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Scrap paper Mid from Final Fantasy 16. Absolutely criminal that she wasn't more central to the story.

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Ah, the answer, evidently: Don't copy and paste a file you coded fifteen years ago to post on deviantArt, then re-copied from the posted version. Either you or dA did something Tumblr didn't like. Go back and find an earlier file.

Disregard, my friends, this is a test post to figure out why Tumblr's messing with me.

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2007

Onward through the first quarter of this century.

Fandoms: Harry Potter This is unavoidable fact, HP was the fandom for me this year. Thoughts on it below, but the short version is that I disagree with JKR and I'm not part of the fandom anymore.

a vampire and his murderer; Felicula (OC)

Avril Vent Fleur (Wild Arms 5)

Glee (OC); Odile (Swan Lake)

Fleur Delacour (Harry Potter)

Art: Fleur Delacour dominated my brain this year, both writing and art. She hadn't ever been a favorite character before, but her big scene at the end of Half-Blood Prince just stuck in my brain and I wanted to extrapolate her story forwards and backwards. I was especially intrigued by her being a quarter Veela, and I wanted to explore what it would be not to be fully human. I didn't foresee this, but this focus ended up deliberately shifting my art away from the more natural figures I'd been doing for several years and towards wispy, attenuated, otherworldly figures. In some ways I'm not sure this was a good shift. It's subtler in 2007 itself, but it would only get more exaggerated, and for the next few years my style would grow a lot more cartoony and lose that groundedness it'd had before. On the other hand, I think it allowed for more movement and maybe even expression in my linework – maybe neither a step forward nor back, but to the side.

Writing: Before JKR befouled her legacy, I looked back on this year with fondness as something of a watershed moment for myself -- and also fantasy lit and fan culture in general. While never a huge Potterhead beforehand, I'd been reading the series since 2000, the final book was coming out, and I was caught up in the excitement too. I made a Fleur-themed gallery tour on Elfwood, I was browsing around the Lexicon, I was looking at Mugglenet's prediction list. I wasn't very vocal within the fandom, but I was reading other people's fic, I was reviewing, and I learned the series' world-building very thoroughly.

While I was still nursing along Tear Scars and my longform Suikoden fanfics, my main writing project this year was Kindred, basically Fleur's life story from early childhood through the main events of the HP series, and then a little bit after, written from her perspective. I started writing it with some trepidation, feeling unsure when it came to writing about French characters, about English characters, about characters moving through the actual real-life world, which is much harder to world-build than any fantasy world. I also misguidedly started it before Deathly Hallows came out, meaning I neither knew Fleur's fate nor how the larger story would end, so I wasn't sure what I was writing towards. Fortunately, by the time it came out, Deathly Hallows didn't deep-six too much of what I'd written; I was able to make some sweeping edits to align it back with canon and proceed.

I derived a huge amount of satisfaction from writing Kindred, and I learned a lot from the experience. For several years, I considered it my best work. HP is tainted now and I'm no longer part of the fandom, but I still see Kindred as an important stepping stone in my education as a writer. I would go on to post it in 2008 and for a long time it would be my most popular fanfic. I was extremely touched by how many people read it and commented on it. I took it down around 2010 because of FFN's quoting policy and reposted it to deviantArt. And then after a couple years I took it down again, feeling unsatisfied with its quality. I don't plan to repost it anywhere else, but people occasionally still ask about it and it gets me in the soft parts of my heart every time. JKR's behavior is monstrous; despite that, I'm still fond of my fic -- fond of the things I learned, the experiments that paid off, the funny bits, the emotional bits. I think those of us who have left the fandom should still feel proud of the things we personally accomplished when we were inspired by it.

For the excerpt, I picked a scene from very early in the fic, Fleur talking about her Veela relations, particularly her full Veela grandmother.

Excerpt:

Spring 1980

Grandmother tries to teach me how to dance.

They’re all lamenting, “You’re so human I will scream. Look at those huge feet! Are they going to send you to school?”

And then, “You’re so beautiful, little flower, such a darling. Dance with us.”

To Mother: “Will you never stay with us?”

Mother just tosses her hair and dances with them. I watch, nervous, as they wheel and dart, men and women of silver fire.

Veela.

