[[Mun and Muse are both over 18 years of age. This blog may contain NSFW and intense gore or depictions of violence. - All will be appropriately tagged]]
Hey all! Just a reminder that Project Happy Stark pieces are to be posted tomorrow (1st of October) - It doesn’t matter what time zone, feel free to post your work as soon as you want as long as it’s the 1st where you are!
Got a question? Feel free to shoot me or sirdef an ask - remember there is no limit on how long or short your ficlet is, there are no specific guidelines as long as Tony is happy in whatever you’re posting up! The only thing we ask is that you make sure you tag everything as #projecthappystark
Feeling a little left out and want to get involved last minute? You’re more than welcome to! You can still participate even if you weren’t registered and want to surprise us by posting any photoset / graphic/ comic liveblogging/ drawing or ficlet with Tony being happy by tagging it as #projecthappystark
Stuck for ideas? Check out our google doc with plenty of empty categories!
Can’t wait to see what you all come up with!
"I got here as soon as I could- what’s occurring?"
"Needed to ask you something, considering you
and Captain Britain are close friends…”
"Reed had assured me there was nothing
worth worrying about, but that is as far as
our conversations would get. Tony is rarely
"Of course he’d tell you there was nothing to
worry about. He sure didn’t particularly mind
destroying another Earth in order to save ours.
That’s a shock though, those two stick together
more than I thought.”
IF YOU’RE EMOTIONALLY ATTACHED TO YOUR MUSE AND PHYSICALLY HURT WHEN THEY HURT CLAP YOUR HANDS
“Unbelievable, isn’t it? I never had that
much trouble cuffing someone to a post.”
"…The fact that you’ve managed to chain
up the Juggernaut in two seconds flat —
well, that’s pretty much a feat as it stands.”
❝ Criminals beware! And mothers, lock up your daughters!
‘Cause Hawkeye’s back in town! ❞
➽ independent roleplay blog for Clint Barton / Hawkeye
➽ earth-616 but familiar with all universes
➽ script || prose || novella
➽ writer began reading Hawkeye at Tales of Suspense #57
"Jesus…" Greer rubbed a paw against her forehead,
trying to take all of it in. No doubt Tony was at the helm
of this; it would take the worlds’ smartest men to stop
the Earth from being destroyed. She wondered if Hank
had anything to do with this… “Do I wanna know who they
"Yeah, you ever heard of a couple of mooks
that go by the name ‘the Illuminati’? All that
propaganda and whanot, I thought it was all
hysteria created by the public until I met the
guys behind the wheel. Findin’ out they were
amongst your own…”
“Dr. Hansen,” he corrected. “You would do best to learn the name of the woman who can and will talk circles around you without a second thought.” Tony pushed a hand through his damp hair, straightening up and donning a neutral look that made it seem as thought the pleading man from had been nothing more than a fantasy.
"You are under the knowledge that the Extremis virus, in the wrong hands, can turn men into monsters." It’s not a question; not when Tony had given the detective the amount of information he had about a virus that wasn’t supposed to exist for another year. "I would have thought that an …" Again Tony trailed off, making a face at the fan that looked as though it hadn’t been dusted in ages as it circled above. "Agency,” he muttered. “Like yourselves, would have been more eager to break a few laws to get it back. I suppose I was wrong putting my faith into a man who has an ink stain on his shirt.”
Eyes zeroing in on said stain, he met Rogers’s a moment later as he took a seat, a dare hidden the dark blue. “My board members are angry with me for the amount of money I’ve put into your men,” he stated, leaning back in his seat with a tiny smirk. “So, why don’t I make you deal? Just … to get them off my back.”
Opening his coat he pulled out a file, really just a bit of a background check he had done on the Detective to make sure he wasn’t getting robbed, and placed it on the taller man’s desk. “You let me onto your team and I make sure your dirty past doesn’t come back to bite you. I understand that you have a girl waiting for you at home? I’m willing to bet she would hate knowing that her boy used to roll around with other men.”
Settling back, his eyes were hard as he stared the blond man down, all business and calculated judgment. “As I said before, Detective, I am not an angry man, nor am I an evil one, but I’m not above blackmailing. Not when this many people are at risk.”
