I love Hamilton, but something about the way white fans engage with the musical really bothers me: a lot of them are posting in the tag about the actual, historical revolutionaries and founding fathers in a way that makes them seem like funny, sweet, good people. They weren’t. I don’t just mean “Jefferson was a piece of shit”: none of them were good. Every one of their asses saw black people as inferior, even if not all of them supported slavery. All of them participated in genocidal policy against indigenous peoples. If you’re watching/listening to Hamilton and then going out and romanticizing the real founding fathers/American revolutionaries, you’re missing the entire point.
Hamilton is not really about the founding fathers. It’s not really about the American Revolution. The revolution, and Hamilton’s life are the narrative subject, but its purpose is not to romanticize real American history: rather, it is to reclaim the narrative of America for people of colour.
Don’t romanticize the founding fathers and the revolution. They’re already romanticized. It’s been done. Your history books have already propagated those lies. The revolution is romanticized as an American narrative because it was a revolution lead by and for white men. Their story is the narrative of the nation and it is a narrative from which people of colour are utterly obliterated.
Do you understand what it’s like to live in a nation where you are made marginal and inconsequential in the historical narrative that you are taught from your first day of school? In the Americas, to be a person of colour is to be made utterly inconsequential to the nation’s history. If you are black, your history begins with slavery, and your agency is denied; they don’t teach about slave rebellions or black revolutionaries. You learn about yourself as entirely shaped by outside forces: white people owned you, then some white people decided to free you and wasn’t that nice of them? and then you’re gone until the civil rights movement. That is the narrative they teach; in which you had no consequence, no value, no impact until less than a century ago. If you are indigenous, you are represented as disappeared, dead, already gone: you do not get to exist, you are already swallowed by history. If you are any other race, you are likely not present at all. To live in a land whose history is not your own, to live in a story in which you are not a character, is a soul-destroying experience.
In Hamilton, Eliza talks, in turn, of “taking herself out of the narrative” and “putting herself back in the narrative.” That’s what Hamilton is about: it’s about putting ourselves in the narrative. It puts people of colour in the centre of the damn narrative of the nation that subjugates them; it takes a story that by all accounts has been constructed to valourize the deeds of white men, and redefines it all.
Why was the American Revolution a revolution? Why were slave revolts revolts? Why do we consider the founding fathers revolutionaries and not the Black Panthers or the Brown Berets or any number of other anti-racist revolutionary organizations? Whose rebellion is valued? Who is allowed to be heroic through defiance? By making the founding fathers people of colour, Hamilton puts people of colour into the American narrative, while simultaneously applying that narrative to the present. Right now, across the United States, across the damn world, people are chanting “black lives matter.” Black people are shutting down malls and highways, demanding justice for the lives stolen by police, by white supremacy. And all across the world, indigenous people are saying “Idle No More,” blockading pipelines, demanding their sovereignty. And “No One is Illegal” is chanting loud enough to shake down the walls at the border; people are demanding the end of refugee detention centres, demanding an end to the violence perpetuated by anti-immigration policies. People of colour are rising up.
…And white people are angry about it. White people are saying “if blacks don’t want to get shot by the police they shouldn’t sag their pants”; saying “get over it” about anti-indigenous policies of assimilation and cultural genocide and land theft; Jennicet Gutiérrez was heckled by white gay men for demanding that president Obama end the detention of undocumented trans women of colour. White people see people of colour rising up and they tell us to sit down. Shut up. Stop making things difficult. The American Revolution was a bunch of white men who didn’t want to be taxed, so white history sees their revolutionary efforts as just; they killed for their emancipation from England; they were militant. That, to white people is acceptable. But those same white people talk shit about Malcolm X for being too violent–a man who never started an uprising against the government leading to bloodshed. Violence is only acceptable in the hands of white people; revolution is only okay when the people leading the charge are white.
Hamilton makes those people brown and black; Hamilton depicts the revolution of which America is proud as one led by people of colour against a white ruling body; there’s a reason King George is the only character who is depicted by a white man. The function of the visual in Hamilton is to challenge a present in which people of colour standing up against oppression are seen as violent and dangerous by the same people who proudly declare allegiance to the flag. It forces white people to see themselves not as the American Revolutionaries, but as the British oppressors. History is happening, and they’re on its bad side.
