all a matter of perspective

Success is not something present outside us, but is a matter of our brain chemistry. It’s all about perspective.
—  Nicole Addison @thepowerwithin

Brief musings on the Anders discourse overall:

If you could describe the entire overall theme of Dragon Age 2 in one single question, I think that would be “What would it take to drive a good man to do a terrible thing?”

Arguments over Anders that hold 1) that Anders is not a good man or that 2) the destruction of the Chantry was not a terrible thing are, in my opinion, entirely missing the point of the game.

It was a terrible thing. Whether it was necessary, or had positive outcomes, doesn’t negate that.

Anders is a good man. That he did a terrible thing doesn’t negate that, either.

I’ve talked a bunch about Elthina and Anders, but can I talk about Sebastian for a second? 

Yes, this guy. 

I honestly really like this character, because he manages to embody everything that the Chantry is supposed to be (in a game all about the way the Chantry fails) while also displaying some really serious character flaws of his own. He strives to be kind, loving, and accepting of all people, even those who don’t believe in the Maker. And that’s a big deal in this world, because they’re still at that point where fantasy crusades are a thing that happen against the heathens. 

He openly acknowledges that the Chantry has failed certain populations more than others, and refuses to condemn people who flee to other religions rather than to the Chantry. He instead takes it as a sign that the Chantry should be doing better, and he tries to make it better, even if that means directly confronting his beloved mother figure, Elthina. 

But even with all this desire to do good and be kind, he also has a reoccurring issue with revenge. When someone seriously crosses him, he loses all sense of perspective and resorts to disproportionate violence no matter what his morals say. He goes through all this struggle to deal with the mistakes he made while seeking revenge for his family, trying to learn and be a better person… and then he does it all over again as soon as someone else he loves is killed. 

Sebastian doesn’t get enough appreciation. He’s a character that desperately tries to be good, but will always be dragged down by revenge, much like the very man he vows to kill. 

Cold Showers And Icy Looks

… in which Emma and Killian have just battled a dragon, and Killian stumbles through some unintentional double-entendre as he tries to deal with the aftermath.

Based on a prompt by @justanotherwannabeclassic​ – how did Killian find out what “a quick and bracing shower” really means? Why, in the worst possible way, of course.


Killian pressed out curses between panting breaths as he helped David half-drag, half-carry Emma through the door of the loft. Snow White stood holding the door open, her eyes wide and worried. Emma slumped between the two men, her arms draped over their shoulders as they turned awkwardly to get through the narrow door.

“Almost there now, love,” Killian muttered, gritting his teeth against the pain blooming in his side every time Emma swayed into him. Under other circumstances, he might have enjoyed it, but it turned out that dragonfire burns did wonders to dampen the mood.

Killian hoped vaguely that David never figured that out. One such experience was quite enough for a lifetime. Several lifetimes, in fact, if he was any judge—which, it so happened, he was.

“I’m okay,” Emma managed, the words coming out slurred and between gasps.

“All a matter of perspective, I’m sure,” Killian said wryly, even as David grunted, “You are not.”

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pastelfrays  asked:

jimon + 'you found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and i don’t want to tell you i was trying to rob you but idk how else to explain this and i don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when i’m not clinging onto your window ledge for my life’ au (only if u like it if not just ignore me sorry !!)

sjdsjdjsdjs i love this prompt i’m sorry it took me so long to answer. also i think this derailed a bit but i was having too much fun constructing an entire au in my head for this world, so. 

“Hmm.” A voice echoes from above Simon. “This isn’t what I expected.” Simon freezes, his fingers tightly gripping the window ledge as a handsome and strangely familiar blonde wrapped up in a form-fitting grey sweater leans out the window. 

“This isn’t what it looks like.” Simon says quickly, and then groans because it’s probably the most suspicious thing he’s ever said. In his ear, Clary is furiously whispering through his earpiece for him to get out, drop down and extract yourself, what do you think you’re doing, Simon - 

No?” The blonde asks, a delighted smile crossing his face. “It looks like you were about to break into my apartment.” 

