Sport Science S02E11: World’s Toughest Woman (June/21/2009)
"Gina can land all 8 blows in a blistering 3 seconds. And how much does this maelstrom combine to generate? An amazing 4,800 pounds of force. That’s like a North Pacific giant octopus pounding you with all 8 of it’s arms. Translation: In 3 seconds, Gina could brake your ribs, give you a concussion, shatter your nose, rupture your spleen, cause internal bleeding, and put you down for the count."
but women can’t be superheroes
I want to be her.
Imagine Weyoun making dad jokes
How to see the Milky Way in the summer night sky
You’ll need a clear and moonless sky away from the lights of nearby cities to catch even a glimpse of our home galaxy.
Bajoran festivals were one of Ziyal’s favorite times. Many of the holidays celebrated life and that meant bright colors and laughter. The identity or Lenken festival was one such extravagant display of color and sound. Many people opted to wear masks, while others simply painted their faces. Ziyal was excited to engage in the festivities. Her father’s appearance on the station had seemed to settle a dark cloud over the merriment, but she was happy to have his company.
"Father, please, it’s traditional." Ziyal pleaded, swirling her brush in the bowl of water. The color from the bristles floating out and away to tint the water a dull violet.
"I am not Bajoran, Ziyal. It would be in bad taste for me to engage in Bajoran superstition, such as the lenken festival."
She pouted at him. Was painting his face really such a big deal. Ziyal had been working all morning painting festival goers faces. Her own was decorated in lovely pinks and purples, the pattern blooming from her eyes reminiscent of the flowers she often painted.
"It would make me happy to share this day with you, father. I’ve already got the colors that would look wonderful on you. Please." She tried again, knowing that eventually she would wear him down and he would concede.
Dukat sighed, shaking his head lightly and allowed his gaze to wander across the promenade. The area was a buzz with activity and color. A far cry from the way it had been only years before. The architecture, Cardassian to it’s core was the only element that held a reminder of what Terok Nor had once been. He finally returned his attention to the young woman, she still had that hopeful smile and he knew he wouldn’t deny her.
"Alright." She clapped with joy, her excitement causing him to smile despite his personal feelings about the situation.
"But only the face, and not too much."
Ziyal tapped the chair, indicating him to sit down. “Of course. Not to worry father. You’ll look splendid.”
Dukat sat himself down, taking note of the greens and yellows that Ziyal was placing on her little hand held pallet.
"Now close your eyes and don’t open them again until I say too." Dukat eyed her a little suspiciously but did as he was bid.
The light strokes of the brush were slightly unnerving, and the he didn’t appreciate the coolness of the wet bristles, but he stayed still if only to make her happy. Ziyal chattered away, working quickly, “Oh you’re going to look wonderful father. You might even want to start wearing this pattern into battle. It’s very intimidating.” She laughed, he smiled at the sound.
"What’s going on here?" Damar’s familiar deep tone, placed him several feet away.
"Hello, Damar!" Ziyal happily greeted the glinn. "Father’s getting into the spirit of Lenken." Damar made a noise, indicating his reservations about the Gul’s decision.
“When he’s done, perhaps you’ll have a go?” The amount of hopefulness in her voice was almost heartbreaking.
"No. I don’t think so." Ziyal didn’t respond. The strokes of the brush becoming quick and loose. Dukat felt the change in pressure as the brush moved from around his eyes and chufa, down to his chin. He heard the little clinks as Ziyal tapped the brush on the side of the bowl.
"There." She sounded pleased as she took one of his hands and placed a weight into it. "Here’s the mirror. What do you think?"
Dukat opened his eyes and held up the mirror. His face was covered in a pattern of flames, radiating out from his eyes in greens and yellows. His mouth had similar waves falling down over his chin. He smiled, admiring the unique coloration, it looked quite fetching. “It’s quite nice, my dear. You’re right, the colors do suit me.”
Ziyal radiated joy at his statement. “I’m so glad.” Dukat held her hand as he gave her back the mirror and stood up.
"Alright Damar, your turn." The glinn’s eyes went wide.
Dukat motioned to the chair, “That’s an order.” Ziyal tried to hide her smile as she rinsed and cleaned her brushes. Damar opened his mouth to protest but Dukat tilted his head and the other man slumped into the seat looking defeated.
"This won’t take anytime at all Damar, don’t worry." He set his jaw,not say anything. His eyes flicking to look at Dukat, who smiled broadly at him, before he closed them. "You’ll look great in blue." Ziyal stated, beginning the design in bright aquamarine. Dukat chuckled to himself as he watched his daughter work on the stoic Cardassian. Rather than going up from his eyes, the pattern flowed down and around, forming rippling pools and swirls on his cheeks. She added some silver to the blue, working quickly. Dukat thought it looked rather attractive.
He noticed how the crowd would stop to watch Ziyal work, no doubt perturbed by the sight of Cardassian’s with painted faces.
"There that wasn’t so bad, was it?" She handed him the mirror and Damar took a skeptical glance at himself. "It looks…nice." He glanced at Dukat.
"You look good with some color on your cheeks." He chuckled. Damar handed the mirror back and got up, looking highly unamused.
Ziyal beamed at them. All she needed to do now was find Garak and get him to agree to a painted face. Once she told him that her father and Damar had done it with no complaints she was sure he’d agree just on principle.
Jeffrey Combs as Milton Dammers in The Frighteners (1996)
My Curzon Dax just looks like senator Palpatine
say what you will about fangirls but when someone says ‘fangirling’ i think of excitement and unbridled glee and undignified noises of delight but when someone says ‘fanboying’ i think of impotent rage and insecurity and disproportionate aggression