Why do you say Rhaegar and Lyanna's relationship is abusive? We know next to nothing about them.
With what we do know, there’s no way their relationship could be anything but abusive. Rhaegar was a 24 year old married man with two children and a crown prince of the kingdoms, and Lyanna was 15 year old girl who just wanted to escape her impending marriage. That’s one hell of a power imbalance. Rhaegar may not have hurt her physically (that we know of), but that doesn’t mean he was good to her or for her. Lyanna may have very well gone with Rhaegar willingly, but that does not mean she agreed to be hidden away in a tower and impregnated at 15 to fulfill Rhaegar’s ridiculous prophecy. In all likelihood, Rhaegar didn’t love Lyanna, he was using her as a human incubator for his third head of the dragon.
Going after Lyanna was the worst mistake Rhaegar ever made, and yet D&D are twisting it into some kind of tragic love story to make Jon Snow’s real daddy more likable. Any way you slice it, Lyanna’s death is on Rhaegar. And not just Lyanna’s: Elia’s, Rhaenys and Aegon’s, Arthur Dayne’s - Rhaegar’s own best friend - and thousands more in a completely pointless war that Rhaegar began. He was the heir to the Iron Throne, and Lyanna was just a girl; he was the adult, and she was the child. What happened to Lyanna was Rhaegar’s fault. And that’s not romantic, it’s not tragic - it’s inexcusable.
You say we know next to nothing about Rhaegar and Lyanna, but what we do know works directly against them having a healthy relationship. Lyanna is described by more than one person as being “willful” and having “the wolf’s blood.” She wanted to be free; to live as she choosed; to explore, to fight, to be outside. She was impulsive, headstrong, and independent. Lyanna didn’t want to marry Robert Baratheon because she didn’t want to be trapped with a man she knew would be unfaithful to her. So by what logic would she consent to being confined to a tower under guard for over a year by a man who was unfaithfulto his own wife? Isn’t that exactly what Lyanna was trying to avoid by escaping her marriage to Robert?
And then there is Elia Martell, a woman that should not and cannot be ignored just so the R+L ship can sail. Abandoning your sick wife and young children for a teenage girl is not romantic, and yet here everyone is, romanticizing it. Did Robert’s Rebellion not teach us anything? That actions have consequences? That when you act selfishly and impulsively at the expense of others, retribution will come? If Rhaegar and Lyanna’s “love” was so pure and beautiful and true, why did Westeros break out into a civil war for her honor? Why did both of them die as a result? What was the point?
Book!Rhaegar believed in something, at least. Even though he was wrong, he still truly believed that what he was doing was for the good of the realm - to save the world - which still doesn’t excuse his behavior. But show!Rhaegar? Prophecy who? He had no reason to steal Lyanna except the fact that he wanted her, fuck everyone else who got in the way, right? But it’s okay, because together they made Jon, right? Wrong. Jon Snow is a very important man, but his existence doesn’t somehow validate Rhaegar’s actions. “Who cares what Rhaegar did! Without him, we wouldn’t have Jon!” But what about Lyanna? What about Elia and her children? What about the realm? Is your favorite broody boy really so important to you that you’re willing to overlook every horrible thing that happened to give him to you?
I don’t hate Jon, I love him, just as I love Lyanna. She deserved far better, and so did Elia, Rhaenys, Aegon, Arthur, Rickard, Brandon, and everyone else who died because of what Rhaegar Targaryen did. Why do I think R+L is abusive? Because Rhaegar destroyed Lyanna, and you don’t destroy the person that you love.
A/N: SO I JUST REALLYREALLLY LOVE THE NIGHT SKY AND I ALSO REALLY REALLY LOVE PETER PARKER AND THAT’S WHY THIS IS HAPPENING. ALSO, SHOULD I CONTINUE???
Summary: During a field trip to Nashville, [Y/n] gets trapped in an elevator and things go awry.