So don’t listen to or watch Hamilton and then come out of that to romanticize the founding fathers. Don’t let that be what you take away from this show. They’re the vehicle for the narrative, and a tool for conveying the ideologies of the show, but they are not the point. Don’t romanticize the past; fight for the future.
Summary: (Modern!AU) In which Bucky uses his time on stage at the Oscars to let the world in on a secret he’s been keeping for more than two years.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 2,217
A/N: Happiest of happy birthdays to my twin, @imaginingbucky . You are a queen and I adore you with every single ounce of my being. I know how much you love award shows, so I hope you enjoy this too.
Bucky feels like a nervous teenager as he sits
in the backseat of a stretch limousine, waiting to arrive at his destination.
His hands are clammy, his heart is beating too quickly and he can’t stop
tapping his foot on the floor. After six years in the acting business, he
shouldn’t feel this way. He’s attended more than his fair share of award shows
to know all kinds of techniques to keep any concerns at bay. Yet here he is
trying his hardest not to hyperventilate and hold his water bottle without
spilling it all over his expensive suit. He’d never hear the end of it from his
stylist if he did.
“Looking forward to the show tonight?”
Vision asks, momentarily catching Bucky’s gaze in the rear view mirror.
Bucky pulls at the collar of his shirt before
shifting slightly. Usually this backseat offers him the comfort he needs, no
matter how he’s feeling. Today he might as well be sitting on rocks.
“You don’t sound it,” Viz observes, as
he makes a right turn down a side street. He’s an expert at getting you where
you need to go while also avoiding all of the LA traffic. “Is it because
you’re up for ‘Best Actor in a Leading Role’?”
I was thinking about it earlier and, yes, latine cultures are unique, diverse and all that. Heck, I live in Brazil, and I can guarantee you, each state has it’s own culture, customs, traditions, folklore and all that. We can’t even agree as a nation what’s the word for cookie!
So like, of course you can’t expect every country to have the same culture and dishes and music and all that, when not even a single country have that.
But, by following other latines, and talking to people from the neighbor countries over my life, I learned that there are a few things that can be considered Universal Latine Experiences. Among them
🌺 The thing with rice and beans. Like, no country will ever have them the same way, of course. But it’s… Overall, so present. Some will lean more to the rice, some to the beans, but it’s there, wherever you go
🌺 Seeing posts from gringos on your dash complaining about winter where it’s summer where you live, and it’s so bad, your flip flops actually started melting when you went out to buy something cold to drink
(alternatively, seeing posts from gringos on your dash complaining about summer and giving out tips on how to control the heat when you are freezing on your couch and wrapped in three blankets)
🌺 The overall feeling of companionship? Like, I won’t like, I know it’s not perfect. There is a huge problem with xenophobia (I would say Brazil is the worst on this matter, but then again, it’s easier for me to see it here since I live here), and there is some bloody history between some countries. But the companionship is still there, you know?? We call each other hermanos, we receive each other in out country with open arms, we share our culture… I don’t know, there is some beauty to it. Or maybe this is all in my head because I’m feeling specially gushy today
🌺 Going to your grandmother’s house almost every sunday for lunch. Greeting your uncles and aunties, and asking blessings from your grandparents (even when you aren’t catholic anymore, but at this point, it is more a sign of respect and affection rather then religion) before going to play with your cousins in the backyard, while your parents play cards with their siblings or help your grandmother with the kitchen.
When you notice it, it’s already midnight, and they are still playing cards. Come on, pai, we need to go home, I have class tomorrow. Just one more round, flor. But your said that three rounds ago!
