potts™

pepper potts, personal assistant to tony stark. heavily comic-based. private blog.

[brideoffire]

happy birthday wadewinstonwilsons!

[bridgetreganing]

[pottstm-moved-blog]

stark.

        and suddenly the man who can’t be moved is upright once more in a flash, seemingly a hundred times more alert than he’d been the moment before. he whips to face her, staring as though she’d just slammed a pie in his face. “i’m sorry— WHAT?” there’s absolutely NO WAY he’d scheduled a press conference this early in the morning. no way in hell he’d do that to himself. “run that by me again, i have a what?” his expression pinches further in exasperation the longer he’s awake. he becomes the epitome of a disgruntled teenaged boy as he shoots up from the bed and stomps across the room to his dresser in search of fresh clothes to change into. can’t very well appear in front of god and everybody with last night’s sweat dampened, crumpled clothes clinging to his frame, can he?         begrudgingly, stark rifles through his collection of suit pants, settling for a subtle pin-striped pair. “this was NOT my idea.” he grumbles, huffing and puffing as he makes his way to the walk-in closet. thousands of priviledged thoughts pass his lips quietly about the cruelty involved in this entire endeavor. how he can’t BELIEVE he’s being forced to partake in something so miniscule at such a ridiculously early hour of the morning. when he makes his way out of the closet, tony lingers in the doorway, hair all wild, arms crossed over his chest. he’s legitimately pouting. like a toddler. “whomever’s idea this is needs to be sent away to federal prison. expecting me to function at this hour is CRIMINAL. fourty five minutes? seriously? i specifically stated: nothing before twelve. EVER. why is that so hard for people to understand? is it too much t'ask for a little sleep? a little compassion?” distaste mars his features as he offers a scoff and a haughty eyeroll. the inevitable explosion, however, is quelled for another time. the playboy’s dark eyes scan the room with a few glances before they fall on pepper once more, thoroughly unimpressed with the situation as a whole. “—where’s th'coffee? i need it.”

                bowing her head expectantly, as though waiting for him to finally stroke out once and for all, she repeats futilely, slowly, with a complacent smile, ❛ press conference-- . . . ❜ 

                like a bat out of hell, he's up, up, up and away, creating havoc in his path. pepper retracts herself from his direct line of mass destruction with a start, blinking profusely after him as she watches his rampage from start to finish curiously, incredulously. the all inclusive grumbling, mumbling, bitching, moaning and groaning is not exactly uncharacteristic, but it does set her on edge. and she must hold her tongue in the interest of maintaining employment here at STARK INDUSTRIES   ( for reasons unbeknownst to even her ), though lips do purse as though the words left unsaid were building up just behind her teeth.

                and to think, much ado for a non-existent press conference.

                it's suddenly starting to seem like a very cruel joke. but she soldiers on, her dirty little secret sealed against her lips as she takes to arbitrarily marking up her agenda. regardless of how true or how false her claim proves, she needs him conscious and alert today. ❛ right . . . then i will be sure to have my orange jumpsuit pressed before my departure. ❜  she retorts with audible snark, pointedly canting her head before leaning into the slope of her body, orbiting on a grounded heel toward the door. perhaps not the best time to take accountability, but truly, someone around here had to pick up the slack. ❛ a cup . . . of coffee, ❜ she repeats his order with an optimistic lilt in her voice, remaining surprisingly even-keel despite her looming impatience. ❛ --------will that be all, mr. stark? ❜

[pottstm-moved-blog]

starkenstein.

