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abugwritesstuff · 9 months

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hi! i’ve sent this to a couple other of my favorite COD writers, but it’s a psycho-analysis thing on guy that i wanted to share as im curious about other’s thoughts. i should mention that i am a psych student with a special interest in male psychological trauma and “toxic masculinity” (put in quotes because idk the scientific term for it lmao)

warnings for slight spoilers, i don’t believe there’s much of anything too triggering, just some mention of sexism in avari, and parental/generational trauma, but nothing too detailed.

(and j*sper jumpscare at the end but it’s just slander)

this also isn’t at all and excuse for abuse or anything of the sort, and that’s not what i specialize in either; it’s more like a deeper analysis of internalized sexism, now if guy did anything on the level of j*sper or got physical or anything, i would not be writing this.

so, guy starts off very controlling (literally using mind control), but when you play his route + events (specifically the ones where he goes to avari) a much deeper story unfolds. it is my understanding that avari has very different thoughts on women, and we even see guy tell MC that his father told him all women are cruel and only want power. i believe guy has been told all his life negative things about women, and that all he has seen was his father marry for power after his mother passed. we also see in a route that guy was much more open when his mom was alive, but closed his heart to everyone when she was killed. it is also seen that guy assumed his mother was murdered by other women. so, Guy has been told all his life these things about women, ever since he was a child, and never had the chance to see any differently as he never opened up to another woman until MC.

now this is where the beauty comes in. after a while, guy begins to truly love MC for herself and not just her power, and even tells her what he was told about women and says she changed that. guy was able to swallow his ego and be emotionally open to MC and begin to see her as an individual and not just a vessel for power. guy defends her to her father and tells him off saying that he truly loves her and no other, and it is not just because of her power, and that she will make a fine queen. we see him praise her throughout his stories and events, and through his thoughts we see he is truly a changed man who has changed his outlook on women through his love for MC.

although he is not yet open to fully sharing his thoughts quite yet, we see that he is actively working on himself for MC.

we also see a boyish side come out of him during these emotional moments, that i believe to be trauma regression and suppressed feelings that he has had to endure due to the excessively violent and aggressive nature of avari. i truly think guy’s initial act towards MC is due to trauma and abuse he suffered in avari, and he only begun realizing he was lied to and was wrong about women through his relationship with MC. guy is actually my favorite character because of this, and i think it’s truly a beautifully complex story that the creators made. also, i love how his toxic masculinity was turned around and how it tells the story that growing up in such a toxic environment can truly damage a man.

j*sper is a whole different story, bro is just a perv who deserves cancer.

sorry, this is about to be super rambl-y! i go off on some related tangents here lol

yeah this is interesting! i guess i disagree in that i don't actually think that the CoD writers have really fleshed him out as well as we in the fandom have and that has always been the core of my distaste for his character, and why i prefer him in fic form 9 times out of 10. 100% i believe he's traumatized by life in avari and the loss of his mom, and that his sexism stems from that, and because of that he has potential to be deep and complex in his flaws, but there's always a core to his character that just stays flat and unchanged, particularly with the event stories- he almost defaults to cruelty and rarely shows genuine remorse or legitimately, verbally apologizes*, complete with an understanding of what he did wrong and actual changed behavior. (i can distantly recall event stories where he does something awful, they have a relationship meltdown, they make up because MC gaslights herself into believing that she was being unfair, and then he continues doing shitty things??? like he's kinda emotionally abusive in some stories.) they do this this kind of half-baked character development with fenn as well, though his book 2 was a massive help in showing actual personal growth. i'm really hoping guy's book 2 provides similar evidence of change.

the unfortunate thing is that since i've been playing voltage games on and off for the past ten years, i'm pretty familiar with the archetype they're using for guy and have some serious doubts that they'll write him better. controlling asshole alpha male who has a trauma backstory and, despite falling in love with the MC, just acts like a complete dickwipe forever is pretty much par the course. so i'm a bit conflicted about the possibility that we'll get the kind of fleshing out of guy's character that we need.

as another note, the most i've seen (or at least, perceived) from guy as far as remedying his sexism is him deciding MC is an exception to the general rule that women are bad. he's had some genuinely selfless moments for her here and there in stories, but none that would really give me an indication that his view of women overall is healing. and that's the kicker for me: men like that exist in real life, and when the woman they've removed to the pedestal disappoints them in some way, they're right back to square one because they didn't actually change their views. and the sort of change that he'd need to undergo as a character to unpack that bullshit is pretty intense, which is another reason why i'm skeptical we'll get what we need and why i prefer the fandom version of guy- and why i prefer the version that you've presented here.

tldr; the material to make guy an incredible character is there, but i think some details are missing and the legitimate development we need isn't something voltage is terribly likely to do.

*to note- this behavior is extremely unsympathetic to me because it reminds me of my dad lol. i understand why others have sympathy for it, but i lack the personal bandwidth.

#court of darkness #guy avari

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abugwritesstuff · 9 months

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Hi there! You’re seriously one of the best writers I’ve come across, and I am SO HAPPY it’s for court of darkness, as it has a very small fandom. Just wanted to say that :)

Also, do you have a masterlist? I couldn’t find one

awww yay! i'm glad you enjoy my work. sorry i've been a bit awol- moved into a new spot and have been busy making new friends and getting familiar with the area! i'm hoping to contribute more to the fandom soon.

i do have a masterlist! it's here: https://abugwritesstuff.tumblr.com/fanfic-masterlist

#court of darkness

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abugwritesstuff · 11 months

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Thicker Than Water - Chapter Two

oops sorry this second chapter took way longer than intended! but here it finally is!

-----

As it turned out, she’d been of a similar mind. That next morning he was awoken less urgently and to the sound of a gentle pat-pat-pat against his door. Her little familiar had come bearing a message and after a few chin scritches, flew off blissfully unaware of the meaning of the contents in the envelope he’d delivered.

I think we should talk about it now. Meet me by the forest. I’ll be there waiting for you.

-MC

Lance crumpled the message and tossed it into the bin as he began undressing and dressing as quickly as he could. His heart had jumped into his throat but the sooner he spoke to her the sooner he’d know the truth of what to expect, so there was little point in wasting time. The time was now, finally.

