#Witch!Peter

[thestarkerisobvious]

Warmth

based on a prompt by @awesomestarker

story by @thestarkerisobvious and @mrstarksbaby

moodboard by @mrstarksbaby

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Best.  Vacation.  Ever.

It was silly, but ever since that one year that the electricity had gone out, Peter insisted.  One entire day without electricity.  Except for the refrigerator, of course.  And the hot water heater.  But that was all.  As little device use as possible.  Even to look up information.  That’s what books were for.  During the day they would read or play chess or play card games with the tarot deck or just sit and talk in the sunlit rooms and enjoy the day.  Then, at night, sleeping, bundled up in the living room by the fireplace.  Just like they had done that first winter.

Peter shouldn’t be happy the electricity went out that one year.  Shouldn’t be thankful.  Should acknowledge, at least, some of the danger they could have been in (if it weren’t for the generator.  And the backup generator, of course…)

But he couldn’t help it.  Right now, he was glowing.  Even in the cold cabin, he was glowing.  He should at least go wrap up in the fuzzy blanket again - and he would soon - but for now he stayed where he was.

Watching the Sexiest Man Alive chop wood.

And he was.  Officially.  Voted Sexiest Man Alive.  More than once.  And Peter, now sitting in the seat closest to the window, almost shivering with the cold, couldn’t have agreed more.

He had sat there with the cup of hot cocoa Tony had made for him at his feet.  He had been sitting at the kitchen table, reading in the sunlit room.  He had found an old Llewellen book (“Charms, Spells and Formulas”) that he had bought ages ago at a used book store but never got around to reading.  He was now pouring over a chapter about “gris-gris bags” and scribbling out lists of herbs to look up.  One list to check against Tony’s fully-stocked spice rack, one to check against his collection at home, and one to check against the internet as soon as they allowed themselves back on line.

Tony had only rolled his eyes and groaned at the idea of ordering MORE spell ingredients, but didn’t interfere with the new project until he noticed Peter was shivering at the table, tucking his hands under his legs when his fingers got too cold to write.  

“Humor me,” Tony countered when Peter insisted “I’m fine!” through chattering teeth.  The next thing he knew he was sitting in the living room in front of the fire, warming his hands on a mug of hot cocoa.  

“Are these cinnamon for my protection?” Peter asked with a grin.  “Maybe,” Tony said with a sideways grin.  “Someone has to protect you from yourself.”   

Peter smiled, silently stirring in the intention.  Then noticed that Tony was rolling up his sleeves.   

“And what are you doing?”

“We need more of this,” Tony replied, kicking a pice of firewood with his boot.  “I’ll be back.”

And now here they were - Tony outside chopping firewood, Peter sitting at the couch closest to the window so he could watch.  Watch and wonder.

What was it about that man, Peter wondered, watching those powerful arms move, the iron muscles flex as Tony raised the ax above his head over and over again.  It wasn’t the muscular build, not that alone.  It couldn’t have been.  Captain America had bigger biceps, and much bigger pectorals.  And Thor, well, Thor was a god.  Who towered above all of them, making even Cap look like a short man.  There were more muscular men in Peter’s life.  And as for strength…

…Peter lay back a little in his seat by the window.  Smiling wistfully.  

The truth was, Peter was stronger than Tony.  Stronger than most of the Avengers, actually.  Possibly as strong as Captain America, although Peter never set out to prove it.  Never needed to.  He knew what he knew.  Besides, it didn’t matter.

Peter never thought much about being so strong.  Never thought about the muscles he had built up just swinging across New York City every day, or lifting vehicles off of each other in pileups.  In fact, whenever he thought about being “strong” the only thought, the only memory, that came to mind was holding a splitting ferry full of people together on his own.  He wasn’t strong, not compared to fracturing ferries, or collapsing concrete buildings, or crashing airplanes.  So he never really thought about how much stronger he was than Tony.

Oh, but in Tony’s arms at night, it felt so good to feel weak…

“Enjoying the view?” Tony asked as he brought in the first load of firewood. 

“Very much so,” Peter acknowledged.   

Tony headed outside again, closing the door firmly behind him to keep in the heat.  Peter shivered a bit, grinning to himself.  Tonight was going to be sweet.  When Tony was done chopping firewood he would probably want a shower - a good place to warm them both up, certainly - and then they would have to figure out another way to keep themselves warm.  Although maybe not.  It was barely afternoon, maybe too early in the day for that.  Peter would get up from his seat and, after finding a warm sweater, find some way of making Tony a meal.  As a reward for all this wood-chopping.  They had a whole list of dishes that could be made with the use of the battery powered hotplate or the fire  - some sandwich melts, probably..  And maybe even some hot coco.  Yes, certainly some hot cocoa.  Definitely.  As a reward for all this wood-chopping.

