evren-writes

[evren-writes]

The World Ends

When Blight came home, Arren had cried.

It wasn’t something he had never done before. He had cried often as a kid, unable to control his emotions or how he expressed them. As a teenager, he had cried angry tears as he tore up his space, frustrated by failures and other factors out of his control. Even now as an adult, he wasn’t immune to emotion, though whenever he got to his breaking point he had always made sure he was alone.

He had never cried around Blight, though, and the expression on the other man’s face showed it. Eyes wide in confusion, fear, and their own sorrow born out of seeing him this way.

“Arren-?” Blight began, the question left unfinished as Arren tackled him to the ground of their front lawn.

The groceries Blight had gone for were left scattered all around them, but he couldn’t possibly care about that now. Without a word he wrapped himself around Arren, whose arms were braced against the ground, trying not to crush the man beneath him, and fingers digging so hard into the dirt that he was leaving dug up tracks in the grass.

Blight didn’t understand how, what had been for him a simple trip to the store, could leave his usually angry but otherwise seemingly composed roommate so devastated?

And he couldn’t begin to understand what Arren had done for him. How he had reshaped the universe with Blight as the focal point, because that was all he cared about, and that had been where the universe began to crumple every time. Every day he struggled to pull the strings back in place, and every day he watched the world fall apart with the person who meant more to him then existence as always the first thing to go.

He was crying because this was their last day together. He couldn’t keep doing this, his hands had tremors on par with earthquakes, every breath left his lungs like shattered glass, and blinking no longer cleared the blurred window of his vision.

These weren’t physical. Everything physical was put back together each time the world was remade. This affected him on a far deeper level.

Still, he couldn’t bear to watch Blight die anymore. So this time, he was the unsteady centre of the universe, aware of the way it tensed and pulled at his very being.

They didn’t have much time left. So, he opened his still crying eyes, and in a voice wracked by sobs said,

“I love you.”

And the last words ever spoken back were, “I love you too.”

#Blight #Arren #Blarren #Do Over AU #Wrote this on my phone #I really need a new keyboard

[evren-writes]

Comfort

Arren did not know how to offer comfort.

Of course he didn’t, he was a demon. A creature of fire and brimstone, what humans imagined sin incarnate to be. With claws and teeth sharper than knives, and a forked tongue manipulations spilled from so freely, his only purpose in existing was cruelty, so why would he ever need to learn?

But things were different now, in a strange unspoken way. While he denied it to his very core, he had grown attached to the human he’d made a contract with. So much so, that in the dead of night, when he heard muffled sobs and whimpers, something inside him twisted uncomfortably.

It didn’t help that Blight had never cried before. While they were on the run, each moment of peace existing only as a countdown until danger found them again, Blight had faced each day with this grim determination. Sometimes his words came out morbid, and the bags under his sickly eyes spoke of a bone deep exhaustion, but that never mattered. He was determined to live, even if it was just out of spite to his captors.

Now that they had found his family, and their home offered them both a shaky, but relative sense of security and safety, things had... Not quite changed, but shifted. Arren didn’t get the sense that Blight wanted to die, but without a constant threat pushing them forward, things had become quiet. Within this quiet, some wall the fragile human had put up crumbled. No longer was he distracted with just trying to survive, and that had allowed everything to catch up to him all at once.

And Arren didn’t know what to do. He refused to leave his side, convinced that if Blight was alone for even a second, something terrible would happen. He sat against the wall by his bed, guarding him through the night since his body didn’t require sleep. This made him privy to each sensitive moment, to each shed tear and poorly contained emotion.

He hated it. Listening to Blight cry made him feel powerless. There was no enemy he could hit to make it stop, and no distance he could run to take him away from it. Anger and frustration burned within him, and he wanted to tear the entire place down just to let it out even if it would ruin the peace they managed to secure for themselves.

Distinctly, he remembers the night early on when he had asked Blight about it.

"What is wrong with you?” Was how he eloquently put it, unable to properly express the concern he was feeling.

With a voice cracked and broken, Blight had responded with, “I don’t know,” and nothing else.

Arren had been at a loss, and the rest of the night was spent in silence, only interrupted by the sounds of crying.

And just like the memory, Arren could hear a sharp intake of breath from Blight. The sound was harsh and cut against the last of his nerves. Without even thinking, Arren got to his feet and abruptly grabbed Blight, lifting him from the bed holding him against himself. The crying had stopped immediately, instead replaced with the other man going rigid in his grasp, his eyes wide with fear.

Though, once he saw who it was that had him, he relaxed. Resting his head against Arren’s chest in a familiar gesture, he took in the smell of smoke, something meant safety to him, and tried to speak.

“Could you give me a warning next time?” He joked, though his voice came out small and pitiful.

That only made Arren angrier, and with a snarl full of vitriol, he responded. “No, and you can go fuck yourself while you’re at it.”

The disproportionate response brought a quiet laugh out of Blight. It was such an Arren way to respond, and something about that made him feel better. He found that just in general, Arren made him feel better.

Without explaining, Arren wrapped his wings around Blight and lay down, where he proceeded to curl himself further around the other man. Blinking in confusion, Blight tried to make sense of this. There was nothing new about this action, it was actually more familiar than a bed.

Arren had done it each night they had spent together on a run, shielding the human from the elements and keeping him warm. It had been a necessary action, Blight had spent so much time in a sterilized environment that the moment he escaped outside he suffered from constant illness. It had gotten so bad that he felt certain that it saved his life.