My grandmother is a Veela. Decades ago, she found Grandfather Kiryakov. He wasn’t handsome, but she fell in love with him at first glance. Whenever he strolled in the woods, she followed him, though she hid herself from his friends, who thought Grandfather had gone a bit mad. He was a Muggle and wealthy, so he was allowed to be eccentric. Grandmother haunted his dreams until finally they married. His Muggle friends never knew what to make of her, and the longer they were married, the further Grandfather withdrew from the Muggle world.

My mother Apollina was studying in Durmstrang Institute when Grandfather died from pneumonia. Veela don’t understand sickness, and Grandmother was devastated. She wanted nothing more to do with her husband’s world. Mother returned in the summer to find her father’s ancestral house empty, and it was days before she summoned the composure to seek out the Veela. Grandmother never stopped loving her half-human daughter, but she stopped living in the house, secluding herself in the forest.

So my mother was sixteen when she began to raise herself, torn between the desires to go live among the Veela and to complete her magical training. When she graduated, she left Bulgaria for years, leaving only the protective spells that hid the house. She never returned until I was born. She and I go there often, but never for long.

Part-Veela are abundant in eastern Europe, wherever there are Veela themselves; many simply prefer human men and women to their own kind. Generally the children of these unions are not seen as creatures to be either discouraged or adored. But though they are considered wizards, they are not human. Looking at a half-Veela, you can see it quickly. It isn’t simply the pale silvery hair or skin. It’s in the movements, the eyes. Veela blood tends to dominate human traits. Even in quarter-bloods like myself, the influence is obvious, though less overwhelming.

“Little flower,” croon my Veela great-aunts and second-cousins. “Dance with us. You are not a human with us.”

The human in me is positive I'll look stupid dancing. I hold back.

Grandmother would have preferred Mother to marry a Veela. “Bring the blood home,” as she puts it, lifting her chin to Mother. “Your human blood always takes you away. You let the forest relinquish you, you sleep in houses of brick and iron. Humans. Labor. Clanging noise.” She turns to me, a troubled line between her eyes. “You will forget your Veela kindred.”

I can’t tell if she’s speaking to me or Mother.

Then my grandmother, my great-aunts and uncles and cousins smile, dazzling me, and exult. “Dance with us now!”

I take their hands. Veela skin is smooth, but I can feel soft petal-like scales across their palms. I try to dance. It’s stupid. They howl with laughter and derision. Grandmother leaps and spins, drawing their attention away. Mother takes my hands. Her palms are much more human, and they comfort me. “Just forget.”

That is the first trick to Veela magic: forgetting.

The longer I’m with the Veela, the more gracefully I dance. I forget about the house, I forget about my bedroom stuffed with toys, I forget that Father is far away in France, wondering restlessly when Mother and I will return. All I want to do is dance. All I want to see are the dark trees wheeling as I spin, the blurred stars, and the dancing Veela.

Can I really describe Veela dancing? It isn’t human. The closest human dance might be ballet, but it’s as close to Veela dancing as a carousel is to a herd of galloping stallions.

The second trick to Veela magic is beauty.

Star Dance: Wherever a foot or hand touches, colored sparks appear, caught in tree branches and flowers like gems.

Flower Dance: The Veela meet in a ceaseless series of couples, whirling and spinning in pairs. Where their hands meet, flowers appear. I dance with a young Veela girl my own age, and we throw violets everywhere, until the adults tire of us and toss fire-balls to chase us off.

Fire Dance: Ragged flames leap and twist wherever a Veela steps. Fire forms between their hands, is rolled along their arms, tossed back and forth across the dance, over heads, under elbows, between the swift feet. These flames aren’t dangerous, just beautiful. Grandmother picks up a handful of sparks and scatters them through my hair. They’re cool to the touch and don’t fall out until we leave the forest.

Of course, not all magical flames are harmless.

The third trick to Veela magic: It is bound to emotion.

There is no such thing as a Veela who feels no emotion. In fact, Veela are utterly incapable of hiding emotion. Veela are aware of the obvious link between extreme anger and fireballs. This is why the wise run when Veela are annoyed.

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Disregard, my friends, this is a test post to figure out why Tumblr's messing with me.

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My old OC Zoe.

The text says, "How dare you? Don't you know I am a powerful and very sparkly sorceress?"

