Perhaps the reason why my Trek through Deep Space Nine was on hold for a while, was because the universe knew that this strawberry milkshake of an episode would be exactly what I needed this week.
Season 7, Episode 4: ‘Take Me Out To the Holosuite’
It’s another beautiful day in space — until Sisko’s mood is upended by the arrival of his Petty Nemesis, one Captain Solok.
A) Love a petty nemesis, fantastic, B) am just realizing in this moment that there is no one in the Quadrant more suited to petty nemisery than Vulcans. Those people never forget a detail. In a ‘Which Line In Hamilton Are You?’ quiz all Vulcans get “Here’s an itemized list of thirty years of disagreements.”
Solok and Sisko each affect a superior remove while they snip and preen at each other over their respective medals of honor. Then Solok gives Sisko a rundown of the repairs his ship is going to need, and unfortunately for EVERYONE, it turns out that the work that needs to be done on the T’Kumbra’s warp core will take at least week. Aggrieved siiigh.
As he rises to depart, Solok mentions that while here he needs the use of a holosuite. Well whatever your floats your spaceboat; take it up with Quark.
“I have created a special program for my senior staff,” he continues, “and they are quite eager to resume using it.”
Sisko, in a tone that is somehow more dismissive and disinterested than not even responding: “Really.”
Oh yes really. In fact, it’s based on an Earth game.
We don’t even hear Solok say it, we just cut to Ben bouncing up to Kira like “Colonel, gather the team! I mean crew. I mean TEAM.”
This post contains spoilers for: MEI (major), PW:AA (major), AA:JFA (first case), AA:T&T (major), and SoJ (DLC case).
heeere we go
2012 (5 year anniversary):
Sept. 8th: Deid Mann is murdered by Mack Rell, who had received orders to do so from the Yatagarasu. They probably wanted to rid the world of those two horrendous name puns. Sept. 10th: Mack Rell’s trial happens. Calisto Yew murders both Rell and Byrne Faraday.
2016 (1 year anniversary):
Sept. 5th: Mia Fey is murdered by Redd White. Sept. 7th: Maya Fey’s trial for the murder of her sister. The blame is eventually moved onto Phoenix Wright. Sept. 9th: Phoenix’s subsequent trial.
Sept. 6th: Dustin Prince is murdered by Richard Wellington, the man who can’t tell the difference between a fancy baseball mit and a bunch of bananas. Sept. 8th: Subsequent trial of Maggey Byrde for the murder of Dustin Prince.
2018 (1 year until):
Godot wakes from his coma and rejoins the Prosecutor’s Office. Viola Cadaverini’s car accident occurs.
Sept.* 12th: Kane Bullard is murdered by The Penguin Luke Atmey Sept.* 13th: The trial of Ron DeLite for stealing the Sacred Urn. The blame is later passed onto Luke Atmey. Sept.* 14th: Luke Atmey’s trail for the theft of the Sacred Urn. Ron DeLite’s (and eventually Luke Atmey’s) trail for the murder of Kane Bullard.
*Note*: This month is October in the western release, whilst it is September in the original Japanese release.
-inconspicuous 10-year gap-
2028 (11 years until):
Sept. 20th: Dumas Gloomsbury is murdered by Pierce Nichody. Sept. 22nd/23rd: The subsequent trial of Sorin Sprocket for the murder of Gloomsbury. Sept. 23rd: The marriage of Sorin Sprocket and Ellen Wyatt occurs.
A/N: Oh, look - I am still alive! I can’t believe it has taken me so long to publish anything new, but here’s some shameless workplace smut based on a “our new PE teacher is so hot” text I recently got from a friend who teaches at anither school. Rated M for sure and just about 3K words. Enjoy XOXO!
The raw wood of the gym’s corner closet rubbed roughly against her shoulder blades as her breath heaved and trembled. The position she’d found herself in was likely snagging the fabric of the very new and very soft chenille gray sweater she’d purchased with the arrival of October weather in mind - but Emma found quickly that she could only focus on one definitive thought.
This was so beyond unprofessional.
“So,” he started, his lips tracing the length of her throat with the beginning of a scorching kiss. “What brings you to the very empty school gymnasium this afternoon, Swan?”
As if he doesn’t know, she thought with a gasp that almost begged for more. Emma couldn’t help but bite her lip at the sound of his smooth accent moving across her skin, starting at her jaw and moving down to the neckline of her top in an all too suggestive way - one she’d come to know very well over the past two months. His smirk was smug and patient as he pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet, the simmering passion between them growing more needy and wanting as each tense second slipped by. She let her tongue swipe over her lower lip as his gaze lingered on her mouth, his unwavering concentration confirming he didn’t really need an answer to that question.