What confused him now about it was why? Why would he go out of his way to do this when they had a warm shelter and soft places to sleep, and it wasn’t a matter of survival anymore?

“Arren, you don’t need to do this.” He felt oddly bad about voicing it out loud. It didn’t make sense to him why the demon would choose to hold him like this, but he didn’t want it to stop.

There was a beat of silence before Arren responded.

“You never cried when you slept like this.” He stated as if this was just somehow common knowledge. “I got sick of listening and wanted to do something about it.”

Despite his attempted to be blunt and methodical about it, Blight was stunned by his answer. Maybe because his emotions had been out of wack ever since coming to a home he didn’t remember and family he didn’t recognize, but hearing Arren say he wanted to stop Blight from crying made him tear up all over again. He buried his face against Arren’s fur and fumbled for anything to ruin the moment with so he wouldn’t feel as strongly.

“So...“ He started, cringing at the way his voice cracked. “You chose the floor when there’s a perfectly good bed right there?”

The silence without an answer uncharacteristically stretched on, and Blight pulled his face so he could look up at Arren in confusion. There, he made direct eye contact with the utterly unamused looking demon.

“I don’t fit on your bed, you fucking idiot.”

Oh right. In the moment, Blight had forgotten how huge Arren was in his demon form, even though he was currently wrapped around him and dwarfing him in size. It was such a stupid thing to say that Blight couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief at himself. Despite the persistent heaviness in his chest while staying here, it did feel lighter to laugh at stupid stuff while Arren angrily grumbled to himself about it.

When his laughter had settled down and the silence set in again, everything started to creep back up on him again. It was like that happy moment didn’t matter and that he was doomed to feel this misery forever.

It was frustrating how even after he left the lab, it still continued to hurt him.

“I’m sorry.” Blight whispered, feeling compelled to apologize for how he’d been lately.

“No you’re not.” Arren responded, not accusing or annoyed, but certain. Like he believed Blight didn’t have anything to be sorry for in the first place, without putting it into words of course.

Still, Blight continued, like he felt unable to accept any kind of reassurance right now. “I don’t know why I keep acting like this.”

“Because you’re a human.” Arren said, sounding exasperated.

And Blight had nothing to say to that, because it was true. He was human, and humans were walking talking emotional messes. It didn’t make him feel better, he was too absorbed in his own head to respond well to anything, but the fact that it came from Arren made him smile.

Despite everything, he was glad Arren was here to comfort him.

#arren #blight #blarren #demon lab AU #This was gonna be longer but I have had no sleep and I'm siiiiiiiiiiick #Waaaaaah #I missed these two though #They're fun to write about

[evren-writes]

High School Guide to Finding Love

Xander, age sixteen, knew that he was in love.

Arren was a seventeen years old and a year above him. His black hair was messy and windswept, and he towered over almost everyone at their school with a threatening aura. Scars, bruises, and bandages adorned his skin like trophies and almost every day after school, you could go to the football field and watch him win fights. He was always seconds away from expulsion, only saved by the fact that he was really smart.

And, god, did Xander love him. He was the kind of kid who hated authority, spray painted the side of the school for attention, and stole whatever school supplies he could whenever the teachers weren’t looking. He was the kind of person who was attracted to danger and the thrill of life. Arren was a walking, talking, well of adventure, and Xander felt he was a kindred spirit to him.

Now, he only had to figure out how to approach him.

“Do you think he likes boys?” Xander rambled to his friends sitting around him at their cafeteria table. “Because I’m a boy and if he’s not then that makes this a lot harder.”

His aforementioned friends, Sean and Dymura, looked up from their lunches. Sean tapped his fingers nervously on the table while Dymura scrunched up her face in disgust.

“I don’t think he likes anyone.” Sean mumbled, distracting himself with his sandwich. “I’ve only ever seen him breaking people’s noses.”

“I know right?” Xander sighed dreamily, completely unaware of Sean’s discomfort. “Isn’t it hot.”

He was immediately distracted from his daydreaming by Dymura slamming her face into the table and groaning loudly.

“Oh my fucking god, Xander. I’m begging you, get better taste.” She growled, frustration like fire spewing from her mouth.

Xander felt his hackles metaphorically raise. While he loved his friends to death, he knew they didn’t understand. They were goody-two shoes, always following the rules. Hell, they were on fucking Student Council. Who cared about Student Council, seriously?

“Fine, I’ll show you guys.” He stuck out his tongue at them, an award winning taunt if he did say so himself. “Try not to be too jealous when I have a hot and sexy boyfriend.”

With that, he dramatically got up from his seat and walked away, ignoring his friends’ cries of confusion from behind him. He had someone he needed to find.

Xander already knew where Arren would be. He always sat out by himself and ate lunch under these three trees, despite the fact they weren’t allowed to leave the cafeteria at lunch. No matter whether it was raining or snowing, he would always be there. Sometimes Xander would sneak out too and watch him eat from afar. It was weird, yeah, but god he was pining.

And of course, there Arren was, under his three trees and eating an apple. For most people, now would be time to come up with a plan for what to say. Xander, unfortunately, wasn’t like most people. The moment he saw Arren, he ran towards him like a dog whose owner just returned from war.