Taking out a rolled cigarette, he placed it between his teeth and lit it, letting the tendrils float towards Rogers. “Truthfully, I don’t care what you do in your free time— everyone knows who I let share a night with me, but the difference between you and I? I’m an untouchable. I could announce I had relations with Elliot Roosevelt, and as long as I was still shelling out ideas for our military men, Franklin would send me an award. You, on the other hand?” Here, he frowned, taking a drag from the roll and letting the smoke rest in the back of his throat. Blowing it out, he snorted. “You, unfortunately, are not. The press gets wind of you sharing a night with another man and you’ll be convicted faster than you can curse my name. No business, no home, and stripped of the military title you retired with, Captain.”
Taking another pull of the cigarette, he rose a questioning brow at the other man. “So? Do we have a deal? My secrecy for your allowance of my help in the investigation? Or do I have to be the one to break your girl’s heart?”
The detective quite visibly rolled his eyes at being corrected. He was so used to the respect his title earned him being given to him on a silver platter. Steve Rogers was one of the best detectives in the squad, top ranking police official back when he first started out, medals of valour handed to him by the mayor of the city for his work taking down simple street rats to king-pins of the city with just a handful of assistance when needed. He was reputable to say the least, and ever since had very few clients bursting into his office to rant at him and tell him what to do – needless to say with his recklessness on record, Steve didn’t take orders very well. Of course he would fulfil them but not in the way that everyone had expected – he certainly hadn’t taken orders being barked at him like that since he’d come back from serving.
When the stain just by his shirt pocket was noticed, Steve grabbed his dark blue blazer that was draped over the coat rack by the corner and slipped it on, purposely tugging at the lapel to hide said stain. “A clean man is one that hasn’t done the hard work. To do my job you need to get your hands dirty and that results in scuffs here and there, pal.” Though he was sure Tony wouldn’t know about that, not a man that wore a shirt that probably cost more than his entire wardrobe.
After moments of staring the debonair lounge lizard down, spark between both of their glares, keen to assert his own authority in the manner he knew well his gaze was caught by the file that was in front of him. He glared at it with intense scrutiny and when the dark haired man spoke with an air of arrogance that was enough to make Steve want to kick the legs of his chair from under him (though refraining from it) he heard him out.
“You ought to do your research better, I don’t have a girl.” Not anymore. It’d just been last night when he and her had an argument about him spending too much time at work. Although she appreciated his job was his life, it was starting to obscure their relationship. She understood though – it was a civil break up, but it stung like a wasp jabbing his heart, still fresh and raw. “Leave the background checks to me.” His tone was bitter, taking a dark turn to it. If there was one thing he hated it was people trying to pry into his personal life. This guy was more than trouble – he was a hurricane of havoc storming in on the peaceful plains of Steve’s day to day goings. If Sharon did find out though, even though they weren’t together he would indeed be in trouble – as well as what Tony said; his title would be taken away from him. Years of hard work in the military would be stripped away with a snap of Tony’s fingers. He couldn’t give him leeway to how much that meant to him.
He internally cursed himself for letting the information leak on him. That was his life, his romances. Steve was a believer in no labels and freedom of expression, so much so that his personal life (be it with men) was something he kept to himself as he saw nothing of it, nor did he ever think anyone would ever catch wind of it.
The smoke danced along the already musky air that filled the room, patterns forming their way toward Steve. He’d just recently tried to quit the stick, but that bittersweet scent that he could almost taste made him want to pick up the pipe that he had in his drawer and light it up straight away. His eyes shut in a moment of anguish, reminding himself that he stopped for a reason, before allowing his long framed blue orbs to flutter open once again. “What I do in my spare time is none of your beeswax, Mr Stark. Trying to blackmail an official is a federal offence; you know I could have you locked away for that?” He stepped to the desk to place both hands on the mahogany paper littered surface, leaning forward through the spirals of smoke to stare directly at Tony, eye to eye. “You think you can pull out a few favours from thin air while I’m on the case? No no no, Anthony.” He waved his index finger inches from Tony’s face, just avoiding the tip of the lit stick. “I’m a dog with a bone fella, I will bring you down if you try and tread on my grass, no doubt in my mind you’ll try and act the puppeteer, but the thing is with me? I got a blade to your strings pal. You want to join the case? You ain’t got the guts to get your hands dirty, you’re a hindrance to your own investigation, and besides, who’s gonna keep that uh…” He snapped his fingers in recollection, “Dr Hansen company while you’re out ridin’ along in stakeouts with little ol’ me? I’m sure that big bed of yours gets mighty cold solo. So no, no dice.”