Yes, he knew damn well why she was there. It was the same reason she made a well planned and skillfully sneaky entrance into the gym every Tuesday at this specific time while her students went to art. It was the same reason he’d shaken up the schedule for his own classes, making sure that his free hour coincided with hers.
“My weekly prep time-” she answered, holding back a moan as his teeth pressed lightly on her collarbone. “-just like always.”
Characters: Jack Zimmermann, OCs that may or may not be based on actual people
Notes: Almost all of the information about Woonsocket is correct. I fact-checked everything myself. Autumnfest and the OLQM festival are both real, as is the mill fire. Dynamite is the best sandwich in the world. Nap Lajoie is real and was actually from Woonsocket, among other baseball players that didn’t get as famous. Mathieu Schneider is not from Woonsocket originally, but since he played for Mount St Charles I guess they claim him as one of their own. And yes, Mount does hold the record for most consecutive state titles. I’m gonna get to that in another part. Two other NHL players are from Woonsocket as well. The Dunk refers to the Dunkin’ Donuts Center, where the AHL team the Providence Bruins plays.
Jack paused outside his apartment building, staring up at the Dunk. It was still a weird experience seeing himself on the side of the building. It’s not that Samwell didn’t promote their hockey team, but the posters on the outside of Faber didn’t face Rt 146, where hundreds of thousands of people drove past hundred foot tall posters of Jack and the rest of the Falcs. Today, the southbound side of 146 was jammed with people trying to get to the beach. It was only 7:30am, but they day promised to be a scorcher. Who knew it would get so warm in Rhode Island in late July. Of course, Jack thought to himself as he stepped into the air conditioned lobby, Bittle would tell him this was nothing, Georgia summers were hot and humid, not a great combination.
Jack’s phone dinged on the counter. He reluctantly turned away from his laptop, one of his former professors sent him a really interesting article about some new historical locations opening in Massachusetts.
‘Good morning, honey!’ Jack smiled when he saw the text from Bitty, nearly forgetting the article. ‘I was looking for some bakeries to try the next time I visit, and I found something you would really be interested in!’ At the end of the text was a hyperlink. Jack clicked through, expecting a similar article to the one he had just been reading. He scanned the article, freezing on the words “French-Canadian”. A sudden pang of homesickness hit Jack, which surprised him. He was used to living away from home, but there was still a part of him that remembered being 10 years old, playing hockey with the neighborhood kids on the pond, their parents yelling encouragement in French. Jack scrolled back up and read the article again. He opened another web tab on his phone and searched Google for a few minuted. Writing down an address, he dialed a familiar number.
“Hey, Georgia. Can I borrow your car? There’s something I need to do today…”
Jack followed the directions of the GPS, travelling up 146. Eventually, he started to see exit signs for the city he was trying to reach. He passed through an intersection, the GPS telling him he was 10 minutes from his destination. He stayed in the far right lane, passing stores and such lining the highway. Finally, Jack crested the hill overlooking Park Square, Woonsocket. Directly in front of him, a church took up most of the block. Amusement park rides were being set up on the grassy area of the church, and brightly colored booths took up parking lot space. To his right, an old-fashioned candy shop advertising maple butter and other treats backed a strip mall, and to his left the parking lot of a grocery store was jammed packed. Jack didn’t realize he missed his turn until the GPS said “recalculating”. Luckily, it found an alternate route for him to take.
Jack turned right onto Providence Street, passing a small baseball field. A bunch of kids were playing on the field, not really an organized game, but pickup baseball. He followed Providence Street until the end, admiring the older Colonial houses.
“Must’ve been built during the early mill years,” Jack spoke aloud to himself. He turned right onto South Main Street, admiring the Baptist church. He finally entered Market Square, the dam on his left and the river flowing on his right. Most of the buildings looked original. Jack missed the entrance to the parking lot of the Museum of Work and Culture, so he followed traffic around the square. He managed to make his way to Main Street, admiring the original mill buildings. One caught his eye, and Jack quickly pulled into the parking lot next to the building. He stared up at the giant mural painted in the side of the building, large lettering reading “Bienvenue à Woonsocket, The French Quarter”. Jack couldn’t quite identify the emotions welling up inside him. It was part homesickness, part the feeling that he found home, and part something else. He was frozen in place, standing outside Georgia’s car, traffic passing by on Main St. Jack finally unfroze and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He took a picture of the mural, telling himself he would send it to his dad and Bits later on.
“Welcome to the Museum of Work and Culture,” An teenager greeted Jack at the information desk. “How can I help you today?”
