#t's wip wednesday

[chaotictarlos]

I've been struggling with sharing my ideas and sneak peaks lately - years of anxiety of people stealing my ideas and a few things that have happened over the last few weeks where someone started to imitate and copy me, so this is me pushing through that to share a sneak peak of my 4 x 16 Coda. Words of confidence and nice things are always appreciated.

---

Later that evening, Carlos lies awake and stares at the ceiling. TK is pillowed on his chest, drooling on his pecs with his arms firmly wrapped around his waist, sound asleep. Carlos wishes he was also asleep but can’t get his mind to be quiet enough for him to sleep off into dreamland and dream of his and TK’s wedding.

Huntington’s Disease.

Of all the curveballs life could have thrown at them right before the wedding, this was not one Carlos could have ever predicted.

He holds back the big sigh that wants to escape his lips so that he doesn’t disturb TK. He feels pressure behind his eyes and his vision blurs with tears that he refuses to let fall. He’s not going to mourn their future before they even get there. There was still a large chance that Owen would be negative and then TK wouldn’t have to worry.

Still, Carlos is tired of the universe beating down their door every other day for some reason that might derail their wedding. Carlos isn’t sure what they have done to have so much shit thrown their way but he was growing tired of it. Every new thing made him want to pack TK up and drive him far away to someplace safe and marry him without anyone knowing.

He just wants to be with TK - without the threat of him being taken from him around every corner.

In his arms, TK shifts, rolling over and Carlos looks to see him snuggle into his own pillow - something TK rarely does. Carlos uses the opportunity to slip out of bed, tucking the bedsheets around TK, and slips out of their bedroom easily. He knows that he probably doesn’t have long before TK realizes that he’s not in bed anymore and comes to find him.

Carlos pads quietly over to where he’s left his iPad on the counter. He presses the home button and brings it to life, clicks on safari, and does the last thing he should be doing - googles Huntington’s Disease.

Carlos knows about it but not enough to feel confident about knowing about it. He grabs his iPad and moves to the dining room, pulls out a chair, and sits down. There, he gets lots in article after article about the disease. He looks at academic articles that show the most recent studies, reads about people who live with it, and even looks up cures and treatments.

None of it really helps him to feel better and confirms that this is truly out of his control. There is absolutely nothing he can do to save TK from the disease. The only thing he can do is be there to support him, love him through all of the stages, and be the best husband he can ever be to TK with whatever time they have together.

No pressure tags: @paperstorm @kiloskywalker @mooshkat @thebumblecee @cowlos-reyes @meditating-honey-badger @lightningboltreader @brouill3r @sanjuwrites @theghostofashton @heartstringsduet @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @sanjuwrites

[ectoentity]

WIP Wednesday: Bartender Danny

This fic got 28 votes, which means 78 lines. I can't finish it all in one go, so I'm gonna break it up. Here are the first 28 lines.

The first patron came in when Mo unlocked the door at five. Old Jim was a bum who would stumble through multiple bars in a night before passing out on a chair and getting thrown out. Mo liked the guy, as long as he came in early. "Hey, Mo," Jim mumbled. He looked blearily at Danny. "You get a new guy already?" Jim took a seat at the bar. "Trial run." Danny smiled at Jim and gave a little wave. What the hell. "Hi! I'm Danny. Can I get you anything?" Jim gave Mo a look like he thought she was yanking his chain. "Yeah, sure. Gimme a Miller." Danny took out a clean glass and filled it from the draft, held just like Mo had showed him so it got a clean pour instead of a whole glass of fizz. He slid it over to Jim with a napkin. "There you go. Want to start a tab?" Jim laughed. "Hell, Mo, you better hope this one doesn't get killed in a week. Yeah, start me up a tab." Danny seemed to ignore the comment about him dying. He just went to the register and put in the information from Jim's card. Mo scowled at Jim and made a cutting motion. Last thing she needed was for her new hire to find out his predecessor got cut down by some Penguin goons right outside the bar.

[anchoredarchangel]

Thank you @indestructibleheart, @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @getmehighonmagic, @kiwiana-writes, @cha-melodius, @firenati0n, @inexplicablymine & @affectionatelyrs for the tags!

Not my typical WIP Wednesday but… tomorrow 🤍

An open tag to anyone out there with something to share 💫

[lphaneuf]

Wednesday again

The gray will be a sleeveless turtleneck, cast on a couple of weeks ago. Stalled while waiting for help from the designer. So I cast-on a quick tee. This one has yarn issues. While waiting for a shipment, I went back to the gray. So now I'm going back and forth nicely and have two nearly complete tops.