🌺 Having your natives being wiped out to near extinction my foreigner invasors, if not complete, and then having your fauna and flora destroyed, being forcefully brought to a distant land as slaves, and then when you finally say enough for both the invasors and slavery and call your land as yours, usa comes and fund a dictatorship in your country to which your people is still trying to recover from
🌺 Little statues of saints and the Virgem Maria and portraits of Jesus and crosses and candles all over your elder’s house. Old houses with old paint on the walls, an old radio playing music in the kitchen, a road of battered down bricks and dirt, and your great grandmother is there, smoking a cigarillo de paja on the steps that lead to her house, keeping an eye on you as you play with your cousins and the neighbor kids you met that day, but it already feels like an eternity
🌺 El Chavo Del Ocho
🌺 Reclaiming your own culture after years of cultural imperialism saying that it’s not a good culture. Falling in love again with something that you were coerced to fall out of love with as you grew up. Learning again how to love the local legends, when you were thought that they were no good, and that the ones from europe and usa are betters. Learning again how to love your traditional music, dances, culture when you were thought that those were no good, that the ones from europe and usa are better. Learning your history in dept, seeing how complex and rich it is, after years hearing that it’s boring, not as interesting as those from usa and europe. Just… Falling in love with your roots again, and getting excited every time you see something from your country making success out there, and then also getting excited when something from you neighbors make success out there and yes! We deserve this! We deserve to have our history told and shared and appreciated too!
A/N: Hey pals! Sorry I’ve not updated in a while, I have mocks next week so things will be a bit slower :( hope that’s okay, and I’ll queue up some fics so you can’t avoid me ;P. ALSO I posted this on the wrong blog earlier sorryyyyy :P This was requested by @thestrawberryblondehobbitbatch so I hope you like it!
Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, swearing.
You woke up to hushed voices and a throbbing headache.
Prying your eyes open, you tried to reach up and rub them - only to find your hands tied behind your back, tight enough so you could feel the zip ties digging into your wrists.
“What the fuck?” You mumbled, voice still groggy from being unconscious. In the darkness, you could just make out the figures huddled in the corner of the room as they glanced over at your, still deep in conversation.
You felt a shiver of fear run through your body. These people were definitely not your friends; the guns in their hands and the pain in your head could attest to that. So who were they?
It was then that one of the silhouettes made their way out of the darkness. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man and he walked with the sharp posture of a soldier. There was a shotgun holstered on his thigh and he spun a knife between his fingers, the metal reflecting what little light there was in the room.
“Good. You’re awake.” he moved closer, kneeling in front of you, eyes locked on yours. You thought you recognised him; his voice and movements seemed familiar somehow.
“I see you’ve remembered me. I remember you, Emrys. You took down my organisation five years ago - you and Galahad, was it?” You knew exactly what he meant. Five years ago, when you’d only just joined Kingsman, you took your first mission with Agent Galahad. It was rough, and cold - three weeks in Russia in December, two of which were spent staking out the gang in an abandoned barn.
You recognised the man then. He was the ringleader of the operation that shipped drugs and body parts in an illegal trade network through Europe. Agent Galahad was new to Kingsman as well, so you worked well together, with him in the field and you hacking your way into the gang’s systems with ease.
Agent Galahad asked you out when you got back. You fell asleep on him in the cab, but he carried you inside and left a sticky note on your forehead with a time and a place.
(He did the same thing four years later when he proposed.)
“Yep, that was us. We fucked your operation right up, didn’t we?” You smirked at him, and he placed a calloused hand on your shoulder, making you flinch.
“You did indeed. But now -” He paused to look back at the others, two of whom were unlocking the cell door, “-you can help us fix it.” You rolled your eyes but felt fear gripping your core.
“How?” The man smiled, showing missing teeth and several gold fillings. You saw one of the others moving forwards, with a long chain that he quickly pulled around your ankles, tying you up completely. You tried to kick him, and hit his nose - he let out a long string of curses and the leader glared at you, raising a meaty fist that slapped your cheek.
“Time to go, Agent.” He grabbed you around the waist and threw you over his shoulder, and you screamed, wriggling and squirming but held still in his uncomfortable grasp.
They led you down a tunnel, standing close to the walls and walking in perfect formation. The man carrying you stood at the back, and as you moved your hands to maintain the feeling, you found that you could reach the wall. Bracing yourself, you dug your nails into the wooden wall and scratched four lines across it. At least if Kingsman found this tunnel, they might guess where you were.
Blood gathered under your nails and splinters embedded themselves in your fingers, but you kept scratching, leaving a long trail down the wall.
The tunnel made a sudden turn, and the walls turned to stone. The group picked up their pace, walking towards a door at the end of the tunnel. When they pushed it open, you saw a room similar to your cell, but with a computer in front of a cast iron chair.
