready to leave the conversation there and wave this all off as wasted time. But something kept her from taking that last sip. A question that nagged at her from the back of her head. The same spot where instinct used to sleep like an old hound before she drowned it.

"I didn't peg y' fer someone interested in a charity case, so why do I get the feelin' that it's less about the iron and more about the person aimin' it?"

"Because it always is. I need an unknown face and you need the eds. Supply and demand." The woman stared out the window for a moment, the slightest twinge of a smirk on her lips, before turning back to look at Sif fully. "And you're right. I'm not known for charity, but I do make... investments."

Sif sat up a little straighter. "You know I can't pay."

"Well aware. So I'll make a deal with you instead." Her painted fingers clasped at the paper coffee cup, glint of silver rings out of place against the kitschy, hazard yellow Capitan Caliente logo. "You'll get to take a peek at my arsenal. Anything under a market value of three K is yours—within reason, of course. In return, you'll owe me a little favor."

Sif listened with an even expression, but her tone was wary. "Hopefully a three K favor."

An honest laugh. The first Sif had heard from her, even if it was barely a breath. "It'll be proportionate, don't worry."

"Let's say I agree. Then I've got a question for you," Sif fired back. Her would-be employer gestured for her to ask away. "Why me? Why some untested newcomer? There's other drivers, so I can only assume y' saw somethin' about me 'piques yer interest. And if I'da guess… it's my service record and the chrome that came with it."

The woman paused for a blink, then a smile broke on her face. "That's a bit conspiratorial, but… not wholly untrue either. I mean, I told you I need an unknown, and we both know you're not untested. You've got the record to back that up, but the 'ware is a bonus. What's installed?"

"Optics with variable magnification up to twenty times and compatible targeting soft, nanocarbon subdermal armor over my squishy bits, limb stabilization… those are the big ones." Sif listed them easily. "Not recent market stuff, but military grade. Still works. All tuned to long-range, high caliber work."

"You're a sniper." The woman sounded mildly surprised.

"Was," Sif corrected. "Stuff served me better as a scout fer my old clan than it did in the war. But before you start drafting up contracts, I don't do wetwork and I fall asleep on watch duty. I'm a driver, not a marksman."

"I'll keep it in mind," the woman mused in a tone that belied a reassessment. "But seriously, ditch the Unity."

"Oh my god," Sif grumbled into her bottle.

[nativestarwrites]

Technically, not a Wednesday but I like this idea! Send me an ask with the wip name and I'll write 3 sentences! These ones are all Macgyver fandom.

Ever Since You've Been Gone

Jack took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “We’re a mess. I’m a mess. It’s been a week, a week, Sarah.” His voice trailed off as his mind took him to failed missions and rescues that took too damned long to come. “You know what can happen in a week,” He whispered. “Yeah, I do.” Sarah’s voice was quiet over the line. “You’re going to find him, Jack. I know you will. And Mac’s a tough son of a bitch, just like someone else I know, he’s gonna be fine.” “Yeah,” Jack cleared his voice, swallowing hard before repeating it louder, firmer. “Yeah, he is. I owe you one, Sarah, hell I owe you ten. Next time you’re in town I’m taking you for the most expensive steak I can find in this city, I promise.” “I’ll hold you to that.” Sarah said, and Jack could hear the smile in her voice.

2. That Vampire One

The quiet in the car suddenly registered. Mac was slumped over, his head resting against the window and his hand hanging lax off the edge seat. Jack took a deep breath. Fuck.

3. The Sequel I Don't Need

“We have a problem. They know about Mac.”

4. Whumptober

Jack doesn’t understand Italian but he tries to look for some hope in the inflection of the words exchanged. His eyes darting between the whining monitor with a flat line and the lifesaving efforts.

5. Cyborg Time Traveller

They nearly lose him again when less than a week into his recovery, after his final major surgery to insert the last of the neural implants Macgyver develops an infection and a raging fever. Nothing they do seems to make any difference and his blood pressure drops so low at one point that the doctor tells Pena that he likely won’t make it through to morning. Pena doesn’t go home that night. Sits with Macgyver until the first rays of dawn splinter through the blinds and an hour later the fever finally breaks.

WIP Wednesday Game

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

Requested/Friend event mentions under the cut! If you'd like to be pinged next week, let me know!

Friends @fiore-della-valle @redbirdblogs @greenbergsays @idkfandomwhatever @luckyspike

@obaewankenope @mad-madam-m @anonymousdandelion @geometricfractal @prettybirdy979

@eriquin | Requests @aparticularbandit @madnessfromthemountains @makeroftherunes @1attheedge

@whimsicalmeerkat @kidsomeday @lizhly-writes @skyderman @adhdavinci

@owlbearwrites @anachronismstellar @anyctibius @rilannon @lazinesswrites

@zyrafowe-sny @dreaminghour @blue-eyedbeta @candyskiez @dreamerking27

@kalira

[angelasscribbles]

WIP Wednesday 4.13.22

Well, it's that time of the week again! I've been working on chapters for My Best Friend's Girl, Complicated, Savage Love, Forbidden Passion, Hinge and Bad Romance.