He saw the way Arren tensed, crushing the apple with his bare hands. This close up, he could see a thin scar over his right eye slowly fading, that sharpened as Arren’s expression twisted into something angry and confused.

Before Arren had a chance to react any further, Xander blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Hey, do you wanna go rob a 7/11 with me later?”

That managed to stun them both into silence. He watched as Arren’s brow furrowed in thought. The angry expression never left his face, Xander could see the wrinkles that expression had left in his face. His eyes traveled to Arren’s right hand, that was picking at grass while he thought, and Xander decided that if he were to get punched right now, that would also be a win. “Sure...” Arren replied after what felt like an eternity. He also looked at Xander’s shirt and added. “Blight.”

Xander felt pure exhilaration pump through his veins like heroin. His heart was beating so fast in his chest that his hands were shaking a little. Arren had agreed to hang out later, to spend time with him. It didn’t even matter that he read his shirt for a name instead of asking him, this was homemade and ‘Blight’ sounded cool.

Xander, or should he say, Blight, felt his face flush, and the biggest grin that could be humanly possible pulled at his lips. He plopped down against Arren, close enough that they were just barely not touching, and turned the full force of that smile against him. “Cool, then it’s a date.”

Sean and Dymura were going to lose their minds at this.

#Blight #Arren #Blarren #Chimera #Dymura #Highschool AU #I don't agree with the romanticization of high school but teenagers are so fucking dumb #Plus Arren never went to high school and the thought of him going was hilarious #Fight boy #You don't know how many times I called him Blight before I was supposed to #Probably missed some too because I don't read over my work I don't have energy

[evren-writes]

The World Again

“Arren?” Blight softly asked from their bed, where Arren had wrapped himself around Blight and buried his face in the back of his neck. “Are you okay?”’

It had been a quiet day, which was a strange occurrence in their household. Whenever Blight got up to his usual antics, Arren would yell and he’d laugh and yell back and their whole worlds would devolve into just the two of them and noise. It was fun and routine.

Today, Arren had just stared at Blight the whole time with hollow eyes. Like something in him had cracked and broken into pieces, and the parts of him still lay on the floor. He had also strangely been touch starved, starting the day off by jolting violently awake and then desperately wrapping his arms around Blight as if the whole world had ended.

Arren didn’t respond.

Because he had torn the whole world and built it back up for Blight. He had held Blight’s lifeless body in his arms, stained with his blood, and destroyed everything in sight. The city had been leveled, and Arren left alone with the corpse he couldn’t bear to bury.

So he reached for the strings of the universe intricately woven together, with strands connecting all words in an empty, glimmering void, and pulled. He tore and reshaped them and built them back into a shape that felt vaguely right, and if it wasn’t, everything would fall apart and at least he didn’t have to live it.

Then he awoke and everything was fine. It was all back to normal and he knew that, but the pain he felt still pulsed in his soul and Blight may be alive again but his death was real. That whole life was so painfully real that this one almost felt fake.

So quietly, into Blight’s skin he whispered, “Yes.”

Because he was one to let wounds fester.

#Blight #Arren #Blarren #Do Over AU #I want to put the hyphen in between do-over but I'm pretty sure that breaks tags when you try to look back through stuff so I'm not going to #Risk it #Wow i love how that tag cut me off so sexy

[evren-writes]

Sick boy...

For a literal demon made of malice and sharp bits, Arren always treated him like glass whenever he was ill. Huge claws would gently cradle Blight against his chest as the demon’s leathery wings tried to shelter them from the rain.

Surprisingly, Blight didn’t mind so much. Burying his feverish face into Arren’s furry chest, he hadn’t realized how much he desperately craved gentle touches and affection after his life in the lab. Human interaction had been associated with needles and cruelty, so much so that a demon had become a huge source of comfort for him.

Blight took a deep breath, just trying to blanket himself with Arren’s presence to block out those memories. Luckily, the demon didn’t smell like sulfur and brimstone. It was a strangely smokey smell, like the lingering effects of a forest fire.

Everything felt way too hot and cold at the same time, but Arren’s body was a consistent heat. Blight knew it had to be above a normal human but he couldn’t be asked to give a fuck. Long cold nights after being kept in a sterile environment with controlled temperatures were harsh and curling against him was the only solace he had.

A grunt from above snapped him out of his dazed recollection, and he looked up to be met with a familiar ram skull face.

“Stop dying, we’re almost to shelter.” Arren said, trying to sound annoyed but Blight could hear an undercurrent of concern. Or maybe that was the fever messing up his better judgement and he just liked the idea of Arren worrying about him.

For some reason, the thought made him laugh. Small giggles at first that built up in his chest until they burst forth in something hysterical. Tears streaked down his face or maybe it was rain. It was raining, right? He opened his eyes since he had apparently closed them again, and tried to look up but the movement made him dizzy and nauseous.

Tremors wracked his body and through his own suffering he was barely conscious of Arren holding him tighter and quickening his pace.

“I am dying, aren’t I?” Blight suddenly piped up, voice hoarse and strained. “They told me I would either die or hurt people if I left, and they were right.”

Blight could feel the way Arren’s snarl tore through his chest. The sound was vicious and furious and should’ve made him feel terrified but instead his hazy mind felt safe. Protected.

“They didn’t know fucking shit. They're fucking lying scumbags who tried to control you and now they’re all dead because they didn’t fucking think you’d ever be able to outsmart them.” Arren’s voice was pure venom, leaking hatred with every word. “And you’re not dying. Not until our deal is fulfilled.”

