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@ethvn-torchio on Tumblr
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lorelei (semi hiatus)

@ethvn-torchio / ethvn-torchio.tumblr.com

she/they. pan. 22 • AO3: adoredamianos • #userlorelei • damiano david held my hand TWICE • lover of all things peggy carter + steggy
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if I show you my boobs and you don’t act like it was one of the top ten best experiences of your life then you don’t get to see them again

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save me from the nothing i've become

rated M | read it on ao3 | 3k words | next chapter

John’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. He had no idea that Abigail had settled down. “I– I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a feller,”

She tilted her head, appearing confused. Then, understanding washed over her. “Oh, John, I’m not…” She shook her head. “I’m not married.”

She could tell he was still (justifiably) confused, so she continued. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. John, this is my son, Jack… Jack Marston.”

//

1899. Three months after the dissolution of the Van Der Linde gang, John reunites with Abigail, whom he hasn't seen in 5 years. Unbeknownst to him, she's kept a part of him with her the whole time.

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heartp0p

Vic De Angelis via Instagram.

Choose your fighterrRRrr ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊💋 Istanbul + Sofia were sooo much fun <33 see u next in Lituania, Latvia & Estonia 🍬⭐️💘 LY!!
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The worst decision anyone ever made in Bones (2005) was when Hodgins found the thumb drive with all the NSA info on it and instead of leaking it, he gAVE IT TO BOOTH... WHO WORKS FOR THE FBI?! 10 seasons of Hodgins radiating ACAB energy, down the toilet. I am FURIOUS.

And you KNOW that him and Angela could have leaked that in a way that would never trace back to them.

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mollyhats

Something I do really love about The Tumblr Experience™️ is that you get everything. The whole blog, in order, not by popularity or (usually) tailored to fit an audience.

I followed this person for one thing, but this is a really gorgeous picture of a bird. A gifset of a movie I never would have seen. A poem about brothers or frogs or ribbon or love.

It's odd but it's meditative, almost. I think it's part of why mutuals, especially ones we don't really talk to, are such a specific phenomenon. I've never spoken to you, you stopped talking about the thing I followed you for forever ago, I don't even remember what it was, but I like seeing you there, still reblogging gifsets of 1990s cult classics and parasocially blogging about Bob Dylan.

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