#n then we get these 'escargots' n i started eating them n i love them

[incorrect-pokespe-quotes]

But what if X and Y brought snails

Escargots. they’re french. they eat them.

#not a quote #admin céline #OKAY STORY TIME #i went on a cruise w/ my parents a few years ago (i hated it altho i met my bf there so thats gucci) #anyway #we went to like this fancy restaurant on the boat n my parents ordered 'escargots' #n my head was like 'wait i know that word what does it mean again' #i mean ive had french for around 4 years at that point #so i keep thinking abt what escargots r but i just cant remember?? #n then we get these 'escargots' n i started eating them n i love them #im like oh my god this is delicious?? #n my parents r looking at each other like hmhmhmh #so im like in the middle of eating this like my plate is half empty when my head remembers #suddenly my brain knows #snails #n i spit that shit out AS FAST AS I COULD ALMùQSDJKF #I WAS LIKE SNAILS. SNAILS???? #PARENTALS??? SNAILS!!!!! #so yeah that was like. not fun :) #just-cloudy

[oreomonsterhunter]

“I’m not wearing my sexy underwear tonight”

Pairing: Johnny x reader (or OC)

Word Count: 3988

Genre: fluff, not smut but they both really wanna toe the line

Warnings: language, some sexy kisses (cover your eyes kids)

Summary: Johnny takes his best friend on their first date

A/N: this has absolutely morphed into a long term couple, because apparently Princess has taken the reins 😂 if you like this, check out the rest of their story so far on my masterlist!

You were nervous.  Friends with Johnny since diapers, and somehow you were nervous to meet him in five minutes.  You glanced at the time—make that four minutes.

Pacing back and forth in front of the door, you smoothed down your dress again.  All Johnny had told you was to dress up.  He might be a fashion king, but he wasn’t exactly the best at sharing details.  You’d teetered between twenty different outfits before finally settling on a happy medium.  Couldn’t show up to a museum in an evening gown.  Well, you supposed you could, if you even owned one.  So the little black dress at the back of your closet was the final choice.  Safe enough for just about every venue, since Johnny hadn’t told you where your date would be.

You sucked in a breath, fighting against the nerves tight in your stomach.  Your first date, oh my gosh.  How were you supposed to date Johnny?  You’d done practically everything together already, what made this different from going to the movies together last week?  Aside from the obvious—last week, you didn’t know what Johnny’s lips felt like on yours.

Then you groaned at your sudden realization.  Jeez, you couldn’t do anything right in this relationship with Johnny.  You were about to have your first date but you’d already had a hot and heavy makeout session at an unmentionable hour of the morning.  So much for “will I kiss him afterwards?”  Dating for five seconds, and everything was already out of order.  You wanted to scream, but before your thoughts could really start spiraling, you heard a knock at the door.

You were sweating, oh gosh.  Did you need to reapply deodorant?  You froze, staring at nothing.  Until another knock sounded, this time accompanied by Johnny’s familiar voice, “Yo, are you ready to go?”

You sagged in relief.  Nothing else would have snapped you out of the nervous cycle better than Johnny being….well, Johnny.  And when you finally convinced yourself to open the door, the sight of his easy smile was enough for yours to appear, too.

“Well, uh, hi,” he stuttered, making you giggle.

You slipped on your shoes, grabbed a small purse, and locked the door behind you.  Then you linked arms with Johnny, “Alright, where to, mystery man?  You haven’t told me anything.”

“That’s mostly because I didn’t figure anything out until today.”

Biting your lip to hold back a giggle, you tugged him down the hallway.  “No wonder you didn’t share much detail.  I should’ve known.”

Johnny tightened his grip on you when you stepped out of the elevator, leading you to the car.  He didn’t say much, which was a bit out of character.  Frowning up at him, you tried to meet his gaze.  He finally looked down at you when he opened the passenger door for you to get in.  “You, uh, you look really nice tonight.”

A small smile bloomed, “Not looking so bad yourself, hot stuff.”

* * * * *

Apparently Johnny had picked out a restaurant for dinner.  A fancy restaurant.  You read through the list of entrees with a barely-concealed grimace.  “Do you know what any of these words mean?” you asked him.

Johnny beamed at you, “Nope, that’s half the fun.”

A waiter walked by with a tray destined for another table, and you both gaped at the miniscule portion sizes.  “Those look like appetizers,” Johnny said, goggling at the tiny salad. “Maybe I can order several steaks. I’d need about five of them.” He started eyeing the menu again.

“As long as you’re picking up the tab,” you joked.

“Oh, I thought you were,” he said, all wide eyed innocence.  You smacked his arm with your menu, fighting a grin at his usual antics.  The couple at the next table shot you a look, and you hunched back in your seat.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying.  Order whatever you’d like,” Johnny said, still puzzling over the ridiculous dinner options.

You frowned, reaching for your water.  But shoot, it probably cost five bucks for tap, you thought with no small amount of horror.  You set it back down before you drained more of Johnny’s wallet.

After a few more minutes of torturous silence, trying not to fidget too much, you leaned forward.  “Do we even have a waiter?”

Johnny jerked upright, looking over his shoulder at the man in question.  “I don’t know?”

“I’ve been trying to make eye contact with the staff for five minutes and they’re all ignoring me.”

Johnny blinked at you.  “Wait, are you ready to order?”

“No, I wanna ask if they charge for water.”

“No one charges for water,” he chortled.

“I bet it’s five bucks a glass,” you said, crossing your arms.

Now Johnny was really laughing, and half the restaurant was staring at your table.  “Only if it’s imported from the crystal springs of Iceland,” he said, grinning.

“Wait, really?”

“Hell if I know,” Johnny said, making you snort some of your water.  You shrunk down in your chair, hiding your red face while he kept laughing.

“I don’t know this man,” you said to the people at the next table. They stared at you, whispering among themselves.  Pouting, you turned back to Johnny.  “I can’t believe you booked a table here,” you cocked an eyebrow at him.  “I thought we were burger joint people, not escargot snobs.”

“Do you really not wanna eat here?” he asked, propping his elbows on the table.

You opened your mouth to respond, but your waiter finally showed up to take your order.  “Good evening, can I interest you in anything else to drink?”

“Any Icelandic sparkling water?”  Now Johnny was the one snorting inelegantly.

The waiter laughed, despite not knowing the joke.  “Can I interest you in a bottle of red?  You seem like a red wine woman.”

You smiled politely, reaching for the wine list when he offered it to you.  “Sure, I’ll take a look.”

The waiter smirked, eyes landing on you.  “I’ll have to card you, miss.”

Your brows raised, but you complied, digging out your wallet.  Across the table, Johnny cleared his throat, “Do I look like a red wine guy?”  But the waiter barely glanced at him before his eyes were back on you.

“Your photo doesn’t do you justice,” the waiter commented, handing your ID back.

“No one looks good in those pictures,” you chuckled.

“I beg to differ,” he said, then nodded at the wine list.  “What can I get you?”

You glanced over at Johnny, who was fidgeting enough to shake the table.  Curious.  “What do you recommend?” you asked, twirling a strand of hair around one finger.

“You might be interested in one of our finer vintages,” he began, leaning over your shoulder to point out a few wines on the list.  You heard a subtle sound, and out of the corner of your eye, saw Johnny’s fingers rapping the table at a rapidly increasing pace.  You bit your lip, focusing on the wines again, but not before adding a little more fuel to the fire.  Time to test your theory.  You crossed your legs, brushing one foot up Johnny’s calf in the process.  The man jumped as if electrocuted, his knees banging into the underside of the table.

“How about this one?” you asked innocently, looking up at the waiter again.

“A lovely choice, though it is on the higher range, so I’m not sure—”

“We’ll take it,” Johnny announced, plucking the wine list from your fingers and shoving it at the waiter.

You raised an eyebrow, but the waiter simply smiled at you, apparently unbothered by growly Johnny.  “I’ll bring that right out for you,” he said, taking the wine menu and leaving you to suffer over dinner options.

Johnny cleared his throat, leaning towards you again.  “That waiter’s a bit weird, huh?” he asked, watching the man walk away.  “He didn’t even ask what I wanted.”

You donned your best sparkly-eyed expression, “But he’s being so friendly!  He really deserves a nice tip, he had some helpful suggestions.”

Johnny frowned, “He’s obviously flirting with you.”

“No way,” you laughed, waving him off.

Johnny rolled his eyes, “Trust me.  He’s flirting with you more than I am, and I’m the one taking you on a date.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the table.  “Maybe you should start flirting with me some more, then.”

Johnny sent you an indecipherable look.  You wondered if your teasing had worked.  But Johnny seemed to have calmed down some, now that the helpful waiter was out of sight.  

You shrugged, sitting back in your chair.  You changed the subject, giving the man a break.  “Seriously, we don’t need to spend this much on dinner.  I feel bad.”

“I thought you’d like this place,” Johnny said, brows furrowing.

“I will literally go anywhere with you, it doesn’t matter, I just….I dunno, I feel like I don’t fit in here.”  You weren’t quite sure how to express your fear that people would call you a gold-digger or something, only dating Johnny now that he’d achieved success.  Even if the two of you knew better, it still made your stomach twist.  And not in the nice way it did while watching Johnny’s hands playing with his water glass.  Shoot, shoot, shoot, now his fingers were wet from the condensation.  You really didn’t need to know what that looked like.  Had his hands always been that large?  You shifted in your seat.

Johnny’s mouth twisted in a wry smile, “I don’t know if either of us really fit in with the rich old person vibe, but I heard the food is good.”

I’d rather have a bite of you, you thought to yourself, twisting the napkin in your lap.  You’d never seen him in a suit before.  Or at least, not in person.

Johnny coughed suddenly, staring at you with wide eyes.  “What?”

Oh shit, did you say that out loud?  Your cheeks burned.  “Um, I’d be, uh,” you stuttered, trying to cover your mistake, all confidence extinguished.  “We could get burgers, or something.”

Johnny sat back in his chair, eyes on yours.  He smirked, and you wanted to disappear into a hole in the ground.  Oh no, he definitely heard you.

“As long as I get to keep watching you,” Johnny said, voice low.  “You really are beautiful, not just tonight.  Every night.”

You opened your mouth, not sure what to say, but knowing that you wanted Johnny to keep looking at you like that.  Like you were the main course.  “Johnny, I—”

“Your wine, miss,” the waiter had returned.  You bit back a frown, knowing he was just doing his job.  But he seriously couldn’t have waited another minute?

“Thank you,” you murmured, sampling the first sip before allowing the waiter to pour both glasses.

“Can I interest you in any appetizers?” he asked, pouring Johnny’s wine.

You blinked, having forgotten the menu entirely.  Across the table, Johnny pulled out the menu, but before he could point anything out, the waiter was hovering over your shoulder.  “Might I recommend the cheese board?  It will pair beautifully with this bottle.”

“Might I tell you my order?” Johnny said.  His smile was sharper than before.  You might have teased him some more, but you got a bit distracted by Johnny’s jawline as he turned to speak to the waiter.  Honestly, you were having trouble tearing your eyes away from him all night.  It felt like seeing him for the first time, and in a way, you supposed you were.  You’d always known Johnny was attractive, since the time all boys started to look cute.  You’d just never let yourself think about it too much.  Best friend mental boundaries and all that.

Maybe if Johnny hadn’t said anything on that night, you wouldn’t have ever seen him like this.  You wouldn’t have allowed yourself to admire the column of his neck, or his long fingers as they unbuttoned the top of his shirt.  It would’ve been you and your stupid butterflies trapped in the friend zone forever.

Thoroughly distracted now, you bit your lip as you wondered what Johnny’s neck would look like with some new decorations.

“You realize they sell food here, right?  You don’t have to look at me like I’m an appetizer,” Johnny whispered across the table dramatically.  You startled, looking around, but the waiter had left at some point during your daydream.  Oh gosh, did you drool?  You pressed the back of your hand to your face discreetly, relieved to find nothing of the sort.

Then your brain caught up to Johnny, and you looked up at him with a smirk, “You’re too big to be an appetizer.”

Johnny choked on a laugh, covering his mouth to hide his smile when the other diners looked your way.  When he appeared to have himself under control again, he eyed you from head to toe—or at least what he could see from across the table.  He shot you a grin, “You’ll find out soon enough, won’t you?”

You watched him through your lashes, not quite sure what to make of him anymore.  You’d had your fair share of fun with other guys, but never in a million years had you imagined flirting with Johnny so blatantly.  Let alone in a fancy five star restaurant like this.

A sudden presence at your side startled you, and you jumped a little when the waiter reached over your shoulder to set a dish down.  “Sorry for startling you,” he murmured, moving away slightly, but not before brushing your shoulder in apology.  “Should I leave you with this for now, or are you ready to order?”

Johnny’s eyes flashed, and you bit back a curse at the waiter’s truly stellar ability to interrupt.  “We’re fine, thank you,” you said, unable to stop watching Johnny.  Or his hand, slowly tightening into a fist on top of the table.

“Would you like to hear the specials tonight?”

You donned a polite smile, nodding at the waiter to continue.  While he read down the list of fancy-sounding entrées, you turned your smile on Johnny, who was vibrating in his seat again.  You could’ve sworn your water glasses were shaking, and you held back a giggle.  You uncrossed and recrossed your legs, extra slowly to make sure he got the message when you “accidentally” brushed his knee this time.  The vibrations stopped, and his eyes burned into you.

