For Mages!

“It can be easy to get caught up in the bigger picture, in beating yourself down if you haven’t achieved the larger hopes, goals, and dreams you aspire to. But, every journey takes steps and every foot forward, no matter how small it might seem, is important and it matters.

Sometimes even something that may seem simple, like getting out of bed or doing that little bit of laundry when you’ve been depressed, is important and a crucial bit of moving forward. It’s okay to celebrate that, it’s okay to take that moment to be proud of yourself for doing a little better, for trying a bit harder then you might have the day before.

Bull: yeah i looked them over. Good work.

Krem: great, thanks dad.

Krem:

Krem: why is everyone staring at me?

Sera: you just called The Iron Bull dad. You said “thanks dad”.

Krem: what?? No i didn’t i said thanks chief.

Bull: do you see me as a father figure Krem?

Krem: no! If anything i see you as a bother figure because you’re always bothering me!

<3

a drabble i started to write about my tabris warden’s reaction to returning to denerim and being told about the purge of the alienage that somehow turned into 1k words of pain.  i’m sorry.  title taken from the prince of egypt soundtrack bc those songs all go tf off and the plagues works really well for this scene, let me know if you see any mistakes bc this is completely unedited and barely even proofread lol

“The first thing he did was lead a purge of the alienage.”  The words ring in the air, final and terrible.  Zevran can’t see the warden’s face, but he doesn’t need to; she lets out a tiny gasp like she’s been physically struck and says nothing, fists tightening to white-knuckled fury at her sides.  He glances at Alistair and Wynne, unsure if one of them should say something.  They’re both watching the tense line of Elralinde’s shoulders begin to shake, concern and sorrow on their faces in equal measure.  He starts to step forward, to lay a gentle hand on her shoulder - she isn’t a violent person, not unless she has to be, but grief can make a person unrecognizable - but she steps forward and his hand meets only empty air.

“Let me through.” Zevran is taken aback by the raw, cold fury in her voice.  He’s never heard her like this before, but he knows that her family, her friends, her whole former life are lying in ruins just beyond the gate.  He can’t quite imagine what it must be like, but he knows how it must hurt.  “Let me through, you cowardly, cold-hearted bastard, my family is in there, I need to see my family, my people, they need me I need them I-”  She’s clinging onto the front of the gate guard’s armor when Zevran and Alistair drag her back.  Zevran would be happy to let her fight her way through, to help her get to her family, but he knows as well as the rest of them that they can’t really afford to make a scene in the middle of Denerim.  The whole city would be upon them, and there would be no escaping Loghain then.

Even as they pull her back, she struggles, throwing herself forward with reckless abandon.  She’s screaming now, trying desperately to wrench herself out of their grip all the while.  For such a tiny elf woman, she comes remarkably close to breaking away from them.

“How dare you!” she snarls, tears streaking over her flushed cheeks.  “How dare you, you foul, horrid shems!  It’s always the same, always, why can’t you just let us be?  We do everything you ask, live in filth and squalor, let you treat us like rats, and the second that we dare to stand up for ourselves you turn around and slaughter us all for the crime of wanting something better!  Those people were innocent but you don’t even care, none of you ever care!  There was no uprising and it doesn’t matter how many excuses you give yourselves, their blood is on your hands!  My family, my people, dead because you just have to keep your power!  May they haunt every shem in this city for a thousand generations, and it still won’t be enough.” She reaches for her bow and Zevran grabs her wrist.

*several guardsmen sprint past them*

what i’m saying is that i have now held in my hands one of the original, physical scripts for the star trek episode “amok time”.

it was like holding a piece of history. my own hands, carefully cradling the origin of sex pollen and fuck or die. a work whose influence went far behind what the writer could have expected–sacred, almost, in its way. who knows how much spawned from this episode? how much fanfiction would never have existed were it not for this holy text? indeed, the very concept of slash itself? an artifact, a priceless relic, sitting on my parents’ couch.

i haven’t seen the entirety of the episode itself, so i don’t know if there are any real differences between the script and what was aired, but i had to skim it anyway–and i did find something that is perhaps worth mentioning, whether or not this actually counts as canon. but hey, hard to get more canon than an Actual Official Script, right?

VULCANS BLUSH YELLOW, BITCHES, IT’S CANON

also, this:

thanks for specifying “karate-type”, theodore sturgeon. coulda gotten confusing, that.