“Well, I wasn’t.” Simon says insistently, and he shivers. “Look, if we’re going to do this, either call the police or let me in, because it’s freezing out here and my fingers are going to fall off - “

“You’re awfully talkative for a thief.” The man mutters, before he leans down and hauls Simon in by the shoulders, surprisingly strong. They tumble to the floor, and Simon scrabbles for purchase, accidentally groping the man’s very fit torso in the process, before he pushes off and rolls away, getting up and staring warily at the man. 

“I’m Jace.” The man says, sticking a hand out to shake. Simon stares at it and shakes hesitantly, noting where the front door is and how fast he can run to it. He knows the layout of the expensive flat from the plans Clary got him, knows everything from the painting studio down the hallway to the sleek-looking espresso maker he can see sitting on the kitchen counter. 

“S - Robin.” Simon says, tripping over his own name. “Robin Hood.” 

“Yeah.” Jace sticks his hands in his pockets, shifting his weight and raking his eyes up and down Simon’s body. Simon suppresses a shiver, strangely attracted to the man in front of him, oddly charmed by the way his blonde hair is falling softly in his face and his sleep pants are rumpled, like he forgot to fold them properly. “You steal from the rich and give to the poor, Brooklyn’s newest superhero. Or,” he adds, as Simon flushes and tugs his mask and cowl tighter across his face, “depending on what circles you move in, a supervillain.” 

Hot anger rushes through Simon, and he tamps down the instant urge to turn invisible and pummel the guy. So far, nobody’s been able to cotton on that the reason Robin Hood and his accomplice Red Riding Hood - and seriously, what newspaper was in charge of giving the him and Clary the most obnoxious names in the history of the world? - get away with all their heists is because he can turn invisible and Clary has super speed, and they have Magnus helping them from his command center with keeping surveillance of the city. He needs to keep it that way, even if Hot Blonde Mysterious Dude - Jace - is attractive and checking him out even though it looked like he was going to rob Jace just a few minutes ago. 

Though to be fair, he was going to rob Jace, who’s the adopted son of one of the more powerful families in the city. He’s here for the money, and to investigate what shady deals the three eldest Lightwood children seem to be involved in, since Magnus constantly sees them ducking in and out of buildings they definitely shouldn’t be in. 

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I suppose.” Simon says, shrugging and starting to edge towards the door. “For example, it may have looked like I was going to rob you, from your perspective - “

“I think it’s fairly explanatory what a handsome thief is doing hanging off the window of a wealthy man’s apartment.” Jace says dryly, crossing his arms and smirking as he steps closer to Simon. Simon grinds his teeth, torn between flirting back or telling the man to fuck off. “I’m not going to call the police, Simon, chill out.” 

Simon freezes, his blood turning cold as he hears his real name, and he immediately turns invisible, leaping backwards and sending a lamp flying. Jace’s mouth drops open and he looks horrified with himself as he stumbles forward, eyes fixed on a point five feet to Simon’s left. “No, shit, don’t go - I’m sorry, I’m Angel, I should have led with that - fuck.” 

Angel

Oh no. Simon’s face drains of color as he considers possibly catapulting himself off the roof of the apartment building in embarrassment. Angel is part of the other trip of superheros working in Brooklyn, fast and strong and equipped with a set of distinctive russet-colored angel wings. He, Archer, and Whiplash dole out vigilante justice, and are well-loved by the people. 

Angel is also obnoxious and attractive and started following Simon around when he started using his powers to be Robin Hood and constantly flirted with him and infuriated him, and now Simon’s been stupid enough to not connect the dots between the superhero he was crushing miserably on and his target for the night, oh God

A set of wings are unfurling from Jace’s back, even as Simon holds perfectly still, hidden by his invisibility. Jace looks around, and calls out, “Simon? Did you leave?” He waits a few seconds, and then sighs, tucking his wings tightly against his body and flopping onto the sofa to grab his phone, dialing a number and pressing it close to his ear as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“Alec?” Jace asks, and Simon could kick himself because obviously the Lightwood siblings are crime-fighting superheros. That would explain the shady behavior, at least. “Yeah, Simon came by tonight as Robin Hood. He didn’t know I was Angel, and - “ There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and then Jace laughs bitterly. “No, I think he’s gone. He shifted to invisibility and my windows still open, so I think he climbed out - no, obviously I didn’t ask him out, are you crazy? He hates me right now.” 

