#a starter?

[raybanstm]

♡ this and i’ll shoot from the hip and who knows what’ll happen.

[sweet-yet-sorrowful-gyrhoe]

Lets talk about our fears

"You know... I don't really like doctors..."

[yamatodadarchive-blog]

 The nights of the human world feel strange.

 The noise dies down significantly and something inside of him feels wrong. He is vigilant for a while; listening in to any noise and studying every shadow. He find nothing. No one is hunting him. Nothing threatens his shelter. It is safe. But, sleep still does not come easily.

 He lies in a bed for the first time in a very long time, feels the cool, clean sheets against his skin, and  the soft pillow underneath his head. It is not comforting or relaxing, no matter how many times he turns, what he tries to think of, and how long he lies there with his eyes closed.

 Vergil walks downstairs carefully, trying to avoid waking anyone else. His initial thought is to sit down and read until he feels like passing out, but as he settles in his brother’s so called office, he fails to concentrate.

  The place is a mess.

 The fact in itself would be nothing new to him, but it is not the kind of mess his brother would leave when he’d fetch some toys and leave the rest lying around or when he couldn’t be bothered putting them away later on, piling them on top of one another, along with candy wrappers and other junk.

 That was carelessness of a child who could not be bothered with chores because he was having too much fun.

 This was different.

 Oppressive. Destructive. Practically abandoned.

 Vergil put down the book for now. It was difficult to decide where to even start. The clock showed 2:30 am and he had plenty of time before the others woke up, it would be a shame to waste it.

 Opening the windows was a must. The place had not been aired out in forever, and judging by the dusty blinds, hadn’t seen any natural light, either. The bottles and boxes of junk food housed a moderate colony of cockroaches. They were disposed off with great disgust and his gloves went into the garbage bin once the last of the boxes were thrown out.

 It was still a mess, but marginally less disgusting.

 The carpets were not salvageable at this point, besides, Vergil would certainly pick out better ones, later. He did not want to move the furniture, to avoid making too much noise, so he let them be, for now.

  He could not bear throwing out any books, even if some of them were in terrible condition. Vergil sorted through them and returned most of them to the shelves, while putting away the ones that were too ruined, in a box. Maybe, he could work on restoring pieces of them, if he was to stay there.

 Dante’s paperwork was worthy of a pyre, if he was being quite honest. Still, he went through everything and saved the ones that looked even remotely important.

 By the time he pushed the final stack of papers into one of the drawers of the now sparkling clean wooden desk, Vergil realized it was getting light outside. After several sleepless nights and the tasks he had just performed, he felt a little worn out, but he decided to stay up and do a few more things; such as putting that poor plant out of its misery.

 Upstairs was a nightmare for another day.

[starkinventor]

a thing for @g0petunias

It’s two A.M. and Tony hasn’t slept. He can’t. He wakes up covered in sweat, the sheets curled too tightly around him and the scent of burning metal and flesh stuck in his nose. Gulmira haunts him, day and night, taking over every aspect of his life in some way.

He can’t take a shower. The water hits his face and runs over his nose and suddenly he’s drowning with water sluicing over his chest. Over the open hole connected to coils and exposed wiring. Over his life support.

He can’t sleep in a bed. It’s too soft - too fake. It’s not real enough. JARVIS wakes him up before Pepper comes to do it so that he can at least crawl in and pretend he spent the night in his bed like a normal person. 

He can’t eat a meal. He eats too fast, afraid it will be taken away from him and he ends up sick. The counselor he’d seen before he left Afghanistan warned him that might happen.

So it’s two A.M. and Tony’s got a soldering iron in hand because circuitry takes just enough concentration that his brain won’t be able to focus on anything else. Dum-E’s standing by with a fire extinguisher, and JARVIS is the silently disapproving voice in the ceiling Tony programmed him to be. 

“Hey J?”

“Yes?”

“You think Jake’s asleep?”

“If I were to hazard a guess, sir, I’d say that yes he is. Considering it is two in the morning and you should also be asleep, it is not far out of the realm of what is possible.”

“... Can you hack his Alexa and check?”

“Given that that is a gross violation of not only Mr. Jensen’s privacy but several laws federally and in the state of New York, I do not advise that course of action.”

Tony puts the iron down. He rubs his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. JARVIS is right - he’s being ridiculous. And a little creepy. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Remind me to text him in the morning. Actually, scratch that. Text him... Text him ‘thanks’ would you? That’s it.”

“Of course, sir. Your text has been delivered. Might I suggest you attempt to get some rest?”

“Probably not a bad idea. Wake me up if anything changes?”

“Sleep well, sir.”

[selfnss]

//hmmmm like this for a lil thing from jing yuan perhaps

[solomolina]

*KICKS DOOR DOWN*

        “ we’re BACK baby. “

[thenextchapterbegins]

@punkdfeathers​

“ah if it isn't my fellow brethren of darkness. I see you too have been forced or convinced to take part in this festival of summer of light.”