When he arrived at the edge of the Academy campus, she stood there among the cluster of trees on the very edge, hands held in front of her and obviously tense. He took a deep breath and approached, and when her head swiveled around to meet his gaze, she sucked in a breath of her own.

“Hi,” she murmured. She was wringing her hands anxiously as he moved closer, and she turned away abruptly, her back to him. “Let’s, uh… let’s go to the usual spot.” At that, she began walking at a quick, nervous clip and he trailed behind her as they made their way to the clearing by the pond, cutting through the underbrush and through the trees in complete silence.

Lance watched her, saying nothing, afraid that trying to cut the tension might make either one of them burst with barely disguised panic and fear. Her shoulders were held high and tense and she kept a faster pace than usual, almost as if she was hoping to outrun him- or something else.

When they arrived, she folded her arms across her chest stiffly and stared off into the distance. Lance watched the tension roll through her jaw as though she were gnawing on her words, and after a moment of quietly watching the emotions flicker across her face, offered her his hand.

“Hey,” he whispered, hoarse. “...You can tell me.”

She looked up for a moment. Her eyes were wide and rimmed red, and her gaze immediately slammed back down to the ground. “I… I know. It’s just difficult. And… you probably already know, don’t you?” Her voice faded into a whisper and all but disappeared at the end of her sentence, fading into the ambience of the forest leaves rustling with wind around them.

For a few long seconds, Lance didn’t speak. He studied her. She seemed almost concave in herself, hollow and frail and scared, shoulders stiff and sloped forward as though bracing for a blow and trying to hide at the same time. The moment in time felt otherworldly, as though it existed outside of time and space, and so he dared not break the strange bubble they were in until she slowly lifted her line of sight to his. Those same wide, red-rimmed eyes were brimming with tears.

“...Yes. I know.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t do it, Lance.”

“No. Don’t apologize, ever.” Lance shot back immediately. He held her by her shoulders, bringing her closer and wiping her tears with the heels of his palms. “No. Not ever. Not for this.” His own voice had become rough and gritted his teeth against the wobble in his voice. “Do you hear me? Tell me you do. You oughtn’t ever feel like you have to do something one way or the other on my account.”

She nodded, closing her eyes tightly. “I just… I know what this is going to mean and I’m so sorry to do this to you, and to us…” she choked out. “But I can’t. I… I don’t know why. I want to have our baby even if it doesn’t make any sense… I can’t explain it. I’ve gotten attached somehow, I guess.”

Lance felt his stomach twist at the mere mention of the future, and pulled her close into his arms, enfolding her tight against his chest. We’ll sort it out, don’t worry. We’ll sort it out and everything will be right as rain, no need to worry at all, love, he wanted to say. But it wasn’t true, and so the words died before they could form into anything more than a silent wish. He wanted to say he shared her attachment, that he wasn’t desperate for her to change her mind, but he didn’t. So he nodded and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rocking her slowly in his arms.

They stood there for a time, until the faint dappling of rain against the upper canopy of tree cover gave way into steady rainfall, pelting the grass beneath them until their feet began to sink into the waterlogged meadow. Lance pushed his hair back and stared upward at the gap above where he’d watched the moon so recently before. The sky was fully gray now, with no sign of any moon to speak of, or to.

“Let’s get us inside,” Lance murmured. He tugged her along behind him and the pair retreated from the forest just as wordlessly as they’d arrived.

—----

Sorting out what to do next felt nigh impossible, so for a time, they didn’t. There was yet a sense of unreality to it all, though it was slowly being chipped at each day. Later, she would describe it to him as You know, like in a movie when they’re using like, the film score to unsettle you and they keep giving clues and showing things that are out of place to build suspense? Lance would have no clue what any of that meant, but feeling unsettled became increasingly normal. It was easy enough to halfway forget the reality of the situation for a moment or two given her very unpregnant appearance, until she’d vomit randomly or tire suddenly or develop a sudden hatred for the foods she liked most. It had a way of suddenly intruding so that there was no real peace, only living in avoidant fear of the day when there would be no time left.

For a month, the pair went about their usual business. Her classes, his delinquency, their pairing off afterward and retreating to his room or the forest, or sometimes town or the docks. They spoke of it, sometimes, though Lance found it difficult to verbalize. His mouth went soft, cotton-y when the topic came up. It wasn’t that he was managing to avoid thinking of it entirely. It was impossible not to have it hovering somewhere in the back of his mind.

It was at that point that late at night, when she’d returned to her dorm for the evening curfew, that he began to settle at his desk and mull things over. Plans had to be made sooner rather than later, and despite how partially fake it all felt, she was really and truly pregnant. With an Irian royal baby- the worst kind, Lance thought. So each night, he pulled out his maps and any useful books from his shelves and spread out, scribbling out any notes and any fleeting ideas about what they could possibly do.

Ira was fortunately far away from the Isle of Colde. One would have to sail to Avari and then cut through to Ira if going directly, or otherwise cut through Qelsum and do the same thing. A fully shipbound route would be long and arduous, and Irians avoided it whenever possible, the seas to the north being cold and difficult to avoid ice floes in, and the seas to the south being choppy and unstable at best. Thus, Colde was a relatively safe location- for now. The problem was its status as a temporary house to royals and a diplomatic third location: anyone could come and go with little real surveillance. Irian merchants, tourists, students, and mercenaries alike often came and went as they pleased, which would make it incredibly easy for a henchman of Addis’s to arrive and discover the truth of her condition. Colde could, or rather, absolutely would, become an unsafe place within the next few months. Lance already knew that he was at least occasionally watched as he traipsed around town. It just hadn’t mattered until now.

Leaving Colde for somewhere, anywhere but Ira, was the next logical move. There were a few clear non-options. Relations between Avari and Ira were tense, making it a less than ideal place for an Irian to decide to live. While her eye color would help her blend in properly, his would stand out in a way that could call undue attention. And Avari would have no qualms about sending the two, or rather three, of them directly to his father’s doorstep. Avari was a no-go, as was Invidia for its submissive relationship to them. And frankly, it was no real loss for Lance. Guy was cruel and domineering, and Roy was dishonest, traits he disliked immensely. He couldn’t particularly imagine enjoying the countries that had created them.