There was some silence after that. The only sound around them from the rain and Blight’s laboured breaths.

“If I did die, would you miss me?” Blight asked in a voice so small that it would have been swept away by any strong breeze.

“You’re not going to die.” Was Arren’s simple response. The grip tightened again.

“But would you?” Blight pressed, unfocused eyes staring somewhere in the distance.

“I’m not going to let you die.” Arren growled in a way that rumbled his chest against Blight’s head. “I won’t have to miss you because you’ll still be alive to annoy me like this.”

That brought a small smile to Blight face. Closing his eyes, he finally felt comfortable enough to slip into fitful, feverish sleep.

When he awoke again, it was on the floor of some warehouse with a stolen towel from somewhere draped over him like a blanket and Arren curled protectively around him. This time, his sleep was a lot more peaceful.

#Arren #Blight #Blarren #demon lab au #I don't know what to call this AU because it's a combination of two but here you go #This is for Matri anyways #*Blows kiss*

[evren-writes]

Rest

Orion had lost. The thought was bitter and infuriating but he had accepted it. He was too tired to keep fighting anymore. All he had ever done was fight. Sleeping was the easier option and he desperately craved not to exist for awhile.

Gentle fingers combed through his hair and he hated the way it made his chest ache with yearning. He hadn’t realized how badly he craved gentle touch until it was offered to him. What kind of an existence was that? Wishing for contact without realizing, but hating all others with a passion.

He also wished that this touch could come from literally anyone else.

“You want to be loved. I understand.” Alder’s voice was soft and sounded just as tired. “I created worlds of people to love me until I got tired of them.

Orion wanted to laugh from where he rested against his chest. Spiteful and mocking. Alder had tormented his creations relentlessly. Driving them mad for entertainment before letting the world die from Death’s sickness and starting again.

Alder deserved their love as much as Orion deserved any. Maybe this was fitting. They were both brutal killers, after all.

“It’s strange for a god to have to learn to appreciate what they have.” Alder said, staring blankly at the charred world that used to be. “They should be able to control when it’s gone, if ever.”

Two arms wrapped around Orion’s back and rocked him back and forth. A steady rhythm to soundless music. With its absence, Orion realized he could feel it through every inch of Life and Death’s creations. It’s what the world was run by that seemed to go even beyond the gods that brought them into being.

“You killed the sun. You killed my mortals. You killed my children.” Orion could feel teardrops the teardrops against his skull. “You killed her.”

He wanted to punch Alder in his face. Strangle him until he become one of the dead. He didn’t deserve to grieve. Every second they were alive the life god made them miserable and now he was sad they were gone? If anything, it would be a mercy to finally get away from him.

Except Orion did not except be rocked back and forth. He could hear Alder’s heartbeat from where his face was pressed against his chest and tried to lull himself to sleep. Everything would feel so much less if he was asleep. It’d be easier.

“I can’t bring any of it back without her.” Alder wouldn’t stop talking. It was like he would lose himself completely if he did. “She cared the most about all of it anyways.”

Death did care. She was the only one Orion had met that actually, genuinely cared. She was gone now and it was his fault. The universe was devoid of that now and of course it was because of him.

“I survived because of luck or some sick joke.” Please he didn’t want to think he didn’t want to be awake please just stop talking. “And now I’ll live until you lose control and kill me too.”

And as Orion’s finally began to drift away, he thought about how much longer life would be forced to live alone.

Good.

#Orion #Alder #New World #Haha then what?

[evren-writes]

Snake Eyes

Deep in the forest, something twisted and horrid lives. With eyes that lie like a snake, and horns twisted like the devil, people warned of its cruel nature. If you were to ever enter the forest alone at night, you’d be found dead by dawn with no cause identifiable by man.

And while the village told no living soul to dare step foot in those woods, Arren didn’t like to be told what to do.

That didn’t make his self-inflicted task anymore enjoyable, however. While spite and desperation was an excellent motivator, wandering for hours in the dark was absolutely fucking annoying.

Arren growled to himself as he brushed dirt out of the scrapes and cuts on his knees. A beaten, broken part of him didn’t care if it got infected, almost wished for it, but the fire burning deep within him suffocated those thoughts in smoke. He would succeed and bring the head of the monster to that shitty town and make them beg for him back.

It was either that or burn the whole place to the ground and leave nothing but ashes, but the ever persistent ache of what they had done kept his sensible side frustratingly sharp.

A sensible side that immediately evaporated once the wind carried a hissing laughter along with it. The sound was smooth and silky, with a little bit of smugness mixed in. Arren hated it and would relish in murdering this motherfucker.

“What brings this little, lost light to my forest?” The voice taunted, seemingly enjoying this game very much.

“Don’t call me that.” Arren said flatly, obviously having the exact opposite experience.

“That’s- That’s not how this works.” The way the voice wavered filled Arren with bitter satisfaction.

“Well, if you want to stop being a dumbass anytime soon, my name is Arren.” It’s not that he particularly wanted to be on first name basis with the horrible beast of the forest, he just disliked the nicknames more.

And, to his surprise, the monster laughed in response. It was snake-y or smug in a way that decided life or death. It was just. Happy.

What the fuck?

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to meet someone like you!” The voice exclaimed out, and suddenly, it wasn’t a part of the wind anymore.

It was right behind him.