Dropping you unceremoniously into the chair, the leader stepped back and pressed a button. A set of steel cuffs wrapped around your ankles, and just as your hands were freed, they tied a rope tightly around your waist.
“You’re going to break into the secret service computer network. And you’ll implant a virus that can destroy their security, releasing the names of their undercover agents and any weapons plans they have. We’ll use them as leverage and your government will give us the resources we need. Understand?”
You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “You want me to hack into MI6?” He nodded, and his gang began to whisper together.
He held up a hand and the mumbling stopped. “That’s correct. Can you do it?” You bit back the temptation to roll your eyes and settled for breathing deeply.
“What if I don’t do it?” The leader smiled condescendingly, and spun his knife around between his fingers, dangerously close to your face.
“Then we’ll kill you, Agent. Slowly and painfully. Are you willing to take that chance?”
Panic began to build in your chest. You tried to compress it; you were an agent, a good one too. You squeezed your hands together, stroking your wedding ring and taking a breath.
“Try me.“ ***
An hour later, and several more bruises later, you still wouldn’t crack. The gang leader (whose name was Sebastian) had tried all manner of methods to convince you help, but none of them had worked. You were still hoping that some other Kingsman agent would rush in to save you.
Somehow, Sebastian cottoned onto this. "They’re not coming for you Agent. They’ve given up on you. You might as well help us now because your Galahad’s clearly not coming to get you.”
Eggsy. Would he really give up on you? You’d both promised each other years before that you would always come for each other. When he saved you from Valentine, when you didn’t sleep for a week so you could watch over him on a dangerous mission - even when everyone else stopped hoping, you two had faith in each other.
“Alright,” You murmured, just loud enough for Sebastian to hear. “I’ll do it.”
“Good, agent. You did the right thing. Pity it took you so long,” He smirked at you, pushing the table with the computer closer to you. Fisting a hand in your hair, he yanked your head close to his.
“If you betray us, I will end you. You have two hours.”
The familiar feeling of a keyboard helped to calm you racing heartbeat. You saw that they’d already prepared the software - they just needed you to locate the MI6 system, get past the firewalls, and find the relevant information.
When you began to type, the code felt foreign to your hands. You had taught many agents how to input it, but you’d been waiting to use it for an emergency.
“C'mon, Eggsy, you have to learn this! What if you can’t get out of trouble some day?” Eggsy grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows.
“I’ll wait for you to come ‘n find me. S'not like I’d let you get rid of me so easily,” You rolled your eyes dramatically; Eggsy leant across the desk, seemingly about to whisper in your ear. Until he pressed his lips to yours and grabbed your waist, pulling you closer.
You always felt butterflies when you thought of the emergency code. This time, it was because of the barrel of a gun you felt pressed into your head.
Merlin would know where you were. If you could just finish the code, it would be less than an hour until they found you. Then all you had to do was pretend to hack until Kingsman got you out.
Enter. All you had to do was wait. For once, you let yourself feel proud, for developing the code that had just sent your location and a distress signal to Kingsman headquarters.
Sebastian pressed the gun harder into your head. “What was that? Are you in?” You shook your head, typing in all the codes you could think of. You just had to bide your time.
“Not yet. It takes time, you know. They have some complex encryptions,” He huffed, but let you get back to work.
Come on, Eggsy. I need you.
Your two hours were almost up.
The gun against your head wasn’t pressed as hard; you could still feel the dull ache the pressure had left.
Sebastian was getting desperate.
“Have you done it yet? You have five minutes, agent, and then I will kill you,” You didn’t look back at him, typing even faster. You entered random codes, anything to make you look like you were working.
The gang members’ heads all turned to the door. What was that noise? It sounded like… a gunshot.
“What the hell was that?” Hissed Sebastian. Immediately, he took the safety off of his gun, and his cronies began to pull out weapons.
Come on Eggsy, you thought.
Grabbing your arm, Sebastian pressed something on the chair that released the cuffs on your ankles. He yanked you out of the chair, pulling you in front of him and pressing the gun against your temple. “If this is your agency… I won’t hesitate, Emrys,” You felt hope building in your chest.
There were footsteps pounding the corridor outside. The sound of a gunshot reverberated through the room - please, let it be Eggsy. Suddenly a silence fell. Sebastian didn’t make a noise, and neither did the intruder on the other side of the door.