Peter would do that.  Get up from his chilly seat by the window and do that.  But not just yet.

Because right now, Peter just wanted to watch.

------------------------------------

This has been a

production. Follow the tag #MrStarksBabyIsObvious Series to find out what ELSE we have hidden up our sleeve...

[starker-sorbet]

Witch Peter going to meet his lover the octo mer who lives in the lake by his house

[stillgotscars]

there it goes - maisie peters

[it-meant-nothing]

Wanda Maximoff // Erik Lehnsherr

Your son is right there, please—

[crinbyignby]

When the plot has four dumbass siblings who mess with each other

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

But what was most baffling to all that met the Pevensies after they came back was that they were kind.

Really. Not pretending, not because they were insecure. True, empathic. Far too understanding for children their age. They all have music in them.

Peter’s hands feel too small for him, but he shakes hands all the same. Gentle pressure. There is nobility behind those eyes. Eyes that always border on the supernatural sort of blue, especially in the dark.

He plays the guitar, gently coaxing otherworldly sounds out of an instrument that did not know it could be played like that. He helps his siblings with their homework, is taller much faster than his peers. Seems to take up more space, even though no one understands how a teenage boy manages that.

He doesn’t like doing nothing, ever. He instructs his classmates in grammar, gives away figures he cuts from wood with a knife that seems too sharp for a boy that small. He never hurts himself, though.

As the years pass, Peter grows strong. But he is gentle. He does not seem to be brash, even when many of his friends are. Peter keeps his emotions in check. Noble. Not undangerous, but not belligerent. Peter only ends fights, and only with people that deserve it.

He offers advice, a pat on the back. Teachers wanna dislike him, some do not like the look behind those eyes. Most find they cannot. Peter is popular with both adults and children, speaks sense and laughs often.

Peter is kind. Pious, devout. His faith is unmovable like rock. Did the kids meet God on the estate of their uncle?

Edmund plays the violin. A sad Edmund is a rare sight, but when he plays sad he can keep his whole floor awake. Somehow, Peter always finds h him quickly, effortlessly attuned to his brother’s moods. They play chess, then. Their chess master must have been a champion, Ed beats people with ease. He’s usually not smug about it.

Ed speaks politics and war in earnest, accepts critique graciously, is elegant in a way Peter never manages. Peter speaks frankly, but Edmund can wrap words up real nice. He doesn’t mince words, but his classmates grow into liking the sound of his voice. They appreciate that Edmund does not lie, even when speaking tactfully. Edmund can dial the temperature in a room, change it to suit himself.

He, too, laughs often, but Edmund is known to smirk. He likes being right and he often is. He’ll entertain anyone with a good story, always seems to have the right information to help you out. Remedies to illness, connections, job openings, how to sneak out of PE.

He’s a spider in a web. A bit reserved for a 11 year old, and oddly well-connected. A real ghost when he wants to be, but he never scares people with it.

Aslan would not approve of that. He believes in God as well, but much more intellectually. He’s got the intelligence to back it up and wit to match. A scholarly belief, but not lacking conviction.

Teachers like his enthousiasm, remember a moody nagging child when he left and see a secure young man come back.

Edmund will stand up for what is right. He gets into some trouble like that, but his verbal agility saves him always. Edmund has strong principles and will not bend them for anyone. No matter the trouble he gets in.

The bond with his brother is unbreakable. They even walk the same, chest out, left hand on their belt. They seem most at ease when fencing.

Susan was always warm and tenderhearted, but when she comes back there is a difference.

She seems to have gained authority. It’s real strange watching a 13-year old use her beauty like a grown woman, but Susan has learned to wield it, to stun people so she can creep under their skin. People LISTEN to her now.

Her wit is like a knife, but she avoids cutting deep. Susan is reasonable, and strong, and principled. The little drama others get involved in does not bother her, and she seems immune to petty insults. She has killed before, with her hands.

She will do it with kindness now. She is not very approachable ( that would be Lucy ), but she is kind. She used to mother over her brothers and sisters, but now that they have raised each other in a court full of magic she has gotten more relaxed. They listen to her on important issues, trust in her judgement. Her brothers does not deem himself more important, she is both well-spoken and well-respected by her siblings. Equal. It baffles the old men that teach her. Irritates them, too.

There is an air of mystery around her. Half a look is enough to get what she wants, Susan’s friends laud her security in herself, her Mona Lisa smile. She seems to temper moods easily, makes people feel at ease.

She most of everyone exudes royalty. It’s the grace. Susan plays the harp, her long fingers dancing across the strings like she’s had a lifetime of practice. She’s elegant, never caught off guard. Jamais faux pas.