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2006

Still making my way through this quarter century.

Fandoms: Makai Kingdom, Suikoden 5, The Hollow Kingdom, Wild Arms 4

The Magister and Zoe (OCs)

Felicula (OC); Melusine (from French folklore)

Zoe; Hour (OC)

Kate and Marak (The Hollow Kingdom)

Art: I always look back on this as a big year, art-wise. This was when I got my Elfwood gallery, when I really began measuring my art against other people's. A lot of the time, I was discouraged. Really, a better way to put it is that I learned some humility. I'd never thought I was the best artist, but seeing so much excellent art by other people brought home how much I still had to learn, and it encouraged me to push myself, to experiment.

While Elfwood was on the wane by 2006, there was still a lot of interaction and community there, more than I've seen in other art communities since. Despite its strict rules and long queue, in many ways it was a cozy and encouraging welcome to the world of online artwork.

While art from this year shows its age, there are still individual pieces I like. The colors are bold, I made some creative choices, spent time on some good details, and overall my style is more polished and confident. This was a period where I could feel my art improving, and, trust me, that isn't always the case. It was very satisfying, even though I often felt like I was light years behind other artists. I didn't feel like I could aspire to "real" artist levels.

Writing: 2006 was a double whammy because it's also when I set up my Fanfiction.net page and picked the name Rayless Night. I had a backlog of fic from 2005 and I started firing off chapters immediately, starting the year with Suikoden and Makai Kingdom stuff and closing it with a few short pieces from Wild Arms 4. And it was really so much fun. I'd never gotten feedback like that on my writing before, or the feeling that I was adding to a big vat of fanstuff (or Pit of Voles, take your pick) for everyone to enjoy. In real life, I hadn't known many people who shared my love of fantasy novels and JRPGs, so it was just so nice to gush with other people about characters I loved.

Among the fics I wrote that year was Public Speaking, a Suikoden 5 fic that focuses on the life story of the extremely minor npc Salisha Raulbel. (Dinn's girlfriend. Her. She exists, believe me.) Not only did I have the freedom to make up a ton of stuff, but I enjoyed examining the game from this peripheral perspective. The premise was very niche, but I was so pleased that a bunch of readers not only gave it a look, but kept coming back with each chapter. To this day I'm still regretful I didn't finish it, mostly for that handful of readers.

Salisha and Dinn meet fairly early in the fic, where she saves him from being enslaved by her grandfather. Then several years pass without them interacting until they're a bit older and they rediscover each other while some political talks between Falena and Armes are underway.

Excerpt:

Dinner was a haphazard affair, people dropping down in front of the fires to eat whenever they felt like it. Eventually my stomach was wooed by the smell of slowly roasted lamb, cloves, currants imported from Doraat, and freshly baked flat bread. I sat and tried to remain neat as I ate.

I glanced at the soldier sitting next to me, vaguely disquieted. I knew a lot of the garrison, most of them by name or sight, and I was sure I recognized this one, but I couldn't remember why. All of a sudden, four-years-old embarrassment tinged my cheeks. I took it in stride. "I know you. You're Dinn."

The soldier glanced at me. "Yes, my lady."

I walked backwards in my mind, recalling what I knew about him. Not long after he'd been freed, Mother had sent him back to his village. However, he'd returned a bare month later, swearing his life's loyalty to my father. Gratitude, most likely. I hadn't heard anything else about him since. I was just about to ask how he was doing when he interrupted with, "Forgive me for not saying this sooner, but I want to thank you for your words four years ago."

"Oh," I said vaguely, my embarrassment returning. Words seemed far too mild a term for my explosive arguments that day. "There's no need to thank me for being a decent human being."

Dinn's mouth tightened, a bit grim. "You'd be distressed to find how few decent human beings there are, my lady."

I was quite nettled at his assumption that I was a mincy little naïf who knew nothing of the real world. I was seventeen. An adult. I knew people could be heartless. Actually, he was exactly right, and I hardly had a clue what he was talking about. I have a better idea now, sad to say. You'll hear about that.

"Well," I said, adopting something of Lady Sialeeds' aloofness, "what have you been up to, Sir Dinn? Distinguishing yourself among the soldiers?"

Dinn's grimace turned self-deprecating. "I like to think so."

