#tetigitpermortem

[witchoflegends]

@tetigitpermortem​ sent: “It’s hard for me to believe anything you say.” (Moth to Stephen, post Endgame)

“Timothy...” He sighed as his son, but understood his hesitance. To him, there was no excuse for what Stephen had done. “I didn’t do it to hurt you. If I knew of any other way to come out on top, I would have taken it. I knew you, your sisters, and mother would be okay, but not being there during those five years does haunt me. There wasn’t any other way...”

[drkroots-a]

@tetigitpermortem​ said: [ shudder ] (Miles and Deacon)

          the intimacy of hands

[ shudder ]  –  for the sender to shudder a little at some gentle touch from the receiver.

               He only intended to guide Miles slightly out of the way to get to the fridge, but that kind of shudder couldn’t be ignored. He wasn’t sure if it were out of reflex due to his generally cold touch or if he’d accidentally overstepped some sort of boundary that Miles had set up to protect himself. Arms were slowly risen and smile was deeply sympathetic. “I’m sorry. You okay?”

[ninetyscnds]

❝ you’re my favorite person in the world. ❞ (from Nellie, of course!)

things that you want to hear .// (meme)

A bruised hand clenches hard around the phone, fingers threatening clicking unconsciously and hanging up on the sweetest sister in the entire world. It’s Christmas morning, the rehab center somewhat full of family members coming to visit their struggling brothers, sisters, children, fathers, mothers, friends… 

Luke, though, sits alone, head pressing against a cold wall and tears in his eyes. The years where he had been on the streets during the holidays hadn’t hurt this much, time a weird concept out there and seasons just seemed to pass without him noticing. In here, it was pushed in his face constantly how little he had left, how many bridges he had burned, how alone he was. Nellie had promised she would call him at least Christmas morning. And now, here he sat, on the brink of collapsing against the floor because she was so loving and caring to him, even when he proved time and time again why he deserved to be alone, abandoned in a place with no friends and no love.

“…y-you’re… mine,” he says after a long while of silence, voice broken and quiet, a couple of heaving breaths following straight after. Both his legs are jittering and jumpy, making his large frame shake in its seat. “I’m s-s-sorry, uhmm-,” tears get swiped away by blunt fingers, throat cleared with no luck. “M-miss you N-n—-Nellie. I’m t-trying, I really am I– I don’t w-wanna be here another fucking Christmas.. please-uh, uhm, can you m-maybe tell me about– a-about what you’re doing this year for uh, for n-n-new years? Sorry I’m such a fucking sobbing mess–” 

[moved-fromgallowsandgraves]

✂ (for Oliver; 6'4)

[blessedxsilence]

@tetigitpermortem

Starling didn’t normally take time off of work. In fact, she’d never once been on vacation. But, she had so many days banked that she was in a use or lose situation. She would have just cashed them out for a paycheck bonus, but Crawford insisted she take some time off.

“You need some R&R, Starling”

She didn’t really feel like going somewhere and relaxing, so she chose New York, one of the most stressful cities in America. Mostly she had gotten tickets for a few shows and planned to visit some museums and take a few historical tours. She had a month’s worth of vacation time, that seemed like enough time to get bored of the place. 

She had a few people she could visit, too. She wouldn’t call them friends, as Starling did not make friends easily, but people she knew that she wouldn’t mind seeing. One of those was Bright, but all she had was his last known home address before joining the FBI, his mother’s house. Starling guessed that he was probably somewhere else by now, but figured his family could tell her where he was. 

Clarice knew better than to show up empty handed to a place like this, bringing a small cake from a nice bakery and a bottle of mid-range wine. She may not be rich, but she sure as hell wasn’t rude. She pressed the doorbell, expecting that at a house this large and fancy it’d likely be answered by one of the staff and she wouldn’t have to bother anyone at all.

[disgracedsurgeon-a]

@tetigitpermortem​

[from here] 

He didn't mean to scare her. And, surely, wasn't going to hurt her. Just wanted to attract her attention, since Ellie clearly got distracted by the books on his shelves, judging by the way her gaze wandered over to them and the fact that she didn't hear him even as Martin called her name. 

Besides, he just couldn't resist touching her, now that she - unintentionally, of course - crossed the line and got within his reach. 

She was his daughter, after all. And that was the strangest thing, because he remembered every moment he spent with his children, every their step that he witnessed, every achievement and every mistake. Those memories were storaged carefully in the special part of his memory and were revisited by Dr Whitly quite often during the time of his impresonment. 

And, of course, he remembered the first times he touched them, the first times he's held them, those small bundles of joy and bright future, wrapped in soft pink flesh. Remembered the happiness and pride and tenderness that blossomed in his chest at the thought of holding that new, only just welcomed in this world, life. New person. A person he's now responsible for and whose life and soul were now intertwinted with his own in the most close and intimate way possible. 

Yet, with Eloise, he had no such memory. Nothing to hold onto on particularly nasty days and nothing to relive and cherish during the good ones. 

So, naturally, Martin wanted to absorb as much information as he could from this visit, feed up his senses and storage enough memories to last until her next visit.

But the contact - or, rather, Ellie’s reaction to it - brought not the desired satisfaction, but pain.

No child should be afraid of their father. No father should see the fear in his child’s eyes, directed at him.

But there his newly found daughter was, staring up at him with wide eyes, her stutter so violent that she couldn’t even get the words out - in a detached manner Dr Whitly wondered how and when she developed it, as it clearly wasn’t just a one-off - and her body all but scared stiff from his one, simple touch...

“Oh, I’m sorry,“ he let go immediately, taking a step back to give her space - a sense of safety he couldn’t provide (yet) - looking as apologetic as hurt by her reaction, but hastened to ask - plead - his gaze darting between Ellie’s face and the door behind her back almost panickingly, “But, please, don’t go! I... I didn’t mean to scare you.“

[witchoflegends]

@tetigitpermortem​ sent: “ why can’t i come with you? ”  (DJ @ Stephen)

‘It’s dangerous.’ His signing still isn’t the best after all these years, and his hands still shake with some of the more complex signs, but he tries none the less. After all, Christine and him had promised to give their children the best chances possible, and that included signing with DJ even when it was difficult. ‘You’re no Master. You’re still learning, and I’m not risking anything happening to you. Your mother would kill me.’

[drkroots-a]

          @tetigitpermortem​

               “You ready for today?” Question was asked as backpack was looked through to make sure he had everything ready for the day of horseback family adventure, something he’d planned for weeks that was meant to be both a relaxed form of fun and also something therapeutic for Miles and Flora. “You also wanna check to see if Flora’s ready too, please?”