Arren whipped around, hand reaching in his coat pocket, ready. The figure that walked out of his shadows was both exactly what was described and not at all.

Golden horns that curved back like a goat rested on its skull. Two green snake eyes gazed at him with a giddiness, and beautiful golden scales rested under those eyes like makeup. And other than scaled hands with deadly claws at the end, it looked fully human.

Human and not as scary every had made him out to be. Half his head was shaved and wild black hair fell across his face. His clothes looked like a torn funeral suit, with several different kinds of flowers pinned to his lapel, most of them purple.

This would be easier than Arren thought.

Before he could curl his fingers around the hilt of the small dagger he had brought, the monster spoke up again.

“So why are you here, then?” He asked, walking towards Arren, who stepped back several steps in response.

“What?” Arren hissed back, not in the snakey way, but in a very angry human way.

That made the monster stop. His smile slowly dripped into a frown and he looked away uncomfortably. Pulling at the cuff of his suit, he answered.

“People usually come here to die.” He said softly, avoiding eye contact. “I try to chase them off, but it doesn’t work. They’ve accepted their fate and I’m always too late.”

That didn’t make any sense at all. With reluctant confusion, Arren let go of the hidden dagger and brought his hand to his side again. It would be so easy to stop this thing in the heart while it refused to look at him. He could gain his place back and his sins forgiven.

But at the very core of his being, Arren was a learner. He craved knowledge and the answer to mysteries more than he did redemption. If he killed the monster right here and now, then he would never learn what any of that meant.

So for now, he asked questions.

“How did you know I wasn’t here to die?” He asked, though it sounded more like a demand with his forceful tone.

At that, the creature perked up and looked at him. A smile tugged at his lips again and another laugh escaped his mouth. Yeah, cruel fate his ass. This thing was a complete fucking loser.

“Well, for one, people who want to die don’t usually call me a dumbass.” He responded, and Arren thought that more people really should. “And second, the light thing I said actually meant something.”

Oh, now that was interesting.

“So it wasn’t just a dumb nickname?” Arren asked, subconsciously stepped forward and ending up standing face to face with the monster.

“Yeah! That’s what these are for.” He said, pointing to his eyes. “It’s difficult to explain, but people who are about to die here look dark and foggy inside. You were like looking directly at a forest fire, and I don’t just mean because you’re hot.”

Arren peeled back his lips into a snarl. The sound furious and indignant, and that asshole had the gall to laugh at him. A sound so bright and delighted maybe he was the fucking forest fire here. Fuck him.

“But you still didn’t answer my question.” He said suddenly, snapping Arren out of his simmering rage. “Why did you come in here?”

Arren didn’t owe this thing anything. Meeting a monster in a forest and having him tell you a few interesting things didn’t mean he had to spill his whole stupid life story.

Except he was going to anyways. Not because it was boiling over the pot and definitely because he desperately needed to tell someone.

“I was going to kill you.” Arren said, feeling a bit of disappointment at how little the monster seemed bothered. “So they would let me back into my home.”

The monster tilted his head as he took in this information. Then, his lips pursed themselves into a frown and he gently reached forward. Arren froze. So many different reactions exploded through him, all involving attacking this thing right now, that it left him motionless.

It let the monster gently sweep the messy hair out of his right eye and gasp at what he saw.

Arren knew it looked bad, probably even worse from the last time he checked. A long, messy cut that went from the top of his forehead to halfway down his cheekbone. Bloody and with his right eye crusted shut, probably for the best.

He hadn’t bothered to clean it or treat it in anyway. He had just immediately run into the forest to get away and never looked back.

“Why would they-?” The monster started, but Arren didn’t let him finish.

“Because I tried to kill my father.” He said simply, as if it wasn’t horrific news.

The monster opened his mouth to speak again, likely to spew so many more questions that it made Arren sick.

Abruptly turning away, Arren spoke again. “Don’t.”

Thankfully, his boundary was respected, and he didn’t hear anything. His heart was beating fast in his chest. Finally he had come out and said this to someone willingly, but feeling it all flood back was so fucking upsetting and he hated it. Hated all of them.

Except he had nowhere else to go and he didn’t want to die.

“You can stay here.”

Arren jumped when he heard the monster speak up so abruptly and turned around. A clawed hand was extended towards him, and the expression on this supposed cruel beast was wild and welcoming, like this was some kind of exciting new adventure.

Briefly, the thought dealing with the devil flashed in Arren’s mind, but that was only after he had already took the devil’s hand. For some reason, this idea was a lot more welcoming than his first one.

“Plus, I think I have an idea on how to keep you safe.” The monster spoke up, a grin embodying his features.

“I don’t need you to keep me safe.” Arren bristled, but he couldn’t help the curiousity welling up within him again. “What is it?”

Gesturing grandly, the monster pointed to his own right eye. Arren could feel the reckless and exciting energy radiating off of him. Arren would be lying if he said it wasn’t as infectious as it was worrying, but he was a liar so he wasn’t going to say that.

“I’m going to give you my eye so you can see the ins and outs of this forest like I can!” The monster declared and Arren stared at him blankly.

“What the fuck are you even talking about?!” He suddenly yelled, realizing that yes! This situation could get even weirder! “How do you even know you could do that?!”

The monster’s expression took on a more sullen and distant look as he stared somewhere past Arren’s shoulder.