There's a lot of cotton here. They will need some blocking attention.

[android-and-ale]

(Belated) WIP Wednesday

I've been tagged by pretty much everybody I would tag back. Since all y'all actually put something up yesterday, I won't spam your mentions.

Meanwhile, here's an excerpt from an Untitled Spirk WIP with the premise of "Wait, We're Married?" It takes place 4-5 months after Amok Time.

---

“How fares thy husband, Spock?” asked T’Pau.

Kirk watched the subtle march of expressions on Spock’s face as he tried to contain his exasperation. 

“As you know, great-grandmother, I remain unbonded.”

“Your husband,” T’Pau lifted a hand, pointing to the captain, “James Kirk.”

The bridge crew stared at Kirk. 

Kirk stared at Spock. 

Spock glared at T’Pau.

“Honored Matriarch, I understand how crude translations from Federation Standard into our Vulcan Golic may be misleading. James Kirk is my captain, not my husband.”

“Nay, Spock,” said T’Pau. “Be not ashamed. I know the men of my line.” 

As someone fluent in Spock’s own micro expressions, Kirk watched a faint but familiar bemused annoyance color T’Pau’s features. 

“Thy father and grandfather before thee found humans … irresistible,” said T’Pau.

“Great-Grandmother,” Spock began.

T’Pau held up a silencing hand. Everyone on the bridge reflexively sat up straighter. “Challenge was issued, and challenge was met. Thou fought with him upon our Sacred Sands of Vulcan and did not die. He fought with thee and yet still lives. By our laws, thou art wed.”

Kirk couldn’t suppress a grin. “Why, Mr. Spock! You didn’t even buy me a ring!”

“The consort of Sarek has taken responsibility for your territorial markers,” said T’Pau. 

“Wait, what?” Kirk’s eyes widened. 

Spock’s low voice was laced with frustration. “Great-Grandmother, no.”

“Challenge was made and accepted by our ancient laws.” said T’Pau. “Had thee died, T’Pring would be his consort. As thee live, thou belongst to him.”

The crew looked from Spock to Kirk and back again. 

“Your James Kirk must come to Vulcan. Consort Amanda Grayson will give unto thee the ring worn by her mother’s mother as a symbol of her own bonding. She is disappointed thee went not unto thy ancestral home to retrieve it when last thee walked the sands of Vulcan.”

Chekov leaned close to Sulu, “The keptin is in trouble with his mother-in-law!”

“Indeed,” said T’Pau. “Spock, there be a diplomatic gathering eighteen days hence. Thou shalt attend.”

“Honored Foremother, I am a Starfleet officer,” said Spock, “Not a diplomat.”

“Before the witnesses, thou shalt place thy ancestral ring upon Kirk’s hand so all who behold him will know he is thine. When he is so marked, he shall sculpt thy pendant with his own hands, so you will have his presence upon thy body whensoever thou shalt be parted.”

“That’s so romantic,” Uhura whispered. Sulu furtively nodded. 

“What kind of diplomatic event is this?” asked Chekov. 

“The kind that doubles as a wedding reception.” Uhura whispered.

[decaflondonfog]

trying to be sneaky but also not do a discord message again lol so for my @aftgtandn wip wednesday here’s a mood board and the soundtrack i’m writing to:

[swordbisexual]

Oh shit it's Wednesday. Oh shit I have a WIP. Self-indulgent channeling-my-favorite-historical-romances time!

He wouldn’t be en route to the Winter Palace again, if it had been his choice. Or Josephine’s. Or likely Celene’s, if he had to guess. The whole Inquisition would have been happy to leave him in the back corner of the stables, out of sight and out of mind, if their own leader hadn’t insisted on taking him on her own arm. And no one - least of all the not-quite-Warden not-quite-Blackwall - could ever tell Inquisitor Catrin Trevelyan no. She’s a sight to behold sitting across from him in the carriage, pretty and polished in all her finery. She looks like she’s meant to be so adorned, bedecked in the same silks and satins she wore to the grand masquerade, her ash gold hair braided and bejeweled with pins that had to have cost a small fortune. As their retinue makes its way up the High Quarter of Halamshiral, he drinks in every little brilliant flash of elegance illuminated by the lantern lights that slide by the open window: the pursed pout of her downturned lips, the curving set of her jaw, the soft slope of her shoulders. And the way the top half of her tits threaten to spill out over her neckline. He’d have to be blind and dead not to look at those, and given her recent forays into the ways of the Nevarran death-mages, she might find a way to let him appreciate the view for a few moments longer even if he did expire. Which he might, come to think of it, either from having to stuff himself back in this ridiculous gilded coat or shamefully walk back into the grandest ballroom in Orlais with all his lies and guilt and undeserved freedom on full, garish display.