“Thank you, we’ll keep looking over the menu,” Johnny interrupted the waiter, his voice deeper than before.  Your smile only grew.

Once the waiter was out of earshot, you leaned in.  “Can we leave?  I can’t even kiss you here.”

“Yep, yes, absolutely,” Johnny said, standing up the second the words were out of your mouth.  He nearly upended the table, making you snort.  “Right now,” he nodded, striding for the exit.

You scrambled out of your chair, rushing after him.  “Johnny,” you hissed, grabbing his sleeve.  “We didn’t pay yet.”

He came to a halt in the hallway, and you nearly ran into his back.  Then Johnny turned around, and you became very aware of the semi-secluded location as he moved closer.  You squeaked out a panicked, “Not here!”  You backed away until he finally reached out, one hand circling your waist to reel you in.

Johnny’s eyes moved over your shoulder, then back to yours.  He smirked, leaning in close enough for you to feel his lips brushing your cheek as he murmured, “Tell the valet to get the car.  I’ll grab the wine.”

You could’ve sworn you felt his hand brush down your back, lower.  Your cheeks burned hotter.  But when you turned, Johnny’s broad shoulders were disappearing around the corner, and the waiter was hurrying in the opposite direction.

* * * * *

You ended up ditching the car and walking around the neighborhood.  You only looked slightly out of place with your high heels and makeup when you ended up at a tteokbokki joint.  You’d played rock paper scissors between that and burgers, and Johnny won, as usual.

After dinner, you were reasonably close to your apartment, so Johnny offered to walk you home. It felt like another one of your late-night adventures, except you were usually in sneakers. When your feet got tired, you stopped in the middle of the block to take off the killer heels, sighing in relief.  You slung the straps over your wrist, prepared to keep trudging along, when Johnny swooped in.  One second, you were on the ground, the next, you were admiring the top view of Johnny’s ass from where you were dangling over his shoulder.

“Johnny, what the fuck,” you asked breathlessly, dying of laughter.  And from his shoulder digging into your diaphragm.

“Are you crazy?  You could cut your feet open,” he scolded you.

“At least there’s a nice view,” you sighed, reaching down to pat his butt.

Johnny put a little bounce in his next step, and you grunted at the impact.  You could practically feel his smug little grin.  “Hands off the merchandise.”

“How is that fair?  You totally copped a feel back at the restaurant.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Bull,” you said.  “You went all ‘alpha male’ with that nice waiter.”

Johnny huffed, “I wasn’t jealous.”

You grinned in victory.  “I never said you were, mister offering-up-information.  Now put me down, you caveman.”

Johnny’s grip on your thighs loosened, and his hands slid up to your waist, holding you tightly as he helped you back down.  You froze for a second when your feet hit the ground, not expecting to be face-to-face with him so suddenly.  “Wait right there,” Johnny said firmly, finally releasing your waist.

You blinked at him in confusion, watching as he slid his suit jacket off.  Your eyes widened when he reached for you, but it was only to wrap the jacket around your waist, tying the sleeves into a knot to hold it in place.

“There,” Johnny said, nodding at his handiwork.  Then he turned, crouching down slightly.  “Alright, princess, hop on.”

You beamed at him, not that he could see it.  It wouldn’t be a walk with Johnny if he didn’t end up carrying you at the end of the night, you chuckled to yourself.  You were fiercely grateful to Johnny for thinking of his jacket—you weren’t quite sure how long your skirt was, now that you were wrapped around him like a koala.

“Thanks, Johnny,” you mumbled, burying your face in his neck.  “You’re the bestest.”  You left a smacking kiss on his cheek, and he laughed, tightening his hold on your legs.

Finally, you arrived at your apartment building.  You slid your heels back on, balancing with one hand on Johnny’s arm.  “I’ll walk you up,” he said once you straightened.

But when you got to your door, you hesitated, unsure what to say.  Was this the part where you kissed him goodnight?  You were torn, so at odds with the way the night resembled your old friend dates, only now things were different.  What were you supposed to do?

“So,” Johnny drawled, leaning against the wall.  “Where’s my tip?”

You stared at him, incredulous.  “Your tip?” you repeated.

“Johnny’s chauffeur service isn’t free,” he said.  “And if I remember correctly, you still owe me for last time.”

You cocked a hip, smirking slightly.  “Any preferred payment methods?”

Johnny blew you an air kiss, and you made a show of catching it.  “I take cash or card,” he informed you.

“What a shame,” you murmured, dropping your purse in front of the door.  “I seem to have lost my wallet.”

He watched you carefully, barely blinking as you approached him, one slow step at a time.  “Apps?”

You stopped mere inches away, “Not a single one.”

He swallowed, and your eyes tracked the movement.  Your daydream from before came back with a vengeance—you bit your lip at the thought of marking him up.  Then you leaned in, resting one hand on his chest.  His heart pounded through the thin dress shirt.

“Will this do?” you asked, lips just barely brushing his.  Nothing else touched, aside from your fingertips on his sternum, but you could’ve sworn you felt him shiver.

Oh so slowly, Johnny reached out, hands ghosting over your hips.  You smiled against him, then melded your lips to his, bypassing whatever hesitations were holding you back.  What was the worst that could happen?

You felt Johnny teasing at the seam of your lips and gratefully opened for him.  He inhaled sharply when you inched forward, your chest brushing his.  You couldn’t hear anything but your heart racing.  And when his fingers dug into your hips, you fell into the kiss.  He pulled you in like a magnet until every part of you aligned with him.  Your limbs felt molten, burning at the contact.

Johnny pulled away, but not for long.  You gasped for air as his lips traced over your jawline, making their way to the delicate skin beneath your ear.  He pressed hot kisses there until your neck arched back obediently.  And when he nipped at your throat, you whimpered.  Thoughtlessly, your hips rocked forward.  Johnny gave voice to a deep groan, so you did it again.

Growling lightly, Johnny curled an arm around your waist to pull you harder against him.  All of the breath left your body at the feel of his growing hardness against your belly.  You fisted your hands in his collar, tugging him away from your neck.  You caught a glimpse of his kiss-swollen lips and blown out pupils, then dove back in for more.

While your mouth danced with his, your hands dragged southward.  Your fingernails caught on a button or two as you traced the muscle beneath.  Now Johnny’s hips were bucking into yours.  You grinned savagely into the kiss.  You’d just reached his belt when Johnny ripped his mouth away from yours.  “Woah, woah,” he gasped.  “Slow down, there.”

You panted for air, “What’s wrong?”

Both of you were breathing hard, and you were having a hard time ignoring the elephant in the room.  Er, hallway.  “You’re not trying to take advantage of me on the first date, are you?” Johnny asked with a breathy chuckle.

You laughed softly, tilting your chin back to get a good look at him.  “Is it really taking advantage if you want it, too?”  You smirked at him, rolling your hips forward to emphasize your point.

He watched you through half-lidded eyes, and you could’ve sworn you felt him throb.  But Johnny, ever the gentleman, smoothed his hand down your back, resting his head back against the wall rather than picking up where you left off.  “Cut me some slack, I’m not wearing my sexy underwear tonight,” he said with a crooked smile.

Oh no, now you had heart eyes for the man.  You pecked his chin to hide your cheesy grin.  “You let me know when you are, hmm?” you hummed, placing another kiss to the base of his throat.

“Princess, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for you.”

You giggled, leaning back in his arms.  “Am I so scary?”

Johnny sobered, meeting your gaze.  “I just don’t want to mess anything up.  Not with you.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you smiled at him.  “I trust you too much.”

“Oh yeah?  You still haven’t told me what you wished for on your fourteenth birthday,” Johnny taunted.

You tilted your head, thinking back.  “I didn’t tell you because I was hopelessly in love with you at the time,” you confessed.  “Now that’s out in the open, I guess you can know.”

Johnny blinked, taken aback.  “Even then?”

“Johnny, I think I’ve loved you forever,” you said, staring up at him.  “So of course I wished for the same thing every year.”

“What was it?”

Your smile widened, “Well, it already came true.  You said it, too.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#johnny fluff #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny fanfic #johnny x reader #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh imagines #johnny suh fanfic #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 fic

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

Hey!! Can you write the First anniversary of Reader and Punk!Jaskier, as a married couple? Just thought it would be a cute idea, especially as Jaskier spoils the reader on their special day!!

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Punk!Jaskier x Reader Word Count: 1,585 Rating: T Taglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak​ @whatevermonkey​ @mynamesoundslikesherlock​ @kemmastan​ @magic-multicolored-miracle​ @writingstudent​ @mlleecrivaine​ @coffee-and-stories​ @amirahiddleston​ @ultracolorfulnerdcollection​ @astouract​ @your-not-invisible-to-me​ @mycat-is-mylove a/n: I picture their one year anniversary being the trip they couldn’t take for their honeymoon. Which means it’s long and beautiful and detailed. I wrote the start of the trip here and might do more bits and pieces over time, but here is how it began. May all of our trips go so well. Thank you! xo

It was raining in Paris when you touched down and you knew it was going to be an even better day than you could’ve anticipated.

It was one year to the day that you and Jaskier had gotten married, six months after giving birth to your daughter, and you were finally taking the honeymoon you’d planned but hadn’t been able to go on. You’d decided to make it two weeks to make up for the lost time and to give yourselves time to roam and enjoy. You’d still found yourself struggling with the need to fit as much in as possible. It had been your dream to go to Paris since you were a child. You’d both been renewing the French you learned in school by using Duolingo and you felt confident in your ability to get around town. But there would be no getting around today.

“I’m so sorry love,” Jaskier sighed as the pair of you bundled into a taxi, soaked through despite only being outside for a few minutes. He gave the directions to the taxi driver and you took his hand, squeezing it tightly with a wide smile on your face.

“This is perfect,” you reassured him, “We can just stay in today and look out at Paris and relax.”

“That does sound nice,” he admitted, “You sure you don’t feel cheated, though? I know we were going to go to les Jardins des Tuileries.”

“I have been incandescently happy for six years,” you replied, “and then beyond incandescent as of a year ago. Frankly if I get any happier, I may die. It is medically inadvisable that you make me any happier, Pankratz. Jaskier chuckled at your faux solemn expression and pulled you in for a kiss.  

-----

You were dropped off at the hotel and Jaskier asked you to close your eyes which made getting out of the taxi a little harder but you soon felt the door open and Jaskier’s hands as he helped you out and then he positioned you facing outward.

“Open them,” he said. The first thing you noticed was the metro line close by and thought of how convenient it was for your plans and then you looked up and gasped, hands flying to your mouth. Before you was Place de Concord. To your left was les Jardins de Tuilireies, on the other side of which stood the Louvre, and to the right you could see the Eiffel tower. Cars drop by at insane speeds sending gushes of rain water up onto the sidewalk but you were transfixed by the sudden, certain reality that you were standing in Paris, France. Jaskier watched you adoringly, loving the expression on your face. He could hear Aevryn whispering in his ear to take a picture but he was selfish and he wanted this moment all to himself. He knew he would never forget it and he knew that it, like you, were all his. He tipped the driver and an attendant from the hotel came up with a cart, loading your luggage onto it as Jaskier spoke to him, and finally you pulled yourself away to go inside and get checked in. Everything went smoothly, though you felt a little bad about tracking in water, a guilt that was eased by the signs already up saying to be careful, clearly you were no the first ones to come in out of the rain. The elevator was smaller than the ones back home but also nicer. Jaskier told you about the history of the hotel and you smiled at him in amusement.

“What is it?” he asked as he realized you weren’t smiling that way at the revelation that elevators were to this hotel.

“You’re just… such a dork,” you sighed fondly.

“Well you married me so that makes you… the… most dorky,” he retorted.

“Well you’re a dungeon master sooooo,” your voice trailed off and his mouth fell open, amused but also taken aback.

“Well,” he countered, pressing you up against the back of the elevator, eyes trailing over your face and across your lips, “You love playing D&D and you’ve already said you’re going to DM a one-shot so, ha.”

“Dork,” you murmured as you pressed your lips against his, muffling his reply. The door dinged open and you stepped out where you found the hotel attendant who had gone up with your things waiting for you. The room was gorgeous and your hands flew to your mouth again in shock.

There was a laptop set up on the desk and zoom was up. As soon as the door had opened you heard four familiar voices cry out “Happy Anniversary!”

Yennefer, Geralt, Aevryn, and Valdo sat crowded around the computer at what looked to be your office at home and in Aevryn’s lap sat Sam.

“Oh my god!” you cried, “Hi!”

“I knew you’d be wondering about her pretty soon and missing her,” Jaskier explained, joining you by the laptop after tipping the hotel attendant.

“Oh sure, all for Y/N’s sake, definitely not because you’ve been texting me every possible minute to check on her and asking for photos,” Aevryn teased.

“Oh sure, cuz you haven’t been sending me roughly a dozen photos an hour unprompted anyway,” he volleyed.

“Look! It’s your mummy! And your daddy! Can you say mummy and daddy?” Valdo asked Sam who just giggled at him in confusion, large, sky-blue eyes sparkling and her little hands grabbing at the laptop screen.