I studied him. He was attired no differently from the other soldiers; his tunic was blue, his pants tan. He was wearing his hair in a singularly unattractive way -short in the back and long in the front. I decided that his face was handsome enough to compensate for the hair. Nothing about him gave any sign of an advanced rank. "What training are you going through?"

"General Ruel has given me a minor division of your father's cavalry to command." Ruel was the head of Father's garrison, a man Father knew well and respected. His status afforded him the luxury of living in our house and eating with us, when he could. His grown up children were terribly jealous.

But I wasn't thinking about that just then. "Cavalry?" I repeated, instantly interested. "Which horse is yours?"

If Dinn was thrown off by the question, he hid it. "I'm presently training Ghost, my lady."

I almost clapped my hands. "I remember Ghost! The white three year old filly with the insane red eyes?"

He grinned. "Yes, my lady."

"You should ride into battle with a tattered black cloak and a horned helmet. It would have such a soothing effect on your opponents."

"As my lady commands."

"What weapon do you favor?" I asked, attempting to sound businesslike.

His sheathed sword was sitting at his side (I later learned that he couldn't possibly sit with it as he carried it on his back). It was an incredibly long nodachi, at least sixty-eight inches. He politely drew its full length, letting it catch the firelight. "Al Sabah," he said, which was apparently its name.

"Nice," I said, like I had any idea what I was talking about. "Very long. Not steel, of course."

"No, it's steel, my lady."

"Ah. But some light alloy."

Dinn's eyes narrowed slightly. It was a look I was going to get quite often over the years, and it means Amusement. "As my lady says."

"And your lady is quite sure," I retorted. "There's no way you could use it otherwise, certainly not from horseback."

"My lady is..." Dinn paused, probably trying to think of some polite way to end the sentence, "opinionated. A good quality," he added (rather lamely, I thought.)

"Your lady is right. Here, hand it to me. I'm sure it's perfectly lightweight."

He handed it over. I hefted it and quickly handed it back. "Pfft. It's a feather quill." I hid my right wrist in my lap and surreptitiously massaged it with my left.

Dinn resheathed Al Sabah. "I would not contradict my lady," he said, a bit too blandly.

"Good," I said, rubbing my wrist openly. Sun above, that HURT. His wrists had to be steel too, there was no other way to explain it.

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Inspired by Bluebeard. They may look like slaughtered does, but what are they really?

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Archer and Hakuno at the close of the War, falling right until the end.

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finishing old art: Revya from Soul Nomad. Needed some shading, coloring, and another foot.

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THE ESCAPE OF LADY AIGLE

An early sketch of Charmian that I've always liked.

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Finishing old art: Ana, an old OC, with her otherworldly golden eyes. Ana is short for Inanna, and that should say enough by itself.

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2005

Continuing my creative trip through the last quarter century...

Fandoms: Suikoden 3, The Hollow Kingdom Trilogy, Makai Kingdom

Knell (OC); Salome (Makai Kingdom)

Serqet (OC); Felicula (OC)

Snowdrop (OC); Zetta and Salome (Makai Kingdom)

Art: So this was the year I got a scanner and start posting my art online. A scanner can change the look of your art, and seeing it on a screen does something, I'm not sure what, but it defamiliarizes it a little bit. I think it allowed me to get a different perspective and better imagine how my art looked to others. And maybe that's why I finally started using bolder colors and making my pictures altogether more finished.

I think for some years I'd also been moving towards, not realism, but more naturalistic bodies for my characters. Despite the cartoonishly round faces and the large eyes, there's a groundedness to my art from this period that I still like.

Writing: I started to significantly focus on fanfic this year, both oneshots and longform, predominantly for Suikoden 3 and Makai Kingdom. I finally had decent internet access (I will always be thankful I didn't have it any earlier and so the internet was spared most of my earlier, um, oeuvre) and I was eager to participate in fandom. (Suikoden was still fairly vigorous at this point; Makai Kingdom was always infintesimal.) So I started writing more serious fanfic (The Light on the Waves, a Queen-centered Suikoden fic, and Wishes, a Salome-centered MK fic), and for several years I kept going very steadily.

This was possibly a problem.