Simon makes a disbelieving noise, his heart speeding up his chest, and Jace freezes, slowly turning his face to the sound.

“Call you later.” He says into the phone, and then he shuts it off. “Simon, you’re still here.” He squints suspiciously in the general area of where Simon’s standing, and mutters to himself “If he’s not here, I’m going to feel like such a fucking idiot.”

Simon exhales, focuses, and turns visible again, and Jace visibly jumps in shock. 

“I have to get used to that.” He says, and he bites his lower lip. “You heard.” 

“Yeah.” Simon says, eyes wide. 

“Well, now you know.” Jace spreads his arms wide, his expression defeated. “You’re shit at hiding your identity, and I like you. I’m sorry.”

“So Angel swooping in and interrupting my fights,” Simon says slowly, “that was you…flirting?” 

“I thought I was doing okay.” Jace defends himself, and Simon cuts him a look before he glances down at his watch. 

“I still have work to do tonight. There’s a flat in upper Manhattan owned by a Camille that’s just begging to be trashed and redistributed by Robin Hood.” Simon says in a rush. Jace watches him carefully, his eyes dark, and Simon half-smiles at him. “But…you know, maybe - if you want - we can go on a date tomorrow? Just Simon and Jace. No - no this.” He makes a vague motion with his hands, gesturing to his own mottled green-black uniform and Jace’s wings. 

Jace laughs, genuine and carefree, and nods, stepping closer to Simon. “For now,” he says, smirking, “how about a kiss for luck before you go off to be a criminal?” 

“You’re such an asshole.” Simon grumbles, and then he cups the back of Jace’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss, groaning softly as he realizes that Jace’s lips really are as plush as they look, and that Jace kisses like a champ - slow and wet and deep - and that Jace’s slight stubble scraping along his face is apparently the hottest thing Simon’s felt. Frankly, it’s unfair how much Simon likes this. 

“Okay,” Jace pulls away, his face flushed and his breathing ragged, “go save the world. Or just Brooklyn. Break into someone else’s house.” Simon grins and salutes him, taking a few steps back and leaping out the window to climb back down the building. “Don’t kiss anyone else, though! I better be the only person you steal a kiss from!” 

Simon grins even wider, and puts a hand to his earpiece as he uses his other hand to swing down a floor. 

“Red,” he says, “I think I’ve found my Maid Marian.” 

Jace is going to hate his new nickname.

A Different Perspective

I looked at Rhys and Feyre, a pang of jealousy ran through me. I had experienced a love like that once, if the world would have been kinder, I would be like them. Blissfully happy. But instead the world was cruel and to remind me of such a fact my gaze changed from the happy couple to her son.

“You’re not your normal flirtatious-self tonight, is something bothering you?”

“He looks so much like her,” and because it was Feyre, I wasn’t afraid to admit, “when I look at him, I wish he was mine.”

She followed my gaze and was not the least bit shocked when it fell upon Lucien.

“You told me that she chose and you added that not all were as lucky as I was, what did you mean by that?”

“It saddens me to say, the majority of Prythian has misogynistic views. Even though the Day Court has long recognized the equality between genders, many of the other courts have not. She was his possession, his bride. It would have been an act of war to give her sanctuary, to call her my own. I know Rhys would have been an ally, but in the end she chose to stay. She chose Beron over me.”

It broke my heart when she chose to stay. I would have done anything to keep her safe, to help her find happiness, even if it was not with me.

“I think that is a matter of perspective.”