“She’s not due to speak for a bit yet,” you said, laughing.

“Oh Valdo has decided she’s a savant and that he is going to get her to say her first word,” Yennefer said with a wry smile.

“It will be Uncle Valdo and she will thank me in her Valedictorian speech at Cambridge,” Valdo replied, puffing out his chest proudly and squishing her little cheeks with one hand that she immediately seized, gnawing on one of his fingers which must have been painful but he bore it without complaint until Aevryn pulled his hand away and asked him to retrieve her teething toy.

“We should feed her but have the very best time! Eat all of the bread and cheese and pastries! I will be spamming you with photos of Sam so don’t worry for even a second,” Aevryn said reassuringly.

“Ok, thank you again so much for taking care of her. We love you! I love you pumpkin!” you called to Sam who waved, unaware of what was going on, happily chomping on her teething ring.

“Thanks you guys, take care. Love you Mitka,” Jaskier called, kissing his fingertips and then resting it against the screen where her little cheeks were. The video call closed and before Jaskier could move an inch you pulled him into a deep, long kiss that left you both a bit breathless.

“You are the sweetest, most thoughtful, sexiest man and father in the world,” you sighed.

“So you admit it,” he said, a sly smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

“What?” you asked.

“You admit that I have ascended and taken the title…” he continued, waiting for realization to dawn on you. He saw your face shift from confusion to exasperation and his smile grew wider.

“Jaskier no I will never-“

“I’m a DILF,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I will never call you that. It’s gross,” you sighed, shoving him back and throwing a plush, satin covered pillow at his face.

“Oh c’mon love, that makes you a MILF you know,” he said, trying to pull you into his arms, crawling across the overly large bed to get to you.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” you said, laughing, “I think both partners are judged separately for their attractiveness. I’d be a MILF with or without you. Except I’m not one! Cuz it’s gross!”

“Too late! No takebacks! Y/N Pankratz has finally declared herself the MILF that she is!” declared triumphantly as you slid off the bed with a “harrumph!”

He leaned over the side of the bed to peer down at you where you lay on a carpet nearly as plush and comfortable as the bedding you’d be sleeping under that night.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“I could eat,” you said, “Why – do you have a chocolate fountain stashed in the bathroom or something?”

“Tragically they could not accommodate that, an insurance thing I think. But they do have room service and I looked ahead at the menu and found that they have a number of splendid gourmet dishes including all the classics, escargot, steak frites, yadda yadda but! Most importantly! They have a grilled cheese,” he said the words in a seductive purr and your eyes lit up as he knew they would.

“Have I told you lately that you are a very good, very kind, very handsome man?” you asked.

“Would you go so far as to call me… a D-”

“Julian Alfred Pankratz I am never going to call you a DILF for as long as we both shall live. I practically wrote it into our vows,” you said.

“Fair enough!” he said lightly and rolled off the bed towards the phone to order your food.

As you sat on the balcony overlooking Paris with your perfectly toasted grilled cheese in one hand and the front man for your favorite band aka your husband’s hand in your other you were reminded yet again how bizarre life could be and how grateful you were for it.

#Anonymous #Punk!Jaskier x Reader #Punk!AU #Vicious Mockery AU #Vicious Mockery

[writesandramblings]

The Captain’s Secret - p.92

“The Stories We Tell”

A/N: This section runs concurrent to Michael Burnham finding and talking with Georgiou. To each their own.

Terribly sorry for the long delay. While I might share GRRM's affection for feast scenes, I certainly don't intend to make a habit of following his writing pace. I rewrote this chapter, oh, six, eight, twelve times, and there were about nine hundred details I needed to make sure were woven in, but in a way that still felt believably natural (to me at least; you can judge for yourself whether it all works or not).

One more note: I acknowledge this chapter runs a little long. (A little!?) I'm saying this only because I want to make clear when this is referenced in chapter 94, it's not explanation after the fact—rather, this has always been a part of that ridiculous plan I've mentioned a few times now. Anyway, here goes nothing...

Full Chapter List Part 1 - Objects in Motion << 91 - Find Me and Follow Me 93 - Smoke and Mirrors >>

For a long moment, Lorca did not respond. The request was an enormous one, especially in the middle of everything that was going on. It might also be impossible—it assumed that O'Malley was capable of understanding. Lorca scraped the surface of the table with his fingernail hard enough it left a mark. He was going to replace this accursed table first thing. "Awfully tall order. Maybe a little too tall for you."

Another time, another place, O'Malley might have rolled his eyes or even almost laughed, but between Larsson's death, Allan's death, and the truth of the Buran, he had no capacity for it. He clasped his hands, leaned forward, and said without the faintest shred of amusement, "Short of a Klingon attack, you have my full and undivided attention."

"It's not Klingons you need to worry about here," said Lorca. It sounded a lot like the setup for another joke. Facing the abyss, Lorca would go down laughing.

O'Malley remained humorless. "I don't know how much time we have, so stop stalling and start talking. We may not get another chance."

"Didn't you notice? I'm on the verge of victory here. We're winning. Soon as Georgiou's dead, we'll have all the time in two universes." His smile made it seem like maybe Burnham was right and he did intend to conquer both, but if he ever attacked the Federation, he would lose Burnham. He had no intention of losing her again. Once was more than enough. "So let's table this chat. You can come watch me kill Georgiou."

"I didn't come here to watch you kill anyone. I know you think you're going to win everything, but nobody wins forever. You only win until the moment you don't."

Lorca's eyes narrowed. That sounded a lot like O'Malley was betting against him. "So, what, you came here for a story?"

"According to Lalana, they're the best gifts you can give," countered O'Malley, brightening for the faintest sliver of a moment before settling back into something verging on despondency. Lalana had gifted them all with a story about Lorca and the Buran but at the end of the day, that was all it had been. A story. "That's not why I came. Not entirely. John Allan laid bare all his cards. Why would he do that? The only reason I can see is that he didn't think you'd tell anyone. The only way to be sure someone doesn't tell..."

"Is to kill 'em," concluded Lorca. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Allan's tooth. "You really think the man I pulled this out of had any clue as to my destiny? He couldn't even see his own death."

O'Malley had not been present at the moment of Allan's disappearance, but he had heard about the sudden clamp of jaw as if Allan had activated a poison pill and was aware of Lalana's impromptu dental work on Allan's corpse. He held out his hand. "May I?"

Lorca closed his fingers around the tooth. "You may not."

"Why not? He used it. It's spent, isn't it?"

Lorca's face darkened. What were the chances this temporal failsafe could be used twice? In fact, what were the chances he was holding the device itself and not just an emergency trigger? Allan's body and handheld device disintegrated when he died. The idea that there was any sort of active technology left in his tooth suddenly seemed laughable.

Petrellovitz was going to be very unhappy. Sighing, Lorca dropped his fist down heavily onto the table and opened it. O'Malley took the tooth from Lorca's palm and said to it, "I'm sorry, John. You didn't deserve to die."

"He had to die," said Lorca.

"Did he?"

Lorca studied O'Malley's face carefully, reading the twitches of regret in O'Malley's expression, and asked, "You gonna cry again?"

"Would that be the worst thing?"

"It's a weakness," warned Lorca.

O'Malley's face hardened into a look of somber determination. "No, it's not," he said, offering the tooth back.

"It is in this universe," replied Lorca, plucking the tooth from O'Malley's fingers and slipping it back into his pocket. "Maybe in some future I did die, but seems fate has changed in my favor." He smirked for good measure. Instead of Allan watching him die, he had watched the light drain out of Allan's eyes. A direct and parallel reversal of fortune. Destiny in action.

"Or fate is trying to give you the chance to stop before it's too late."

There seemed to be a threat in there somewhere. Lorca leaned an arm on the table, a dark challenge in his eyes. "You come here to stop me?"

"Is that what you want me to do?" asked O'Malley desperately. "Do you want me to stop you, Gabriel?"

"As if you could."

O'Malley sat there, taking in this smugness and defiance, thinking that Lorca was the cockiest bastard he had ever met and it was right, that ancient saying: pride goeth before a fall. He might, armed with what he now knew, be able to stop Lorca, but to do so would mean somehow lessening the marvelous mess of secrets, contradictions, and hubris that made Lorca who he was, and that was not something O'Malley had any interest in doing. "Please, Gabriel. Allan's gone, Larsson's gone, I can't have it all be for nothing. I need this. I'm begging you."

"I don't owe you anything," said Lorca firmly.

"You owe it to yourself," said O'Malley.

"You want a confession," suggested Lorca. "Tell you I'm sorry and make it all right."

"No," said O'Malley. "I'm only interested in the truth."

"Tit for tat," said Lorca, amused. That little three-word motto of O'Malley's was more than mere affectation: it was the principle by which O'Malley lived his life. Whether accounting for hours Larsson spent on break or asking a life story in exchange for giving one, O'Malley was all about fair trades. I'll show you mine, you show me yours. Lorca glanced at the door to the throne room. Landry would alert him to any developments. "Three questions."

Three questions was all O'Malley needed. "What's the worst thing you've ever done? What's the best thing? What action or inaction do you most regret? Take your pick."

As O'Malley had done what seemed like (and in a very real sense was) lifetimes ago, Lorca chose the middle question.

"It was a banquet," began Lorca, "for a couple dozen promising captains and commanders to meet their new emperor. But like everything Georgiou does, it was also a test."

He could remember it vividly. The details came alive in his mind as he spoke.

The appetizer was sea snails. As Lorca chewed at the faintly rubbery texture, he tried to decide what it tasted like. There was something of an octopus or squid comparison to be made here, but the texture was a bit smoother and entirely more flavorful. Savory, maybe a touch of saltiness. Not like the sea urchin salad from the course before. That had tasted a bit too much like lettuce dressed in stagnant seawater. He put another slice of the snail in his mouth, clumsy with the supplied chopsticks, and then a third.

The emperor sat at the head of the table, resplendent in gold and white, armor glittering in the lights of the banquet hall. Her voice rang out over the room as she addressed the assembled officers. "Come, now, you have trouble sampling the bounty of the sea from our planet? What then will you make of the next course."

The fact was, most of the people around Lorca were having extreme difficulty eating any of it. Some were staring in dread at untouched plates. Others were managing, but not well. Very few, like Lorca, were taking to this task with any gusto. Georgiou scanned their faces, delighted at the grimaces of discomfort.

Lorca was seated halfway down the table. It was not a position of prestige. He needed to make his mark if he was going to get a seat further up towards the emperor where the important commanders were. He reached for his glass of wine and said in a voice that carried quite easily to the emperor's ears, "This is delicious."

"Gabriel Lorca, is it?"

There was a half-smile on his face at the sound of his own name. He inclined his head and raised the wine glass in Georgiou's direction. "I'd love to get the recipe." He took a quick swig of wine and went for the last piece of snail on his plate, abandoning his chopsticks and grabbing it with his fingers. Even if it made no real sense, he decided the word to describe the taste was warm.

Georgiou's smile was entirely calculating. "I'll see to it you do," she promised, and to be sure he was not bluffing, added, "Perhaps you would like more?"

"Sure," said Lorca, and plucked a piece of sea snail from his neighbor's plate. The woman sitting next to him could not decide if she was upset to have her own shortcomings highlighted in front of the emperor or relieved to have less on her plate. She decided on the latter and let him steal another piece without complaint before pulling her plate possessively closer lest the emperor think she needed the assistance.

"It really is good," Lorca assured her in a voice that did not carry.

"Just like escargot," the woman said to herself, picking up a piece.

"Blanchard, that's French, yeah?"

"My grandfather was French Canadian," Blanchard answered, which was an easy way of indicating her French roots were in name only and escargot was more of a talking point from her cultural heritage than a part of her own personal experience.

"Lorca is Spanish," said Lorca. "Though that's hardly the most interesting thing about my family." He recounted the history of his family's fortune cookie factory operation as a distraction, which seemed to help Blanchard clear her plate of the remaining snail. She was starting to look greenish.

As the next course arrived, gormagander dressed in some sort of sauce, Lorca noticed something else come into the room behind the last waiter. Its movements were furtive and feral as it darted beneath the far end of the table.

The plates of food lowered in near-perfect unison onto the table. Lorca used the occasion as an excuse to knock one of his chopsticks to the floor. The chopstick was a loss, but it gave him reason to lean sideways just enough to see under the table. A girl maybe eight years old was crawling along the floor. Lorca timed her progress and stretched his legs out under the table to block her path as he waited for a fresh pair of chopsticks and watched the other diners pick at their food.

He chanced another look under the table. The girl was glaring at him. He was obviously doing this intentionally. With a look of wild fury, she wrapped her arms around his leg and bit down on his calf. He felt the pinch of her teeth and the warm wetness of saliva spread through the fabric of his pants.

"Yeah, I agree," he said in response to something Blanchard had said, his eye twitching. The girl squirmed on Lorca's leg and bit at his kneecap. Keeping his attention seemingly focused on the plate of gormagander in front of him, Lorca reached into his pocket and pulled out a fortune cookie. He held it out under the table.

It worked. An unseen hand took the cookie and the mouth disengaged from his leg and found a new target. He heard a tiny spitting sound as the child bit into the paper and realized part of the cookie was not edible. He wondered what fortune it was.