2005 is also when I started my next original writing project, a novel called Tear Scars. It was a coming-of-age fantasy about Royce, a female mercenary, written in a first-person memoir style rather similar to The Claidi Journals. It wasn't a high epic fantasy, but it was an ambitious character-driven piece about Royce growing up and trying to survive in a world that deals her a lot of bad hands, and there was some gritty action and some angst.

It had two serious problems. The first is that it was way too based on Suikoden 3 in some aspects, with parts of Royce's backstory being way too similar to my headcanons about Suikoden 3's Queen. It did diverge and go off on its own track, but I suspect sharing so much creative DNA (it's a train with DNA in this metaphor) hampered it from getting necessary momentum.

The second problem is that while I'd been brainstorming Tear Scars for a couple years, by the time I got to writing it, my life had changed significantly. I'd invested a lot of creative energy into it, and I'd been finishing books since 2000. I was confident I'd finish this one too. But as years went by, 2005, 2006, 2007, the book would flounder. I was moving on creatively, focusing on new things. Maybe, after a while, I wasn't sure what I wanted to be writing anymore, at least when it came to original stuff. I kept Tear Scars going for three years, but with increasingly long gaps between working on it. Eventually, I gave up. More on that later.

The early parts of the story deal with Royce's country, Felderris, being invaded by a rival nation. For a long time, the war doesn't touch her rural community, but it still casts an oppressive shadow over her childhood. Here the teenaged Royce shares a peaceful evening with her family – until the peace is shattered.

Excerpt:

“There are fireflies tonight,” Stepma murmured one late evening in May. I looked over my shoulder. A firefly had drifted through one of the open windows, a bright green spark. Frayne made a grab for it and succeeded only in capsizing a chair as the firefly hovered against the ceiling.

“Mama, can we go catch fireflies?” Dacey asked, borderline whine, borderline wistful.

“No.” Stepma didn't look up from the sleeve of one of Cav's shirts that she was taking off for the warm summer months. “It's bedtime.”

“Awww...”

“There'll be more fireflies tomorrow. Bedtime.”

“Ma-maaa – ” from Devlin and Gwinnde.

Stepma closed her eyes for a moment. “Children, I've had a very hard day, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't – ”

“Ma-maaa!”

Cav swung to his feet from his seat by the window. “Come on, kids,” he said brusquely, hoisting Caron up under his arm.

“No – No – No – ” Sophie and I helped too and, well, as soon as their bawling was inaudible, the house was bearable again. The house itself was suddenly quiet and seemed to slump with lassitude. I sat down in a chair near Stepma and didn't realize I'd fallen asleep until I suddenly woke up.

The lamps were lower and Stepma was striding towards the door with Cav just behind. The steady sound of Stepma's boot heels on the floor drew me to get up and follow her. She shot me a guarded look over her shoulder before she grasped the door handle and opened it.

A flurry of large moths fluttered and ghosted in. Behind them, I could see the muted fire-behind-bone glow of lanterns. Above the lamps, appearing disembodied and glowing almost lamp-bright, were faces.

“Mistress Eachan?” one in the front said. A man. Dad –

“I have bad news.” The man took a moment to gauge Stepma, but I at least could see no sign of what she was feeling. She stood erect, her right hand resting on the door latch. The man decided he should continue. “Bad news concerning your husband.”

“Who are you?” Stepma's voice broke through the anxious haze that was collecting in my head. “You're not from Aerawyn.”

“No,” the man acknowledged. He shifted his lantern in his hands. “I'm a southerner.”

“Part of my husband's contingent?”

“No,” the man said again, this time firmly and looking Stepma in the eye. I finally had a clear view of him; a squat wedge-shaped face with many folds and angles, a wide mouth, small pale green eyes, ears that stuck out, and half a head of thin dark hair. “I come from Rebel Sander.”

“Rebel Sander?”

“He requests aid to the Free Felderrans in the form of animal, equipment, and provisions, and we've come to – ”

Stepma took a firmer grip on the door and pulled it partway closed. “If Rebel Sander wants our livelihood, why doesn't he join the Erriathi army?”

Color flooded the stranger's face. He took a step up, one foot on the door post. “You won't give us food when we're fighting to keep you and your kids free?”

“I'm sorry,” Stepma said sharply, closing the door still more.

The man shouldered against it. Cav moved to Stepma's side.

