Death Needs a Hug, Too

SFW blog. I post my NSFW on twitter.com/azissuffering

[azissuffering]

i colored this so many times

[sunstone-nerding]

I think it’s pretty! As usual, the colors are great. The sunburst fasteners are a nice accent, too!

*squints at book* “The Fall…” Is he reading The Fall of Gondolin? *snickers*

Glorfindel doing research: “Hmm, so that’s what happened to Maeglin…”

[azissuffering]

Shh shh I'm a monster and I think it's funny

Thank you for your comment!

[azissuffering]

i colored this so many times

[azissuffering]

Charlie Charlie are you there?

charlie is here 

[azissuffering]

Elrond based on art by Magali Villeneuve

[hyrude]

is the world really such a terrible place? yesterday i asked if oat milk was extra and the barista said yes so i said ok just regular milk then and when she gave me my chai latte she whispered “i gave you oat milk ;)” doesnt that make u want to live another day?

[beautifulterriblequeen]

@azissuffering

[azissuffering]

for ruthari week 

[azissuffering]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince) Characters: Ethari (The Dragon Prince), Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Lain (The Dragon Prince), Tiadrin (The Dragon Prince) Additional Tags: its the coffeeshop au, that i always wanted, runaan is basically just an outlet for my coffee snobbery, ethari is everyone elses bewilderment, i guess that means im making fun of myself, lain is the best bro, tiadrin is a baking witch, runaan hates ted allen, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, there will be angst dont worry, Trust Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, ethari is a good bean, haha - Freeform, ooOoO subtle foreshadow if you squint Summary:

Ethari meets a barista that's more than he bargained for. He's smitten, all the same. Runaan struggles to keep from drowning within his own mind.

[azissuffering]

[lucinamoon]

Look me in the eyes and tell me that was not how Runaan fell in love with Ethari

[azissuffering]

PERFECTION

[azissuffering]

WOO

[numptypylon]

Oh that’s so beautiful! I love your unique style and color choices so much 😍

And the chubby baby arms 🥺

And also the way you framed this, the off-center cut-off motif, making it look like a snapshot, it really adds to the vibe.

[azissuffering]

omg thanks bro 🥺 your art is FAB btw

[azissuffering]

You excited for Ruthari week, fam?

You know it, bro 😏😏😏😏😏

[azissuffering]

WOO

[azissuffering]

Oooh... hmm, how about 13?

Beyond the throng of dancers and musicians and laughing children, the crowds he finds crippling, they finds him. He's just past the treeline, hidden amid coarse bracken so tall his figure fades from view. Legs crossed beneath him, he sits in a nervous slouch, tufted rushes brushing his chin. When he hears Ethari's heavy footsteps, he straightens and looks up, face tense.

Ethari watches his eyes soften, his neck loosen, watches the relieved breath raise his shoulders.

"Ethari," he greets, baring his throat as he tilts his horns back and lets his eyes fall shut.

Ethari pads forward, parts the rushes, and sits.

"I had to leave," Runaan says. "It was too loud."

He is quiet.

After a moment, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Ethari's voice is warm. "Blue moons are a bit much, even for me." He chuckles. "I should have known better than to bring you out here."

Runaan frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but he snaps his head around and narrows his eyes.

"Ethari!" Lain's voice, then rustling brush and approaching footsteps. "Any luck? We can't find him anywhere."

His head pops up just beyond the bracken, followed by Tiadrin. Only her horns are visible.

"Ethari?" she asks. "Moon and Shadow, how do you lose an elf that big?"

"I've found him, don't worry," Ethari says, stifling a laugh when both his friends whirl in opposite directions, bewildered.

"I'm over here," he calls. "Look down."

Lain, facing him, does a double take. "Ethari? What are you doing over there? Where's Runaan?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Tiadrin appears, eyes steely as her expression. It takes her a moment to register the sight in front of her, but when she does, a pleased smile eases over her features. "So you did find him."

"Yes," Runaan says dryly. "You can leave now."

Lain furrows his brow. "But...why are you here? Are you o —"

Tiadrin grabs him and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Good," she says. "That's great. We'll just..." She begins to back away, tugging Lain along with her.

"Wait, but —"

Tiadrin hisses like a cat, and he wisely shuts his mouth.

When they've gone, Runaan sighs and leans into him. "Thank the Moon."

"They mean well," Ethari begins.