[seethesunny]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged both by @adhdprincess and @emilylawsons! Thank you both 🫡❤️

I'm taking a small break from plot heavy stuff and writing some domestic Jackson au tonight :)

Snippet under the cut:

Friday nights are movie nights. 

That’s the sacred arrangement, and it’s indisputable. 

What it’s not, however, is the movie selection. 

Huddling together on the wooden floorboards of the living room, with Tess’s legs gracefully bent underneath and Joel's crisscrossed, their box where they safeguard the plastic cases is placed between them. 

Once they settled in their two-story house that Maria gave them the keys to, repairing what was needed was a task of months—and a whole lot more to adjust, they managed to find a bunch of them, and soon, their collection expanded. 

While Ellie usually is the one to watch them alone at any time of the day, crashing into their place, and usually she is the most eager for new acquisitions, these days she rarely shows up on Fridays.

A year and a half, and after she found her footing, she was out of their hair. 

Even if there are days and nights where they miss her, she’s found a place where she can be a normal teenager, and if that means being abandoned, then so be it.

Tess groans as he pulls out a DVD from the pile, face palming herself for the teenager’s idea of fun because, well, it keeps backfiring for her. 

“You gotta be doin’ this on purpose, I swear...” Tess complains, huffing and sagging her shoulders. 

Joel, on his behalf, glares at her for her dramatic disappointment, flipping the cover to read the back, grinning to himself even though he's seen this one countless times alongside Tommy. 

“What now? You ain’t like a classic?” Joel reaches out a hand to squeeze the round of her shoulder, eyes darting to the array of movies she got on the ground. “We can watch one of yours after this one.” 

Her gray and blue sweater moves with her when she twists to fully level him with a look, the fabric swallowing her whole, and Joel’s eyes are mocking when they lock. 

“You fucker.” She scorns him, yet shoving him with passive force that's not as reproaching. “You better promise.” 

Joel lifts a furry brow, extending his palm towards hers and gripping her bony wrist; playfully, he finds her pinkie and twines it with his, there. A promise. 

“I swear it. Or, I’ll go bald.” And he knows that, under every wrong stupid shit he can do, she stopped talking to him when he decided to shave; then forcefully agreed that doing so in the middle of the apocalypse was useless, either way. 

Her eyes roll up to the sky, smacking his beige covered chest. The sweater had no owner, so it got passed down to Joel. It brings out the color of his eyes, and Tess enjoys stealing it because his things are hers, too. 

“Keep rollin’ those jokes, and you won't sleep on the couch,” Warns Tess, expression darkening as Joel’s grin widens, “you’ll be sleepin’ outside. Yes? Go explore nature's wonders.” 

Blowing a breath through his nose, he pokes her side. “Ain’t a boy scout.” 

With a yelp, Tess smacks his underarm and scoots away, eyes dangerous like she would pounce at any moment and tackle him to the ground. 

Instead, she plucks her movie from the ground, leaving him with the mess, and she hauls herself upwards with a groan.  

“Alright.” She settles. “Let’s go watch your boring yeehaw movie.” 

It's already late, so I won't be tagging anyone, but anyone who wants to participate is free to do so!

[kraykrayhandicrafts]

Another WIP Wednesday with the same project. The pattern does not call for bust darts, but I just know the shirt won't sit properly around my breast if I don't expand it. It took me a while to figure out how to make it look okay in pattern, but after frogging about 10 rows 3 times, I managed to make it properly invisible 😊 Yay, go me

[tennessoui]

wip.....friday ig

i am sooo sorry i was tagged in the wip wednesday thing and then just completely forgot to actually do it even though i very much planned to lol anyway here is a snippet of what im working on rn 3 guesses what it is