The stranger's eyes were glittering in the light from our house. “I'd heard word that you were Conquered.”

Stepma took only the time to gather herself. “The last I heard from my husband, he was fighting in the High Queen's army, yes. Now then, you didn't come here to discuss politics, you came her with news of my husband. What is it?”

“Bad,” the stranger said again. “He's in the High Queen's army and fighting against Free Felderrans. He's been conquered by Erriath. Are you sure you won't help us?”

Stepma's voice shook slightly. “Yes. Be on your way.”

The man's face became grim. “Well, more bad news. Your husband's lost his family too.” And he thrust his torch into Stepma's face.

Cav dashed forward, beating at the flames that covered Stepma's head like a mask and helmet. I stood still and tense and aghast as Cav tried to use his shirt to smother the flames – then I ran towards Stepma. The men were inside our house, shoving me aside, torches raised high.

“Mommy!” Dacey screamed from the top floor.

I reached Stepma and tried to help beat out the flames. They were diminishing, but her face –

I swung around to look at the top of the stairs. The rest of my siblings had joined Dacey; their eyes were fixed on Stepma, wide and dark in the half-light.

And then their eyes blazed like small suns as one man threw his torch onto the middle of the stairs and the flames sprang up like a gate. Harril and Stepma screamed. “Sophie – ” I shouted and cut myself off. I'd been about to tell her to lead them out by the back way, but I didn't want these invaders to know there was another route to burn. I stared helplessly up at my sisters and brothers.

Stepma had lunged to her feet, but a man backhanded her onto the floor again. Another man had his fingers locked around Cav's throat. Suddenly I was grabbed from behind. A torch flared at the corner of my vision, and my head reeled from the upwards surge and the smoke. I tried to listen, to hear if I could still hear the kids screaming, but every sound was swallowed in the fire's roar. Then a man shouted as Stepma rushed up the stairs – No, you don't need to, there's still the back way – then there was another exploding roar. I was released and fell hard onto the floor; the floorboards shook as the men ran out of the house. I tried to get up, to see if we could all follow. They'll kill us if we rush out. But we had to follow.

I cast around, mind and eyes disoriented by the slashing flames and thrashing shadows. I couldn't see anyone. I kept avoiding looking at the stair, unwilling to see my stepmother's flame-blackened corpse sprawled across it. Finally, I had nowhere else to look. All I saw were flames.

I'm alone – I have to get out! I reeled in the direction the door had to be in. The heavy smoke muted the flames' brilliance, but the door had to be there. I couldn't walk through that – I –

My eyes found a window. I ran up to it as fire closed on either side and bloodied my hands while working at the latch. The shutters gave and I fell through, landing on my shoulder, then chin. I lay for a single second as my shoulder throbbed, then sprang to my feet into a run. The night was cool and dry. Flames angled out of every open window of the house, straining towards me as I dashed past, skirting the edge of the house and running towards the back door.

There was a fire there too. When was it lit? Before the others had a chance to escape – ? As I stood there and stared hopelessly, I realized that men's voices had mixed with the growling of the fire. My heart jumped and stood still. I couldn't leave the house – someone might still be in it, someone might need me – my family might all still be in there –

I knew very well what Stepma would want me to do. I knew what my instincts were demanding. But part of me wanted so much to stay there and be there when someone in my family needed me.

I whirled, fear pumping energy into my muscles as I sprinted up the hill and into the forest – the invaders would search the forest, I'd have to go far – I'm sorry, Sophie, I'm sorry, Gwinnie – tree trunks jerked and hurtled past, leaves and underbrush grabbed my legs. Even though I was turned away from it, I could sense the fire, its light and heat chasing me through the darkness.

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GIVE ME A CHARACTER; unpopular opinion on Emily Starr

*rubs hands*

Okay.

I don't know how truly unpopular this is -- I haven't sounded the fandom out -- but I've always disliked that Emily gets with Teddy Kent. It doesn't ruin the series or anything like that, and I quite like that Emily's Quest has a more mature, almost erotic at times tone. (I would consider it the third of Maud's adult novels with Blue Castle and Tangled Web.) But I've never liked Teddy. I find him snobby and pretentious. In fairness, Emily is also snobby and pretentious, but in her case I like her.