"I know they do," he snips. "I'm merely worn thin tonight."

Ethari snugs a hand around his waist and hopes his silence is comfort enough.

A thousand faces swirl around them, dancing pairs and night-keen eyes, yet none turn to look. None turn to see. It is oddly exhilarating, and he finds his heart quickening despite himself, his breath punching a little faster.

Runaan looks at him. "What's wrong?"

"It's the quiet," Ethari breathes. "So many people..."

Runaan tilts his head and brushes a kiss against his lips. "Yet none can see us," he says into his jaw. "You're tasting the edges of my profession. Do you understand now?"

Ethari chases his mouth, invisible amidst the crowds, and whispers, "Yes."

Bonus that didn't make the cut:

Lain's complaints, as ever, are audible despite the many voices that churn around them. "Now you've done it, Tiadrin. You leave them unsupervised, and they'll just snog their way through the festival."

She swats his shoulder and hushes him. "So what if they do? It's only fair, after all those months they spent pining."

[sunstone-nerding]

Very heartwarming. Loved Tiadrin in this one. "Only her horns were visible." XD I liked the little epilogue/bonus, too.

[azissuffering]

Heheh, her height knows no bounds. oh wait it does

[azissuffering]

Oooh... hmm, how about 13?

Beyond the throng of dancers and musicians and laughing children, the crowds he finds crippling, they finds him. He's just past the treeline, hidden amid coarse bracken so tall his figure fades from view. Legs crossed beneath him, he sits in a nervous slouch, tufted rushes brushing his chin. When he hears Ethari's heavy footsteps, he straightens and looks up, face tense.

Ethari watches his eyes soften, his neck loosen, watches the relieved breath raise his shoulders.

"Ethari," he greets, baring his throat as he tilts his horns back and lets his eyes fall shut.

Ethari pads forward, parts the rushes, and sits.

"I had to leave," Runaan says. "It was too loud."

He is quiet.

After a moment, "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize." Ethari's voice is warm. "Blue moons are a bit much, even for me." He chuckles. "I should have known better than to bring you out here."

Runaan frowns and opens his mouth to say something, but he snaps his head around and narrows his eyes.

"Ethari!" Lain's voice, then rustling brush and approaching footsteps. "Any luck? We can't find him anywhere."

His head pops up just beyond the bracken, followed by Tiadrin. Only her horns are visible.

"Ethari?" she asks. "Moon and Shadow, how do you lose an elf that big?"

"I've found him, don't worry," Ethari says, stifling a laugh when both his friends whirl in opposite directions, bewildered.

"I'm over here," he calls. "Look down."

Lain, facing him, does a double take. "Ethari? What are you doing over there? Where's Runaan?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Tiadrin appears, eyes steely as her expression. It takes her a moment to register the sight in front of her, but when she does, a pleased smile eases over her features. "So you did find him."

"Yes," Runaan says dryly. "You can leave now."

Lain furrows his brow. "But...why are you here? Are you o —"

Tiadrin grabs him and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Good," she says. "That's great. We'll just..." She begins to back away, tugging Lain along with her.

"Wait, but —"

Tiadrin hisses like a cat, and he wisely shuts his mouth.

When they've gone, Runaan sighs and leans into him. "Thank the Moon."

"They mean well," Ethari begins.

"I know they do," he snips. "I'm merely worn thin tonight."

Ethari snugs a hand around his waist and hopes his silence is comfort enough.

A thousand faces swirl around them, dancing pairs and night-keen eyes, yet none turn to look. None turn to see. It is oddly exhilarating, and he finds his heart quickening despite himself, his breath punching a little faster.

Runaan looks at him. "What's wrong?"

"It's the quiet," Ethari breathes. "So many people..."

Runaan tilts his head and brushes a kiss against his lips. "Yet none can see us," he says into his jaw. "You're tasting the edges of my profession. Do you understand now?"

Ethari chases his mouth, invisible amidst the crowds, and whispers, "Yes."

Bonus that didn't make the cut:

Lain's complaints, as ever, are audible despite the many voices that churn around them. "Now you've done it, Tiadrin. You leave them unsupervised, and they'll just snog their way through the festival."

She swats his shoulder and hushes him. "So what if they do? It's only fair, after all those months they spent pining."