An attendant approached the emperor and whispered something. Lorca saw the emperor's lips move in a firm and angry response: Find her. The attendant hastily withdrew.

Lorca considered ratting the girl out to the emperor. He had no idea what the emperor intended to do with the girl or who she was. There were so many mysteries where Georgiou was concerned. Merely being summoned to this table was both risk and honor. Until today, Lorca would not have guessed the emperor was a woman, so closely did she guard the details of her existence from the empire at large to cultivate an air of mystery that implied hidden dangers. Effective, but disconcerting when you removed the mystery and connected the dots between the emperor's often tactically incongruous actions and her identity.

The replacement chopsticks arrived and Lorca finally managed to sample one of the pieces of gormagander. The flavor was entirely enjoyable. Even if this was colloquially known as space whale, it tasted more like a flakily-delicate steak than seafood. There was palpable relief around him at this fact. It was somehow easier to eat something completely unknown in this instance than to bite down on an animal from their own planet not normally consumed in their own cultures.

As Lorca ate, he carefully dropped a few pieces of food into his non-dominant hand and offered them to the girl under the table. The enticement convinced her to disengage from his leg and crouch next to his chair. She pressed against his knee and took the scraps, initially with her fingers, but she seemed to dislike the sauce from the gormagander getting on her fingers and the next time an offering came down, she ate it directly off his hand. Lorca stifled a chuckle and wiped his fingers on his napkin.

The meal continued like this, Lorca secreting bits of food down to the child under the table for his own amusement, the officers around him struggling at Georgiou's banquet of horrors. The next course was whole Andorian redbat. Easy enough if you pretended it was some kind of bird. Then live worms considered a delicacy by a troublesome border species that had been clashing recently with the Terran fleet. Lorca found them squishy and mildly spicy, with rubbery skins and mushy innards. Most everyone else at the table seemed content to poke and stare at their plates.

Georgiou addressed the diners. "Come now, surely you are not intimidated? I am not intimidated by my enemies or their food. I will conquer them in all ways." She lifted a mass of wriggling worms on her chopsticks, tilted her head back, and dropped the wriggling worms into her mouth, slurping them down.

The other diners attempted to copy Georgiou's example. It was too much for Blanchard. She covered her mouth and stumbled away from the table, fighting the urge to retch.

Lorca kept his seat. The child pressed against his leg, not wanting to be spotted and have her little game of hide and seek ended. Two of Georgiou's guards came and hauled Blanchard to her feet.

At first Blanchard seemed to think this might be some form of assistance as she apologized for her sensitive stomach, sweating with embarrassment, but the guards' grips were too firm as they drew her towards the head of the table.

Georgiou stood, drawing a small, golden blade from her belt and running her finger along the flat of it. "I need the officers who serve me to be made of steel," she said. "Steel does not bend under worms. It slices them." With a sudden thrust, she sliced the blade across Blanchard's neck. Arterial spray splashed across Georgiou's armor and onto the table. The guards hauled Blanchard's lifeless body away.

People could not eat the worms fast enough after that.

The girl under the table tugged at Lorca's pants leg insistently. She wanted some of what he was eating. With no way to make clear that this was probably not a meal she wanted, Lorca acquiesced, dropping a worm down her way.

The little girl picked the worm up and pinched it in her fingers, watching the ends writhe in the air. She decided it was more a plaything than food and proceeded to pull it in half from both ends. Worm guts squirted through her fingers. She smeared her fingers on Lorca's pants. This was a little too much, really. Lorca's brow furrowed.

The emperor noticed Lorca's distraction and addressed him again. "Full already, commander?" she asked.

He quickly affected an air of amiable benevolence. "Just wonderin'. This empty seat here, seems a shame to waste the food. If you'd permit me, I'd like to add a guest to the table."

"What guest would that be?"

Lorca patted Blanchard's vacant seat. The girl stared up at him from the floor, obstinate. Lorca frowned down at her and, with all eyes on him, pushed his chair back slightly, reached under the table, and scooped the girl up so quickly that by the time she thought to struggle and squirm away she was already sitting in the chair beside him.

"Michael, you should be in bed," said Georgiou, her tone calmly familiar—yet for all the familiarity, there was a bite in there still. The emperor never failed to show her teeth.

Michael glanced at all the adult faces and answered in a way that felt dutifully subservient and entirely routine, "Yes, mother."

Three things struck Lorca. First, the voice was so small compared to the ferocity displayed under the table. Second, it was extremely unlikely Georgiou was Michael's biological mother owing to the difference in skin tone and likeness. Third, fate had just dropped an unprecedented opportunity into his lap to impress their new emperor and perhaps curry some favor that might translate into power and prestige down the line.

"Suppose she was just hungry," suggested Lorca. "Everyone sleeps better on a full stomach."

"Was that it? Were you hungry?" asked Georgiou. "Then eat."

Every time the emperor spoke, Michael seemed to shrink slightly. Lorca picked up his chopsticks, managed to grab a few worms, and brought them to his mouth. One of the worms wriggled free onto the table. He picked the straggler up with his fingers and added it to the rest, chewing and waiting for Michael to make some sort of move.

Michael reached for Blanchard's abandoned chopsticks and, with skill that far surpassed Lorca's, scooped up a full sampling of worms and slurped them into her mouth. She went for a second mouthful before the first was even fully chewed.

Lorca started laughing. He looked around at the other faces at the table, every one of them staring at him like he was mad. "Look at that! She's put all of you to shame."

"Michael Burnham?" asked O'Malley, reeling slightly.

"One and the same," confirmed Lorca.

O'Malley shook his head. "Unbelievable," he said, thinking there was another point of question here. He found himself suddenly wondering if Lorca's failure to save the Penfield had less to do with tactics and more to do with the fact in the universe Lorca came from, Blanchard was already dead—a coincidence that might be misconstrued as fate.

Lorca smirked, enjoying both the vacant look of surprise on O'Malley's face and the memory of meeting Michael the first time. "She was used to it, you see, all the weird food Georgiou liked to eat. Philippa called it 'the bounty of the universe.' You had to eat it if you were gonna conquer it."

As interesting as the anecdote was, Lorca was not being entirely clear in his answer. "So the best thing you ever did was..."

"I'm gettin' to that. After dinner..."

The vaguely gasoline aroma of the durian fruit served for dessert lingered in the air. Eating it had been a trial even for Lorca—his nostrils seemed to indicate the fruit in front of him was poison and his taste buds agreed—but he muddled through as well as anyone save Michael and the emperor herself. What Lorca and the other diners found unusual, Michael took in stride. It seemed these sorts of culinary tests were de rigueur in Georgiou's household.

As brave as Michael was with the menu, she was not a talkative companion. Lorca's attempts to initiate conversation resulted in him talking at her more than anything. Her responses came largely in the form of exaggerated nods or head shakes. He persistently kept at it, offering a lighthearted stream of mild encouragements and jokes designed to disarm and eventually she began to swing her legs under the table, proof positive his efforts were paying off in some way.

The whole time he was cognizant of Georgiou's eyes upon him, watching, calculating, judging. Now that the plates were clearing, he intended to make sure the ultimate judgment tipped in his favor. "You're up awfully late. Your mom still gonna read you a bedtime story?" Wide, curious eyes. "She does read you bedtime stories?" Michael shook her head. Lorca squinted at her in engaging mock horror. "No wonder you were runnin' around so late. You gotta have a bedtime story. Can't sleep without one. My mom told me a story every night."

The way his face twisted and danced with these statements enthralled her. She looked up at him with eager excitement at the prospect, and perhaps something else: hope.

At the head of the table, Georgiou rose from her seat. Her eyes were fixed on them and her intent clear. She beckoned to an attendant waiting off to the side. He had to spin this into success fast or the chance might disappear forever.

He leaned in close, his voice dropping into a low tone only Michael could hear. "I can tell you a story if you want. I know all the best ones. You'd like that, yeah? All you gotta do is grab my hand and don't let go. No matter what happens, don't let go. Got it?"

With those big brown eyes staring up at him, she nodded once, the biggest nod she could.

"Don't let go," he said one last time, then lifted his head to address the oncoming emperor. "Emperor! May I say what a remarkable conversationalist your daughter is."

Georgiou did not seem amused by the joke. "Come, Michael," she said.

Lorca twisted and scooted his chair aside to make room for Michael to depart, leaning his forearm on the edge of table so his hand was dangling in front of her. She looked up at him, fear in her eyes, and saw the promise still written on his face. In his eyes he was saying it a fourth time, because it was that important: don't let go.

Michael's fingers closed around his, squeezing tightly. Lorca feigned surprise. "All right, time for you to git. It's way past your bedtime." Her grip tightened. The officers around them dropped their conversations into low tones, torn between the urge to rubberneck and the desire to not seem like they were infringing upon the emperor's private life.

"Michael," said Georgiou in warning, head turning in faint threat.

Lorca shook his hand as if trying to shake Michael off, but she held fast. He smiled slightly. Attagirl. "You gonna let go?" Taken at face value, the question seemed an honest request, but Michael recognized it as both challenge and coded instruction, even if these concepts were somewhat beyond her years. Her gaze was level with determination.

"My daughter seems quite taken with you," noted Georgiou, idly stroking the hilt of the blade at her hip.

"Ah, you know how kids get when they find a new toy they like," said Lorca with a shrug. He saw a flicker of confusion on Georgiou's face. She did not know. "They just gotta have it or they pitch a fit. Not that Michael here's gonna end this fine meal with a tantrum." As he spoke, he shifted his attention back towards Michael, almost admonishing her. "It'd be entirely unbecoming, especially for a daughter of the emperor who's clearly inherited her mother's bravery and iron will—if that's not too forward an observation on my part, emperor."

Georgiou sniffed in a manner that indicated approval. As obvious as the flattery was, it was not entirely unwelcome.

There was also a hesitation in Georgiou because, upon further consideration, Michael was capable of throwing the most unfortunate tantrums. That was absolutely not how the emperor wished to be remembered by her guests. "If she were to tantrum, there would be consequences," Georgiou stated with yet another of those reptilian smiles that seemed to come so easily to her.

The reemergence of Georgiou's smile sent a small chill down Lorca's spine. This was treading on the edge of real danger. Time to go all in and see what fate had in store for his gambit. "I could escort her out if you like. Avoid a scene?" The last bit he delivered with a sympathetic wince and in a confidential whisper.

"Perhaps that would be best," mused Georgiou.

"Anything to be of service, emperor."

Out in the hallway, the attendant attempted to detach Michael from Lorca's arm. Lorca deferred the action with calm certitude and insisted upon a continuation of the escort all the way to Michael's room, applying a heavy measure of stubborn Southern charm and command bluster until the servant acquiesced. Michael, for her part, followed him with the docility of a lamb, even if her hand was more like a crab's pincer.

Michael's room was as marvelous a room as a child could wish but Lorca's first thought was that there was something sterile about it. An abundance of toys in pristine condition, an overly saccharine pink canopy bed encrusted with gilded crenellations, a fancy riding horse wrapped in what looked to be genuine horse leather and hair. It all combined to create a manufactured luxury indicating someone was trying much too hard. Children, Lorca had heard, could sense inauthenticity.

"You can let go," announced Lorca, and Michael complied. The attendant hovered, waiting for Lorca to exit. He lingered instead. "She have nightclothes or something?"

There was a whole pre-bed regimen. Pajamas, tooth brushing, a cup of warm milk. Seemed like it had come out of an instruction manual on how to rear children. No, he decided, it was more like it was based on an idealized version of parenthood from an old movie. Almost entirely artificial. He watched with arms crossed, silently bemoaning the discolored stain of dried worm guts on his pants courtesy of that little monster.

The attendant finally herded Michael towards the bed. Lorca swooped in and swept Michael up once more, depositing her on top of the bedspread. "Fetch me a padd, will you?" said Lorca. The attendant shifted uneasily. This had already gone much further than she had thought it would and she was beginning to think she had made a mistake. Only after Lorca offered stringent reassurance all would be well did the attendant comply. (Even if this reassurance was entirely a lie, it was what the attendant needed to hear. Perhaps Georgiou would be merciful. He hoped so. Anyone in the emperor's household who could be convinced to do as Lorca asked was a potential asset.)

For Michael, Lorca had an entirely different set of instructions. "Listen up. You gotta close your eyes and keep 'em closed. Open your eyes even a tiny crack and the story stops. Got it?"

Michael nodded eagerly as she crawled beneath the covers. The attendant returned with the padd. It was easy enough to locate the title he was looking for and even the exact translation he wanted. Lorca waited expectantly until Michael's eyes squeezed shut. Then he began.

"Chapter one, A Floating Reef. In the year 1866 the whole maritime population of Europe and America was excited by an inexplicable phenomenon..."

The words came easily and with an engaging cadence reflecting a thorough knowledge of the material. He even easily interjected notes of explanation for words that might confuse Michael, like cetacean, phlegmatic, and schooner, without interrupting the general flow of the story. When the dialogue began, he threw in voices for good measure. The captain of the Abraham Lincoln, for example, became a Scotsman. This delighted Michael so much she opened her eyes for a peek and Lorca stared at her in expectant warning until her eyes were shut again.