Hopefully it's clear this is strictly a matter of opinion. If someone else likes Teddy, or the ship (does the ship have a name? Tedily? Vega of the Lyre? Can't stop painting those hands?), I don't judge them. These things are incredibly subjective and I'm not saying my bias comes down to defensible facts and a perfect interpretation of the source material.

Nor am I a die-hard EmilyxDean shipper (ship name: Starr Priest?) because it has serious problems right from the start, and not just the age gap, though that's certainly enough to go on. But I do find Dean more interesting and their relationship more interesting. (Again, this is wholly subjective, it's not a hill I'm dying on.)

Well then, if Emily has to get with someone, whom would I rather see her with? Ilse? I think there's a lot of basis for Emily's and Ilse's relationship to be seen as romantic, but I'm not sure they'd be happy in the long run. They both might be too competitive with each other. Perry? I think there's some potential for humor and chemistry, but again, it wouldn't work -- he'd need a lot more maturing before he sufficiently got Emily as a person. That weirdo long-haired author who comes to her house in anger, immediately falls in love with her, proposes, then complains she's an ice goddess? No, I guess not. If I was writing an AU, I might have her get with the unnamed Japanese prince. He seemed very sweet and considerate and, honestly, if any Maud heroine could pull off being foreign royalty, it would be Emily.

Thanks for the ask! I hope you enjoyed my not-too-serious rant against Emily's taste in men.

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I’m uncreative so let’s go with Luke :)

Absolutely!

How I feel about this character. Abyss is one of those rare games where not only do I like most of the main cast (heroes and villains), but many of them are among my very favorite characters. It might be eclipsed by the fact that I really like Natalia, and I really like Asch, and I really like Guy and Jade and Ion and Peony, but Luke is also one of my very favorite characters -- he's just a little further down the line than some of the others. When it comes to game protagonists, he's probably in my top 10 favorites.

I think it comes down to a couple of factors. He's a complex character. Mileage may vary over whether he's well written, but personally, I find his character growth to be interesting, sympathetic, and organic. He decides to change, but he's never perfect. He becomes a hero, but he never entirely loses his own self-interest. He has fears that, rather than flatly overcome and extinguish, he fights on in spite of. And the game gives him a lot of space to express his thoughts, whether it's in the mainline story scenes, optional quests, skits, or even his diary entries -- there are lots of moments where we get these little details that make him feel three-dimensional. Does he have a lot of very typical JRPG hero traits? Sure, but he's examined in detail. He's more than just those traits. And he's allowed a level of vulnerability that many protagonists, being wish-fulfillment gamer proxies, don't necessarily get. (I don't want to die, I don't want to die, anyone? And that's such a good message -- him wanting to live not for some purpose he can fulfill, even if it's helping people and saving the world, but because it's good that he exists, period.)

He's very compelling as a character. Precious boy, absolutely a favorite.

All the people I ship romantically with this character. While it's not an OTP for me, I like the LukeTear ship. I think it's one of the better done canon love stories (among the games I've played at least). It evolves slowly from animosity to pragmatic cooperation to friendship and eventually love. There's an interesting touch of mentorship to it, and I like how it's Tear, the woman, who's the savvier and more authoritative one -- but she also comes to admire Luke and be inspired by him as he comes into his own as a person. She doesn't mold him, but he does flourish because of her influence.

I'm not opposed to seeing Luke with someone else, but Tear is the one I'd gravitate towards.

My non-romantic OTP for this character. All of Luke's relationships with the party members are interesting, but I'm particularly intrigued by Luke and Natalia. There's a lot of evolution there too. At first, it feels like Luke and Natalia are always just clashing; Natalia cares about Luke, but for misguided and even selfish reasons, and Luke just doesn't want to deal with her. But as early as the abandoned factory, you can see that despite their problems, they do get each other. They understand each other, they play off each other like kids who've known each other all their lives. Then as they both mature, you see they genuinely love each other. People criticize Natalia for leaving Luke at Akzeriuth, but when she rejoins the party, you see she doesn't act at all resentful towards him; in fact, when Luke apologizes for not being Asch, she basically tells him to shut up. Natalia's speech to him before the Tower of Rem is so loving and desperate, and he sounds deeply touched to hear that she still thinks of him as being part of her family. And on the flip side -- Luke just feels for Natalia so much, during all the stuff with her father and then later with Largo. When she suffers, he suffers, and you see him stepping up to be strong for her. It's quite a contrast from where they started but, again, it happens gradually and believably.

