Reblogged from onequartercanadian


ART for sevensneakyfoxes's fic "sushi pajamas (and other weapons of mass destruction)"

She lifts the hammer (which weighs as much as a feather and is so shiny - she loves Mew-Mew) and slides out the stack of magazines underneath it.

Darcy gently places Mew-Mew back on the table. “Gracias, hammertime.”

Everyone goes dead silent, the only sound in the room the ecstatic voice of the housewife in the Tide commercial who just cleaned her entire load of laundry with cold water.

Tony’s mouth is GAPING. Clint and Natasha are staring at one another and Steve just kind of looks confused.

Tony is the first person to speak; Darcy can hear him as she yanks a bowl out of the dishwasher (because no one in their apartment can be bothered to empty it until the sink becomes critically full). “What the fuck was that?”

Follows this image.  Thanks for letting me play with your fic!!

Reblogged from rolodexthoughts