The first few chapters were not very long. Georgiou appeared during the fourth. Luckily, the demand for eyes to remain closed had succeeded in its aim of lulling Michael into a state of near-slumber, and as Lorca concluded the fourth chapter, it seemed possible at last to depart from the bedside without risking another bout of wakefulness on the part of his primary audience.

There was no immediate indicator as to whether or not his decision to undertake this rather unconventional course of action had been a good or a bad one. Stepping into the hall with Georgiou, Lorca found her entirely inscrutable and suspected the emperor herself had yet to make up her mind.

"You did not return to my table," was her opening accusation. She stood with feet apart and her hands on her hips, her chin jutting up at him with barely-restrained contempt for his actions.

"Apologies, your highness."

"I did not bring you here to serve my daughter," was the next.

"No," said Lorca in agreement, and someone lesser would have left it at that or begged forgiveness for seizing such an indulgence, but not him. "You brought me here because you need a commander who won't just sit at your table and swallow what he's fed. You need someone who'll take initiative and anticipate your needs. More than that, someone who's gonna put your needs first. Everyone who stayed and sat at that table probably only wanted something for themselves, not the good of the Empire. Sycophants all. You don't need sycophants. You need tactical commanders who can apply lateral thinking and adjust to whatever fate throws their way."

"You presume to tell me what I need?"

"In the hopes that I can prove myself the commander you're looking for? Yes, because if I'm right, then I am."

Georgiou's eyes narrowed and the corner of her mouth pulled upwards. "You are very bold, Gabriel Lorca." He was not nearly as amusing as he thought he was, but he was that.

"Fortune favors the bold."

Georgiou tapped her fingers against her belt. She drew her dagger with such speed, he might not have been able to dodge the strike if her intention had been to kill him. The blade pressed against his cheek and drew a single drop of blood at its tip. She traced downward with minimal pressure, the drop turning into a thin line no bigger than a strand of hair.

She resheathed her dagger and reached up, running a finger along the line of blood. It turned into a streak of sanguine finger paint. "We shall see if you are sufficient to the task of serving me." She brought the tip of her finger to her mouth and flicked her tongue against it. This time, her smile was intended for him completely.

He repeated his earlier sentiment with casual confidence. "However I can be of service, emperor."

"The best thing I ever did," concluded Lorca, "was read Michael a story. Because of that, Philippa made me her right-hand man, and that position that made everything I've done today possible. The salvation of the Empire. All because of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea."

In another universe, Amanda Grayson had given Burnham an entirely different story, Alice in Wonderland. Lorca gave a small snort of amusement. Those two disparate stories, and the people who told them, had given rise to a pair of Michael Burnhams who were like night and day.

"I found out later how Pippa got herself a daughter. She didn't have any blood relatives. Killed 'em all so they wouldn't pose a threat. Her vanity, however, insisted upon the creation of an enduring legacy, and she always had a thing for Michael's mother. Unfortunately, Michael's mother didn't have a thing for her. First chance Pippa got, she offed the Burnhams and took Michael for herself. Instant heir and indemnity: adopted means no birthright, position entirely dependent on Georgiou's goodwill." Goodwill that, when Michael made a choice for herself, had been imperiled and driven Michael to move up the timetable of her inheritance.

As O'Malley parsed this wealth of information, Lorca considered it himself. As anyone who had ever been a target of Georgiou's "affections" well knew, the mere suggestion she possessed any goodwill was entirely laughable.

There was more to the memory of that evening, more that had happened, but it fell well outside the purview of O'Malley's inquiry.

Of course, once you were remembering something, it was hard to stop, and though Lorca did not speak it, the memory continued playing out in his head.

When he finally made it back to the suite hours later, bedraggled, with a shuffling gait and gaunt look in his eyes, Benford was waiting for him outside. They had come up in the service together, enlisted at the same time, and were presently serving under the same command. There was a semi-formal pact between them. While Benford was a perfectly decent officer, he did not excel the way Lorca did and held a lower rank. So long as Lorca kept pulling Benford along right behind, he could count on Benford to always have his back.

(Already Benford had saved Lorca once from an assassination attempt by a jealous rival. It seemed proof of Lorca's little conceit that loyalty was potentially better found in the absence of fear than in its presence.)

Last night had been one of those rare exceptions to their protective arrangement. Benford did not merit an invitation to dine at the emperor's table and had come onboard purely in the role of personal guard, the likes of which were not allowed at the banquet. All night long, Benford had waited for news as to what had become of Gabriel Lorca, wondering what would happen if, like Blanchard, Lorca never returned from dinner at all. "Where the hell have you been? I was starting to think you were dead!"

"Guess not," said Lorca. In any other tone of voice, it would have sounded like a joke. Instead, it was a resignation.

Benford had a dozen questions. "What the hell happened? Where were you? I heard you left with some kid. What about the plan? What about..."

"Jack, stop," said Lorca after moment. "Can I just...?" He raised a hand weakly towards the door. He wanted a shower but would settle for collapsing into bed at this point.

Benford crossed his arms. Lorca looked terrible, but he had caused Benford an entire night of worry that was not easily forgotten or forgiven. "Not until you tell me our status."

Lorca swallowed against the knot in his throat. "We're in."

"In? As in, in?" The worry on Benford's face melted away. A kernel of enthusiasm appeared.

"Yep."

"So that's what you were up to all night? You horndog!" laughed Benford, clapping Lorca on the back. Benford was too swept up in imagining their bright futures to notice the way Lorca winced at the contact. Aside from that one opening stroke, Georgiou had declared Lorca's face "too pretty to mar, not when it should be on display at my side." Lucky for her, the human body was nothing if not a canvas of skin, most of it hidden beneath uniforms and armor where no one else would see.

Lorca tried not to take Benford's happiness as the additional slap in the face it felt like. "That's what I was doing. Securing the emperor's favor. And I did. Give it some time, but I guarantee you, we are gonna get our own commands. Our own way."

"You mean your way," said Benford, intending it as a compliment, a broad grin plastered on his face.

"Yeah," said Lorca rather lamely, leaving Benford in the hall.

As the door closed, Lorca reached around and tried to touch the spot near the middle of his back that had borne the brunt of Georgiou's test of strength and loyalty. He was too stiff to manage it. He grimaced at the sensation of fabric on raw skin as he removed his shirt and twisted around for a look in the mirror.

The welt was red and ugly, a sharp triangle that completely betrayed its origin: a handheld agonizer. Georgiou had done a perfect job of putting it in a spot he could not easily reach. Unless he sought someone else's help, the wound was going to scar. Lorca closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. This room had no windows and thus no stars.

It did have one comfort. A handful of fortune cookies sat on the table beside the door, dropped there when Lorca had arrived the day before. He hesitated a moment before taking one.

"Be tactful, but overlook not your own opportunities," it read.

It felt like a reassurance. He sighed faintly at the bit of paper, glad fate still seemed to be on his side, because he wanted to believe this was an auspicious event—he needed to believe it—and so that was the story he was telling himself. A story about how he, Gabriel Lorca, had played the emperor into fulfilling his desires, not the other way around.

This had not broken him. He was stronger than it and he was going to spin a miracle out of all the blood and bruises and agony. Something real and tangible: a legacy equal to the stars.

Let Georgiou have the frivolous vanity that was an heir. Thrones were not inherited in the Terran Empire. They were seized by those who had the strength to take them.

There was a grimace of distaste on Lorca's face. He had fallen into another small silence that O'Malley could only wonder at. There were still layers of secrets at play, but they were now at the level where the secrets were ones Lorca wanted to keep from himself.

For a moment, O'Malley thought Lorca was entirely lost in memory and needed to be pulled out, but Lorca drew himself free of the moment and resumed without prompting.

"Anyway, Georgiou pulled me into her inner circle and made me chief strategist. I don't have to tell you how much I excelled at that." The mere act of boasting restored Lorca to some level of confidence and pride because in both universes he had deftly proven himself equal to any tactical situation. Forward-thinking, anticipatory, adaptive. "I made myself indispensable. Georgiou's never been good at tactics. Always falls for traps. Same as in your universe."

O'Malley suppressed a shudder. There was a cruelty in speaking ill of a captain as highly-decorated and respected as Starfleet's Captain Georgiou, but Lorca was almost gleeful at the opportunity. His hatred of Georgiou ran deep and colored his impressions of both versions of her.

"She even fell for a little trap of mine. See, she loved Michael, in her own way, and all I had to do was put a whisper in her head that Michael ought to have a father figure. It's important to a girl's development. Who better than the man with the bedtime stories? I even suggested we call it an adoption. After that, Philippa couldn't kill me. Not without upsetting Michael. And Michael, well, she wasn't a sweet child, but she had her moments, and she loved those stories."

O'Malley suddenly jerked upright like an alert rabbit, eyes wide. Lorca shot him a look demanding explanation. "Nothing, please continue," said O'Malley, waving a hand dismissively and looking away sheepishly.

"What," said Lorca sharply.

Reluctantly, O'Malley answered, "It's just, that song I don't hate. Sweet Child of Mine by... Actually, I don't know who it's by."

Lorca stared, frowned, and tried to decide exactly how much of O'Malley's head he should bite off. "It's Sweet Child O' Mine by Guns N' Roses," corrected Lorca scathingly, emphasis on the "O" because, really.

"Do you have it in this world, too? Maybe this place really isn't all bad," said O'Malley hopefully.

"Your brother's right, you are an idiot."

"Then I guess I'm your idiot," said O'Malley dryly, which made Lorca smirk.

"You really are hopelessly infatuated with me, aren't you. What's your wife gonna think?"

The flush of red on O'Malley's freckles was not a denial. He quickly focused back to the subject at hand. "So you're a chief strategist who reads bedtime stories."

"Not just stories," clarified Lorca. "History, too. Marathon, the Eugenics Wars, the Annihilation of Xindus. The Twelve Caesars." The succession of Roman emperors had offered Michael the germ of an idea and also served as a template for her to aspire to. Heirs could be a threat just as much as a legacy. Often they were both. "Small wonder she preferred me to Pippa. I gave her universes and dreams. Pippa only ever cared about appearances. No substance, flashy to a fault. Gauche."

Lorca's distaste for Georgiou's ostentatiousness was written all over his face. He saw Georgiou as fundamentally flawed in this regard. True, some people might call him a showman given his ability to drum up a dramatic moment for effect, but he abhorred any comparison between himself and Georgiou. His machinations were anything but empty pageantry. Whether brutally direct or verging on subtle through the employ of quiet manipulations, his sweeping moments were always predicated on something substantive.

The distaste softened into a fonder recollection. "I wish you could've met Michael. She was..." Lorca sighed almost happily. "Impossible. I took that little girl and I shaped her into a woman like no other. In every way. And I was justly rewarded for my efforts. My god, she was beautiful. And she was all mine."

The reaction this time was less the alarm of a rabbit and more a slow, horrified dawning. "Tell me you didn't," said O'Malley, face draining of color.

"Like you wouldn't. Pretty young thing throwing herself at you?" replied Lorca, unphased to the point of amused satisfaction.

O'Malley exploded with disbelief. "You once suggested I should adopt. What the actual hell is wrong with you!"

This was not the reaction Lorca had expected. He realized he had left a detail out. "She was grown," he offered, as if that excused it.

O'Malley threw his hands up, mouth open in shock, because while that did slightly lessen the apparent awfulness, it did not address the totality of O'Malley's upset. The indignity on his face suggested that, while the thought might cross his mind because he was only human, he absolutely, absolutely would not, and certainly not in this specific circumstance. "She was your—your—"

"Back up. I didn't 'adopt' Michael 'cause I wanted to. I needed to. Let me explain a few things about the Terran Empire. The women here are aggressive. The men are aggressive. Everyone here is aggressive. They'd put your Aeree to shame, Mac. 'Cause people don't just drink blood in this universe. They bathe in it.

"You wanna know why Georgiou likes holding meetings in person? So when she hears something she don't like, she can kill the messenger. I needed to give her a reason to think twice before coming for my head. That's why I needed Michael. I never wanted kids. I just wanted to keep my head attached to my shoulders."

The logic (and the firmly authoritarian tone in which it was delivered) seemed to alleviate some of O'Malley's concerns, but not all. Lorca continued, "Besides, wasn't like I forced her. Michael always knew what she wanted. She and Burnham have that in common. Once they get something in their heads, they gotta see it through." It was the core trait that made it feel like Burnham could eventually be his Michael returned to him, or, at the very least, serve as a living memorial to the aspirations he and Michael had shared and see their work through to completion.

Lorca smiled in reminiscence again as he recalled exactly how Michael had made her intentions clear and how immensely satisfying it had been. The flattery of a younger woman's affections was enduring and undeniable. "Honestly, if she'd been so inclined, she would've climbed into Pippa's bed instead. Which, as I'm sure you've surmised, was her intent from the get-go: rule with a pretty young thing at her side, the spitting image of her dead lover." He snorted. "I wish I'd been there when Pippa realized I beat her to the punch. Can you imagine her face?" He started laughing. "That was the best part. Deconstructing the emperor's pretend 'family.' I took the one thing that mattered to Georgiou and made it mine. And together, Michael and I came up with the most beautiful plan..."