Hardeen is in the small med-wing of the ship. Someone had applied bacta to his face and to his neck. It must have been Anakin because his fingers are still covered with the substance. The last time he remembers touching Hardeen, his hands had been around his neck. And Hardeen had said— “Ari,” Obi-Wan had gasped like it had been his favorite word, panting out the syllables as Anakin drove into him over and over, body spreading, body taking, taking everything Aristel could give him, everything he had when he had never really had anything more than a name that was “Ari,” Obi-Wan had murmured far too early in the morning, pressing a kiss against his newly crooked nose as he hovered beside his bed already dressed and ready to leave but reluctant to go while Aristel was still asleep, reluctant to go before he could say “Ari,” Obi-Wan had sighed when he’d found him asleep at his table instead of in his bed, but how could he ever understand just how big the bed felt, just how small these quarters were, just how strange this Temple was, even though a familiar boy wearing what would become his master’s face walked around and called him “Ari,” Obi-Wan had said, in a tone that hurt to hear, like they were equals—like he recognized something of himself in Anakin, like Aristel was the only one who could understand him, could love him, could stand to hear him say “Ari,” Obi-Wan had snapped when Aristel had needled too much at his padawan, but how could Aristel let it go, how could he exist around a version of himself who had everything he ever wanted, who had his master, who would have eleven more years with his master, when Aristel’s master was gone, when Anakin’s master was dead, when Anakin’s master’s murderer’s throat lurched beneath Anakin’s hands as he said— “Ari,” Hardeen had said. Hardeen had said, “Aristel.”

hehe

[chaotictarlos]

Thank you for the tags @heartstringsduet @paperstorm @theghostofashton @taralaurel @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses and @bonheur-cafe for the tags! I'm going to post a few small sections of different fics because I don' thave much but I also want to share.

Piano Player and Photographer AU:

TK takes a long drag of his cigarette as he leans against his balcony railing and looks over at the city as the nighttime starts to take hold. He watches people leave buildings, meet up with friends, and listen to the parts of conversations that the soft breeze carries up to him. Usually the night sounds bring with it a sense of claming, but tonight it just reminds him how lonely he is. He sighs, flicking the ash off the tip of his cigarette, and looks around.

His thoughts drift back to Carlos and the photo session that he had with him that afternoon. There was something about the man that just drew TK to him. It was dangerous - the feelings that stirred in his gut when he thought about him. Especially knowing that Carlos isn’t single and TK can’t act on them even if he wanted to. He knows that he’s going to have to get the photos edited fast so he can push Carlos out of his life before TK gets ideas of things he’d want to happen.

TK always hates how quickly he can become attached to people, it’s always been his downfall.

Breeding Kink

He couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of breeding TK, of filling him full of his come, and getting him knocked up. Of course, that wasn’t realistic because they were both males incapable of getting pregnant, but that didn’t matter. Carlos found the idea hot and once he started to think about it he really couldn’t stop.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip as he bit back the moan that was threatening to bubble up at his thoughts. His cock had groaned hard in his pants just from the thought of having TK beneath him, breeding him and filling him full of his come. It was hard not to sneak a hand between his legs to get some relief, but he held back because he doesn’t want TK to ask him questions about what had him so riled up.

If TK asked him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from blurting out what he wanted to do to him and revealing the kink that he had. If he did that and TK didn’t like the kink or was uncomfortable with the thought it would make the rest of the ride back to the house awkward and Carlos wouldn’t be able to handle that.

So he kept his eyes on the road and willed himself to think of something else so he didn’t end up making a fool of himself. He wasn’t sure how they make it home without TK noticing what was going on with Carlos but he’s thankful for the moment he’s spared himself any embarrassment for the moment.

They parked the car in their usual spot and Carlos all but drags TK to the elevator. When the doors shut behind them, Carlos yanked TK into a searing kiss, desperate to get his hands on his fiancee and fuck him senseless.

“Somebody’s really turned tonight,” TK teased against his lips, slipping a hand underneath Carlos’ sweater.

“Can’t help it,” Carlos groaned into the kiss, pressing his hips against TK’s so that he could feel how hard he was in his jeans. “You’re just so fucking hot and fiancee sex is better than boyfriend sex.”

“Imagine how hot husband sex is going to be.”

Carlos groaned again, rolling his hips against TK’s. He kissed along the length TK’s jaw and pressed his face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling at the spot that he was obsessed with. His thoughts kept going back to the thought of breeding TK and he had to bite his tongue to not say it out loud.

“Fuck baby, what got you going tonight? You’re so needy,” TK teased, sliding his hand down Carlos’ chest to cup his cock. He squeezed it just on the side of too hard. 

“You, fuck, it’s just you,” Carlos gasped into his mouth and it was mostly the truth. He rutted shamelessly into TK’s hand until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He yanked himself away with the last bit of his self-control and grabbed TK’s hand, pulling him into their bedroom.