The astronomy club had their eyes on this meteor shower for months. The field trip was planned ages in advanced and offered ten spots. Since you are the most enthusiastic star lover in Midtown’s Astronomy Club-which is saying something since it’s comprised of mostly star lovers- you grabbed the first slot with urgent excitement. And with a bit of persuasion, Peter got the second.
‘Persuasion’ sounds better than what actually happened-you putting his name down without even consulting him. Either way, he eventually agreed to keep his name up and you’re glad because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be at your side now.
The late April air is warm and humid in Nashville, but it doesn’t stop any students from exploring.
Your friend’s hand is swinging close by yours, though never touching, while you each breathe in the sights. On every corner is a street preformer of some kind, and Ned insists that you four stop to watch every one. Michelle tries to act unexcited but in reality she is enjoying herself.
You can tell because she doesn’t have a book or her headphones in.
“How much longer do we have?” Ned asks.
Peter looks at his watch. “Fifteen minutes. We are supposed to meet up with the others at the hotel.”
“Maybe we should turn around then,” you suggest. “I don’t want to be late for the slideshow.”
Michelle rolls her eyes. “You know everything in that slideshow. I’m not entirely certain you didn’t put it together.”
You smile at her mysteriously.
“Or we can ditch and go to that yummy looking sushi bar,” Ned points excitedly across the street. Peter pushes his friend’s arm down. “I’m not getting in trouble for ditching a field trip again.”
Michelle snickers at your side.
“Don’t be mean,” you chastise but your smile is contradictory.
“Sorry, I’m just recalling how hilarious Peter’s angry face was during all his detentions,” Michelle smiled, shoving her hands into her jean pockets. “I have the pictures.”
“You mean the creepy drawings,” Peter interjected.
“My drawings are not creepy,” Michelle told him, locking her eyes onto Peter’s. “If they are then it’s because you’re the muse.”
“I’m being serious. You look like you’re 12 and sound like you’re a chipmunk on crack,” Michelle said while you and Ned bit back laughs.
Peter frowned at Michelle with a furious intensity though not enough to be deemed a glare. “What does my voice have to do with it? You can’t hear a voice in a drawing. Hey, Michelle, answer me!”
You and MJ had already begun to walk away, and Ned pulled Peter behind him like a mother and her child.
“I don’t sound like a chipmunk,” Peter mumbles every now and then. “Do I, [Y/n]?”
You side eye him while walking into the foyer of the hotel your classmates are staying at. “No, of course not,” you assure him.
“Thank y-” he began.
“Yeah, you sound more like a pony.”
Peter pouts at you and you laugh, standing on your toes and patting the top of his head. “Whatever, whatever, let’s just go,” he sighed. You laugh and push him towards the elevator.
The gilded doors open up and you begin to walk in after your friends when a lady in a wheel chair wheels behind you.
There isn’t enough space for you and her, so you step aside and let her in.
“I’ll meet you guys up there. Tell them not to start the slideshow without me if I’m late!” you say. Your friends nod in confirmation.
The lady thanked you profusely over and over until the doors close.
You wait a few more minutes for the lift to take you up. When it arrives, you’re in there alone.
The hotel itself has twenty some floors and the meteor presentation is happening at the very top.
You lean against the railing and take a deep breath. The warm glow of the sun filters through the glass wall at your side; it allows you to look out at the bustling city and to the sky.
Ever since you were a small child, you loved the sky. The blueness of the day and especially the darkness of the night. It’s why you’re so excited for this meteor shower.
The stars and the moon felt like your closest companions in some weird way. In a different way than Ned or Michelle. And a different way than Peter.
For a long time now you’ve felt more than just friend feelings for Peter but there was a silent agreement with yourself that you’d never do anything about it. You know that you can’t unless you’re willing to lose someone and you know that you’re definitely not.
But the moon, the sun, the stars; you love them in a way you can’t love family, friends, or Peter. It’s hard to explain so usually you don’t. If you even tried then someone would surely make fun of you for being so ‘weird’ about it.