They found her on a supply run to a research colony that had gone suddenly dark. "I killed them all," was her only explanation for the eighteen bodies she left behind, but the truth was she had done far more than that. She had also mutilated the bodies beyond recognition and destroyed every shred of the colony's research, none of which had ever been published. About the only thing left in the colony's computer was the personnel roster.

When word reached Emperor Georgiou of a teenage girl found alone in the bloody aftermath of an eighteen-person massacre, it piqued her interest. Young girls like that were exactly the sort whose destiny Georgiou enjoyed shaping. She summoned the girl to the palace. Michael and Lorca were there when the girl arrived. Georgiou thought meeting this girl might serve as some sort of inspirational lesson for her adopted daughter.

The girl's name was Emellia Petrellovitz. She was fifteen, two and a half years older than Michael, but where Michael was quickly sprouting into a gracefully lithe, swanlike athleticism, Petrellovitz seemed to have topped out her height and nervously shaken off any curves that might have provided her with anything akin to a burgeoning female form. As a result, the two girls were almost the same size, and the scant difference in their height would doubtless be resolved within a year or two in Michael's favor.

Georgiou took one look at the twitching, scarred thing standing in front of them with those wildly mismatched eyes seeming to stare right through them all and decided there was nothing pretty about Petrellovitz. This was no diamond. It was uncompressed coal. Georgiou's lip curled into a small sneer of distaste.

Whether you were good at what you did was almost immaterial where the emperor was concerned. It was more important that you were beautiful while you did it. So Lorca, so Michael, and so everyone the emperor called part of her inner circle or appointed into positions of power. There were so very many young, pretty female captains who had benefitted from Georgiou's preferences. This ugly, twitching thing would not be one of them.

(Honestly, Lorca minded this predilection of Georgiou's only a little. It did make for a very nice view, and any less-attractive but highly-competent officers passed over by Georgiou stood a decent chance of making their way to Lorca's command. It was something of a win-win for him personally.)

Michael looked at Petrellovitz and saw something else entirely: a map of scars that told a story. She loved stories. Her eyes lit up and she ran forward and grabbed the other girl's hand. "Did you really kill eighteen people?"

There was a shudder from Petrellovitz at the physical contact and she jerked her arm back as if Michael's hand were an agonizer, of which there was no doubt the older girl had firsthand experience. "Careful, Michael," warned Lorca. This wasn't a child, it was a wild animal.

Michael only laughed. "Come see my room and tell me everything. Do you like chocolate strawberries? They're the best."

There was a flicker in those mismatched eyes. "Strawberries?" The word was slow, hesitant, spoken with an awareness of the concept of strawberries, but without any experience of them. A girl who had heard of strawberries but never tasted one. Michael dragged Petrellovitz away with the enthusiasm of someone who had found a wonderful new toy to play with.

"She'll get tired of her after a few weeks," offered Lorca, entirely unconvincingly.

"She did not get tired of you," noted Georgiou in a tone that was both grim and amused.

Michael did not get tired of Petrellovitz. For all her many faults and foibles, Petrellovitz was extremely smart and Michael liked that, even if she did not always understand the more technical aspects of Petrellovitz's scientific interests, like the relationship of space and time.

Several times Georgiou attempted to discourage the friendship, but Michael was cognizant of her own ability to manipulate Georgiou by this point and got her way in the end with one condition: that Georgiou never set eyes on Petrellovitz's unfortunate face ever again. From that point forward, Petrellovitz lived in the shadows surrounding Michael, lurking at the periphery, a ghost in the palace walls.

A ghost, it turned out, in the machine, too, because there was nothing Petrellovitz loved doing quite so much as delving into the palace systems during those long hours when Michael was otherwise occupied. Many of the things she dug up she shared with Michael.

Things like secret experiments being conducted at the emperor's behest into biological weapons. Weapons that could make a human pop like a balloon or wither away like an autumn leaf on a tree.

Things like the Defiant files, a set of classified documents pertaining to the incursion of a ship from another universe that enthralled both girls with the possibilities this multiverse presented.

Things like the truth about Michael's parents and how they died at Georgiou's hands for the sole crime of a woman's failure to return Georgiou's affections.

Lorca marveled at the depths of Petrellovitz's brilliance and simultaneous ineptitude as he talked Michael down from her bloodlust in the wake of this revelation. "You gonna sacrifice yourself 'cause Pippa killed your momma? Think, Michael. You're better than that. Throwing your life away isn’t getting revenge. And this"—he gestured at the wealth of imperial palatial abundance around them—"this is how you get revenge. You earn this."

She found another way to get revenge on Georgiou in that moment. That was the beginning of the real end where they both were concerned.

He subsequently decided it might be a good idea to put some distance between Michael and Petrellovitz. As potent an asset as Petrellovitz was, Michael was a hotheaded nineteen-year-old and Petrellovitz was an unpredictable trigger.

Lucky for them all, there was a shiny new ship just coming off the assembly line called the Buran and it had Lorca's name written all over it. (Benford had taken a small cruiser called the Agamemnon years back and was posted on routine patrols, a banal if satisfying existence. Lorca had held out for something grander for himself.)

Georgiou was more than happy to see Petrellovitz gone from the palace, but the distance did not diminish the girls' friendship. The Buran's communications logs proved that. Georgiou confessed her dismay at the continuing correspondence.

"Why don't you give Michael a command? That'll keep her distracted," suggested Lorca.

Sentimentally, Georgiou granted Michael her own old ship, the Shenzhou. She intended it as a heartfelt gesture which was marred only slightly by the knowledge it was Michael's mother's refusal to join the Shenzhou crew in favor of starting a family that had ultimately spelled her demise.

"Use that," was Lorca's mild encouragement when Michael privately expressed her rage at this turn of events. The fortune inside the cookie he handed her read, "New resources will soon become available to you."

"See?" he said. "It's fate."

"Destiny," confirmed Michael, a glimmer in her eyes as she studied the little bit of paper. This ship, with its tragic role in her past, became the launching point from which she lived up to Lorca's expectation that she earn her revenge. As captain of the Shenzhou, she proved her mettle against the enemies of the Empire and built up a reputation for fearlessness and inventiveness that made Georgiou unwittingly proud. To her, Michael's successes were the result of her parenting and mentorship. Michael and Lorca were more than happy for Georgiou to believe this.

The truth about Michael's parents, her hatred for Georgiou, the Defiant files, her relationship with Lorca—these were Captain Michael Burnham's secrets, and these secrets culminated in Michael's grand plan. Though Lorca dismissed the Defiant files as mere folly, Michael and Petrellovitz never forgot them, and when Petrellovitz realized Stamets' mycelial research could bridge the barrier between the worlds, Michael put the pieces together in a way that was charmingly inventive. It felt like everything was finally falling into place. Lorca's own desire to overthrow Georgiou had found the perfect vessel in Michael.

Except Petrellovitz stole a large quantity of spores right out from under Stamets' nose, infuriating him, so when Lorca and Michael joined Petrellovitz at a research laboratory on Priors World—where the abundance of ion storms in the area made theoretically possible the most miraculous thing—it did not go as planned.

"I mean, you say the math checks out," said Lorca to Petrellovitz, sounding entirely doubtful as to the value of this assertion.

"It does," Petrellovitz confirmed, wondering where the objection lay.

Lorca shrugged and frowned. "Which is great, but theories don't depose emperors."

Petrellovitz scowled. "Math is everything," she began, prepared to launch a rousing defense of the importance of math and how theories had, in fact, deposed emperors, but Michael stopped her.

"We're here to make theory into reality," she clarified.

"So, what, you gonna beam something there and back again?"

"Someone," said Michael, and smirked. "Me."

The ensuing argument was not one Lorca won because Michael, being so impossible, always got her way in the end, and she and Petrellovitz seemed to have anticipated Lorca's every objection. How would she get back? "The mycelial network extends through both universes," said Petrellovitz, "so this mobile transporter unit will be sent with Michael inside it, and when she has set it up on the other end, we'll have a way to beam back and forth."

Where would she end up? How to ensure she did not beam into space, solid matter, or a star?

"The mycelial network threads into spaces where transport is possible. We can tell the shape of the destination by the shape of the network, and we know from the Defiant files that the topography of the other universe mirrors our own. I have already mapped their version of Priors World as the destination. It's simply a matter of changing one dimensional coordinate."

How to know this system even worked?

"I have tested it with local transport within this facility and sent objects and life forms through to the other side, though without a facility on the other side, I am unable to retrieve them. But there is no reason to think they have failed to materialize on the other end the same as they did within this universe."

That did not exactly inspire confidence.

"That's why we're sending me inside this transporter," said Michael, putting a hand on the free-standing, bullet-shaped unit that would serve as the means of the return journey. It was big enough for a person to stand inside, but small enough to sit inside the main mycelial chamber.

"Send someone else," said Lorca. "Someone expendable." (In the back of his mind, he was thinking they ought to send Petra as the guinea pig.)

"You're not here to give orders, Gabriel," said Michael impertinently. "You're here to witness as I become the first person to journey to that universe and back again."

He had to smile at that because Michael and Petrellovitz were very convincing together. He was more than a little proud of them both, in awe of the fact they were about to do the seemingly impossible and fulfill some grand destiny that would cement their collective place in history.

"A ship would be better," said Petrellovitz, "but this will do for now."

A ship outfitted with this technology would have a tactical advantage like no other. "All right," said Lorca.

There was something magical in the swirl of blue particles in the larger transport chamber. Michael looked so cocky, so confident as she disappeared in front of them, ready to begin this adventure into another world with a step so bold and brave it was unmistakably her.

"And now we wait," said Petrellovitz.

"How long?"

"A few minutes. It will take time to connect, configure, and calibrate the remote transport unit."

They waited. And waited. "This is taking too long," said Lorca, and he could see from Petrellovitz's expression she was thinking the same.

"I'll beam you over."

"Oh, no, you're next," Lorca informed her. His communicator beeped and he flipped it open.

It was the Buran. Levy was on the other end of the line. "Captain, the Charon—!"

A message filtered over the communicator, secondhand from the Buran's bridge.

"Gabriel Lorca," came the voice, cold and chilling to the bone. "You deceitful traitor. Did you really think you could plot against me? With my own daughter?"

"And steal my spores!" came a second voice, smaller and almost comically squeaky in comparison to Georgiou.

"Beam me up," said Lorca quickly.

He could hear the fierce determination in Levy's voice. "Sir, there's an ion storm. I can't get a transporter lock." She was calm under pressure. She'd make a good captain someday.

"Get in the chamber, I'll beam you over," said Petrellovitz. At the end of the day, she was a chief science officer on the Buran, those were her crewmates up there, and she had mentioned using the transporter successfully within the confines of their own universe, so he had no reason to doubt her and no time to consider any other course of action.

The swirl of blue particles was magical and disorienting and he momentarily lost the sensation of gravity as he was transported in a cloud of swirling lights that made him squeeze his eyes shut against the brightness.

He realized, as he opened his eyes and the last flickers of mycelium spores gave way to darkness, that Petrellovitz had not changed the target coordinates to the Buran. Very probably she had never intended to.

He was lying on his side on an uneven, rocky surface. When he inhaled, ashy dust from the ground filtered into his lungs and made him cough. The air was cool, dry, and smelled vaguely sulfuric. He sat up, feeling the subterranean chill of the ground beneath his fingers. "Michael?" His voice echoed.

Priors World was known for its abundance of large, naturally-occurring volcanic chambers. They were ideal places for storing and researching the sorts of hazardous materials that required isolation from the outside world or, as in Petrellovitz's case, for any sort of research that required secrecy. (Secrecy was very important when the research you were engaged in was stolen.)  From the smell in the air and the echo, this was one such chamber not in active use.

Lorca rolled to his feet as his eyes adjusted. There was a blue glow emanating from behind him. He drew his phaser and instinctively performed a tactical sweep as he turned, the red light of the phaser offering a gently contrasting highlight to the blue. The mobile transporter unit was lying at an angle, its entry hatch pinned against an outcropping of magma rock, a cascade of blue mycelium spores spilling out across the ground. "Michael!"

No answer. Lorca picked a pathway over to the unit using his phaser sight, the little red dot dancing across the ground. Except for the spilled spores, the transporter itself looked intact. Michael had probably just hit her head and fallen unconscious inside upon landing or been unable to get the chamber open and passed out after screaming angrily for too long. Lorca gave the transporter a push and it rolled off the outcrop of rock onto the ground with the hatch facing upward.

He smiled at the thought she was going to be so mad at herself for needing him to come help rescue her. He enjoyed these rare moments when she needed rescuing. The dot of his phaser sight refracted across the surface of the transparent aluminum window and illuminated the chamber inside.

"She was..."

Lorca's eyes were fixed upon the center of the table, right at the spot where Georgiou had left the head of that sex slave for him to find, but those green eyes were not the vision in his mind right now. It was Michael, her body misshapen and flayed out into a spiral like it had unraveled from within, guts and bones and everything sticking out wrong. His hands were clasped in his lap and his foot was tapping in an idle repetition that shook up through to his shoulder.

He swallowed, wincing as he did. "Twisted," he managed in a raspy almost-whisper.

O'Malley studied Lorca carefully. "I'm sorry."

"For what," Lorca said darkly, his leg stilling. "You didn't do it. It was Hawking radiation." The same fate as had befallen the Glenn.