“Uh, one adult ticket please,” He answered. The teenager processed his request.
“Are you visiting from Québec?” The girl asked him, taking his money and making change. She noticed the surprised look on his face. “My grandfather is from Québec, your accent reminded me of his,” She explained, handing Jack his ticket and change.
“Visiting, but not from Québec,” Jack said. “I play hockey in Providence.”
Recognition dawned on the teenagers face. “You play for the Falconers.”
“Uh, yes,” Jack answered. “Jack Zimmermann, right wing.”
“Lynne Gervais. My family are huge fans of yours and the Falcs,” The teenager introduced herself. Jack tried not to blush.
“Thank you. It’s always great to meet fans,” He answered. “Do you mind if I…?” He pointed into the museum.
“Of course,” Lynne answered. “Go on in. There’s maps by the door, if you’d like.” Jack nodded his thanks and entered the museum, picking up a map as he passed by.
Jack paused between exhibits, studying the map.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Zimmermann,” Someone spoke to Jack’s right. He looked up to see an older man standing there, with a nametag that identified him as Adrien Nadeau, tour guide.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Nadeau,” Jack shook the man’s hand. He was surprised they were almost eye level.
“Enjoying the museum?” Adrien asked.
“Very much,” Jack answered. “I never knew there was a French-Canadian city in Rhode Island.”
Adrien laughed, commenting, “It’s a well kept secret. Here, let me show you around.” Jack followed the older man through the museum, to an exhibit hall with sports memorabilia and photos. Jack did a double take when he saw one of the hockey jerseys mounted on the wall. The jersey itself was red, with a blue stripe bounded by white stripes running through the middle. On the blue stripe was stitched an interlocking M, St, and C. The jersey reminded Jack almost of the Montreal Canadiens jersey his father wore for years.
“That’s a jersey from the 1985 Mount Saint Charles hockey team. Mount swept the high school division for hockey, recording 26 consecutive state titles. Plenty of those boys went pro, too. Still the best hockey program in the state,” Adrien explained to Jack. He pointed to a team picture, high school boys and their coaches surrounding a banner proclaiming Mount St. Charles the 1985 State Champions. “That’s Mathieu Schneider. Got drafted by the Canadiens two years after this picture was taken. Played for them for a few months before they sent him back to his juniors team. Ended up getting pulled back up and won the Cup with them in 1993.” Jack stared at the picture, trying to remember if Bob had ever told him about Schneider. “Of course,” Adrien pulled Jack’s attention to a photograph on the other side of the room. “Most baseball fans know Nap Lajoie, only Woonsocket resident to make it into the Baseball Hall of Fame.” Jack studied the picture of Nap, recognizing the French-Canadian features.
“You’re first generation, correct?” Jack asked Adrien. The older man nodded.
“My parents brought me and my brothers here when I was 10. My father’s grandparents moved here when they got married, but his parents moved back to Canada. When industry in Woonsocket boomed during World War Two, my parents moved back here for a few years. My father served overseas, in Italy, and my mother worked in the mills,” Adrien led Jack to another section of the museum, pointing to a picture of a mill building. “After the war, they had some business to wrap up in Canada, which is when I was born. Then we moved back here. My father worked as a photographer for the Woonsocket Call until he retired.” Adrien stared at the photograph, lost in thought. Jack the read the description. ‘Alice Mill, located on First Street. Established 1901, closed 2001.’
“Is this the mill your mother worked in?” He asked Adrien.
“Yep. The mill dyed cloth, some of it went on to supply the soldiers fighting the war, some of it stayed local.” Adrien moved to another photograph. “Unfortunately, the mill burned down in 2012. It was one of the biggest mill fires in the area, the smoke plume could be seen for miles.” Adrien shook his head, turning away from the dramatic photo. “Here, I’ll show you some of the better Woonsocket traditions.”
“On Main Street, there’s a mural. How much of Woonsocket is the French Quarter?” Jack asked, following Adrien back towards the front of the museum.
Adrien laughed. “Officially, the downtown area has been known as the French Quarter since the city was founded. But most of the city is French-Canadian, mostly third and fourth generation now. There’s a group of us first and second generation people that meet once in awhile and reminisce about the old days.” He stopped in front of a series of photographs, clearly showing the same setting in different time periods. “The city started Autumnfest in 1979. It happens every Columbus Day Weekend, and, if you ask me, it’s the best weekend of the year. No better place to get dynamite.” Jack broke away from one of the newer photos to stare incredulously at Adrien. The older man burst out laughing. “Calm down, Jacques. I’m not talking about the explosive. Dynamite is a sandwich, hamburger cooked with peppers and onions and red pepper, served in a torpedo roll. Strictly Woonsocket French-Canadian, and every family has their own recipe.”