        for the very few precious moments of silence she allows him, tony is almost one hundred percent certain he’s won this round of their ongoing war on behaving like an adult. —— that is until the opening bars of shoot to thrill begin to rattle his cozy malibu dream house. his nose wrinkles when the drums join in, and stark’s brows bend against the noise. is she serious? is this actually happening?         ‘I’M GONNA PULL IT, PULL IT, PULL THE TRIGGER— !’ finally the genius’ head lifts as though he’s been possesed by the chorus’ arrival. he’s pushing himself upright when the impending hangover he’d been avoiding through slumber crashes over him like a dead weight. suddenly everything is too loud, too close, too MUCH. eyes shut against the throbbing in his head as he visibly cringes away from— from what? existence?? “—goooodddddd, jarvis. mute.” he says, voice groggy and dry. the ai obliges, cutting the music short and, as if it’s his cue, tony hits the mattress once more. “y'er…… ffffired.” he murmurms, dragging a plush comforter over his head.

            it’s alive! watching the mummified spook rise from his grave, eyes widen, as though not expecting a result so very soon despite the circumstances. perhaps she has pushed too far---- always so pushy, virginia. she pushed, pushed, pushed some more until she pushed herself right off the verge. was destiny fulfilling itself? unlikely. seven plus years of employment makes a person very hard to denounce . . . especially considering how close she and tony had become; a story of what was once an assistant and her boss turned a mother and her teenage son   ( at least, it did very much seem like it ). but assumptions often made an ass out of you and me in the case of TONY STARK. the man is the epitome of unpredictable. he has exiled insignificant people for far less, after all.

                relief is quick to rush in when he falls limp among the dead air. shoulders square as she watches him momentarily, expression riddled with disillusionment. from close call to anticlimactic. and still sleeping. classic. ❛ i wish. ❜ she deadpans, hovering over his flaccid frame as she considers her next move. ❛ tony, please---- work with me. i am up to my eyeballs in excuses, i can’t even remember what i’ve told who. i am being pulled in seven different directions. throw me a raft, for the love of god, i am drowning. ❜ she pleads, extending an arm forward to clutch a handful of the plush comforter. bracing herself in the event that he’s indecent   ( albeit it wouldn’t be the worst she’s seen of him ), she pulls the comforter from his frame, relieved to find he has at least clothed himself. last night. ❛ coffee has been made, it is a beautiful day, and i need you to get up and get ready. you have a press conference in forty five minutes. ❜

[pottstm-moved-blog]

stark.

        what a joke, honestly. the blinds pulling back, filling the room with daylight. tony stark has never been the man to get up with the sun. he’s more the man who sleeps through earthquakes. perhaps it’s the booze and the late nights that keep him incapacitated until around 12:30— maybe it’s his caffeine intake during the day. whatever it is, he’s sprawled out in the king bed, lids shut like storm-doors against the intrusion ms. potts presents. his only answer is a slightly deeper breath. he’s treading the edge of asleep and awake, unwilling to commit to one side or the other but ready to fall prey to the former despite recognizing her voice. he’ll be damned if he makes anything easy.

                tapping her foot to an inaudible tempo, arms folded over a supple chest, pepper waits. patient is pepper potts---- PATIENCE, a virtue one must exercise, and exercise wisely in the face   ( or the back of the head, in this case )   of a boss as irrefutably recalcitrant as tony stark. exercise she does, for a time . . . and when said time has passed without result, she glances at her watch before dropping her arms to an unnaturally defeated position at her side.

                 ❛ a little help here, jarvis? how ‘bout a little music? ❜ she suggests patiently, brows ascending complacently, head crooking attitudinally as jarvis verbalizes his compliance in a lilting ‘yes, miss potts’. ACDC suddenly ricochets off every imaginable surface, its reverberations sending vibrations through furniture in the near vicinity. and to add insult to injury, pepper kicks into high gear, marching over to the side of his bed and hollering, ❛ GET. up! ❜

[pottstm-moved-blog]

                ❛ jarviiiis? blinds, please? ❜

                and GOD said let there be light! sunlight cascades into his bedroom as gracelessly as a giraffe in heels. pepper is typically not so invasive---- there is, of course, a line to be drawn. but there is much to do, much to be said, and pepper be damned if she wait forever and a day for him to drag his feet and roll his sleeves. ❛  rise and shine, mister! big day today. ❜ // @starkbro