That was the worst part somehow. Michael had, in the end, done it to herself. Neither he nor Petrellovitz, had she been so inclined, had ever had any chance of talking Michael out of this adventure because Michael wanted to be the grand explorer of an unknown realm just like Captain Nemo in the depths of the sea.

"I'm sorry it happened, and... I'm sorry that I ever suggested you didn't have anyone you loved. You were right. I didn't know you."

Lorca's lip twitched and his jaw tightened. His eyes shifted towards O'Malley, filled with accusation. "And you think you know me now?"

Actually, thought O'Malley, he had known Lorca the moment they met, but he kept this fact to himself and maintained a look of calm, level patience. It was an expression anyone who had ever been subject to one of O'Malley "interrogations" would recognize. O'Malley could remove all judgment of another person when he wanted to and it was entirely sincere when he did.

His provocation unanswered, Lorca glanced away and resumed. "I got out of there eventually. First I had to scrape Michael out of the transporter." The word was as visceral to speak as it was to hear. Lorca shuddered. "Something about that Hawking radiation fucks up biological material more than mechanics, so the transporter was operational, but it wouldn't go to the coordinates they programmed into it. Still don't know why, but I think Georgiou'd gotten hold of Petra by then, so the lab she was working out of was probably gone. The spores were dying, too. I managed to set the coordinates to the surface. Safest thing I could think of. Better than dying in some hole, anyway."

I could've died regardless—beamed into the void of space or something—but I didn't. Fate had other plans. Fresh air and sunshine and I found out then and there how bright sunshine could be in your universe. It burned. Searing pain.

First thing I needed was information. At the first sign of civilization, I spun a little yarn about being stranded after a domestic squabble gone wrong, got myself in front of a computer terminal, and damn if people weren't bending over backwards to help me out. Almost made it too easy.

Initially my only thought was getting back. I looked for Petra. Couldn't find her, 'cause she's Mischka in your universe. Then Stamets. Then Michael. Then me. Captain of the Buran. Some things never change, I guess.

My best shot at getting home was Stamets, but I couldn't get to him and his research without exposing my identity. I needed resources, authorization, access to a ship, rank in your Starfleet, none of which I could easily get with the other me running around.

I don't need to tell you how awful and terrible I found your universe. It was like every single thing that could be wrong was. It was amazing, though, how easy people were to trick and how gullible. I got off Priors World and found a little station where people didn't ask too many questions and the Federation was less a government and more an abstract suggestion. Good base of operations if you want to remain anonymous. I soon had half that station eating out the palm of my hand, and I was gonna replace Maras—the local crime lord—but then the war broke out and right, smack dab in the middle of it all was Burnham. And, it turned out, your sister.

Fate was showing me the way.

I knew Klingon ships 'cause I'd been working with the rebels here. It's amazing how similar our universes can be. Got aboard a cruiser, took the crew by surprise, figured out where the other me was patrolling, and then it was just a matter of setting the right bait.

You know something really strange? He and I had the same damn access codes. All I had to do was get in comm range of the Buran and it was over. I knew every little thing he was gonna do before he did it. Four days I led that man on a wild goose chase while I read his personal logs. Fifth day, I blew him up. Set the Buran's systems to overload and forced the ship to self-destruct and it looked like he did it himself. Set the Klingon ship to self-destruct, too, and the whole thing looked like a battle gone bad.

(Lorca paused a moment in thought. Destroying the USS Buran had been necessary and finding out that the ISS Buran had suffered a similar fate seemed only to confirm the rightness of his actions, but now that he knew the people from the other universe a little better, he had some misgivings. If only things had been different. If only he had somehow switched places with the other Lorca directly, maybe the loss of the USS Buran could have been avoided.)

So that's how I took his place. Grabbed a defunct data core from the Klingon ship and pretended I was trying to bring back cloaking secrets worth the destruction of my own vessel. I had Starfleet eating out the palm of my hand. Cornwell especially. After reading all your Lorca's personal logs, she was an easy mark. The only one who could've stopped me was Lalana. And she didn't. Knew I was lying the whole time and helped me every step of the way. God, she is... She's something else. Crazy, but useful.

I think... Well, it doesn't matter now. Important thing is, I got them to give me Discovery. You should've heard the speech I gave. I learned enough about your Federation to know exactly what to say. Science, unity, diversity, collaboration. It was like selling water in a drought. They gave me Mischka, they gave me Stamets, and I had everything I needed.

Except... I knew she wasn't my Michael, but... I kept waiting for Starfleet to acknowledge the truth of what Commander Burnham had done at the Binaries, accept the fact she'd been right and release her, and they didn't. I couldn't bear to see my girl in a cage. I went and got her out.

She was really something else. Minute I set eyes on her, I just... It's true, what Lalana says. When the person you love most is gone, it's worth everything just to be able to see their face. I wouldn't trade that for the world.

Thing is, Stamets wasn't quite so far along in his research as Petra, so Discovery wasn't ready or capable of getting me where I needed to go. I figured, while I was in charge, may as well make the best of it, help out with your little war. Your Federation's a bunch of babies when it comes to fighting and killing. I admit, your Lorca was good, but I'm better, and we almost had them. We really did.

I wish I could've done that for you. Won your little war. Instead, here we are.

"So, Mac, tell me. Was it everything you imagined? Did you get what you wanted?"

O'Malley's head tilted. "Did you?"

"I will once Georgiou's dead," said Lorca. "Speaking of, I think I gotta go put the unholy fear of god into my people, 'cause this is taking way too long. I suppose now you've got what you came for, you're gonna try and scurry back to Discovery?"

The look on O'Malley's face was familiar because it was the exact same way Lorca's followers in this universe looked at him: with fervent admiration. "You can't get rid of me that easily," said O'Malley.

Lorca smiled. He picked up the little paper fortune from the table. Seek to identify in yourself what you love in others. If O'Malley could sit there, listen to all of that, and still find it in him to follow Lorca, maybe in time, the rest of Discovery's crew would, too.

Part 93

#Star Trek Discovery #fanfic #fanfiction

[c-rankin93]

SHE'S NO YOU - Ch.11

A/N: I think it's time to add a few overprotective men into the mix. How do you think they will react when they find out what has been happening to their little sister? --- CHAPTER ELEVEN: OFFICE DRAMA --- RAE POV: For the sake of my clarity, the events in my life have now been placed in different categories. I needed to separate the good from the bad, the love from the hate, and remember every event happened at different stages in my life. I had to stop remembering when my son came home to tell me about Olivia and Finn. Or everytime Finn called me a Bitch and a shit mother, when my ex-husband came to mind. These things- these fucking vivid memories start to haunt me the second my mind starts to think of Finn! So like I said, for the sake of my clarity, I've decided to cut the bullshit I'm playing with myself. Forget the crap, that made me a depressed single mother and move forward in my life. Finn deserved better. He treated me like his Queen for 12 years of my life. Never once breaking a promise, or loving me any less then he said he did. He was true, and for that when I think of him from now on I will remember that instead. My next change in life started with a handsome Australian, who for some reason blew into my life and turned it upside down at a time when I was broken. Never pushing a relationship with me, only hinting with a smile. That perfect smile. Even now he acts more like a friend then a lover, and I think the reason for that is me. I guess he worked out how sheltered I am, how incredibly awkward my social side really is. I friend zoned him hard, with a side of sex and kisses. And he was fine being there, because I was there with him. Im so sorry Gregory. He's made me very happy for the past year. Never once getting mad when I said 'no' to meeting up or him coming over. I should know, I used the 'Kids exhausted me out' speech a hundred times. I felt like a red hot escargot at a silly French buffet. I loved them both. Some more then others, but there was love there! I know Finn won't give up on me, it's not in his nature. He will fight, and I will resist but ultimately I feared without a doubt he was going to come out victorious. I need to speak with Greg. He needed to know what's going on in my head before I can decide anything. It's not fair for him, he must know how much I still love Finn, so I know that this conversation was going to eat him alive. I just don't know if I could tell him about my infidelity just yet. I wouldn't be able to handle his heart break, even if he deserves my honesty... *ringing* I was brought out of my poor me rant by the sound of my office phone. I didn't have the chance to answer it, because suddenly my office door was thrown open. The panel glass window in the door shattered on impacted when it hit my bookcase. Glass scattered across the light grey floor boards, but the person who created the mess didn't give a damn about that. No, by the fire that burnt in her eyes told a different story. She was out for blood, and it was blood that would satisfy her cravings. I didn't even have the chance to speak before she went off the rails. "YOU FUCKING BITCH!!" Her voice no doubt echoing through the whole office. People began to turn and point, and I couldn't help but wonder how much this was going to effect my job. "YOU DESTROYED EVERYTHING!" She continued to yell on deaf ears. How dare she storm in here and accuse me of shit, when she was the problem to begin with. I wasn't going to snoop to her low and cuss her out in my office, I was going to be mature about this. I didn't want my credibility tarnished over a Prada-wearing blow up doll ready to pounce. "Stop right there Olivia!" I hissed, standing from my chair to lean over my desk. "You have no right to come into this office, break my door just so you can be petty! You fucked up on your own accord. You destroyed my marriage all because YOU wanted too. The only bitch in this room is you, so leave before you embarrass yourself any further." "You think your all that, don't you?" Olivia sneered moving closer to my desk. The only sound that could be heard was the crunching of glass beneath her feet, the office had gone deathly quiet. "You and those fucking children of yours always had a way to worming your way into Finn and I's relationship! You just couldn't handle the fact your side of the bed was still warm when he fucked me!" My blood curdled thinking about what she had just said. I can't forget my clarity. I can't forget what I had been drilling into my head all morning. I wasn't going to allow myself to hurt because of her words. "Don't you ever talk about my children like that! Attack me for all I care, but never EVER speak about my children. Your a nasty person Olivia and it's not my fault Finn has caught up on your lies! To bad it took him this long, and unfortunately I blame myself! I should of talked to him before I filed for divorce, before all this shit happened." "... Because of you my child won't have its father" she said suddenly. Olivia's voice was as soft as silk for once, but you couldn't miss the hatred laced between. "What?" "I said because of you my child won't have its father in its life!" She slammed her hands on my desk knocking off the array of photos I had spread around. "Your pregnant?" Olivia and I turned towards the voice that came from my office entry. I was shocked to see both Gregory and Chloe standing there, plus the two burly security guards behind them. Chloe's face was a contrast of my anger, she was ready to lunge at the person who had rudely interrupted my peace. I just hoped she didn't. Gregory on the other hand was as white as a ghost, I guess he couldn't believe what was currently going on in my office. There was something behind his words though when he asked if she was pregnant, shock maybe. But why would he even care? His eyes kept flicking around the room, but instead of landing on me, they stopped at Olivia. "Yes I am Gregory! And because of her, I'll be raising this child by myself! " "How far along are you?" He asked hesitantly. "I don't know, a couple of months maybe. But that doesn't really matter now does it!" She turned to face me again. "You'll regret this! All of this! You should of just kept your mouth shut, you slut! Then we would of been happy!" "How about you kindly remove yourself from my office right now!" I spoke through the pain. Finn was going to be a dad again, my children were going to have another sibling. I knew that everything would be too good to be true. This was just another obstacle Finn and I had to face. But I don't think i was ready to hear another child call my love, dad. "Fuck that! How about I assist!" Chloe fumed. Grabbing Olivia's arm she yanked her away from me just as she was going to hit me. Her hand collided with air, but barely inches away from my face. Chloe threw Olivia's body towards the security guards, barely missing a still stunned Greg who remained rooted in his spot. "My lawyers will be in contact with your over the mess you have created today! You are no longer to step foot in this building, if you do you will be charged for trespassing! This is my property, and my FRIEND you are destroying right now. I will have you arrested and you can bet your next boob job on that! Get her out of here" she dismissed Olivia with a wave of her hand and moved over to me. Olivia didn't go easy, she decided to make a scene all the way out of the building kicking and screaming. My name constantly at the tip of her tongue. I was just glad I could no longer see her face. Chloe's arms wrapped tightly around me, and finally my defences fell. I broke. My tears would of been freely running down my face if it wasn't for Chloe's dress constantly soaking them up. "Finns going to be a dad again" I whispered into her ear. Sobs effecting the quality of my speech, but I knew she understood when she pulled me closer. "You don't know that babe. That baby could have a million different father's for all we know. That's if she is even pregnant. Don't jump to conclusions Rae, you did it once and look how that turned out." She smiled rubbing the extra tears from my face. I had totally forgotten Greg was still in the room until I heard the telltale signs of glass being stepped on. I looked over to see him moving towards us slowly. I let him pulled me into a hug, and I held on for dear life whilst he soothed me. 'I'm sorry Gregory' I thought. "Don't worry about her Rae, whatever she said isn't true, Ohkay?" I nodded. "Remember your better then her in so many different ways and I'm so sorry." "Sorry?" I questioned slightly confused. "You don't deserve to go through any of this." Was all he said before leaving a tender kiss on my forehead. Again my office phone started to ring, just as the air between us became awkward. I kissed Gregory on the lips lightly and dashed over to the phone before it rang out. "Hello, Rae speaking" "So, Raymond decides to finally answer her phone!" Chuckled the voice on the other end. My face automatically splitting into a broad grin. "Mark.." I teased. My brother had given me that nickname when I was 4 and decided I wanted to be called Rae not Rachel. Growing up with 3 older brothers was challenging, but so rewarding. I hadn't talked to Mark in over a month, I knew he had been busy filming in Austria. "Sorry little sister but your stuck with it. Call it an extended parting gift for when the devil finally drags me to hell" he laughed. "Whatever." I grumbled. "Anyway, how are you? I've missed out weekly phone calls!" "Well I've been great. I finished filming last Friday and decided it was time to come say hello." "Hello? What do you mean?" "I'm in the city Rae. Currently looking at the stupid photos mom shoved in my face. I swear we need to buy that woman a tripod, 80% of them are blurred." Mark chuckled. "Your here! Seriously!" Mark hadn't visited for over a year because of his crazy work schedule and even that one was a flying visit. I hoped he was staying for more then 5 hours this time. "Yupp" he popped the 'p'. "And I wouldn't of come without a little surprise either." I was confused when the phone line went fuzzy. I could barely hear the muffled sounds coming from the other side. "Aunt Rae-Rae?" A little voice whispered over the phone. Tears welled up on my eyes, his voice was just so sweet. "Yes Parker..." I whispered back ignoring the surprised faces of Chloe and Greg. "I've missed you" I laughed at my nephew, he was too sweet for his own good. He had always been wiser beyond his years. Julian had raised him well under the circumstances he faced. "I've missed you too my special little man. Is your daddy there?" I asked Parker. My grin hadn't subsided and I don't think it will anytime soon. "Ahh Rae-Rae! A little birdy who doesn't by the name of mom told us your in need of your big Brothers. And you know us, we don't like to disappoint." "Thank you Julian! I've missed you guys so much!" "And I, you little sister. Shall I tell mom you will be over soon, or are you busy with work?" Julian asked hesitantly. I looked at Chloe not saying anything, but she just smiled and nodded anyway. She already knew what I was going to say. "No, no I'm not busy. I'll pick up the kids early and we will be there soon!" We said our goodbyes, then I hung up the phone. For a moment I had forgotten what had happened. That was until my eyes landed on the broken glass. "Don't worry about the mess Rae, I'll have it cleaned up. And for me, please take tomorrow off as well. Your team can complete the Fitzgerald project, and you just enjoy your brothers finally being home. Gregory, I'll see you another time" she nodded at Gregory, then gave me a solid hug. Chloe left the room, obviously so Gregory and I could talk. "I'm sorry I know we were meant to go out for lunch" I said softly, running a hand up his arm. "Hey, don't feel bad. I know how much you've missed them. We'll have tea just you and I tomorrow night when Finn has the children." He smiled. "Ohkay dinner sounds perfect. It's time we sat down and talk."  -- A/N: I quickly re-read this whilst folding my laundry lol hopefully I haven't missed anything. @lily-pop-2 @i-dream-of-emus @luly310 @l88cym @arathewallflower @milymargot @milllott @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @eveerez @mmfdfanfic @lurkernolonger