Until the door was kicked through, and a man in a smartly tailored suit stood there, holding a gun and an umbrella.
“I think you’ve got our hacker, bruv.” Sebastian jumped into action, firing two shots at Eggsy - who dove out of the way with a practised ease and kicked the legs of two other guys from underneath them. with Sebastian distracted, you saw your chance; you twisted his arm backwards and brought your knee to his stomach, sending him sprawling on the stone floor. You ripped the gun from his hands and kicked him, knocking him out.
“Y/N! Behind you!” Cried Eggsy, and you turned around just in time as a woman came up to you, a knife pointed straight at your throat. You threw a punch at her and she reeled backwards, where Eggsy threw her against the wall. There were only two people left, and they stood in the corner of the room, pointing their guns at you and Eggsy. The pair of you made eye contact and dove to the side as the pair shot at you.
You saw Eggsy’s umbrella lying near you, and grabbed it, pulling it towards the two of you. Opening it out, you felt the impact of the bullets and frantically pressed a button on the handle. It sent out a flash of light, and you flinched, but heard the sound of two bodies dropping to the ground.
Peering out from around the umbrella, you saw that the entire gang lay on the floor, dead or unconscious. Slumping against the wall, you looked up at Eggsy, who was staring at you.
“Glad you could make it Eggsy,” He shot you a smile, but the pair of you jumped as a sudden movement caught your eye. It was Sebastian and in his hand a remote. A cut was dripping blood down his face, but he looked you dead in the eyes and pressed a button.
“Security measure,” He whispered, before collapsing. Eggsy looked confused, and you felt the same; until the sound of ticking hit your ears.
Eggsy looked at you, panicked. “What the fuck is that?” Furrowing your brow in concentration, you tried to figure it out. Security measure? What would they have used -
“It’s a bomb! Fuck, Eggsy, we need to go,” Eyes wide, Eggsy grabbed your hand and sprinted out of the room, down the tunnel you had both come through. The ticking seemed to speed up - or maybe it was the blood pounding in your head as your pulse raced. There was a door up ahead, or at least the frame of a door that had clearly been kicked down.
The two of you ran faster still, the ticking reaching a crescendo and the door coming ever closer. Just a bit further, and you were safe -
The explosion could be heard from miles away.
It sent a fall of rocks down the mountain, and the entrance to the cave collapsed. No one inside could have survived - at least, that was what Merlin told the pair of you when you were sat safely in the plane, flying far away.
“And Emrys - good to know your code works. And well done on not letting those fuckers do anything awful. Galahad, good job too. But if you ever try and threaten me into saving your wife faster again, I will end you.” There was humour in his voice, and he rolled his eyes affectionately when Eggsy wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
You and Eggsy left the cockpit of the plane, ready to remove your dusty, blood-stained clothes.
“Glad you’re alright, babe. You were fuckin’ badass in there. How did you get ‘em to let you use a computer?” You told him the whole story and he listened intently. As you finished, a curious expression appeared on his face.
“So what did you do if you weren’t hackin’ into MI6?” You hummed, unsure. Trying to think back over the codes you used, you were hit with a sudden realisation.
Biting your lip, you replied, “I just used whatever codes I could think of. They just happened to be the ones I used when Roxy and I hacked Harry’s computer last month…” Eggsy looked shocked, but couldn’t hold in his laughter.
“Oh my God, babe. You mean you -” He was overcome with laughter, and you grinned in mock shame.
“Yeah. I linked all their servers to a porn website. Oh god.”
Eggsy pulled you down onto the seat next to him, kissing you deeply.
“I fuckin’ love you, Y/N,” You smiled into the kiss, reaching a hand up to stroke his cheek.
“It’s them, but it’s not them !” 2/2 -Bruce Wayne x Reader
@m-fairbank also asked the same thing, things happening on Batmom’s point of you, and also some of the batboys…and I kinda planned something like that anyway. So here’s a sequel for “It’s her but it’s not her”, and I hope you’ll like it (and hope the “mixed feelings” were still good ones ;-)) AGAIN felt like I could write something better, might re-write everything…I rushed a bit writing it cause I’m in L.A but I also wanted to write something and…I guess it’s this kind of time eh.