TK POV Breakup Era Fic

That night when TK got home, he found that all of Carlos’ things had been moved out of the room they had been sharing and that the only thing that had been left behind was a letter from Carlos. It lay in the center of the bed, taunting him for the longest time before TK picked it up and opened it, reading the last words he was sure he’d ever get from Carlos.

TK,

I feel stupid writing this, but since you’re ignoring every other bit of communication I have attempted with you I thought it wouldn’t hurt. The worst you could do is throw the letter away without looking at it, and even then I probably wouldn’t know.

But on the off chance that you’ll read this…

I’m sorry that I bought the place before I spoke to you about it, that wasn’t the best move on my part. But I don’t think it warrants ending our relationship without a proper discussion. I thought we had agreed to talk to each other when things got tough. You told me that you were done running, not that I’m surprised you did it again because that’s what you always do when things go the opposite of your way or things get too hard.

I don’t know why you won’t talk to me about this. I want to understand what I did that was so wrong, I want to talk to you and show you that I’m NOT like Alex - or any other pass boyfriend you’ve had - and never would be. You know I’m not, and I know you said that as a way to hurt me. It did.

I don’t want to let you go, TK. Let me fight for you. Let’s talk about this. Hell, let’s fight about this if you want but we need to talk about it because this isn’t the end. I don’t understand why you’re letting this be the thing that breaks up after we’ve gone through so much together.

I love you, TK. I always will.

Don’t shut me out and ruin a good thing. I’ll sell the loft if you want me too. We’ll live with your dad until we find a place that we can both afford. I’ll do that because I did mean it when I said that I didn’t care where we lived as long as it was together. I just want to be with you.

Please, don’t let this be the end. We can work through this. 

I…

I just want you.

I’ve moved out to give you space and I’m staying at the loft for the time being in case you want to come by and talk about this. You can also call me. Or text me. 

Just… let me know, please?

I love you,

Carlos.

Unnamed Fic I am still unsure I will ever post:

TK is desperate, that’s the only reason he picks up his phone.

It’s been weeks since he’s been able to get off and his cock is so hard that it hurts and not in a fun way. 

He has tried, many times, to get off but all he manages to do is get himself riled up and desperate. Nothing he does, no amount of porn he watches, or thoughts of Carlos helps him to get off.

TK needs Carlos.

He can’t come without him.

It’s pathetic and he knows it.

He strokes his cock again, whining at how close he is but it’s not enough. It’s not enough when he swipes his thumb over the slit-like he likes. It’s not enough when he tugs on his balls. It’s not even enough when he wraps his hand around his own throat and tries to choke an orgasm out of himself. It’s not enough when he pushes two fingers into his hole and fucks himself on them.

It’s not enough.

He whimpers, pathetic tears filling his eyes as he fumbles with his phone, pulling up his contacts and clicking Carlos’ name that’s still at the top - forever a favorite because TK refuses to change it.

His breath is shaky as it rings, hoping that by any chance Carlos will answer and not hate him for what he’s going to ask. He’s not sure that Carlos will have any fond feelings when he asks him to help TK get off, but TK is desperate and his mind is too clouded with the need to come to think straight.

Carlos answers after four rings.

“TK?” His voice, silky and smooth floats over the line and TK can’t help the sob that comes out. His cock jerks hard, perking up at the sound of Carlos’ voice.

It’s so pathetic that just hearing Carlos’ voice is almost enough.

“Carlos,” he sobs out in a whine.

He hears rustling on the other line. “TK are you okay?”

“I need, fuck, please don’t hate me,” TK whines as his hand finds his cock again. He aches so much that he can’t think straight. “Help me come, please.”

There’s a pause and then Carlos’ voice comes out colder than it had before.

“You’re calling me because you’re a whore who can’t come on his own?”

Being called a whore shouldn’t send shivers down TK’s spine or make him moan the way it does, but it does and he just has to live with that. He wants Carlos to say it again, to tell him what a whore he is. He wants Carlos to degrade him, to tell him that he’s useless and not even good enough to be a hole to come in - he should probably unpack that in therapy sometime.

“Y-yes,” TK stutters. “I’m desperate. Please. I need it. It hurts. I need it so badly.”

For a few long moments, there’s nothing but silence and Carlos’ breathing on the other end. He whimpers, biting his lip to try to stop from crying out but it’s hard not to.

“We’re not doing this on the phone,” Carlos finally says. “If you want to come, you can come here.”

There’s a click and then the line goes silent. 