“There are some things about me that I just know.” He said, sounding far away. “Like that I used to be a human before this and that I had a different name.”

So there was even more mystery to this place? Also this was when Arren realized he had never bothered to ask if the monster had a name. He was so used to it just being a creature that stalked and haunted the woods, that he hadn’t even realized that it could be someone.

“So what’s your name now, then?” Arren asked, finally deciding to be polite.

The monster seemed to snap out of it and turned to look at him. His features softened and he looked a lot less sad. Arren decided he liked this version a lot more. Meaning, that he found it the least annoying.

“Blight. That’s who I am now.” Blight said, looking stronger and more sure of himself now. “So, are you in or not?”

Blight, huh? A poisonous name that promised of death. It didn’t feel quite fitting for what he knew now, but Arren liked how it sounded. Powerful and threatening.

As for the question... What else did he have to lose?

“Fine. Fucking whatever.” Arren grumbled, crossing his arms and Blight just laughed in response again.

Reaching a hand out, Blight gently cupped it over Arren’s right eye. It aggravated the aching sensation and brought a sting along with it, but that was fine. He watched Blight take a deep breath and close his eyes, and suddenly Arren felt dizzy and the world was literally spinning around him like some sick punishment for all his crimes.

He wanted to cry out, beg for all of it to stop and say he’d never do it again. He wasn’t sorry but it didn’t matter because the sickness outdid any pain he could ever feel and he had learned his lesson.

Then, everything abruptly stopped.

The world was different.

#Blight #Arren #Blarren #Snake Eyes AU #I'M SO TIRED #I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS AND MATRI INSPIRED ME TO WRITE IT BUT I DID IT ALL IN ONE SITTING AND IT'S 4:10AM AND I HAVE WORK TOMORROW AND #I'M EXHAUSTED #This is so far detached from everything and Blight feels very out of character so I don't even know why it starred them #I just wanted to do it and I can do what I want #Edit: I've now added a title because it was bothering me that it didn't have one

[evren-writes]

Burn

“Fallitur, what are you doing.”

Arren froze in place. It had been so long since he heard that name, and especially that voice. He never thought this man cared enough to hunt him down, but it looks like he was dangerously mistaken. Frigid ice pumped through his veins as it tried to overpower the heat of panic and fear and frustration and anger and-

He was shaking. That was new.

“Fallitur, answer me.” The voice said again, patience evidently running thin. “Remember your place.”

Somehow, despite years and years of that voice having control over him, Arren did not answer. Instead, he threw himself protectively in front of Blight and met the man’s eyes head on.

His father looked furious.

“Did you think I didn’t know about your little outings?” Cynrik snapped, taking a dangerous step forward. “You’re too dangerous a piece to leave unchecked. I just had better things to worry about than a stupid mistake.”

With a grand sweeping motion, his father summoned wind strong enough to throw Arren off his feet and into the concrete the of the street. He slid against it, pushing him farther and farther away from Blight and grinding the skin off half his face in the process.

“Arren!”

Struggling to lift his head up, he saw Blight, who had been uncharacteristically silent the entire time, finally call out his name and try to run towards him. He barely made it a step before Cynrik grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the ground. The road cracked from the impact of his body and Blight went still.

Fire. Ice. Fire. Ice. A roaring wildfire that turned the sky black with its smoke and left only ashes in its wake. An empty, frozen forest that feels nothing but ice on its branches. He kept violently switching between the two, both sensations fighting for dominance and it was getting harder to breathe.

“Is this why you’ve been so disobedient, Fallitur?” His father spoke, looking over Blight’s unconscious body, before settling on the tattooed bindings on his skin. “I suppose it makes sense. He’s pathetic, like you.”

From where he was lying, he could see cracks start to form on Blight’s skin. Cynrik was going to kill him. Shatter his body into a million tiny pieces, have them be lost to the wind, and make it like he had never existed at all.

He was going to kill Blight. He was going to kill Blight. He was going to kill Blight. kill kill blight blight blight kill b

His hands met flesh and it seared underneath his touch. His father let out a cry of agony and Arren only tightened his grip around his wrist. Tightening and tightening until he heard a crack and the skin was black and charred underneath his fingers.

“Fallitur-” His father gasped out, his body shaking so badly from pain that he fell to one knee. “S-Stop it, Fallitur...”

Fire. That’s all he was. The cold was gone and in its place it left room to burn. He could feel acrid smoke burn his throat. Sparks leaping from crackling wood and spreading the blaze. Embers persisting, refusing to hide the fact and let the world forget that a fire had torn through here and killed everything in its path.

“That’s not my name.” Arren hissed, violently pulling his hand away and watching his father’s wrist turn to ashes and his dismembered hand fall to the road. “And you’ll never control me ever again.”

He slammed his foot into his father’s chest and listened to his screaming, dulled by the roar of his own flames in his ears. He was going to watch him burn, and the whole world that had wronged him along with it.

Unnoticed in the moment, cracked and fragmented stone fell from his wrists and onto the ground.

#Gore /// #Dismemberment /// #Implied abuse /// #Implied death /// #I GUESS? #It's not really detailed at all but I just want to be safe #Arren #Blight #Cynrik #Blarren #Bindings AU

[evren-writes]

Fire

“Hey Arren?”

Tearing his attention away from the book he was reading, Arren looked down at Blight, who was draped across his legs on the couch. He had been so enraptured by his reading, he hadn’t even noticed the other man running his fingers across the smooth stone of his bindings.