[beautifulterriblequeen]

FIVE. FIVEFIVEIFBEIDBE

“Hasn’t this addiction done enough damage already?” Ethari’s voice emanated from beneath a mound of covers. Unlike his touch last night, his voice ran cold, like a distant icy stream.

Runaan froze in the dark, back to Ethari and the bed, hands clutching the small vial of nightsoul he didn’t think his husband even knew about. The assassin always took a sip early in the morning on his way out to train, when Ethari was still abed. Rayla had been living with them for a month now, and he’d never commented before. 

“Runaan. I asked you a question.”

His hands tightened around the little glass container. “I heard you.”

“And?”

Runaan scrambled in the shadows, fearing what Ethari’s beams of light would reveal--to both of them. “And I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

I really don’t. He could mean many things. I’m just not assuming I know which one--

“Your vaunted quest for honor is driving me crazy, love. You’re never here anymore.”

...Oh. Not the nightsoul, then.

But Ethari wasn’t finished. Blankets rustled softly as he sat up. He drew a swirly on top of a sleeping potted mushroom on his nightstand, and it woke with a cool bluish glow. It cast Runaan’s shadow large on the wall in front of the assassin, and Runaan stilled amid his own darkness, not wishing to be seen. “The day we wed,” Ethari continued, “you said you were giving your heart to me. But we both know it already belonged to Xadia. I’m just your side piece. But it’s getting old watching you sneak out of my bed every morning to go spend all day with him instead.”

Runaan blinked at the unexpected metaphor. “Xadia has my heart,” he allowed slowly. “But I don’t kiss it on the mouth.” He pivoted, hiding the nightsoul vial behind his back.

Ethari’s eyes dragged down Runaan’s person, coolly appreciative of his bare chest and hip-hugging pants. The sight roused the craftsman from his blankets, but as he stepped closer, his expression was taut. “You’re letting it fuck you over, though.”

Runaan’s eyes widened at Ethari’s language.

Ethari shrugged one big shoulder. “Couldn’t be helped. It was punny. But my point still stands, Runaan. You’re more Xadia’s bitch than my husband right now, and I kind of hate it a little bit.”

Runaan stared, stricken, at Ethari’s tired anger. “I... I’m sorry...”

Ethari studied his face for a long moment, and a realization passed over him like the trailing edge of a dark cloud, lifting his brows and softening the lines of his mouth as the moonlight returned once again. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to sound like I’m angry with you. I’m not. Not really.”

“With Xadia, then?” Runaan asked softly. With my entire purpose for existing?

“Maybe a smidge.” Ethari eased closer, sliding warm hands down Runaan’s arms, drawing him into a hug. “I could never be angry with y- What’s this?” he asked, as his fingers found the vial Runaan had been hiding behind his back.

Runaan panicked and clutched it tightly, giving away its importance. Don’t see this. Don’t see me like this.

But Ethari’s fingers had always been quick. He had the vial liberated in half a second. Runaan didn’t know whether to parry or flee, so he tried to do both. A soft gasp of dismay fled his lips as one hand caught Ethari’s wrist, and his back foot retreated toward the bedroom door.

Ethari tightened his grip on the little container. His dark brows tightened into his analytical expression as he studied it, completely ignoring Runaan’s grip.

Runaan’s shoulders slumped. Still panicking and giving myself away around this elf, I see. Couldn’t ever hide anything for long.

Ethari turned the little vial around until he spotted the etched rune that held the nightsoul’s unnatural efficacy in place. His mouth fell open, and then he froze. Ethari was always in motion, even in his sleep. He was an elf of life and light and love. He couldn’t not move. But in that moment, Runaan saw all the light in his husband’s soul leave him, and he went still.

No. That’s my job. Come back.

He squeezed Ethari’s wrist hard. “I can explain.”

“You can’t even come close,” Ethari murmured through numb lips. “You know what nightsoul did to my uncle.”

Runaan did. He’d been the one to find him, lost within his own mind, wandering the Forest during a new Moon, shrieking like a soul being actively damned, unable to hold to his physical form any longer as the Moon’s power waned away. He’d watched Ethari’s brother splinter into smoky shadow, still howling, until he blessedly vanished with one final anguished cry, released from his torment at last. And then he’d been foolish enough to tell Ethari the truth of what he’d seen.

“I know what I’m doing,” Runaan said. “It won’t end like that.”

“You’re saying he didn’t know what he was doing?” Ethari challenged.