You can find these series, and others here: Master List.

All series are written in third person unless noted otherwise. As usual, spoilers are under the cut.

My Best Friend’s Girl, Chapter 17. This series is written in first person from Drake’s POV. <I have posted this snippet before, but since I have yet to finish and post the chapter, you’re getting it again. Sorry. Every time I think I have this series wrapped up, I don’t.>

“So….what are your intentions, exactly, with blossom?”

I slid an annoyed glance over to Max as he bounced around in the passenger seat, fiddling with the air vents on the dash. I smacked his hands, “Would you stop that? And what do you mean, what are my intentions? Are you her father?”

“Ow! Sorry. No, but yeah, I’m the closest thing to a brother she has, and I brought her here so I’m responsible for her. She’s already been hurt by one of my closest friends so…..”

“I’m not going to hurt her, Max.” Not on purpose. Not ever. “Remind me again why I agreed to let you tag along for this?”

Complicated Chapter 31

“I know it hasn’t been easy, Riley. I just hope that in the end, the good parts are enough to make the hardships worth it for you.”

“Liam, they already are. You already are! I wouldn’t trade the time I’ve spent with you for anything!"

“Even the bad parts?”

“The parts with you are never bad. It’s all the time spent apart, the misunderstandings….but that’s behind us, right?”

Forbidden Passion Chapter 10

He sat up and reached over, running a hand through her hair, across her shoulders, down her back.

She hummed appreciatively.

“Are you happy?” He asked, as his thumb brushed across the bruise on her backside, the one he hadn’t put there.

Savage Love Chapter 12, this series is written in third person from Riley’s POV

Leo was right, it would be good to have someone that could step in if he were ill or needed a vacation or if two pressing things came up at the same time. Still. If that were all there was to it, he’d be looking at me.

“Right.” Was all I said. Via Imperii first, weird Rys family shit later. “Where the hell is the coffee?”

Bad Romance Chapter 29

“Hana!” Riley pulled her best friend into a tight hug, “Thank you soooo much for overseeing all this!”

Hana giggled as she hugged her back, “It was really no trouble at all. And I enjoyed it!”

Hinge, these don't really have chapter numbers, this one is called Summer Breeze:

His eyes traced the curves of her body, the tilt of her chin, the flow of her hair as it cascaded across her shoulders. Every inch of her was so familiar. Before loving her, he never would have believed that he could know someone else’s body better than his own.

But he did. He knew ever curve, every dimple, every freckle, every so-called blemish and imperfection. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He’d told her when she complained about the stretch marks, then he’d kissed every one of them.

He knew her moods as well. He could read her facial expressions and body language from across a room or the tone of her voice over the phone. He always knew exactly what she was feeling and right now, she was brimming with happiness.

[feitansluver]

Two Birds on a Wire (THE PROLOGUE)

a Feitan x Reader series (gender neutral)

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, smidge of violence

Series Summary: If you wish to see the series summary, check out my masterlist (which should be up now, if not just give me 10 mins) which you can access through my pinned navigations post on my blog. It might have a teensy bit of spoilers but nothing too drastic since this is a major wip.

Prologue Summary: This story's beginning takes place before the troupe was even a figment of anyone's imagination. Meteor City is a dangerous place, and many can vouch for me when I say this. The place where good deeds never come truly from the heart, but instead for the chance to get what you wanted from someone else. Here begins the story of how Feitan Portor and Y/n L/n would soon meet, for real this time.

Author's Note: This entire series is inspired by the song "Two Birds" by Regina Spektor. I originally wrote this as a small x reader for a writing sample, but I like it so much, it'll be a series instead. This is going to be a slow burn series. As you can tell from my headcanons, I'm super detailed when it comes to adding backstories. It's even worse w actual stories. I'm not too sure how many chapters this will be but, Please enjoy! reblogs, likes, and constructive criticism is appreciated. Heads up, this will be the shortest 'chapter' of them all, so do be prepared haha. Italicized = Flashbacks!

The aroma of decaying matter engulfed the air like a thick fog, pulling down and wrapping itself around the shiny newcomers to the rather large wasteland of an area. These newcomers weren't wealthy, no, instead, they were here for the ego boost that accompanied the action of them tossing any worthless item that would instantly be scavenged by a poor resident, usually a child since they were small and naturally agile. Well, as agile as they could be growing up eating other's waste. Those bastards with their sickening laughs of arrogance. They'd be frowned upon in a normal society, but here, oh here, this was just what they'd call a Wednesday.