Akedia, being the furthest distance from Ira, had seemed initially promising. A country full of chronically conflict avoidant people seemed perfect for the two of them and was the first option to make it onto the shortlist. However, Akedia’s lack of interest in war and conflict easily translated into a lack of watchfulness towards its borders, making it an easy locale for Irian mercenaries and spies to enter. Besides, it was the obvious place to run off to and likely the first place they’d look once his absence had been noted.

Qelsum shared only a small chunk of a border with Ira, though that was still enough to make him wary. The trouble with Qelsum was less about mercenaries and spies making it across the border, but more about the pair of them making it into Qelsum at all. The country was strictly watched, usually out of a desire to keep out Avarians, of which she appeared to be. There’d be little way to get in and staying in would be a challenge as well.

Luxure made it onto the shortlist with Akedia. Luxure was, very fortunately, a country where Irians could and often did blend in with ease. The trouble was again that blasted border, of which a wide swath of it was shared and the travel between rather porous. But it was a significantly easier country to hide in for both an Irian and a supposed Avarian. No one would think much of them living there, particularly if they lived away from the bustle of the main cities. The culture was rather obnoxious, but that was no real detractor when lives were on the line.

Lastly, there was Voleri. Voleri also made it onto the list. It shared no borders with Ira, though the distance between could be and was sailed from time to time. It was a relatively poor country for all its agricultural wealth, and had no particularly close ties with the other nations in Saligia, preferring independence. These were preferable traits to Lance, though the country’s overall lack of might made the question of spies more pertinent as it was also likely that their borders, particularly their seaside ones, were not well-monitored.

Lance sat back in his chair and tapped the end of his pen against his chin, mulling things over. There was still much to consider, even if he did select a country to escape to- money, disguises, transport among them. There was also the issue of gaining permission from the headmaster to leave. His cooperation would be necessary in order to exit the Isle without immediately arousing suspicion. Beyond this, there was the issue of Hawke, who was duty-bound to keep an eye on him and at least periodically report on how he was faring at the academy- though he wasn’t one to disclose much, suddenly running off with his paramour wasn’t something the man could avoid talking about.

There was also the issue of Christoph. The boy was dependent on him, hidden within the alleyways of town in order to shield him from slavers. It was hardly possible to bring him along, given his obviously Vanan appearance. Staying where he was was the only real option, yet without anyone to properly look after him he would be forced to leave his little hidden home in order to secure food and other supplies.

Lance crumpled over his desk, groaning in frustration. At best, he had two more months to work a miracle. He pinched the bridge of his nose and blinked blearily down at the mess of papers stuck underneath his forearms. Maps, notes, plans… there was little sense to be made of it and the continued nights mulling it over had resulted in little headway towards a solution. He wasn’t one to ask for help if he didn’t absolutely need it, and with her life on the line as well as his, he found his pride slipping through his fingers rapidly.

—---

For a few more days, Lance lingered on the edge of a decision. Calling on her for assistance in finding the right solution felt unfair, given how much stress he’d caused for her, so taking this on as his own burden to bear on felt fair. With her relatively incapacitated, especially as things progressed, inevitably he would need to call on Hawke or the headmaster as the only two that could offer any kind of real help. Even asking the headmaster was a bit of a gamble, so taking that risk was a difficult pill to swallow. After all, sometimes things felt somewhat normal.

Until they didn’t any longer.

It was one brief moment sliding into two, building and building until something, somewhere, seemed to hit critical mass. That morning over a small breakfast she’d picked at and around for minutes on end, she’d mentioned in passing to him that she felt tired. He’d pushed her plate a little closer to her. “Well, no wonder. You’re eating like a bird,” he’d grumbled at her. She’d pushed the bite sized pieces of egg absently around her plate, nibbling here and there and sighing until it was time to leave for her first class, slinging her book bag weakly over her shoulder. The thing looked to nearly weigh her to the floor, and Lance found himself standing and taking it from her, then carrying it for her all the way to her classroom.

He knew little about pregnancy. It wasn’t the sort of thing covered in an Irian prince's education, or if it was, he must’ve snuck away from Zeneau’s lecturing that day. Given that, it was easy to assume that the exhaustion written all over her face was a result of the stress she’d been under- the stress he’d caused. The sheer, high-strung panic of the situation had begun to wear off for him and been buried under waves and waves of guilt. It made it difficult to meet her gaze or speak much of the future, or of how she felt.

At the edge of the doorway, Lance passed her book bag back to her silently as swarms of other students brushed past to take their seats, murmuring and giggling about whoever the professor was that day. She took the strap for a brief moment, slipping the bag over her shoulder and ever so slightly turning- before pausing dead in her tracks as it slid down her arm and hit the floor.

Her voice was so quiet that he barely caught it. “Oh, Lance, I feel a bit…” she whispered, before buckling at the knees with her neck gone slack, head hanging low. Lance lunged forward, gathering her in close and tucking her against his chest, forcing her into a semi-standing position before stepping backward against the wall. Beside them, the final straggling students slipped into the classroom as the bell rang, and the door swung shut.

For a few beats, Lance did nothing but listen to the electric static buzz of his heart in his ears. He stared down at her: Her face was pale and her body was limp, but she was breathing normally, something he noted with relief. Luckily the hallway was empty and no one was around to witness the pair hunched awkwardly against the hallway molding, so Lance bent to scoop her into his arms.

Just then, the familiar sound of a lazy, laid-back stride came around the corner. Lance whipped his head around like a deer caught in headlights to find Hawke walking toward them with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Oy, there’s the ‘ol lovebirds. Haven’t seen the two of you in awhile. Strange to see the two of you snuggled up in the corridor, though.” Hawke came to a stop in front of them, a single gruff eyebrow raised at Lance before his gaze panned down slowly. Sure enough, at a distance the pair looked cozy, but up close Hawke could notice the slack in her limbs and the way her head lolled to the side, hair swinging outward in an abnormal cascade. He let out a slow whistle of breath between his lips. “...This just happened now, I take it?”

Lance huffed and picked her up slowly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “...Clearly. I’m going to take her for some rest then.”