“How come you’re always wearing these stone band-bracelet things?” He asked, grabbing the right binding and filling the area around it with his warmth. “They’re not kinky enough to be handcuffs. Just looks really uncomfortable.”

Blight laughed at Arren’s annoyed expression, his grin wide and full of life. Arren focused on the feeling of heat inside him. He counted two seconds before it died and was replaced by the perpetual coldness that filled his being.

“They’re bindings.” He answered simply, turning his attention back to his book as if it was a sufficient enough answer.

As to be expected, Blight was not satisfied.

“Bindings?” He repeated, obviously confused. “What are they binding?”

The images of his mother’s corpse flash into his head. Then, his father’s blood staining his hands. A bastard child that shouldn’t exist, but was impossible to kill. There was only one option left.

Control.

He feels a spark flash inside him. It’s snuffed out immediately.

“My fire.”

He was a fire. A wildfire that destroyed everything in its path, fueled by the death it wrought.

“Fire?” Blight asked, his curiousity so genuine and bright.

Surround the blaze with stone. Keep the danger contained until it eventually burns itself out and you’re finally safe.

“Me.”

As Arren thinks back on those memories, he tries to remember what anger felt like. He also wonders if he ever got the chance to feel love, but that’s less clear.

#Death /// #Blood /// #Parental death /// #Ask to tag #Arren #Blight #Blarren #I've been reading Bomic and it just spawned this for some reason #I don't know what to call this #Bindings AU #Sure #I'm so tired #It's 6:42am and I haven't slept at all

[evren-writes]

Body Image

“You’re growing a beard?” Was the first question Blight asked as he threw himself over Arren’s lap on the couch.

Arren grunted in annoyance and glared down at him, but there was no real venom in his gaze. That’s just how he always was, and they accepted it. Blight just grinned and quickly sat up to give him a peck on the lips before collapsing again.

It took him a few seconds to respond after that, and he hated how much Blight obviously reveled in that fact.

“It’s more that I don’t give enough of a fuck to shave it.” Arren replied, rubbing a hand self-consciously across the stubble on his chin.

It was strange, not being bothered by the hair starting to grow on his face, his arms, and really just his entire body, head not included. He used to obsessively shave it every time he noticed any sliver of hair starting to poke out. It was either that or pull them out with his own fingers one by one.

He doesn’t remember when he started being disgusted by his own body hair. It may have been when he started removing his scars. Anything on his body after that felt strangely wrong and unpleasant and he had an image to keep up more for himself than anyone else.

Whatever. He didn’t want to think about the past anyways. He had some fucking issues.

Luckily, he was snapped out of it when a soft, but calloused hand ran itself across his chin. Looking down at Blight, he saw the fond expression on his face, and couldn’t help the warmth that forcibly gathered in his chest. Even when Blight brought his hand back to his side, a ghost of the touch still remained.

“Well, I think it’s a good look for you.” He said, before immediately ruining it. “I’m glad you’re finally embracing the bear you were meant to be.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

#Blight #Arren #Blarren #Older Arren grows a beard and I've been thinking about that

[evren-writes]

Beginning

In a vast expanse of nothingness, two figures dance. It was a gentle waltz, each step done perfectly in time with a song that didn’t exist. It was like they both had been doing this their entire existences, perfected as far as an art form can go.

“Why do you think we’re here, Death?” Asked the shorter of the two, with antlers protruding proudly from his skull.

“I’m not sure, Life.” The other answered, mask-like face expressionless, but voice soft and caring.

“Do we have a purpose?” Life asked as he dipped his partner.

“We can make one.” Answered Death, breaking their routine to touch her pale hand to his face.

Life laughed, the sound warm and full of love. In his own unexpected way, he leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers. This lasted only a second, before he pulled her back up and they resumed their dance.

“Is it really our own if we were created knowing what to do?” Life continued, the naturally more curious of the two.

“We’ll do it in our own way.” Death responded, always trying to see the good in everything. “This new world will be ours, no one else’s.”

Without warning, Life sped up their dance. Each step and turn came quicker, as if he was challenging Death to keep up. Without commenting on it, she met his challenge. Life needed something to entertain himself during their talks, and she didn’t mind at all.

“I like the sound of that. A new world just for us and our creations.” Life hummed thoughtfully, a smile spreading across his face and his eyes fond. “Should we be involved with them, or let them exist independently of us?”

“Whatever we decide, I just want them to be happy.” Death said, and Life laughed at how much the answer was just like her.

“Of course.” Was all he could say in response, unable to help the grin pulling at his lips.

In the distance, over Death’s shoulder, Life noticed something new. Something different in their void of darkness. Small, bright lights that filled the distant space with beauty. Unlike anything he had felt before, a rush of excitement shot through Life, and he felt drawn to it.

“And I think I know the perfect place for our new world.” He said, pulling away from Death and ending their dance once and for all.

#New World #Alder #Death #Hah... #Writing young Alder is weird #And sad with how he becomes

[evren-writes]

Stay

Despite all the pain he’s been through in his life, Blight always smiled. It was an expression Arren was used to seeing. Whether bright and excited, or smug and amused, it was practically a fixture on his face. It was a constant that Arren didn’t realize kept him steady and grounded.

At least, he didn’t realize it until he saw Blight crying.