Where exactly is 'here,' you may be asking? To the people passing through, they might've considered it to be hell. Perhaps a dumpster. Hell, they might have even passed through with out even noticing the cries of agony as a mother's child passed away from malnutrition, without noticing the way that no resident seemed to acknowledge anything other than themselves, even the murder of a shopkeep in broad daylight. No, see they're too focused on trying to steal to survive, perhaps even slave away to a more fortunate resident for a chance at life, if you could even call this living. 'Maybe they're just introverted people,' oh how naïve you must be to even succumb to that conclusion. 'Here' there is no such thing as introversion, with this trait, you won't survive for more than 10 minutes.

'Here' is none other than Meteor City.

Coughing could be heard around every corner from the ill, penniless residents who were selling everything in their possession just to survive another miserable day. A feeble attempt truly, it's not as though the medicine was at least 50% likely to cause some sort of change. Nonetheless, Meteor City wasn't too bad, no. Children scurried amongst each other, shouting with smiles upon their somewhat sunken faces as they played along the areas of the city that were truly wastelands. There were no true friends created in Meteor City, but these children have yet to understand.

All except for one. A rather small boy, whether that be from malnutrition or genetics, with black hair and heartless black eyes sat upon an old shipping crate with an uninterested look upon his young face as he watched the children run about. "How pedestrian," was all that came out of his cracked, dehydrated lips. Only an 8-year-old from Meteor would consider playing to be pedestrian. Aside from his shocking attitude, with one glance you could certainly tell he wasn't from here, such 'exotic' features couldn't have been bred in this hellhole. The boy was dressed in what seemed to be traditional Asian clothes, ones that were too big for his figure, all black and seemingly thick yet still lightweight enough to where he wouldn't die from a heat stroke, the word "Feitan" engraved over his left breast. Perhaps this was his name, neither he or the townsfolk new, but it was what they called him when they believed he wasn't looking. He was frequently seen mumbling to himself, and paired with his stone cold gaze, he was deemed "unapproachable" to others, adults and children alike.

"Hey, you!" A call from one of the children pulled Feitan out of his thoughts. The blackette raised his gaze to find another small child before him, taller yes, but no doubt younger, no stranger to his eyes yet not an aly. "My name's Marley. Do you want to play with us?" Feitan rolled his eyes in annoyance and spoke with his broken interpretation of the city's language. "Why would me want t-," He analyzed the other children beside the runt Marley and froze his gaze upon another small child, who was smiling as they spoke to a friend, one he's kept his eye on for a long time.

(Y/n) (L/n).

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

2 years ago, Meteor City, 3rd Person Omniscient

The sky boomed a thunderous roar as lighting flashed across the city. Purples and dark ominous grey's colored over the townsfolk as the rushed their preparations for the storm. Adults were sheltering children, even if they didn't know them, most likely with the promise of something in return, while also taking in whatever possessions they needed before the storm's condition worsened.

A 4-year-old child, Y/n, ran about the poorly made streets, hoping to find a place of shelter before it was too late. Of course, since they're small and malnourished, they weren't very efficient, constantly stumbling over their two feet and pausing to catch their balance.

"Please, somebody help me!"

They continued to run through the now damp streets as the rain began to pour violently. Water drenched the poor child as they ran around banging on doors screaming for help, yet still, no one listened. It was almost as though the entire town had become a ghost city.Just as Y/n was about to give up, a hand grabbed their arm harshly and quickly pulled them into a small, dark, poorly-made shack.

Y/n jumped back in surprise with a yelp only to be pushed down by the other party, quite roughly might I add. "Shhh." A firm, seemingly male voice commanded with no other words as he sat beside the younger child. "Are you going to eat me??" Y/n spoke in a panicked tone. "The old lady by the library told me a story about a demon who comes out during horrible storms and eats the children who are wandering the streets." They cried with their arms curled around their legs, staring at the silhouette in fear beside of them.

The strange savior huffed under his breath. Why did he even pull this idiot into his home. Who was he to be providing shelter for others when he could barely take care of himself? God he never hated himself more until that moment. There was no place for some snotty kid, nor did he want to deal with them either. "Me no eat you. you taste bad, too whiny." Was all the boy said, hoping to get the other to take the hint and shut up.

"O-oh. My name's y/n, what's yours?" The 4-year-old spoke, no longer carrying a fearful tone. The older boy rolled his eyes at how naïve and trusting the other was. He didn't bother answering, and in fact, he never said another word to Y/n for the remaining duration of the storm.

Y/n ended up falling asleep after a while from all of the chaos earlier. The silhouette eyed the child beside him before closing his own eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. Soft snoring was all that was heard by the boy, aside from the pouring rain that is. Falling into his thoughts, he began to drift off into a light, alert slumber. Well, he was until he felt a weight hit his left shoulder.