Runaan’s gaze sharpened. “He didn’t. He used too much, too soon, and he-”

“He was eighty-four, Runaan. That’s not ‘soon.’“

“He wasn’t an assassin, either,” Runaan shot back. “Do you really think I have fifty more years in me, at the rate I’m going? I have to run full tilt across Xadia whenever Avizandum says so, and if I so much as sneeze wrong, the wrong people will die, and I might be one of them. I. Must. Be. Perfect. For as long as I have. I must be perfect. Do you see?” His chest heaved with too many emotions to name, and his eyes clung to Ethari’s, demanding understanding.

But Ethari was horrified. He thumbed the etched rune on the vial’s glassy surface. 

One part deathberry extract, one part moonberry, and one part forbidden new moon magic, nightsoul was an accursed potion that had no business existing at all. The fact that it had to be coaxed into remaining in the world should have been a warning flag to all. But the desperate always found ways around the rules. Ethari had never expected his law-and-order husband to be one of them.

“Runaan... every time you drink this, you use up one day of your future.”

Runaan’s nod was crisp. “Yes. Exactly.”

“You’re shortening your lifespan.”

“I’m ensuring that I have a lifespan. This is just what it costs.”

Ethari’s bottom lip trembled. His eyes lingered on the vial in his hand, then they lifted to Runaan’s, revealing a watery shimmer. “Your life is not a currency to be spent, my heart.”

Runaan blinked in surprise. How could he not know, after all this time?

I am an assassin. 

I am a tool. 

I am Xadia’s will. 

I am justice. 

I am balance. 

I am the sword. 

I am the Way. 

I am Moonshadow.

I am an assassin. 

With steady brows and a tight jaw, Runaan murmured, “Ethari. My life has always been currency to be spent. I’m just choosing to spend a little of it for myself, before others choose the price for me. Because someone will, someday.”

Two tears slipped down Ethari’s cheeks, losing themselves along his blue markings. “But why? Why do you want to leave me sooner?” he begged.

Runaan’s control snapped, and he clutched at Ethari’s arms. “I don’t! I don’t,” he blurted. “Moon and shadow, Ethari. I take this so I’m good enough to come home my family at the end of every day. So I can survive long enough to train Rayla to survive everything the world will throw at her. So I can do the job, and spare anyone else from having to do it in my place. I take this so I can live to see as many days with you as I can wrest from my fate. I take this so that when I fall...” But he faltered, not wanting to speak of such things so blatantly.

Ethari let out a hurt growl. “No, there’s no stopping now. Say it. When you fall...” he prompted.

Runaan’s gaze dropped to Ethari’s pendant. “When I fall,” he dutifully continued, “I will have the bright memories of as many good days with you as I can carry. When I fall, whether to blade or shadow,” he added, tracing a finger lightly along his husband’s cheek, “I will have known thousands of days of your voluminous and refulgent love. And then, because of you, I will be worthy of dying a good death. Because of you, I will be ready to meet it.”

Ethari clapped a hand over a sudden sob. His head shook from side to side, hating Runaan’s soft words, hating Xadia, hating fate. Runaan gently pulled him into a hug and held him softly, feeling his shoulders shake. Ethari dug his fingers into Runaan’s ponytail and squeezed it, and his hot tears ran down Runaan’s chest as he buried his face against his husband’s neck.

“It’s not so bad, my heart,” Runaan said soothingly. “Every day, you have two of me at once. Twice my love.”

Ethari snorted wetly against his neck. “That explains your stamina last night.”

Runaan stiffened in surprise at Ethari’s unexpected direction, and he barked a sudden laugh. “That, too, my heart.”

Ethari stood straight again and wiped his eyes. “I’m never going to grow old with you, am I?” he asked in a trembling voice.

Runaan took a deep breath and felt the air of a future day fill his lungs. “Such was never our fate. My destiny was set long before I loved you.”

Ethari studied the vial of nightsoul with thoughtful brows and pursed lips. “I can’t bring myself to give this to you. But I will hold you while you take it.” 

He opened his palm and let the vial rest there. Its dark liquid swirled ominously, promising twice the life for twice the cost and then some.

Runaan stepped into the circle of his free arm and let himself be held. Then he plucked the vial from Ethari’s hand, bit the stopper free with the side of his mouth, and spilled a measure of the dark concoction onto his tongue.