“I passed a church setting up for a festival on the way in. Was that in Woonsocket or no?” Jack asked, wandering around the room to look at other pictures from Autumnfests past.
“Out in Park Square? That’s Our Lady, Queen of Martyrs. They have a summer festival every year, this year is their 60th anniversary.” Adrien answered. The two walked back out to the front, where Lynne was still tending the information desk. Adrien retrieved a piece of paper from the desk and wrote something down, then walked back over to Jack. The hockey player’s head was spinning, he’d learned so much about the small city in one day.
“Here’s my phone number and email. Call me sometime and come to one of the meetings of the old folks. Some of them have stories from before I lived in the city, they know it better than I do,” Adrien offered Jack the piece of paper. “And you’re always welcome back here, tell ‘em you know Adrien Nadeau and they’ll give you the VIP treatment.” Jack laughed.
“Thank you so much, Adrien. It’s been an honor getting a tour from you.” The two men shook hands again, and Jack left the building. He crossed the square and stood at the side of the dam. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, sending Bitty a text with the picture of the mural, then dialing his dad’s number. He heard the line ring for a few moments before Bob picked up.
“Hey, Dad. Did you ever play with a guy named Mathieu Schneider? He’s from this little French-Canadian city in Rhode Island named Woonsocket…..”
“I don’t know what kind of baseball you’ve been playing, but the best pitches are works of art produced by the pitcher and the catcher working as one. I’ll draw out your full potential. You just need to trust my mitt and throw your best pitches. It’s that simple.”
5 Seconds of Summer Preference- You Speak Another Language
Ashton: You speak Russian:
“Ведь это так здорово слышать, что вы делаете хорошо!” (Its so great to hear you’re doing well!) you said into the phone. You had recently gotten an e-mail from your best friend in Russia. You had lived there for the first 16 years of your life, and she had been there with you through it all. When you moved to America, you still talked all the time over texting and Skype. You began to do it less and less until you stopped entirely.
“Здесь хорошо жить, мой парень должен быть дома Су-о! Вот он сейчас.” (Life is good here, my boyfriend should be home soo-oh! Here he is right now.) Ashton walked through the door and took off his shoes. "Hey babe who you talking to?“ he said, grabbing a water from the fridge. "Im talking to my old friend from Russia. Ага ГЭС здесь.” (Yeah, he’s here.)
Ashton put down his water and leaned against the countertop. He watched you pronounce each word with ease, not even thinking twice before the words flew effortlessly off your tongue.
“Ну, это был пойти здорово услышать от вас! Жестокое позвоню тебе позже. Хорошо, до свидания.” (Well it was go great to hear from you! I’ll call you later. Okay, bye.) You hung up the phone and looked at Ashton. "Hey, sorry I just haven’t talked to her in a really long time.“
"Its okay. I had no idea you could speak….” Ashton hung the last syllable on his tongue.
“Russian. I lived there until I was 16.”
Ashton seemed impressed by this and walked over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders.
“Why didnt you tell me?” he asked smiling down at you.
“It never came up I guess?”
He giggled his famous giggle and looked at you again. "How do you say ‘Ashton is the drummer god?’“
You laughed and said with no thought, "Эштон является богом барабанщик.”
“Okay when we go to Russia that will be your catch phrase okay?” he kissed you on your nose, your right cheek, left cheek, forhead, then left a lingering one on your mouth.
Luke: You speak French:
Luke was on world tour with his band, and you were tagging along for the Europe leg. You were staying in France for three days, and you were so happy walk around Paris. You went to college in France, and you developed the French language naturally, with some guidance.
You and Luke were sat at a small cafe table in Paris. You sat right next to the window, allowing you a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower. You and Luke were staring in awe at the glorious landmark. The waiter tapped you on the shoulder. "Excusez-moi, que voulez-vous?“ (Excuse me, what would you like?).
"Its okay babe, I got google translate.” Luke said to you, pulling out his phone. You looked at him for the next minute, him typing in what he wanted. He was taking far too long so you just went the old fashion way.
“Je voudrais que le poulet parmesan s'il vous plaît.” (I would like the chicken parmesan please.) Luke looked up from his phone, wide eyed and opened mouth.
“Uhhhh. The fish?” he said.
“Il aimerait que le poisson aussi.” (He would like the fish also.) The waiter laughed and wrote down the order. He put the sheet away and looked at you.
“Ne sait pas beaucoup français hein?” (Doesn’t speak very much french eh?). You laughed at his remark.