Hawke pulled him back by the shoulder. “Hold on there, lad. Passing out in a hallway’s hardly normal behavior. She’s in need of the infirmary, not your creaky bed and a hangover potion.” He gestured casually behind him as he walked in front, taking the lead. “Come on, then.”

Lance froze there, staring at the other man’s back as he walked ahead. Hawke turned, puzzled.

“Well? Let’s go. Toa should be in the infirmary at this hour. He’ll be able to help.”

Lance swallowed the growing lump of tension in his throat and slowly shook his head. “...She can’t.”

“...Excuse me?”

“She can’t. Go to the infirmary, that is,” Lance choked out through his teeth.

Hawke stared at him, incredulous. “It’s the typical place for people that pass out in hallways, as far as I’ve always known,” he responded.

Lance shifted on his feet for a moment. The risks of having their secret found out by an S-rank prince were too great, and as far as he was concerned, Toa was too loyal to Qelsum not to report back any information that was good material for leverage. He cussed under his breath and shook his head, casting off any last vestiges of doubt. “Come with me. I’ll explain.”

Ignoring the protests at his back, Lance led the professor back to his room and after depositing his paramour on the bed and fluffing the pillow under her neck, gestured for Hawke to sit down at the pair of chairs beside the book shelf.

Hawke sat down reluctantly. He cast occasional glances back and forth, from Lance’s moving form to her still one, laid prone on the bed with one pale hand dropped over the side. “This is awfully odd of you, y’know,” he grumbled. “As an employee of the Academy, you know I have a duty to look after the well-being of students here…”

“That’s why you’re going to have to help us.” Lance interrupted him. He’d gathered up his stack of papers from the desk and held them out as he leaned back against the edge of the bed, staring down the bridge of his nose at the older man. He watched as Hawke flipped through each crumpled sheet, eyes scanning the pages back and forth and widening with each pass.

Hawke ran a hand down his stubble, brows furrowed together. “Lance, what in the Creator’s name is this nonsense? Some kind of escape route?”

Lance nodded.

Hawke stared at him. “...Have you entirely lost it? You’ve tried this sort of thing before, lad. And I can’t help you, either. And what’s that got to do with her?!” he asked, baffled and his voice rising with confusion.

Lance took a breath in and stared up at the ceiling, willing the words to come. He raked one hand through his hair and sighed, clenching his eyes shut. “...She’s pregnant.”

For a moment, no one said a word. The room was dead silent, until Hawke let out a breath. “...Fuck.”

“I was hoping for more encouragement than that,” Lance muttered.

Hawke threw his arms out, exasperated. “What do you want me to say? Congratulations? Creator… I thought you knew better than to just… throw caution to the wind in that department.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “...Though I suppose I see what the relationship troubles are now.”

Lance grimaced, ignoring the remark, and leaned over to snatch the papers back. “That’s why we have to leave. It’ll only be so long before she starts showing and before word gets back to Addis.”

“Sure, but… what exactly is your long game here? Run away and hide forever?”

“No- I don’t know. I can’t think that far out, I just know we need to leave. And that she needs to be safer than she is here.” Lance sat back and looked back at her, relieved to see that the color was starting to come back into her cheeks. “Listen- I don’t know, Hawke, I just… I just need to keep her safe. I’ve already fucked her life up so completely, I owe her whatever I can give her now,” Lance cleared his throat, trying to hide the thick tension of emotion that was rising around him. He stared intently at the floor, willing away the red, raw heat gathering around his eyes and hoping Hawke didn’t notice it. “...She deserves better than all this.”

Hawke said nothing for a while, turning his gaze to the woman laid on the bed. “...And so does that kid of yours,” he muttered. Another few moments of silence passed and Hawke leaned forward begrudgingly, forearms against his knees. Looking up through the curtain of disheveled hair, he muttered in a near-whisper: “I’ll help you. But once you’re out of here, there’s nothing I can do. Understood?”

Lance nodded. Hawke snatched the papers back, rifling through them until he came to a particular one, then tossed it onto the coffee table and jabbed one finger down on it.

“This. This is where you’ll be going. I know a way there that’s a bit unconventional. And as it turns out, I happen to know a guy.”

As the day stretched into dusk and settled into the evening, the two sat hunched over the table, plotting out the barebone plans of the future.

#court of darkness #lance ira #hawke durand

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abugwritesstuff · 11 months

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us when the jasper book 2 news dropped

#court of darkness #jasper lane

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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i’m going to angrily play jasper’s book 2 route when it comes out. i wish they let us be mean to the consorts in the dialogue options because i have some things to say

#court of darkness #I’M MAD #jasper lane

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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heyyyyy ✌🏻 i will be back with the next chapter of lance’s dad story as soon as i can- i got a new job that’s much more interesting and engaging than my last, but has a worse commute so i’ve had less time lately for writing and whatnot. just wanted to touch base real quick tho! i am still around and will be posting again soon :)

#court of darkness #also have been packing my weekends full of stuff since i have a new friend group basically which is neat #gonna go see tulips this weekend and get lunch

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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Thicker than Water

i wrote this a few weeks ago but refused to post until I could actually outline the story in it's near-entirety... so here the beginning of it is!

----

If anyone ever asked, Lance didn’t like or want children. He was a scary bad boy loner type that kept a wolf for a friend. He gave off an air of villainy and he knew it. And for the most part, no one questioned it. A few people knew it was likely all surface level: Hawke, Fenn, Violet, Jasper. The drinking buddies. They’d never tell a soul or they knew he’d never come back to the tavern to cover their rounds. Obviously Christoph knew, but no one knew Christoph so he had no one to tell. Christoph was a secret and the obvious smoking gun that he was not only very fond of children, but good with them.

If anyone ever asked, Lance had plenty of reasons for not wanting children. He was bad with them (a lie), he didn’t like them (a lie), and he never wanted to subject a child to the life of Irian prince or princess- that he didn’t know how to protect them and keep them free. That latter part was not a lie. Truthfully, the mere thought of his hypothetical child encountering his father made his stomach turn. The concept of Christoph meeting Addis had been the frequent topic of his nightmares, so the idea of a little tyke, half-him and half-her, with her round pretty eyes and broad dimpled grin, being pulled into the nightmare that was an Irian childhood? Lance swore off parenthood even before he’d met her that one strange night in the forest and now that he knew her and could see the future in her eyes? Never. Never in a million blasted years. The Irian royal bloodline could die with him.