Weird. Are you weird? You ask yourself that question often. Of everyone you’ve ever known, you haven’t met someone who feels of the sky the way you do. Sure, there are sky enthusiasts but-
The floor beneath you lurches. There’s a sickening thud and then a squeak and then nothing.
The elevator has stopped.
Panic chokes your heart for a second but there is still the sun’s glow on your right cheek. You take a calming, deep breath. Obviously the elevator’s broken down. No reason to be so scared of that, right?
Red lights are flickering now. The power must be out. Twitching numbers on the floor display don’t help you figure which floors you’re trapped between.
You don’t notice that you’re gripping onto the hand railing while peering out the window with hopes of deducing the floor number.
All you know now is that you’re high up and you’re alone.
One step forward and you press the emergency button. There isn’t any sound and the buttons are glowing with little light bulbs. No way to know if it works.
And the red emergency light is getting brighter and brighter.
No. Outside is getting darker and darker.
“…What?” Your voice is the only sound. This shaking realization draws your attention to the city out below. No lights. No cars moving, no lively hum that all busy cities have.
City Wide Outage blares in your thoughts so loudly that you’re not entirely certain you hadn’t said it out loud. You dig into your back pocket for your phone. The screen does not come on despite your charge having been on 80% half an hour ago.
Apocalypse is then entertained by your thoughts. It makes you laugh to yourself because that’s utterly not possible.
And just what time is it? You know certainly it’s not late enough for the sun to have set.
Your fingertips graze over your cheek. You can still feel the leftover heat. The sun hadn’t set.
Your phone has slipped out of your hand now. You are staring out the window, looking for something to ease your mind.
Suns don’t disappear. Thick clouds are glazing over the sky and you cup your hands around the glass to adjust your view.
Rippling clouds part away and a blasting white light shines into the elevator. It’s blinding and the emergency light as burst away. The glass of the lightbulb rains against your skin. You shield your face with your hands, wincing as the small pinpricks sheer the topmost layer of your skin.
This light is not warm at all. It’s almost cold. And shadows dance on the floor, like small crescent moons, covering your arms and legs and the walls. Though as cold as this light is, it’s refreshing.
Being engulfed in it feels like diving into a pool of soothingly cold water on a hot day. Like that first lick of ice cream at the beach. Like swallowing small cubes of ice and feeling them trickle down your body.
Every bit of you wants to breathe the light in, swallow it up, lock it in your heart and never let it go.
You stand there for feels like hours but has to have been seconds, unmoving and dazed. You put your palm against the glass, as if to be as close as possible, when the sunlight began to leak into the elevator.
The glass cracks as though rocks are being thrown at it, lines as intricate as veins creeping all across the window.
Nausea wells up in your belly as the light as pale as the moon itself shrunk away.
No! a part of you cries-no, screams, begs, wishes so loudly that Thor in Asgard might have heard it. You want that light back. That blinding, beautiful light. Being wrapped up in it felt the way you imagined kissing Peter would. Cool and comforting at the same time. Beautiful.
God, is is so beautiful.
And now it is gone.
You saw where the sun had been, mixed up behind a huge orb and pulled away. Rays of light slowly pull themselves from beyond the orb and against the window. Through the window, onto you, like they were taunting your loss.
Each bead of sun made the glass window crack.
You step back, your heel digging into your phone which omits a small but urgent snap noise. The joints of your legs creak as if they hadn’t moved in ages. You stumble back and raise your arms over your face to block out the harsh sunlight which makes the backs of your eyes ache terribly.
And suddenly the glass had blown out towards you. There was a screaming sound.
Maybe you’re the one screaming. Maybe it’s the elevator giving in. Maybe you are falling, down, down, down to the bottom of the hotel.
Maybe you will never feel that pale light again.
The hinting drawls of consciousness feels the way a hangover probably would. Your head hurts bad and your eyes feel sticky. When you finally open them, you see chaos above you.