They had prepared for this, too. Going out together, they searched for plants that contained high amounts of opium. Arren had tried to get Blight to stay home, claiming that his disgusting rot would ruin all the plant life, but it was useless. The aptly nicknamed “False God” had just laughed and wrapped a machine arm around Arren’s neck, proclaiming he was here for moral support then.

That hadn’t been that long ago. The moment they got home, they had pumped his system full of the drug and Arren got to work. Blight’s condition was worsening, concentrating itself on his shoulder now, and working its way up his neck.

Replacing his own face would be difficult, and Arren definitely didn’t have the knowledge on how to do it. What he did know, however, was how to significantly slow it down. He was the doppel of a very studious wizard after all, and what kind of wizard wouldn’t study the disease killing everything alive on their home?

Arren placed the necessary ingredients on the end of a wooden stick, and quietly whispered the incantation necessary. Blight had laughed the entire time, loopy and acting like this was a private show from his favourite magic man.

The laughter ended when Arren pressed the burning wood to his flesh. The rot could sink deep, and cause damage under your very skin. That’s what made it so difficult to fully remove with Blight’s strategy of amputation. You couldn’t seen how much of the limb had been affected under the surface.

The magic had to sink deep to work. A burn that marred the skin, but with effects that traveled through nerves, muscles, bones, and everything that made up a living creature’s body. It was impossible to destroy the infection, but this would slow all of it down.

Blight had screamed. He screamed and thrashed and Arren had to hold him down with his other hand. The sensation would feel like his entire body was burning, his mind would think he was dying with every single nerve alighting in agony. Arren had warned him, but they didn’t have much choice.

The tears spilled out when Blight’s voice was hoarse and each cry turned into a cough. His body shook underneath Arren’s hold and he could feel silent sobs wrack his form. Blank, unseeing eyes stared at some point past Arren, like his mind had to leave his body in order to cope.

“I don’t want to die.” He mumbled, voice so scratchy and damaged that Arren was surprised he was even able to make a sound at all. “I don’t want to leave him. I don’t. I can’t.”

It was delirious rambling, Arren knew that, but something about his words struck a chord within him. A chord that went against the very nature of his entire, hateful existence.

When the procedure was over and the spell had taken affect, Blight had already slipped into unconsciousness at some point. In an uncharacteristic fashion, Arren gently scooped him up into his arms and held his body close. Blight’s skin was hot and flushed, and his heartbeat felt erratic against Arren’s chest.

Carefully, as if he was made of glass, Arren set Blight down in his bed. In an act of purse impulse, he curled himself against the other’s side, wrapping his arms and legs around him as if he could shield him against the world. It would take awhile for him to recover from the experience, but he would. He would recover and live longer

He wasn’t expecting the feeling of fingers clenched tightly on his arms, and looking at Blight’s face, he saw his eyes wide and lucid.

“I won’t leave you.” The words were painfully croaked out, and the minute they left his lips, Blight’s eyes rolled back into his head and he was out.

Quietly, and as if on impulse, Arren responded.

“I won’t leave you either.”

#Infection /// #Drugs /// #Dying /// #Amputation mention /// #Burns /// #Death mention /// #Illness /// #God those are a lot of really concerning tags #I just want to be safe #It's kind of a lot #Blight #Arren #Blarren #New World

[evren-writes]

Scars

Arren looked at his scar.

A thin, discoloured line that stretched the width of his palm. He had been distracted when emptying the dishwasher and grabbed a kitchen knife by it’s blade. A stupid, fucking mistake that stung both his skin and ego.

The appropriate amount of swearing that had exploded from the kitchen at the time had summoned Blight. His roommate had noticed the blood and gasped, as if the injury was life threatening.

Arren could heal this easily, they both knew that, but sometimes, Blight forgot. Sometimes, once his roommate had grabbed the first aid kit, his warm hands would firmly wrap Arren’s in bandages and Arren would, sometimes, forget to bring up the fact that it was unnecessary.

Arren hated scars. He was above them. They showed weakness, that something had succeeded in leaving its mark on you, and that you could get hurt, just like everyone else. Once he learned how to stitch skin together seamlessly, he reopened all his old wounds and erased their history.

The scar over his eye was another story. It was either hiding the mark or losing his vision, and he had chosen the latter in the heat of the moment. He could reopen the cut, but the location made it precarious and...

And he didn’t want to relive the moment it happened.

Maybe that scar made it easier to accept smaller, less significant ones. Maybe it was the other way around, having nicks and cuts made the one marring his face stand out less.

Arren looked down at Blight, who was leaning against him on the couch, fast asleep. His eyes traveled down to Blight’s hands, which were calloused and covered in their own small marks. His roommate was clumsy and reckless, and his hands weren’t the only evidence of that fact. Blight was covered in his own scars, and was unashamed of the fact.

And Arren never saw Blight’s scars as a sign of weakness. They were apart of him, like everything else, and Blight was... Blight was something.

Reaching his scarred hand out, he took one of Blight’s that had a similar injury. He had dropped a glass and tried to pick up the shards with his bare hands. He gently traced the injury, with his thumb and let out a deep breath.

For some reason, it felt like a tightness in his chest had loosened. It was strange and unprompted, but it finally let him close his eyes and go to sleep as well. His back and neck would be sore in the morning, but he didn’t feel like moving.

Unconsciously, he would wrap and arm around Blight and hold him closer.

#Arren #Blight #Blarren #Oh my god they were roommates