Summary : Batman and his kids accidentally got send in an alternate dimension, and Batmom has the displeasure of realizing that her Bruce from this other world is…not hers at all.
When your husband and kids came home with Diana and Clark, you didn’t think too much of it. It wasn’t unusual for your friends to come over to the bat cave and work, or even just chill.
But when you went to kiss Bruce, and you felt him stiffen under your touch. When he didn’t kiss back, and even moved away, his head moving back and forth between you and Clark, stunned. When your sons stared at you with wide eyes and open mouthes…you realized something was wrong.
-Wh…what is it ?
Bruce didn’t say anything, he found he couldn’t say anything. The Hell just happened ? Clark’s wife just kissed him ! And…What was she doing in the bat cave anyway, at this hour ?
Under your husband’s gaze, you felt uncomfortable for the first time in your life. Usually, he had the opposite effect on you, you were always so relaxed around him. Even during charity balls or such obligations you had as Waynes, when your introverted self felt awful, his mere presence calmed you down and helped you get threw the night.
But right now, the way he was looking at you made you shiver. You didn’t recognize his usual look…In his eyes right now, there were no love, no relief to see you well and alive, no joy, no slight impatience to finally get to bed with you. Instead, there was confusion, embarrassment, and a slight touch of curiosity maybe ?
And your children…None of them rushed to hug you first, or to tell you who’s ass they kicked this time.
They were on the way to the locker rooms
when it happened. They were celebrating a good win, one that Neil had
guaranteed them with a particularly good goal. When he went of the court, Dan
had lifted him off the ground in a bear hug, Matt had insisted on giving Neil a
piggyback ride and even Kevin didn’t have anything negative to say. Nicky was
positively bouncing around Neil and Matt as he retold the highlights of the
game in a dramatic manner.
“… and then, Neil ducks under, you
hear that ladies and gentlemen, he ducks under the backliners racquet
and scores! Man, Neil I could’ve kissed you!”
“No thank you, I would prefer if you
didn’t do that again”
It was an innocent comment, and a innocent
reply if it hadn’t been the
“What, you’ve kissed Nicky?”
“No, Nicky kissed me, there is a
difference,” said Neil. All the foxes had stopped in their tracks. This
conversation had taken a turn that started to feel unpleasant. There was a
question hanging in the air that no seemed to want to ask. Finally it was Renee
“Did, did you kiss Neil without his
Sticking your head out of the apartment door you looked left and right, they were good at hiding but one specific boy always had a way of fucking it all up whether it be with a sneeze or simply just not putting his ass in enough to fit behind the plant.
Summary (i lost the request): The reader is Veronica’s sister who went to private school for a while. When her father is sent to prison she returns to her sister and mother, however family drama leaves Veronica wanting revenge, and she’s determined to squash your chances at a new life in Riverdale.
A/N: This was a HUGE request, and trying to fit it into a reasonably sized imagine was a struggle. Like it’s the plot to a whole fanfic, that I just don’t have the time for right now. I think I’m okay with how it turned out, and if you all want a part two, there’s definitely material for one.
“I like to start off my tours with a little bit of history…” Betty started introducing the school to you, but was quickly interrupted.
“She doesn’t need to know any of this,” Veronica snapped. “Just show her her period one class and then we’ll go.”
“Ronnie,” you sighed, tugging on your backpack strap.
“No! I don’t allow traitors in my squad.” She tugged on the hem of her skirt. “Betty, I’m sure she’ll find her own way.”
Betty sent you sorry eyes before letting Veronica pull her away.
“I can do this,” you murmured to yourself, walking off in the other direction.
Were you used to not having your sister around? No. Had you managed on your own before? Yes.
However, Riverdale high was much bigger than your own school, and within just a few moments you were hopelessly lost.
“Need some help?” You turned around to find a boy much taller than you leaning against some lockers. “I’m Reggie. You the new lodge?” His eyes moving over your figure, you nodded hesitantly. “It shows.”
“Excuse you,” you huffed. “Don’t be disgusting. It’ll never work in your favor.”
“Don’t be snappy,” he took a few steps in your direction, arms crossed over his chest. “It’ll never work in your favor.”
“Piss off, Reggie.” You looked over your shoulder to see another boy your age. “You can get to know each other another time.”