#MMFD #my mad fat diary #my mad fat diary fan fic #fiction #Rae #fan fic writing

[crowlentil98-blog]

Where to Eat in Austin Right Now According to Neighborhood

This definitely sounds crazy, but I’m starting to think I’ve eaten almost everywhere in Austin that I want to at the moment. That being said, the last six months have been the most exciting time in the culinary scene as I’ve seen chefs take risks and branch out to showcase what they really want to cook and eat. I’ve been most impressed by the concepts that don’t replicate any others in town and the ones that we have been NEEDING such as Uncle Nicky’s, an Italian cafe and bar with meat sandwiches, gelato, and cocktails, Bar Peached which is in the corner of Clarksville that always needs new spots to grab a nice cocktail and a bite, and Intero on the east side which changes the menu daily and uses whole animals and ingredients to prevent waste.

Full disclosure- I do need to revisit a few old school places like Fonda San Miguel which I haven’t been to since college and Vespaio, and I have only eaten LA BBQ catered. I want to try the Indian food truck Bombay Dhaba on South First, and El Dorado and Little Deli up north. Otherwise, I’ve eaten my way around the Austin sun in the last two years. People say I’m lucky or wow how do you do that. Guys, these restaurants are open to the public (YOU), and you don’t have to eat at your same breakfast taco shack 5 days a week!! The only place I frequent is Casa De Luz, the holy vegan spot when I need a healthy reboot and some home cooking! Otherwise, here are my favorite spots right now new and old in each neighborhood when you’re looking to sift through all the noise.

SOUTH AUSTIN:

(South First, South Congress, Bouldin, South Lamar)

Asian!

American!

Vegan!

Pizza & a Show!

Mexican!

Fresa’s – Who goes to a Mexican restaurant to get ice cream? Me! James Beard nominee Chef Laura Sawicki makes the best cookies in cream with fresh oreos and chocolate brownie. It’s casual and ideal for to-go or big groups when you want margaritas and perfectly cooked chicken. I also love their vegetable sides that are more creative than rice and beans like sweet potatoes, brussels sprouts, beets, etc.

Matt’s El Rancho – C-L-A-S-S-I-C Tex- Mex. If you’ve been looking for Bob Armstrong dip, it’s here.

Polvo’s – I love watching them bake the fresh tortillas and the salsa bar. Fish fajitas all the way.

El Borrego de Oro – Best tortilla soup. That’s it.

Vera Cruz Al Natural @ Radio Coffee – My favorite breakfast taco in town. Only at this location. Fish tacos are good, too!

BBQ!

Bakery!

DOWNTOWN + RAINEY STREET

French!

Chez Nous – You won’t even know you are in Austin until you leave and head across the street to Antone’s. Escargot and Fish!

Le Politique – On the west side of downtown. I like best for brunch. Get the cinnamon roll and hash.

Perfect before a show!

La Condesa – The restaurant that started the 2nd street population. Great for birthday dinners in their subterranean private room.

Fareground – A food hall where you don’t have to commit. Tacos, Italian food, golden milk, matcha lattes, Monster Cookies, Sushi, Ramen, and Israeli food.

The Back Space – Perfect pizza and antipasti veggies before heading out to a show on Dirty Sixth.

Lunch!

Koriente – Not much of an atmosphere, but it’s for the healthy Asian lunch spot with rice bowls and curries. I add spicy tuna to my veggies bowl.

Walton’s – Quick sandwich, soup, salad, bakery. Get the golden egg snickerdoodle for dessert.

Holy Roller – Punk rock diner ideal before or after day drinking. I like the grilled cheese with avocado.

Second Bar + Kitchen – Something for everyone and good for business.

Nice on Rainey!

East Austin

Breakfast + Brunch!

Fun Dinner!

Il Brutto – This might be the only Italian restaurant in town that actually has a true Italian chef cooking in it! He makes 7 handmade pastas daily, pizza dough that is fermented for two days so it’s fluffy and crunchy, and their happy hour is 1/2 off all drinks from 5-7 p.m. I love the lasagna, lamb, and complimentary limoncello at the end.

Kemuri Tatsuya – This is one of the most fun places in Austin because you can’t get this food anywhere else. Think Izakaya meets Texas BBQ. Good for big groups.

Intero – They change their menu regularly and used to work at the iconic Jeffrey’s. You’ll see the same ingredients sprinkled throughout the menu because they are big on no waste and using whole animals. Their pastas are great.

Suerte – Masa, masa, masa! I love the bar here, good wine, and a fun, intimate setting. It’s bright, has flamingo wallpaper in the bathroom. The brisket tacos and carrot dumplings are my favorite.

Buenos Aires Cafe – This is one of the oldest restaurants in Austin and on the original east side! I haven’t eaten here in years, BUT they have an awesome speakeasy bar in the back called Milonga Room and the fries are dank. You have to call or text to make a reservation Thursday- Saturday. They have live music and great wines. 512.593.1920

Launderette – Chef Rene Ortiz and Laura Sawicki run the show here so it’s flawless. I love all the Mediterranean influence yet great burger and chicken thighs. There’s a reason everyone talks about the birthday cake ice cream sandwiches only served at dinner. Don’t worry the breakfast pastries are fabulous, too.

The Brewer’s Table – The menu here is quite intriguing. They brew their own beer here and use wheat and hops in some of the food. Have no fear, if you are a wine over beer drinker like me, this spot is still for you. I love the large format family style dinners and their rabbit carnitas tacos are my favorite in town. Not sure how this place can have the best tortillas but they do!

Justine’s – This is the sexiest restaurant in town. It’s one of the only super sceney yet local places where I feel like I’m in NYC again. The staff has outstanding individual style, they don’t care that you have to wait 2 hours, the murals in the outdoor tents during the winter are gorgeous, and the steak tartare and mussels are memorable. This is where I want to go on a date or with my best friends for a night out.

Easy dinner!

Thai Kun – The Asian food trucks are actually my favorite in Austin. Thai Kun also happens to be outside my favorite cocktail bar, Whisler’s. Get the Cabbage Two Ways (fried and raw) with holy basil and mint and the Khao Man Gai Thai Steamed Chicken with rice. Mmm.

Hillside Farmacy – Go for the kale salad and mac ‘n cheese. It reminds me of a cute corner spot that would be in Brooklyn. Fun for a girls dinner or a good cocktail at the bar with a date. It has old school pharmacy style seating but very chic.

Sour Duck – This is almost the definition of Austin. Casual, outdoor beer garden feel, order food at the counter. Lots of meat and some veggie options. Waiter for cocktails AND parking.

Bakery!

Paperroute Bakery – This place holds a special place in my heart. This young twenty-something baker named Aaron is a one man show waking up at 2 a.m. to start baking in his 500 square foot bakery attached to Cenote. Go for the blueberry pop tarts, bundts, and place an order for your next birthday cake.

CLARKSVILLE/TARRY TOWN/ HYDE PARK/CAMPUS

Casual Good Food!

The Beer Plant – This all vegan restaurant with a brewery blew my mind. I love that it wasn’t showy and felt just like a neighborhood spot that ANYONE vegan or not can actually eat at every night and not get sick of it. It was PACKED on a Wednesday. Get the special soup of the day because it’s served with their awesome bread and the eggplant curry. All the sandwiches looked so good I wanted to steal a bite from my neighbor when he went to the bathroom.

Texas French Bread – An Austin classic right by campus since 1981! Feels like it must have been the only bakery and place to get fresh breads in town at one point. I love their brunch and superb omelette. Great salads and easy sandwiches. Cookies for all, and best of all, beautiful lighting.

Better Half – I have all my meetings here. I’ve never seen a better place for coffee, cocktails, AND food. I also feel very Brooklyn here with the well dressed crowd. Men in real, fitted t-shirts. Go for the fried chicken salad, cauliflower tater tots, and biscuit with homemade jam.

40 North – This is my all around favorite pizza place. The crust has height, is fluffy, and holds the sauce and toppings well. It’s in a cute little house ideal for lunch or a casual dinner. The Mediterranean cauliflower and bibb salad are enough of a reason to come if not just for pizza!

Uncle Nicky’s – This tiny Italian cafe and bar in Hyde Park made me squeal when it opened in 2019 as there is nothing like it. I can get an assortment of negronis, Italian meat sandwiches on the best homemade roll in town, kale salad with truffle honey, and my absolute favorite: sardines with salsa verde and ritz!! Come here for an early aperitif or stop on your way home. Best solo or with one other person due to space.

Shoal Creek Saloon – If you are looking for a bar withe peel n eat crawfish and shrimp, here you go. Skip the gumbo and go for the fried okra.

Pool Burger – Backyard burgers served out of a food truck, tiki cocktails, crinkle cut waffle fries, and necessary soft serve.

Nicer Outing!

Clark’s – This is go-to for seafood. The only place in town where I can get a perfect bowl of ciopinno + oysters. The burger is my favorite in town,  and don’t forget they are open for brunch, and the pancakes are awesome.

Bar Peached – This menu is wild and crazy, kids! I love the cucumber vodka cocktail, and the chimichurri carrots. It’s like asian ingredients meets Texas with unique tacos and even pastas made with udon noodles. It’s situated in a cute house in Clarksville and has patio seating that feels separated.

BURNET ROAD/ALLENDALE

Easy Lunch or Dinner!

Picnik – All hail anyone looking for fresh, mindful ingredients and those we are allergic to gluten, soy, corn, or peanuts. They don’t let any of that in their kitchen! Think butter coffee, matcha lattes, breakfast hash + tacos on Siete tortillas, my favorite cauliflower steak with capers, raisins on a bed of hummus, roasted chicken, and their paleo blondie.

Tiny Boxwood – A ladies who lunch spot from Houston. Just come for the cute, outdoor courtyard and chocolate chip cookies!!!

Pacha – A tinsy coffee shop that has my favorite pancakes in town. They serve their eggs on top of them, too!

Bakery!

Kellie’s Baking Co. – Known for their ginger cookies with instagram photos pasted on the front, I prefer the brookie which is half chocolate chip cookie/half brownie/topped with mallow! It’s so gooey and doughy. I love their stuffed reese’s and twix cookies just as much!

Tiny Pies – Mini pies great to bring to a party or a birthday. I like the fruit ones best.

SUSHI 

This gets its own category because there are so few in town!

MUELLER

Source: http://www.chekmarkeats.com/where-to-eat-in-austin/