For this reason, Lance had always been extremely careful. Before her, he hadn’t been above the occasional one-night stand or short fling, though it was rare- and he left no stone unturned. Potions, spells, whatever was at his disposal, he was using it every single time regardless of complaints or confusion. And thus, there were no purple-haired little Lances running around on the Isle of Colde or anywhere else. He carried these habits into his relationship with her and she’d been glad for his diligence in prevention. She, understandably, had her own reasons to be apprehensive about becoming a parent.

Which was why all of this felt like a nightmare.

“Lance? …Lance? You’re freaking me out, say something!”

He snapped to and blinked up at her, pulling his face out from where it’d been hidden in his palms. When she’d arrived in his quarters that morning, he’d been a bit taken aback by the timing of it: she wasn’t one to rise early on a weekend. He knew, he’d seen how long it took her to wake up when not under the pressure of making it to a class. So when she’d woken him with a series of harsh, rapid-fire knocks to his door and cries of his name, Lance sat up in disoriented shock and let her in immediately. Her eyes were red and puffy, with tears running down her face in rivulets. Her hair was mussed up as though she’d run at a full sprint all the way from dorm Tradis and her hands were shaking around the object she held in her hands. She’d then pushed him back into his room and closed the door firmly behind her, trying to pull her breaths in with shaking gasps. He, panicked, had put his hands on her shoulders and asked her what was wrong, what had happened- and then she’d said it. And he’d noticed it: the glowing little orb contraption she was holding in her hand and the tiny pinprick of blood on her thumb. As though punched, Lance had stumbled back onto the bed, crumpling in horror.

Numbly, he looked her up and down.

“Please, please tell me you’re joking,” he whispered. He knew she wasn’t.

She shook her head and shoved the test out at him. It was clear as day. There was no mistaking the intensity of that color for anything but the strongest of confirmations that she was absolutely, without a doubt, definitely pregnant. Slowly he took the test from her and continued to stare at it as she sniffled above him.

“I, I just thought that I wasn’t feeling good b-because I had a stomach b-bug but Sherry convinced m-me to t-take one this morning just to ch-check…” she sobbed. “I didn’t th-think it’d be positive! I don’t understand how…” At this, she hid her own face in her hands, quivering.

The sight of her sobbing broke him out of his reverie and Lance stood weakly from the side of the bed to pull her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and he held her in close while he stared off into the middle distance, trying to process it.

He’d done everything right. So had she. And for as much as he didn’t want it to be true, he knew this was his progeny making its way into the world- she was loyal to a fault and would never even imagine straying. So somehow, somewhere, finally, the stars had stupidly aligned in just the wrong way. Potions and spells be damned. She was pregnant.

Lance sat back down and pulled her onto his lap, moving his hand along her hair in rhythmic strokes. Gods, how’d he done this to her? Disbelief was giving way to panic and guilt and he took a deep breath, trying to stem the tide of it. It was enough for her to deal with being tossed into a brand new world, let alone with powers she didn’t understand. But now he’d knocked her up and tied her inexplicably to the kingdom of Ira, a fate almost worse than death.

“…how far along is it?”

She sat back to look at him. Her eyes were glazed and even puffier than before somehow and she wiped at her tears with the heel of her palm. “Uh-uhm… probably about, like… month? I don’t know exactly…”

“Then there’s time yet.”

“T-time?”

Lance nodded. His mind had begun racing. Yes, that was it. She was so early. She didn’t have to stay pregnant just because she was right now. Plenty of people backtracked when it was still early, when they could catch it. It wasn’t too late. He hadn’t doomed her or ruined her life, not yet. Lance stood, holding her close still. “Right, time. You needn’t go through with it. Even on Colde they have healers who know the methods for termination.”

She blinked up at him, wide-eyed and mouth hanging open. “They…? You want me to…?” she whispered. Her voice was small, almost inaudibly light and weak. “…I… I don’t…”

Realizing his haste, Lance pulled her hands into his and kissed the backs of them softly. “It’s an option. I…” he trailed off and stared off into the corner, away from the look of distress on her face. “…a good option, really. One I’ll handle.” He looked back at her imploringly. “Say the word and I will get it sorted for you. You needn’t do a thing.”

She’d gone still and stiff beside him. Numbly she nodded and let her hands go slack and weak in his grip. “O-okay…” she murmured. “I… I’ll think about it.”

He squeezed her hands in his. “Please.”

She managed to squeeze back and turned, walking over to the settee and sitting down. Slumping, she sighed and buried her face into her own hands and massaged her temples. “…I’ll think about it, but… I don’t know. I just don’t know…”

The unsettled rumble of nerves in Lance’s stomach began again. Disoriented by the rising anxiety, Lance tugged his fingers through his hair and began to pace back and forth. His heartbeat felt like it had risen into his ears. She couldn’t stay pregnant. She couldn’t. Swallowing the knot in his throat, Lance dropped to his knees in front of her. “You aren’t considering keeping it, are you?” he whispered.

She gaped at him, eyes wide and mouth opening and closing as though unsure of the words to form. Frowning, she looked away and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I don’t know, Lance. I just… I don’t know… I only just found out now so I haven’t been able to think about it properly…” she trailed off and placed one hand on her lower stomach as though trying to perform some kind of divination for an answer.

Lance sat back and stared up at the ceiling. “...You know what it would mean, don’t you?”

“Lance…”

He stared at her. “And you know the life they’d have. That you’d have. You know that. I’ve told you about it. You’ve been to Ira. You…” Lance winced, his voice breaking with the weight of it. He rubbed at his chest as though it could rid him of the feeling. “...You know that I can’t… can’t p-protect…shit!” Lance whipped away from her outstretched hand and stood, crossing the room and facing the wall with his hands clenched in his hair, eyes clenched shut. The room felt like it was shaking and he leaned forward, gasping for breath through the panic.