Ethari’s sudden kiss, hard and eager and moonlit with complexity, was everything he had ever wanted.

[azissuffering]

YOU FUCKER YOY FUCKBUCKET WHAT AHVE YOY DONE IT'S SOFUCKIGN.ANGSTY I HATE YOU I LOVE UOU SI.MUCH AABEHEJEKRKEEBEJREENENENNEN

[azissuffering]

TWENTY SEVEN now get in bed

"I can't see her," Runaan said. He's dragged a chair over to the window, and he's sitting in it backwards, arms folded over the front and leaning forward far enough that the back legs jaunt into the air.

At the table, Ethari tinkers with the clasps on a set of horn cuffs, tongue caught between his teeth. "What's that?" he asks distractedly, squints at his project and hums. "Now why won't you latch shut...?"

"I can't see her, Ethari," Runaan repeats. "She's followed her classmates behind the treeline."

"That's good," Ethari says. "She's supposed to follow them."

"She didn't look back before she left. Do you think she's upset with us?"

At this, Ethari looks up. "Whatever for?"

"For sending her to school," Runaan says. "She wasn't pleased when I woke her up this morning."

Ethari laughs, rises from his seat and moves to stand beside him. "All elflings are upset on their first day of school. Children don't like new things, you know. That's what her classmates are for. When she realizes they're all just as nervous as she is, she'll feel more confident."

Runaan is unconvinced. "She cried, Ethari. She never cries, not even when she fell from the balance beam and broke her wrist."

"Physical pain is different from emotional pain. You can teach her to be hard, but that part she'll have to learn on her own." Ethari smiles and takes his hands. He has balled them into fists. "Don't worry, love. She'll be fine, and when she does come home, you can spoil her as much as I know you want to."

Runaan flushes hard. "I don't spoil her," he mutters. "Do I?"

Ethari kisses his cheek. "Copiously." He tugs Runaan from his seat and into an embrace, hand to chest and one outstretched, as if they are dancing, and kisses him again, slower, suggestive. "And now you can spoil me, dear husband. You've been at that window all morning and I at the table. We could both use the break and the distraction."

"I — yes, that sounds nice."

Runaan does not look away when they begin to dance.

[azissuffering]

For the kiss prompt, is 12 (in grief) for Ruthari good?

She is dread on wings. The Queen's wrath is swift and terrible, a mighty fury that topples trees and houses, and when she lands in the village center, great chest heaving, breaths volcanic plumes of sulfur and smoke, she bellows his name like a war cry. He has suspicions even before she speaks, but her admission is still a slap to the face. She accuses him of treason, of lying, of subterfuge. Murderer, she does not say, but he sees its picture in her eyes.

She says these things in grief, he knows, and perhaps she will regret them once in the lonely solace of her home, but their imprint will not be erased. She speaks in public and thus puts a stain on his reputation; doubt. He cannot defend himself and hope to survive, so he stands with hands white-knuckling themselves behind his back, eyes straight ahead, obediently mum.

When she leaves, it is with a hissed order to make things right. The threat is poorly veiled, and its implications turn his stomach. He goes home to think.

Ethari is wild with grief, sunk halfway against the wall as if too weak to support himself. Runaan thinks he is beautiful as he cries.

Somewhere within him, a voice cries and beats at the door.

"Runaan." Ethari's voice drags. "You think they — They wouldn't —"

His hand comes to his mouth, and he chokes.

"They did." Runaan's words are flat and hard.

Ethari looks away.

"Where's Rayla?"

"I don't know," Ethari whispers. "She fled when the Queen did."

Runaan stands, and Ethari turns back to him. He has not wiped his tears away, and they shimmer like moondrops as he speaks.

"Where are you going?"

"To find her," Runaan says, draws in a breath and looses it slowly. "To ask if she would like to accompany me on my next trip to Katolis."

Ethari sags against the wall. His tears stick to his lashes. Runaan hardens his heart and turns to the door. Ethari calls after him, anyway.

"Wait, Runaan," he says. "Give her time before you go talking of honor and redemption. Let her grieve."

Runaan sighs, turns around, and finds Ethari has moved from his place to come up just behind him. His breath catches at the grief he sees there, the defeat.

He cannot help but soften, step forward and lay a hand on his cheek. He cannot help but kiss him, so very gentle, and murmur against his lips, just before he makes for the door, "Duty waits for no one."