You’re laying on the ground surrounded by unfamiliar people in paramedic uniforms, lights and sirens ringing in the air along with the loud mix of voices.
“They’re awake!” a paramedic called over to someone.
“Oh, my God! Thank God! [Y/n]!”
You struggled to push yourself up and when you did, blood rushed over your body. You squeezed your eyes shut and shook away the headache.
You immediately remember everything. The elevator. The light. The sun and the moon, the glass-
“[Y/n! [Y/n]!” Suddenly all you can hear was your name, frantically being shouted by different voices, some familiar, others not so much. The person at your side, helping you to your feet, unfortunately isn’t Peter. Your teacher, the astronomy club’s sponsor, looks tired and relieved-
Blood trickled down the side of her face, sticking to her hair. She touched it then shook a hand. “It’s nothing,” she assured. “Sit down, sit down.” You were ushered to an ambulance and crowded by so many faces you just didn’t know. They asked questions that you did your best to answer. No one believed you when you told them the sunlight broke the glass. Why would they?
It had occurred to you only right then just how insane that entire moment had been.
“Mrs. Laurens?” you ask softly.
She has been at your side this whole time, telling you it would be all right, wrapping shock blanket after shock blanket over your shivering shoulders.
“Yes, dear?” she replies in an all too soothing voice.
“What happened, exactly?”
In a shaky voice, she explained that the city experienced a power outage around the same time the moon passed over the sun. A solar eclipse, one that had happened without any explanation. These things are usually charted, tracked, and mapped out on places like NASA’s website.
And yet no one had expected this one.
Perhaps the power outage happened because of panic. Maybe it was a coincidence.
You nod, continuing even after she had stopped talking. Her pursed lips conveyed worry.
She probably thinks you’re crazy. Or at least in some type of shock. The paramedics had given you a watered down version of her expression now, unbelieving and worried.
She excused herself to speak with the other students and assure them that you’re safe.
You rub the inner corners of your eyes, recalling the memory over and over again. It had happened. You know it did. How could it not have?
Everything about that had been so terrifyingly real and vivid. You brush your fingers over your chin. Even now you could feel the cold light on you.
Yearning for the light welled up in your throat, thickening your words when you tried to say hello to Peter, who rushed over the minute he had been allowed to.
He must have mistaken the choke up for fear because he slowly enveloped his arms around you.
“Where is everyone? Is everyone else alright?” you ask after the long embrace ended. “We are waiting around a fire truck over there.” You see it the first time he points it out.
“[Y/n]…I’m so…I’m so happy and relieved that you’re not hurt.” Now Peter is the one choking up with fear. “Someone almost died tonight. Someone in a different elevator but when I heard my first thought was of you. And I just kept on picturing you trapped in this fire, hurt and scared. But when we all heard that you were safe I swear I just…” He trailed off. You could see him focusing his eyes on blinking lights in the distance, attempting to keep his tears at bay.
You fold your hand in his. “I am okay. Are you?”
“We weren’t hurt. Well, aside from Mrs. Laurens. She tripped and hurt the side of her head. She got checked out already.”
So that’s why she had blood on her face.
“What kind of eclipse knocks out the power?” you ask, sharply swerving to a new subject.
Peter looks at you like he’s surprised you even knew about the eclipse. “I don’t know. It came out of nowhere.”
“So much for the meteor shower show,” you sigh, popping your lips.
“[Y/n], are you sure you’re alright?” Peter asks. He looks just as worried as he sounds. “Yes,” you told him firmly. “I have to tell you something. I think something went on up there.”
He asks, “Up where? In the elevator?”
You nod quickly.
“Mrs. Laurens already told us…she says you think the sunlight shattered the window.”
From the look on his face, he doesn’t believe it.
You drew yourself away from Peter and he reached out for you. “It’s not that I don’t believe you. But this is all really, really fresh. Everyone will want to hear your story once you’re feeling better.”