She padded across the room and laid one hand on his shoulder, gently turning him and beckoning him close until the two slid to the floor intertwined and sat there, still for moments that turned into minutes and then into what at least felt like hours.

Lance wasn’t prone to fits of emotion so emerging from the cloud of it felt like he’d been punched a couple times in the head or had come in exceptionally late from a night of drinks. He blinked back any leftover tears and took her in where she sat beside him. She was small, frail looking. Her face was stiff as though every thought was focused on holding herself together. Gently, Lance cupped her cheek in his hand and tilted her close.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “...I don’t want to pressure you, but…”

She laid her own hand over his. “...I know.” Looking away for a moment to collect herself, she then turned. “I just need some time to figure out how I feel. It doesn’t feel real to me yet.”

“...Right.”

She moved closer and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, resting her head against his chest. Lance wrapped his arm around her and rubbed along her arm in slow movements. The idea of this moment being one of a final few before everything went to shit terrified him- the concept that after today, everything would change in a way he couldn’t change back was overwhelming. But there was nothing he could do, so he sat there, powerless, and held her.

—-----

In the following week and a half, she said little to nothing of the situation, though it hung in the air between them anytime they were together. She did not drink and went to bed early, citing fatigue. She spoke of homework, things that Rio had said to her in class, what new meals they were serving in the infirmary, and what her little cat had been up to with Gruscha off in the forest. Overall, she acted entirely normal.

Meanwhile Lance was slowly losing his mind.

Lance swished around the remaining bit of whiskey in his glass and then clumsily shot it back before dropping the glass unceremoniously. He slumped over the bar counter face-down, face buried in his crossed arms, and didn’t respond when Hawke landed a hard slap on his back.

“Oy lad, you’ve been acting a bit off. You gonna say anything about it one of these days?” he asked, sliding into the seat beside him. “You know, it’s not good to drown away all your sorrows.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Lance muttered, pulling his face up to shoot a glare at the older man.

Hawke held up his hands in mock defensiveness. “All I’m saying is you’re acting a bit more gloomy than usual.”

“I concur, there is something strange going on.”

Lance inwardly groaned as a familiar flirty arm snuck its way around his shoulder and the scent of a particular cologne wafted toward him as Fenn leaned in close. “Get off,” he groaned, weakly swatting him away.

“Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees it then,” Hawke said solemnly.

Fenn peered at Lance in a way that made him squirm. Fenn didn’t take many things seriously but he was weirdly perceptive and could guess a weakness or worry in another person with disturbing precision. More than once during a bar outing the other prince had disarmed an unruly patron by saying just the right thing that would make them squirm and retreat. Having that gaze turned on him made Lance’s skin crawl so he turned away and gestured to the bartender for another drink.

“I think not, lad,” Hawke said, smacking his hand down. “You’re had more than enough for the night. I don’t want to return you to MC completely sloshed.”

At her name, Lance tensed and Fenn gave him a knowing pat. “Ah, I see! Something to do with Treasure, then,” Fenn said with a grin, leaning in close. “Trouble in paradise?”

“Hush,” Lance grumbled, shoving him back. “And stop calling her that.”

“Well, is there?” Hawke asked, folding his arms. “Is that what’s been bringing you here so much lately?”

Lance didn’t respond and turned away, gritting his teeth.

Fenn sat beside him, bending to catch his eye. “You know, I have quite a bit of experience with women. Perhaps I could lend you my advice.”

“I do not need advice from you, of all people,” Lance hissed. His head was beginning to pound.

Fenn pretended at offense with a dramatic hand to his chest. “Well, you don’t know until you try. It won’t hurt any more than what you’re doing to yourself already, from the looks of it.”

“I agree with that. Why not just get it off your chest?” Hawke chimed in. His face was uncharacteristically stern and serious. “Listen, I’ve watched you come in here every night for the last week and you’ve said hardly more than a sentence each time. You know I’m not one to pry.”

Lance grumbled and resisted the urge to push back from the bar and storm off into the night. Irritated at the intrusion, he mumbled to himself and sat up, eyebrows knit in displeasure. “...Yes, fine. Issues with the two of us. For us. We aren’t fighting, it’s… something else. There, you happy now?”

Fenn and Hawke shared a glance, mystified.

“So no lover’s quarrel then?” Fenn probed.

“No.”

“You didn’t fight? You didn’t do something to her?” Hawke leaned in closer.

Lance sighed. Do something to her? In a manner of speaking, he did- so he prickled and slid off from his seat at the counter and dug in his pockets for coins. “We didn’t fight,” he replied, tossing the payment onto the bar. At that, he slung his jacket back over his shoulders and waved at the two still seated and staring at him in confusion.

“So you did do something… oh! Lance?!”

The door swung shut behind him and Lance stumbled off from the bar in the direction of the Academy thoroughly hammered. His heart thumped through his chest and his limbs felt as though they’d been turned to stone. As the Academy gates came more into view, his stomach slightly turned and he found himself instead heading toward the forest. He needed to try to think somewhere peaceful; somewhere that didn’t feel like a prison at the best of times.

The usual spot was, as usual, empty. Gruscha or any woodland creatures were all abed by now so the clearing was still and the water in the pond was motionless, reflecting in a perfect still image the moon that hung above. Lance slid down and rolled onto his back with a thud, starfished across the cool grass. He blinked wearily up at the moon, which shone a cold and pure white.

If anyone ever asked, Lance was not the religious type. Not even when he had a good reason to be. Some people prayed to gods, apparitions, idols. Some prayed to loved ones they’d lost, which he understood a bit better. After the loss of his mother, he’d tried it himself and found that the words hung hollow and meaningless without her there in the flesh to hear them. If only it’d felt like she could hear him or else he knew he’d be asking her about what to do now. Who else understood the gravity of this moment? She had to have felt similar things- she’d raised him alone in the desert instead of in the palace for a reason after all.

At some point in the past week, he’d begun to think of the pregnancy not of some indiscernible threat, but the real, flesh-and-blood thing that it was. There was still time, of course, to undo what had been done, but her silence on the matter had made him suspect that she’d decided against ending it. Which had driven him utterly insane: he had never loved anyone with the intensity he loved her. Creator, she was everything and more to him. After Lutz had died, Lance had been convinced that whatever part of him existed for other people had been thoroughly ripped up and stomped on, but there she’d come ten years later, bringing him to life. Making him feel again. It was terrifying.

