Why. Why did I spend hours doing the research necessary to make this conjecture about the chemical composition of Vorta blood? I hate chemistry. I was terrible at it. I probably still am, which means this is probably wrong. And I don’t even need it to write this goddamn PWP, I just got fucking curious and had to figure it out. But hey, fun fact, if I’m right, then dried Vorta blood would turn into sparkly black crystals.
So netflix changed the DS9 logo again and
why
julian bashir is judging your life choices
‘another episode? really?’
i dont really like country but i do love those country songs where the women murder their abusers
Goodbye Earl by the Dixie Chicks fuck yea
isn’t that like the only one bc if there is more i need to hear them
i haven’t listened to country since i was a kid but this one’s for the girls by martina mcbride is iconic and i get it stuck in my head sometimes
Gunpowder and Lead by Miranda Lambert.
She shoots her abuser with a shotgun 💕
“Blown Away” by Carrie Underwood is about a woman letting her abusive, alcoholic dad die in a tornado.
Carrie Underwood is the queen of this genre: Some other great ones:
And no murder in these ones, but still contain women being amazing:
“Independence Day” by Martina McBride: the mom burns down the house to escape her abusive husband.
And Miranda Lambert has a lot of “fuck you/this” sounding songs about revenge and cheating:
- “Kerosene”: it’s heavily implied by the lyrics and video that she’s burning down her ex’s house for cheating.
- “Mama’s Broken Heart”: is more about her mom trying to shame her for falling apart after a break-up, and the video is a wild bird-flipping romp around the house making herself up to look “crazy” and “hysterical” to spite her.
Adding to this: “Something bad” A duet by Miranda Lambert and Carrie Underwood where two girls run off to have a night on the town- presumably after the one ran away from her own wedding and took her entire life’s savings with her.
Back to the original murder theme, I highly recommend “Looking Back Now” (originally titled “Whiskey and a Gun”) by Maggie Rose. Woman shoots her cheating boyfriend/husband, goes to jail, ends up shooting the prison guard who rapes her. (Okay, so she dies by lethal injection at the end, but still, awesome song.)
Maggie McCall by Sandi Thom… O.o
Adele covered “If It Hadn’t Been For Love” which was about killing a girlfriend and switched the pronouns to be about killing a male ex. *eg*
I’m usually against pronoun switching in covers, but this is my exception, I think.
“Country Song” by Seanan McGuire fits in here too–if you add in the part where it’s a retelling of the movie Slither.
Slightly off to one side of the main theme, but: Dar Williams’s “Flinty Kind of Woman” is about the women of a small New England town who band together to hunt down (and, it is implied, kill) a child molester.
I really don’t like most of the county genre, but, historically, the ones I do like are about women committing murder and property damage. I approve.
zapiarty asked:
thornfield13713 answered:
If the Cardassian species had been designed to Tain’s specifications, no Cardassian born would ever have had a mate. This most basic of primitive sentient urges had no part in the work they did, could be nothing but a liability and a distraction. Or, if natural selection must be so indelicate as to insist on pair-bonds, they ought to be something discreet, easily suppressed, easily removed. Instead, the only way to free a Cardassian from the traitorous urges of their own biology is to blind them, and that will not do at all. It is rumoured, in the Obsidian Order, that Tain had his own mate murdered, years or decades ago, as a threat to his work. It is the sort of thing Garak can imagine him doing.
For himself, Garak does not believe he is missing much. Cardassia Prime is beautiful in a thousand shades of subtle grey, and the most brilliant colour could not make Terok Nor less of a prison. His colour-blindness is, perhaps, a drawback in his new profession, especially serving the Bajorans, who see colour all their lives and who claim to be called to their mates by the Prophets. Still, it can be worked around. He might have been left behind out here, bereft of his own people, quite, quite alone, but he could be useful yet. The Federation is not so very difficult to gain information from - the whole Promenade is buzzing with word of their arrival, and even he, the lone, despised Cardassian left cannot escape the rumour mill. Humans - a people so ill-concerned with their own protection that they wear this most secret thing on their skin, open to the world. The first time he sees words running up a customer’s wrist as he takes their measurements feels as much an invasion as it would to see any stripped and beaten prisoner in the cells.
He has never seen Julian’s Mark, just as he has never told Julian that the first colour Garak ever saw was warm brown, threaded with green, spreading out into golden-brown skin and dark hair and the absurd, over-saturated blue of a Federation uniform. They have never spoken of this, nor will they - Garak has tried delicately to weave words around to the topic a hundred times, and never quite managed it. Either Julian will raise his eyebrows and go haring off on another tangent too intriguing not to follow, or Garak’s own nerve fails him and he does the same. Because Julian must know. How could he not? Even humans, surely, are not so ill-designed that one might never find one’s mate in the mass of ‘hello’s and ‘excuse me’s that one exchanges every day, unknowing. There must be some other, internal sign that Garak does not know, that is not spoken of.
It doesn’t matter. Julian knows, and he has done nothing. That, on Cardassia, would be answer enough. Still, Garak keeps going. He weaves half-true stories, innuendoes, hints at all he has seen and done to keep the doctor coming to him, week by week. He makes perhaps a few too many allusions to colour when they talk - if only in the context of Julian’s utter lack of judgement in this regard - and at once despises and glories in the ignorance that means Julian can never know what it is he means. He is being obvious, and that is worst of all, but he is alone here - who is there left to know?
cosmictuesdays asked:
tinsnip answered:
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
Turning the tropes on their heads.
Wearing the Cardassian fashions and rocking them, but wearing them however he likes, and setting new fashion trends wherever he goes.
Striding past Garak’s underlings with an imperious, “Get out of my way, little man, I own you.”
Smiling at the people who think he’s Garak’s offworld trophy mate, and quietly running everything behind the scenes, because fuck leaving everything up to his husband when he’s completely capable of handling his own affairs.
Immediately forming a close social network with all the other husbands and wives who are expected to sit around and be ornamental, and using said network to accomplish just about any goal they desire. (Can you imagine a Cardassian Lady Alys???)
Defying class. Defying tradition. None of it matters, all of it’s silly; work with it when possible, ignore it completely when it’s inconvenient. To Cordelia Naismith, she’s a three-dimensional creature in Barrayar’s Flatland. Julian Bashir could do the same. “Yes, I understand that I’m not to cross this sector of town because it’s forbidden to off-worlders, but this is where I need to go. Good-bye.” And the guards just gape after him, because he’s not supposed to do it anyway–
God, sponsoring the med students to go to the poor provinces~~~
Charming!
deepintheshadyglen
Information for Gyakuten Kenji (Ace Attorney Investigations: Miles Edgeworth) from Tokyo Game Show 2008.
Nintendo Power
Issue 236, Page 50