His eyes shot open as he looked to his left with a scowl upon his face. "Idiot pest." He grumbled agitatedly as he noticed Y/n had fallen asleep on his shoulder. As much as he wanted to push them off, he quite enjoyed the quiet he was now receiving. With an annoyed sigh, he closed his own eyes and drifted to his previous light sleep.

When Y/n awoke with a yawn and began to identify their surroundings, they almost screamed in fear and confusion. They jumped up and racked their brain for some sort of explanation. Wait, it was coming to them now: the mystery boy and him providing them shelter. Properly looking at their surroundings, they noticed were still in the shack; however, this time, they were alone. With a quick glance outside, the small child ran out of the shack, patting themselves down to make sure they still had their items in their pockets.

A sigh of relief escaped their lips as they felt everything there. Digging into their pockets to find their last bit of money to buy a bit of food, Y/n noticed there was a folded piece of poorly maintained paper in their pockets. With a confused hum and a head tilt, they unfolded the piece of paper and read in poor grammar and messy writing:

"You owe me, Brat."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

They blackette's face remained in a deapan expression as his own eyes locked back with Marley's "Yes, me play." He spoke emotionlessly as he hopped down from his crate, dusting himself off as he began walking closer to the group of children. A handful of yays, yippees, and downright cries of joy could be heard from the crowd of children as they gathered one more player for their game. "Okay, great. So here's what we're going to play.."

The voices blurred and faded into nothingness as the eight-year-old fell into his cunning mind, his eyes yet again landed on Y/n with his usual piercing gaze. Only difference was that this time, there was a twinge of excitement and malice, lots of malice.

God how he wanted to make them pay. A total troglodyte they were, so ignorant and easily distracted by such trivial things.

You see, Feitan never got back that favor, and he certainly wasn't one to hold back when it came to exploiting others. Especially younger, naïve children who hadn't seen nor understood just how horrific the world could be. How horrific he could make their world be.

Go ahead, call him a monster. It's such a common title for him, he might've even believed it were his own name if it hadn't been for the thread engraved onto his shirt.

Feeling eyes watching them, Y/n turned to face the newer strange boy with their head tilted in confusion. The blackette walked over to the younger child, the two of them standing at the same height. "Hello." Feitan spoke up with a small smile and a friendly wave. It certainly looked realistic and Y/n couldn't feel any malicious intent within the other boy, though if only they knew how fake that smile was. "Hey there! I'm Y/n, what's your name?" The child spoke with a close-eyed smile as they waved in return.

'Oh this was going to be fun.' The boy thought with an inward chuckle of sadism.

Feitan Portor wasn't one to forgive and forget. Hell, he came from Meteor City, the place where every good action was never from the heart but instead the manipulative portion of people's minds. No matter who or what he had to go through,

He was getting back what he owed, and he was expecting it NOW.

[lastoneout]

it’s wip wednesday friday I got to the sword part

Which is when things got wild in a very good way, because it turns out that when Beckett and Brad can forget they don’t get along, when they have one common goal, when everything is on the line, they work together like they were fucking born to do it. 

Beckett actually felt bad for enjoying it so much, because they were fighting to save millions of lives in probably the worst situation she’d ever been in, but god it was like she and Brad were not only one person, but one unstoppable killing machine. She hadn’t felt like that since before Amina died, since she was young and stupid and crazy and working with someone who balanced her out but didn’t hold her back. She felt powerful and incredible and she knew it wasn’t just her, Brad had never experienced the raw, primal thrill of actually getting to fight, and she could tell he was having the time of his life. 

She also owed him an apology. She was wrong. The jaeger program didn’t doge a bullet by benching him, they missed out on someone who should have been in the fight since day once. He really was a natural, and she couldn’t have picked a better co-pilot. 

It was still hard, the kaiju were strong and they took one hell of a beating just getting one of them down, but it helped that Beckett and Brad really are two stubborn dumbasses with absolutely no self preservation instincts, and they were on the same page. If they go down, they go down fucking swinging.

Still, by the time they were up against the second kaiju things were looking bad. They were missing most of their right arm, their weapons were down, and they were in a stupid amount of pain. For a split second Beckett actually did think they might not make it, but then Brad proved to be the absolute coolest person on the entire goddamn planet, because before Beckett joined the team he had apparently asked Rutherford to make one new addition to Lady Danger. 

“Dude, we have a fucking sword!?” Beckett shouted as Brad deployed it, grinning like a madwoman. 

He shot her a smirk that only looked a little deranged. “Of couse we have a fucking sword.”

LOO I FUCKING MISSED THIS WHAT THE FUCK

@lastoneout two minutes away from killing me with their godtier marinler pacrim au