The idea of losing her to the machine that was Ira, just because she unintentionally carried an heir, was terrifying. And Lance knew that whatever baby they’d have in some hypothetical future, he’d love it with everything in him. There was no future where he didn’t. He remembered the intensity of his mother’s love, the way it seemed to tear at her as she died and how she grieved herself for him. He knew in his gut he’d feel the same kind of love for his own child.

He closed his eyes. How would he manage if she said she was keeping it? What would he do? Addis had met her before, albeit briefly, so he already knew of her existence. Inevitably he had spies at least occasionally check in on his son and if they were seeing him, they would see her. If she was visibly pregnant, they’d know and so would the king. There would be no avoiding the disaster coming full speed their way. There was no future in which Addis would not intervene to bring that child into his clutches. The allure of their ancient magic and the power it held would be too much to resist.

The matter of ancient magic was another thing. Her latent ancient magic had the ability to bend space and time, including the ability to replenish the magical stores of others. It was an incredible thing to witness and she’d saved his ass on more than one occasion by using it. But it was also unmistakably a weapon that could be used for evil, just as Lance’s own magic could. Even if their child was born without an ounce of magical prowess, it wouldn’t matter. Addis would have her.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d ask her what she was going to do. After that he had no idea.

#court of darkness #lance ira

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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okay also re: my newest dad fic- would any of you guys be interested in getting it in chapter installments? or would you rather have the whole thing all at once? because a lance dad fic is *not* going to be short.

#court of darkness #lance ira #i've only written the first “chapter” and it's just..... wow this is gonna be awhile

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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decided i'm writing another dad fic. should i keep writing the other stuff i've started first? yes. will i? no.

#this is a lance one and bc it's lance it's going to make me cryyyyy #court of darkness

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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these are all exactly right

music headcanons

i started thinking about this more so here's a whole post of them lmao:

guy doesn't listen to music but if he did he'd secretly listen to dad rock. but straight up i think he mostly sits in silence, not a music person.

lynt listens to those 14 hour soothing music to fall asleep to videos on youtube. otherwise? i think he listens to like, corrinne bailey rae. just listens to "put your records on" bobbing his head side to side smiling

lance listens to emo music sometimes. broody shit, like three days grace. otherwise alternative stuff, perhaps blues/americana/rock.

toa opts for classical a lot of the time because it's good music to work while listening to but genuinely i think he will and does listen to anything and everything. he seemingly knows and has heard of everyone and everything. would secretly like k-pop probably idk.

rio listens to pop music. top 40 hits, or like 90's throwback stuff. he doesn't understand or listen to lyrics very well and often mishears lyrics entirely and will then sing things very incorrectly, just a whole other song. also, he likes country.

fenn... is difficult to place for this one bc i feel like he'd at least kind of like most stuff. i do feel like he'd like some abba, bon jovi, fleetwood mac... plus i think he'd be fond of r&b in particular, for somwhat obvious reasons. i feel like he'd be into sea shanties if he were drunk.

roy seems like he'd listen to classical and opera or oldies or something, but i think he's secretly, very privately into something like entirely incongruent with how he looks. trap music. norwegian death metal. but he'd appreciate other stuff as well

#court of darkness #absolutely canon

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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music headcanons

i started thinking about this more so here's a whole post of them lmao:

guy doesn't listen to music but if he did he'd secretly listen to dad rock. but straight up i think he mostly sits in silence, not a music person.

lance listens to emo music sometimes. broody shit, like three days grace. otherwise alternative stuff, perhaps blues/americana/rock.

#court of darkness #guy avari #fenn luxure #toa qelsum #rio voleri #lance ira #lynt akedia #roy invidia

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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fenn would like fleetwood mac

fenn would take your makeup off if you fell asleep with it on

#court of darkness #fenn luxure #had these in my drafts and decided to share

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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AHHHHHHHHHHHHH?!?!?!?!!!!!!?!??

i thought it’d be toa but i’m very happy with this

my baby 🥺

#court of darkness #rio voleri

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abugwritesstuff · 1 year

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labor

the pieces of the song "labour" by paris paloma that i've been seeing inspired this- in particular because of one of the lines. this is dark and i wrote it up in like, two hours last night and today, so 🤷🏻‍♀️ reader discretion advised? this is not particularly happy lol. also guy is just overtly evil in this. i don't even know that guy is this bad in-game but his vibe in the prologue is so intensely malevolent that well, here you go.

----

You make me do too much labor.

All day, every day, therapist, mother, maid

Nymph then a virgin, nurse then a servant

Just an appendage, live to attend him-

So that he never lifts a finger.

24/7 baby machine

So he can live out his picket-fence dream

It’s not an act of love if you make her-

You make me do too much labor.

-----

She had succumbed to it. What else was she meant to do? No one had really tried to stop it and from the beginning she’d been powerless. A helpless chick, that headmaster had said, then left her utterly alone and defenseless. The academy had been pretext, she figured. He’d always been content to let her slip away into that prince’s grasp, and so was everyone else. She’d hardly learned a thing in the time she’d been there, however short it was. Some excuse for an institution of learning.

In her memory, she could see the looks in their eyes. The discomfort. The irritation, sadness, confusion. That blue prince had apparently been disallowed from confrontation. The green one was allergic to it. The pink one was a spineless lapdog and the purple one couldn’t be bothered to focus on anything that wouldn’t fuck him. Fine. So he’d come along, declared her his, as though it was obvious and inevitable and everyone behaved as though that made sense.

After a point of time she’d resigned herself to it. Loved him, even, in her own strange way- he was rescuing her in a manner of speaking, keeping her safe from whatever other threats loomed outside, too many to count. If it hadn’t been him it would have been someone else eventually, he’d told her. There was no future where she was not a pawn. There was no timeline where she was not in possession by someone somewhere. Better the devil she knew than the one she didn’t, she told herself. More frequently she ran through that phrase in her head as the years passed.