Of all the responses I expected from Feyre, that was not it. It was very clear to me that she had choose Beron over me. Why else would she have stayed?  But over the years I had become friends with Feyre and I had learned that she always noted things the rest of us could not see. I was unsure if it was her mortal heart or her artist soul that allowed for her to see what others could not.

Curiosity getting the best of me, “Oh, and what is your perspective on this matter.”

“What would have happened if she would have become pregnant during one of your affairs?”

The look on Feyre’s face told me that she knew more of this story then she was letting on, or maybe that artist soul picked up on something the rest of us could not. She was friends with Lucien. The son that she kept closest, the son that was the most like her.

“Beron would have killed the youngling. It would have been against our laws and in-turn I would have declared war on Beron.”

Feyre stood there looking at Lucien, not at all surprised by my declaration. I could tell she was analyzing the history, the tidbits I had given her and maybe tidbits others had given her.

“So maybe she didn’t chose Beron over you. Maybe she chose something else, someone else. Maybe she made the one call that would have been the safest, even if it meant she had to sacrifice her chance at true happiness.”

“What are you saying Feyre?”

“Did you know that the first time I met the Lady of Autumn it was Under the Mountain?  I recognized her right away for who she was. It was easy to spot the similarities between her and Lucien. She helped me, kept me from getting roasted or being the nights entertainment. I’ve never had the chance to ask if Amarantha punished her for her kindness. If that was the reason she did not attend my second trial.”

It had been years ago, but the second trial stuck in my mind. I remembered feeling remorse for Tamlin. If she did not win that trial he would have lost both his best friend and his lover.  Part of me wondered if it would have been easier for him to have lost them both that day, instead of over time. I also noted that my love had not been in attendance of that trail and often wondered if seeing her youngest die would have finally broken her.

“I’ve always wanted to thank her for her kindness, but Beron keeps a pretty tight leash on his family and I have never had the chance to learn from her what I could do to repay that kindness.”

“And what does this have to do with perspective?”

She gave me a warm smile, the smile I am sure Rhys fell in love with, “Look at Lucien, look at the parts that are not her. What do you see?”

I didn’t even look before I responded, “Beron.”

Feyre gave me a look that told me that she knew I did not take her request seriously, “Look again.”

And so I did. The nose was different and oddly familiar. His skin was golden, much darker than his mother’s. And as if on cue Lucien laughed. His smile.

“Holy hell!” I could barely breath, it was taking all my effort to not fall to my knees, “How long have you known?”

“Since the first time I met you.”

She had been shocked by something, I could read it on her face. I remember that night well, because only a few moments later Rhys was also shocked.  I knew they came to a realization about something, but our conversation that night had not been shocking.

“Does he know?”

She shook her head, “Not that I know of, I’ve been waiting for him to use powers he inherited from you to break the news or at least hint at it. Though I could probably get Elain to blurt it out, she owes him one for blurting shocking information.”

I raised a brow at that very specific comment, Feyre chuckled, “Lucien blurted out right after she was made into a High Fae, ‘You’re my mate.’”

I chuckled, “are we sure he is my son?”

Feyre didn’t bother to respond, instead she squeezed my shoulder and walked away.

I have a son, a son with the woman I have loved for centuries. A woman who if she asked me, I would tear the world apart for. Instead she had sacrificed herself, to protect both our son and myself.

8

I’m a lot more honest when it comes to my music, I’m unapologetic about my work. Nothing I do is going to be perfect, but I think I’m able to understand that and as long as I have a healthy perspective on it, that’s all that matters.

anonymous asked:

I want to ask why do you think that zuko is better for katara then aang? I think there both good for her but aang would be destroyed if she would go to zuko.

I’m not the most eloquent person out there so bear with me here. Also, please don’t take anything I say personally. For me these things are all just a matter of perspective on relationships, love, and your own lived experiences.    

First of all, I have absolutely nothing against Aang. The wonderful thing about Avatar was that all characters were perfectly flawed and yet still grew as the show progressed.

The thing is, Aang’s relationship with Katara romantically speaking did not; it was forced.

(very long post ahead. Read at your own peril. Can’t account for credibility or coherence) 

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