Nancy Drew Mania

My Fan Fiction

Master Post of Tags

i-think-i-m-adorable:

What do you think

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angels do in their free time?

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deathpoolquinn:

madhatterin221b:

'girls don't have to clear their internet history'

let me explain you a thing

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klecktacular:

I’m an adult

klecktacular:

I’m an adult

adamantsteve:

infiniteeight8:

rocketwalker:

bonitabreezy:

#omg i think i hate myself#this s clint in phils office after the battle#it’s been emptied out#but the pencil holes from to many long nights#and clint keeping him company#getting bored and that’s what he’s intently staring at#all the times he could’ve said something#and now he cantIt’s too empty, and it’s too quiet. He should be kicked back on the soft leather couch instead of this crappy desk chair that most certainly was not the one that Phil had used. He should be listening to the scoffs and small noises of frustration that Phil made when he was reviewing mission reports and the quick clack of keys from his keyboard. It’s just about one o’ clock in the afternoon, and Phil should be sitting there with his tie tossed over his shoulder while he eats the lunch Clint brought him with one hand and flips through a file with the other. But now it’s all gone. Phil’s gone, and everything he ever worked for is gone too, because SHIELD has been eradicated. The only thing left of Phil Coulson is the broken man that loved him staring at holes in the ceiling of his office.

*sobbing*

Someone fix it? *hopeful*

Clint sits there for far too long, til his ass is half numb, going over memories of this room and then over them again, trying to absorb every detail he can before someone else moves in. What tie Phil was wearing the time Clint surprised him with a year’s worth of finished paperwork wrapped up in an actual bow; what kind of sandwich it was the first time he came by with a spare; what day it was when he stopped bothering to knock before barging in. There are sounds outside - one of the admins come to ask if he’s alright, probably, ask if he needs anything. They always do that and Clint always bites back something mean, just pulls himself together and gets out. Tells himself it’s the last time. But then the door opens and it’s caught before it hits the wall, a practiced movement that’s indelibly burned into Clint’s consciousness. He doesn’t turn around, cause if this is a fantasy - and it has to be - Clint doesn’t mind dragging it out.A throat clears, and then a voice, bland as bored as anything says, “Barton, get your feet off my desk.”

adamantsteve:

infiniteeight8:

rocketwalker:

bonitabreezy:

#omg i think i hate myself#this s clint in phils office after the battle#it’s been emptied out#but the pencil holes from to many long nights#and clint keeping him company#getting bored and that’s what he’s intently staring at#all the times he could’ve said something#and now he cant

It’s too empty, and it’s too quiet. He should be kicked back on the soft leather couch instead of this crappy desk chair that most certainly was not the one that Phil had used. He should be listening to the scoffs and small noises of frustration that Phil made when he was reviewing mission reports and the quick clack of keys from his keyboard. It’s just about one o’ clock in the afternoon, and Phil should be sitting there with his tie tossed over his shoulder while he eats the lunch Clint brought him with one hand and flips through a file with the other. But now it’s all gone. Phil’s gone, and everything he ever worked for is gone too, because SHIELD has been eradicated. The only thing left of Phil Coulson is the broken man that loved him staring at holes in the ceiling of his office.

*sobbing*

Someone fix it? *hopeful*

Clint sits there for far too long, til his ass is half numb, going over memories of this room and then over them again, trying to absorb every detail he can before someone else moves in. What tie Phil was wearing the time Clint surprised him with a year’s worth of finished paperwork wrapped up in an actual bow; what kind of sandwich it was the first time he came by with a spare; what day it was when he stopped bothering to knock before barging in.

There are sounds outside - one of the admins come to ask if he’s alright, probably, ask if he needs anything. They always do that and Clint always bites back something mean, just pulls himself together and gets out. Tells himself it’s the last time.

But then the door opens and it’s caught before it hits the wall, a practiced movement that’s indelibly burned into Clint’s consciousness. He doesn’t turn around, cause if this is a fantasy - and it has to be - Clint doesn’t mind dragging it out.

A throat clears, and then a voice, bland as bored as anything says, “Barton, get your feet off my desk.”

I FIGURED OUT THE ONE THING THE SUPERNATURAL FANDOM DOESN’T HAVE A GIF FOR

deanisanactualprincess:

luciferissatan:

obsessedwith-castiel-dean-sam:

iniquitysoneoftheperks:

cardiffwaless:

THEIR OTP KISSING

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Excuse me.

oh wait aren’t these two married

then there are these two dorks

oh and lets not forget the sex scene

or the fact that they are married

I FIGURED OUT THE ONE THING THE SUPERNATURAL FANDOM DOESN’T HAVE A GIF FOR

maichan808:

iniquitysoneoftheperks:

cardiffwaless:

THEIR OTP KISSING

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bowlegsintheimpala:

2.07

Let’s make Dean in gym shorts the most reblogged picture on Tumblr.

thewinchesterswagger:

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electricmonk333:

I love Sam.

I love Dean.

But mostly, I really love Sam&Dean.