“Non, malheureusement.” (No, unfortunately.) The waiter nodded and walked through the restaurant, taking up another tables food on the way back to the kitchen.
“Okay who are you and what have you done with Y/N?” Luke said, leaning forward on the table. You giggled.
“Well I told you that I went to college in France. And while speaking English, some of my college friends helped me learn the language. And also being used to talking to people in French helped a bit I guess.” You smiled at Luke and he gave you a half smirk in return.
He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Say 'I love you.’”
You giggled and said, perfect pronunciation and all, “Je t'aime.”
“Say 'My boyfriend is amazeballs.’”
“Mon ami est amazballs.” You laughed at the last bit.
“Okay now say 'Luke will you kiss me?’” You blushed in response and said, tilting your head and closing your eyes, “Luc vous m'embrasser.”
Luke leaned over the table and whispered in your ear, “I thought you would never ask.” He then kissed you. Yep. you thought, Paris is beautiful.
Calum: You speak Norwegian (holla to all my Norwegians ily)
“Jeg sverger å knulle hvis Ezra er AI vil krype til hollywood og knipse halsen! (I swear to fuck if Ezra is A I will crawl to Hollywood and snap your neck!)” I yelled at the TV. I’ve been watching nothing but Pretty Little Liars for the past 2 days. I’ve gone through 3 seasons I’m on a roll.
“What did you just say?” Calum asks. He walks into the room with a bowl of popcorn and sits next to me. He pops one into his mouth.
“I’m just mad at the producers that’s all. You see Ezra may be A and if Aria finds out she will flip her shit and sit in her room all day and basically want to kill herself. But that’s what A wants, she wants to break the girls from the inside out and Im bare pizzed fordi Ezria er min OTP, og hvis han er A- (Im just pizzed because Ezria is my OTP and if he is A-)” Calum puts his hand over my mouth.
“Hey!” I say, throwing his arm away.
“Sorry babe. But I have no idea what language you are speaking." Calum says.
I pull my blanket closer to me and grab a handful of popcorn.
"It was Fangirl and Norwegian. My mum is from Norway and she taught me some stuff and by the time I was 13 I was completely fluent." I pop the popcorn in my mouth and chew.
"Ah I see. Well go on continue fangirling in Norwegian because I think its really fascinating." He winks and eats a handful of popcorn. I smile.
”Nå trenger ikke få meg i gang på Ali. Så hun er “død” for som noen gang og så plutselig er hun i live, men hun kan ikke se dem ofte cuz hun er redd for A og rød frakk og alt dette andre tullet…(Now don’t get me started on Ali. So she is “dead” for like ever and then suddenly she’s alive but she cant see them often cuz she is scared of A and Red Coat and all this other bullshit…)“
Michael: You speak German:
"Happy Birthday Y/N!!” Michael yells as he burst through the door. In his hands are presents and a cake. Ashton Calum and Luke come in behind him, also with handfuls of presents.
“Aww guys! Thank you so much!" I say. I hug Michael and take the cake from his hands, putting it on the counter. The boys put the presents on the couch and give me hug and "happy birthday”.
We all sit around the fireplace as I open my presents. From Michael I got a necklace, a pair of beautiful green converse, Doc Martins, and a kiss. The other boys got me band t shirts, CDs, etc.
“Okay Y/N your mom wanted me to give this to you.” Michael says. A giant bag is handed to be. I reach in and take out the card. It has a ladybug on the cover, since she knows my weird obsession with ladybugs.
Since my mom is from Germany, the card is written in fluent German. I giggled at all of her funny stories from when I was a little girl. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Michael trying to read the card.
“Its German Michael.” I say to him. The other boys look astonished while Michael looks confused. “I had no idea you spoke German Y/N." I nod my head.
"I lived in Germany for 9 years.” I say, “The card says,' Hallo Schatz! Ich vermisse dich wirklich! Vor 19 Jahren an diesem Tag hatte ich ein schones kleines baby. Sie haben in eine wunderschone frau geworden.’ which means, 'Hi honey! I really miss you! 19 years ago on this day I had a beautiful little bay. You have grown into a gorgeous woman. Then she tells about the time where I got chased by a squirrel at a gas station, and the time I flipped off the referee at a baseball game, and a bunch of other times.”
Michael looks amazed that I can speak German that well. “Can you teach me sometime?" he asks. I nod my head.” Ich liebe dich.“ I say.
"Ikh lebie dish.” he says, entirely wrong I might add. “And what does that mean?”
“Ich liebe dich means I love you.” I say, smiling.
“Awh I love you too baby.” he says, leaning in to kiss me. I grab his face and the other boys scoff and fake hurl.