My unpopular opinion about this character. I don't know if it's unpopular, but I will never like the "Luke is mentally seven years old" interpretation. I don't think it's a mainstream opinion in the fandom, but I know it's contentious. People are free to interpret things as they will, but despite a few lines tossed off by Guy (which I think can be taken too literally), I don't feel the evidence bears it out. Luke strikes me as behaving like a teenager -- a sheltered, impulsive teenager, but someone capable of making complex, serious choices.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon. Luke's characterized very thoroughly in the game -- I don't think there are any areas where he's really lacking. I suppose it would have been interesting to see him interacting more with his father after the halfway point of the game. I feel like the duke has a lot to answer for, and Luke maybe should take him to task more. But then, the fact that he doesn't is another interesting element of his character.

Thanks for the ask!

[daily-rayless]

Let's see you break down... Jade. Break this man down like the frail mage he claims to be.

With pleasure!

How I feel about this character.

I've always liked Jade. I'm not automatically a fan of the insufferable bastard trope because I think a lot of the time the bastard is question isn't written well, so he (it's usually a he) comes across as underbaked and juvenile. And Jade has his juvenile moments, but he has very serious moments. And not serious moments where he's simply badass (though he also has those), but serious moments where the gamer is invited to share in his self-disgust. Sometimes you have an amoral character whose amorality is framed as cool, or tragic, misunderstood or misguided. Jade, though, we're meant to judge him. We like him, but we're not supposed to excuse him.

He's complicated, he doesn't get along with the group just for the sake of getting along, he's very funny at times. He's amazing in a fight and has incredible magic and is feared the world over. But he's not an idealized wish-fulfillment character either because he's so ethically uncomfortable. Not unethical because he's a badass, but unethical in a thought-provoking and uncomfortable way.

Yes, the game would go much smoother if he opened up about all his secret knowledge, but I think (at least a lot of the time) it makes sense that he keeps it all under his hat. He's definitely my favorite of the disreputable older Tales guys.

All the people I ship romantically with this character.

Strictly personally, I have trouble seeing Jade in a relationship, or even harboring feelings for someone. This is a strictly me thing, not something I'm advancing as justified by canon or anything. So in my own works, I tend to leave him single. But I've come to appreciate other people's perspectives -- there's an interesting case to be made for Van and Jade, given how their minds work similarly, some interesting parallels and contrasts in their pasts. Guy and Jade could definitely be funny. Even Jade and Dist, which for years I wrote off as a joke, can be compelling when written with care, and can work really nicely to show that Jade has a lot of growing to do.

If I were going to go with someone though, I'd probably take the path of least resistance and pick Peony. Out of all of them, it feels the most natural to me, and I like that Peony's actually able to yoink him off his pedestal and get under his skin.

My non-romantic OTP for this character.

Again, Peony is right there. And I really like Jade's dynamic with Anise, how they're both so unrepentantly underhanded. But I think it would be really fun to focus in on Jade and Ion. It's interesting that cold, scientific Jade does seem to legitimately respect Ion, even for his idealism. And getting to know Jade better, learning about his history, might help Ion come to terms with issues about his own identity.

My unpopular opinion about this character.

I think there's a trend, in both fandom and canon, to overpower Jade. Like. I don't think he should just automatically know everything and be able to do everything and always have the answer and save the day, with the smuggest little face. Fans love to see him land on some brilliant conclusion or finesse some amazing strategy, and I'm no different, but some of Jade's most interesting moments are when he's struggling. Having him always be right is like taking him for granted, flattening his character.

One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon.

Hm, I'm not sure. Seeing him interact with his adoptive family could be interesting. We see him as a soldier, a commander, a friend, something of a father figure. We don't really get a sense of him as a son.

Jade holds up his test score. F for "frail old man".

[daily-rayless]

GIVE ME A CHARACTER;

and I’ll break their ass down:

How I feel about this character

All the people I ship romantically with this character

My non-romantic OTP for this character

My unpopular opinion about this character

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

[daily-rayless]

Thanks to everyone who sent me good vibes earlier in the week! Things are looking much less stressful now.