A wedding came along. The festivities occurred, as did the honeymoon, and the assignment of royal duties- to what extent they were allowed when she wasn’t called to action as a magical battery of sorts, or ivory-towered away from prying eyes. She was either in or out of use. Like a vacuum- pulled from the closet for use but then left in the dark to collect dust. Now, she was of a bit more importance than that. Instrumental in our success to annex the realm, he’d told her. It was the closest he’d ever come to praise, so she tried to relish it.

Of course, that wasn’t to say her only uses were being siphoned off of for magic. No, being a queen came with more than that. The uses for her body were multifaceted. She’d given him a daughter first, much to her visceral dread. He’d been silent on the matter and she was disappointed but unsurprised by his aloofness. Not long after she gave him another. Then another. A prickling sort of anger bubbled under his surface- she could all but see it- but he stayed silent about it and continued to take and demand. She continued on as well, but with a gathering sense of something looming beneath her surface in dark, encroaching waves. Something she could not place. Something she was afraid of.

Did she try to say no? Of course. Sometimes. But that was the thing with Guy. No was not a word one could use around him. Could it be said, sure- but it would not be listened to. His magic being what it was made resistance futile. Every time in the early days when she would reject his demands or refuse to speak, he would push her under the weight of his magic and choke the resistance out of her by the sheer heaviness of it. She became exhausted by it and eventually she agreed with him. She was a pawn. It was inevitable. And she was tired- she was so tired.

But the feeling wouldn’t leave her. It grew more intense. So she carried on with it tucked inside her like a secret. On the battle front, as the last resistance fighters gathered on the Isle of Colde succumbed to the might of Avari, he kissed her senseless from the battleship and went to finish the war off with the excess of her power, more for show than necessity, leaving her limp in the cabin, slumped against the bed and breathing shallow. This kind of moment had happened a million times over years and she’d grown accustomed to the sensation of going weak. He drained everything out of her and left her to recuperate by falling into a restless half-awake slumber until her magic recovered enough to allow her to function again. But this time it felt different. That feeling.

At home, in Avari, she’d waved goodbye to them for what felt like the last time and she hoped it would be. Those three girls, those wide-eyed and red-eyed girls she’d never envisioned herself ever having, that she’d been terrified for every single moment since they’d been born- they stood in a line at the dock beside Jasper and their governess. The oldest looked older than her years. It unsettled her to see the hardness growing in that girl’s face before her time, but Avari did this to girls and did it quickly. The younger two had already begun to lose that softness and wonder. Whatever little glimmers of joy and hope for their futures had existed naturally inside of them were dwindling quickly. Sometimes she couldn’t remember if she’d ever felt that way. Earth felt so distant.

She sucked in a breath in the silence and tried to play through each step of her recuperation as she usually did when he took from her. A deep breath in and out. And again, and again, slowly and counting through it and feeling the traces of magic trickle back in like the slow bursting of water through a dam. A drip here became a stream and then she could feel the surge of magic through her chest again and she sighed in relief. Before arriving to Saligia she hadn’t been able to feel her latent magic, but being continually drained had given her a strong sense of it. The slightest change in levels and she could sense the way that it moved inside her body like a scale, forever trying to hold things even. But this time the scale inside her was weighted down and she swallowed hard at the sensation moving through her. Her throat burned. And it occurred to her that it was not silent.

There was screaming. Relentless screaming. She sat up with a start, nerves alight and shaking with panic. It was a constant, continual noise that seemed to be growing in intensity and made up of an endless number of voices. It was dizzying, the way it thrummed through her head in a pounding ache. She shuffled to the side of the bed and stood, wavering on her feet for a moment for a moment before stumbling across the room to shove aside the curtain covering one of the small porthole style windows. Before her, the sea was on fire. Ships capsized one after another. Their crews surfaced from underneath the water and were immediately caught into the flames, burning until there was nothing left to burn.

The door opened.

“Again.”

He strode across the room and caught her as he usually did, an iron grip to the small of her back and another to her chin. His face mashed into hers and for a moment she went limp as was custom and the flow of her magic into him began- until it stopped. He pulled back with his brows knit together in irritation and his lip curled in disgust. He’d not even picked up an aura.

“You haven’t recovered your magic. Prepare for me.” With that, he dropped her like deadweight and she crumpled to the floor as he turned to leave.

For a moment, she watched him. She closed her eyes then opened them again. He was gone.

She stood slowly and found that her strength had returned. She flexed her fingers experimentally and stared up and down along her arms. Somehow she felt fine. Much better than fine, in fact, better than she’d felt since long, long before she could now remember. The only thing that felt strange was that growing feeling of something underneath the surface about to crest, building up in her belly and rising into her throat, burning and choking until her eyes began to water. Each muscle fiber and ligament in her body felt distinct and strong but she felt full to bursting with some unnameable sensation. She found she was breathing in a rapid staccato.

In her memory, she could not recall grabbing one of the swords off of the wall, but did remember that she felt it acutely in her hand as she drove it through the back of his head and stuck him to the bow of the ship. She did recall the fact that she was glowing a brilliant gold and that the flames extinguished in one fell swoop like she’d merely blown out a candle. When the Avarian fleet had turned on her for her crime, she recalled- with no small amount of pleasure- bringing a wave down on them. What came next was again a blur of power that flowed through her endlessly, rage after rage after rage tumbling through her body hot like live coals. She assumed later that she was probably screaming the entire time given the way her throat burned in the aftermath.

She laid waste to the whole thing. The armies and the weapons, the towering monuments to power and the bureaucracy that built it, and somewhere at the bottom of the ocean between Avari and Colde laid the body of the man who’d declared a demigod a personal possession. She succumbed to the feeling. What else was there to do but reclaim? The fear she’d had, had been burned through and all that was left was incandescent rage and the pleasure of expressing it.

The freedom was something she felt later on. Afterward, months and months later, when she’d taken her place on the vacated throne of Avari and gathered her daughters around her. Afterward, when the miles of coiled anguish had begun to unroll themselves and she’d spent time remembering herself when she could, between her moments re-orienting the world and restoring what had been knocked off balance-... she felt free for the first time since she’d arrived to the realm. Her power had upset this world in the wrong hands, when it hadn’t belonged to her. Now it did.

Now it always would.

#court of darkness #guy avari

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