“I feel fine now,” you say urgently.
“That’s the shock talking,” Peter points out.
“I’m not in shock!” you argue. Peter tugs the corners of your blanket. “Yes you are, hence the blanket.”
“But I’m alright!”
You honestly are. Your headache faded away while you sat in the ambulance. Aside from the tiring night of being poked and prodded by paramedics, you feel normal.
Well. Physically normal.
Mentally, emotionally, not so much. You’re confused. And the loss of the light feels like losing a piece of your heart.
The night ended with the conclusion you had fallen against the window, broke it, then passed out. You suppose it makes enough sense.
And you’re phone is majorly broken from when you had stepped on it.
Just your luck.
You were cleared by the paramedics to sleep without any supervision. Michelle is your roommate, thank goodness. She is the only one who believed you when you said you were alright.
Everyone else had to have countless assurances. You made about a dozen phone calls to your family in New York.
Unfortunately, this fiasco meant the field trip would be cut short. Tomorrow you’ll all be driving back home first thing in the morning. The hotel had been cleared and deemed safe to reside in by officials so everyone shuffled in hours later, half asleep.
Ned hugged you before excusing himself to call his mom and calm her down.
Peter just held you for a long time outside your door, whispering good night in your ear, then walking back to his room.
“You almost died tonight so I’m not going to make a boyfriend comment.”
Michelle was fluffing her pillows when you toed the door closed.
You sigh. “Technically that’s a boyfriend comment,” you point out, rubbing your eyes.
She chuckled half heartedly. “I guess so. Are you really okay? I don’t want to wake up and find you dead.”
She isn’t joking, you see, as she turns to you. You hug her tightly. “Michelle. I’m alright. Seriously. See?” You twirl around for emphasis.
“Okay…” she says warily. “I laid out some of your pajamas in the bathroom while you were making out with your boyfriend.”
You gape at her. “I thought you weren’t going to make a joke about Peter,” you say with narrowed eyes.
She held up her hands. “You said you’re okay. I’m just trying to normalize the situation. Go shower up and get ready for bed. We can watch Riverdale on my laptop and fall asleep while admiring all the pretty people. Or we can watch videos of meteor showers since I know you’re probably upset we’re missing the viewing.”
You laugh. “I don’t deserve my friends. I’ll be right out.”
The door clicked shut behind you. You took the first deep breath you had taken all night long.
What a crazy ass day, you think. You drift back into your thoughts while unbuttoning your top. You think of the light and how absolutely insane you must be for thinking all that had happened.
It couldn’t have.
You know that.
Sunlight doesn’t destroy glass.
And you believed that for a solid three seconds because you dropped your shirt to the bathroom floor, you saw in the mirror a glowing orb in the center of your chest.
You batted it away to feel only your skin. You bit down on your tongue to hold back a shriek as you realized that the orb is your heart.
Your heart is glowing as white as that light you saw in the elevator.
Summary: When you almost die in battle, a distraught Bucky - afraid of what will become of him if he loses you - decides to end things. But what happens when he loses his memory, only to end up falling in love with you all over again?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 2.4k
A/N: My baby has reached its end, and I could not be more proud and sad. Thank you to everyone who has stuck along for this journey - I know it was painful, but we’ve arrived. || crtfy masterlist
u know what this may be a lil cheesy but im glad the universe pulled strings so that bts would all meet and have each other bc they rlly are a family and they care and love each other so much i cant imagine a world without them
Steve has no shades of grey when it comes to Bucky and I love him for it. Bucky’s in Austria, whats he gonna do, walk there? If that’s what it takes. He’s been brainwashed Steve, he doesn’t know you. He will. Steve he’s wanted by multiple governments, why won’t you hand him over? He’s my friend and it wasn’t his fault. Like, there’s no question for Steve, there’s no part of him that hesitates, no other factors play into it, is it Bucky? Does he need help? Steve will do whatever it takes to give it to him. Can you believe how much he loves Bucky wow.