She does not get angry. She knows who she will be. She is anxious to become an adult, yes, but she only wishes to look how she feels. Not to look differently. Yet the wish to be taken seriously, to have someone see you as an adult, it makes her surprisingly similar to her peers.

Her friends have not been old yet, is all. But Susan is calm and collected. People see her as someone you can tell a secret to. She never hurts someone, is usually a neutral party, speaks sense to adult and kids alike. She is not ignorant, however, will use every trick in the book to keep the peace. She knows when to go nuclear. Vis pacem para bellum.

Lucy is a sun in human form. She has a joie de vivre that is unmatched, is gay and golden-haired and never in a bad mood.

Lucy is kind by default, does not turn it off, does not turn it down. She’s witty and funny and quick on her feet. She has been grown before, yes, but enjoys being young for a few years more. She dances, sings old tunes. Her voice is her favorite instrument, you can usually hear Lucy coming.

Whistling a tune in the halls is known to improve the moods of everyone who hears it immensely. Young girls need to figure out who they are, but Lucy knows, knows what she’ll be and who she likes and what kind of people she wants to be around. She is not pretending, never moody. She can get sad, of course, but her older brothers and sisters are always nearby when that happens.

Lucy is genuine and fierce and convinced, immovable at times. Admired for her drive, but respected for her empathy. She speaks to everyone, often distributes flowers. There’s no naivite in her at all, she simply wishes to be like this so that the world may imitate her. She likes to see people prosper, is the first with praise.

She will go far, is the consensus. There’s steel beneath the soft exterior, Lucy has fire below the flowers. She’s well-liked and well-loved. She has love in spades, it seems, animals and stragglers and misfits and outcasts. She’s popular, her room is a good place to get a cup of tea and someone who will listen to you for some time. After a while she no longer bothers with the door.

That a heart that size fits in a girl that small is a mystery to many. Lucy does not think it is a mystery at all. It is the heart of a lion.

Her faith is as vocal as the rest of her, she sees it confirmed in all that is beautiful, all that is kind. She never tries to convert anyone but there are several people who have told her that version of God is someone they would like to know.

The Pevensies often see each other at parties, where they like to stand together. Edmund knows about everyone, everyone knows Peter, everyone likes Susan, but it is Lucy who knows everyone.

They are kind, but not weak. Peter gets his knuckles bloody sometimes, Edmund does not abide by the rules of unjust teachers. Susan and Lucy solve their problems differently but no less effective. Kindness is their usual way of operating, but they are still kings and queens. They will not allow cruelty, will not let bullies go unpunished.

They are sure of what they are and sure of what comes after death and this makes them kind. Kind , not harmless. Kind, not spineless. Kind, not ignorant. Kind, not naive.

Kind despite. Maybe kind because. The kings and queens of Narnia are proud of what they are, honour the teachings of their lion friend. Kind.

When the crash happens and three siblings die, everyone they know mourns deeply. Without them, the world is less kind.

[breakbleheavens]

MAISIE PETERS performs LOST THE BREAKUP The Eras Tour — London, UK (Night 7) | August 19, 2024

[cascadeoceanwave]

tale as old as honey, a moment everybody knows History of Man (Maisie Peters) x The Prophecy (Taylor Swift)

[moonyswarmsweaters]

[thirstywaffles]

Got bored and doodled older Pevensies

[thestarkerisobvious]

Winter Comes

“Should we be waiting for Barncat?  I know you enjoy it when…”  but Peter didn’t let Tony finish the sentence.  He turned around quickly and stole a kiss, even before Tony had gotten off the ladder.

“Maybe I just want Mr. Stark all to myself,” he whispered.

The bed loft was quaint.  Picturesque.  It looked cozy and romantic to the couple the first time they had seen it.  They had both commented on it on their first tour of the house.  Commented on sleeping there together.  If it would be cozy, or cramped.  If it would be conducive to making love, or not.  It was, in Peter's words, "Adorable."

It had also been designed with shorter people in mind. Peter immediately knocked his head on the ceiling as he crawled into it and tried to undress.

[thestarkerisobvious]

I LIVE for Witch!Peter

Immortal witches Tony and peter returning to the ruins of their first home together that they had to abandon centuries ago to avoid persecution from the neighbouring village.

[stillgotscars]

there it goes - maisie peters

[lonelyzarquon]

DOCTOR WHO | The Witch's Familiar

[tenaciousgeckos]

Shakespeare: So, in Macbeth, the forest doesn't actually move, it's just an army holding branches

C.S. Lewis & J.R.R. Tolkien: And we took that personally

[goldenvulpine]

Yearly Reminder that C.S Lewis encouraged his fans to write fanfiction about Susan Pevensie becoming a friend to Narnia and reuniting with her family once again.

Literally inviting his fans to write Susan’s adult, angsty character development with a happy ending.

Do your duty fans. Write that fanfiction.