No pressure tags: @sanjuwrites @detective-giggles @meditating-honey-badger @thebumblecee @a-j-cowwley @basilsunrise @mooshkat @catanisspicy @ambiguouspenny @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @mikibwrites @freneticfloetry @hoko-onchi-writes @largepeachicedtea @kiloskywalker @three-drink-amy @rosedavid and anyone else who would like to do this

[ectoentity]

WIP Wednesday: The Night Will Come but Not to Stay

So far we have 3 votes for this fic.

"Hey, are you... okay?" the ghost asked. "Absolutely not," Jazz droned. She grabbed the ghost by her red jacket and dragged her into a booth in the cafeteria area. "Is the world ending?" "What? No." The ghost sat down across from Jazz and stroked her hair back into place. "I'm looking for Johnny. Have you seen him?" "I haven't--" The name hit Jazz a second later. She groaned. "Johnny? Seriously?" She took another look at the ghost in front of her. "Wait, aren't you the one who--" "Yeah, look, can we let bygones be bygones?" asked Johnny's girlfriend quickly. "I tried to possess you, your brother beat the crap out of me and my boyfriend. It's all even, right?"

[evenfallwriter]

@aftgtandn No fricking idea if any of this will make the final draft but still, here it is. XD

Heard that there was a wip wednesday.

[android-and-ale]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag, @affixjoy!

Here's a scene from a sequel to Replicator Roulette.

---

The turbolift doors had barely closed behind them when Jim snapped, “Computer, stop!” He stared at Spock, wide eyed. “Oh my god, it’s true.”

“Do turbolifts on the Farragut lack the option to stop while in motion?” Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “Sensible. This feature is widely abused. While I am willing to engage in up to forty seconds of kissing and or fondling over our clothes, I refuse to halt turbolift access needed by all crew long enough for us to engage in sexual relations.”

“No I meant,” Jim’s face went on a rapid journey from shocked to confused to aroused before looping back to the start. “…wait, what?” 

Spock cupped his cheek and leaned in for a messy kiss that was all teeth and tongues. After thirty nine seconds, he pulled away. “Computer, resume motion.”

Jim sagged breathlessly against the turbolift wall. “Okay. That was incredible. You should do that every time we’re in the turbolift.” 

“No,” Spock replied. “The act of repetition would make it a mundane obligation. I am experimenting with spontaneity.”

“I support you in that.” Jim slid an appreciative hand over Spock’s ass. “Surprise me more, handsome.”

Got anything new for us: @flippyspoon @indeedcaptain @jennelikejennay @introvertia @uhuraprime and anyone else who sees this and wants to join in!

[decaflondonfog]

wip wednesday for @aftgtandn 😇

[merge-conflict]

abandoned wip wednesday

(not strictly intended to inspire a sense of ominousness)

“-check the comms are good?” The disembodied voice was calm and unfamiliar.

“Roger,” V answered, sounding like she was speaking to [Goro] from within his own head. The video captured everything on her interface, and he was somewhat disoriented by the speed and smoothness with which she sorted through several screens before dismissing them all and turning to her companion. Welles, his name had been. A big man, ill at ease in the suit he was wearing, but charismatic in that overbearing, American way. “Jackie?”

“What?” Jackie asked, and then broke out into a laugh when V punched his shoulder. “Geez, yes, roger, whatever.”

“So that’s an affirmative?” The first voice asked dryly– the netrunner, Goro guessed. T-bug. “As in, you’re not going to complain about some tiny-ass little made-up buzz in your ear for the next week?”

“What? No– c’mon T, you know me– I’m not a complainer.”

V laughed, the happy sound making Goro’s heart hurt. “Says the professional fucking belly-acher. Two weeks, Jack– two weeks I’ve been listening to you complain about those docker dumplings. Not a complainer, he says.”

“Ohhh, so that’s how you want to play it, eh?” Jackie shook a finger at V. She batted his hand away, scoffing, but he was unperturbed. “El príncipe de las pupusas?”

“Eso es el mejor que puedes hacer: el príncipe de las pupusas? Si recuerdo corr–“

“Children,” T-bug interrupted, in a tone that suggested she had suffered through this kind of conversation too many times. “Can we keep this professional, please?”

“Sorry T–“ Jackie flashed a smile, even as he whacked V in the arm and successfully parried her attempt to reciprocate. “Everything sounds great. You’re a rose among thorns.”

tagging @ghostoffuturespast, @corpocyborg, @baublekute (no pressure)