“Whatever freak,” Reggie dismissed him, turning on his heel.
You smiled warmly, looking to the mystery boy. “Thank you…”
“Jughead. Jones, the third.” You laughed at the pacing of his introduction. “You’re giving off this lost puppy vibe, and while I’m no tour guide, it’s unlike me to leave someone stranded.”
And so it was just like that, you had your first friend.
You and Jughead were a good match for one another. Both wonderfully pessimistic, dramatic, and sarcastic, you two made fast friends.
It was a month or so after you started going to Riverdale high when you made something more. As much as you both would like to say it was something unique, some strange scenario that resulted in you two together, but in all honesty, it was the usual fade from sitting on opposite sides of a booth at Pop’s, to cuddling on the same side.
“I still don’t understand, why is she so mad at you?” Jughead had asked one night, turning away from his laptop screen to catch your microexpressions. You bit down on your bottom lip, eyes flitting to the table and then back up to your boyfriend.
“I knew about our dad… before he… you know. I didn’t tell anyone.” His eyes seemed to frown, blue pools reflecting the sadness you knew was in your own. “But I mean, how could I? Veronica is close with Mom, and so was I, but I was always Daddy’s little girl. I think part of me didn’t want to think any of it was true. That he couldn’t do such a thing… I was wrong. And he dragged me down with him. He told my mom, and then my mom told Veronica. Veronica thinks I’m a traitor now or something dramatic because I didn’t tell her. I lost a best friend, and I kinda deserved it.”
Jughead sighed, “You didn’t deserve that. I don’t want to say she would’ve done the same thing, because honestly I don’t know. But I probably would’ve done the same thing.”
“Thanks, Juggy.” You rested your head against his shoulder, his lips coming down on your forehead.
That was probably one of the better days, however soon it was obvious the plan that Veronica had been enacting this whole time.
With Betty enlisting Jughead into the Blue and Gold, he was spending more and more time with Betty, and less and less time with you.
“Juggy, I miss you,” you sighed, looking at him across the table in your regular booth. “I don’t want to be one of those clingy people. If you’re trying to distance yourself… because this isn’t working. Then just end it. I’ve been on the other side of relationships like this, and you don’t deserve that.”
Jughead barely looked up from his laptop screen which you knew had an article for the Blue and Gold on it. “Yeah, yeah. I agree.” You knew his words were just a product of him not listening, that he was giving a general response to fit into most conversations, but even that was enough for you.
You wrung your hands in front of you, shaking your head. “I’ll do you a favor. We’re done.”
“Wait what?” You turned before he could see your face, ignoring him. On your way out, you caught Veronica in a booth just down the way. You decided you’d confront your once best friend, the only thing you knew how to do well.
“Veronica,” you greeted sharply, sitting beside Archie, opposite Veronica. “I know you and I have issues, but I want you to know that either way, I’d be breaking someone’s heart. I’m sorry I chose wrongly, and I hope one day you can stop trying your hardest to leave me alone, to leave me miserable. You’re my sister, my best friend. That will never change.” Her face was that of someone who was completely caught off guard. You nodded a goodbye to her friends, shaking your head at Jughead, and leaving Pop’s once and for all.
“Stay here” Yoongi unbuckled his seatbelt and was about to open the car door when he turned to you. “I know you can take care of yourself but if something happens to you I won’t be able to get through it, ok? So please don’t do anything stupid” He sounded loving. He cared about you, and you knew that.
Anyone would say he was cold and hateful, a killer. But what they didn’t know is that he wasn’t like that on the inside. Obviously, you will let them believe that, as being cold hearted was his job, but still. He was the most loving person you have ever met. He was there when you were down, even if your problems were stupid, he never judge you. He wasn’t like that at all.
“Yoongi, I work from this too” You said, trying to calm him down. You have killed just as much people as he had, that’s how you met each other.
Many people would think you were the bad ones, when there is actually not a good or bad side. The government was fucked up and Yoongi and you worked for the people trying to stop this shit. You were the “good” ones, at least until you talked with one of the guys on the other side, and then the story iwas completely different.
“I know, I know, babe.” He shuffled his hair as his eyes went to the floor and up to you again. “Just promise me you won’t risk your life, ok?” Yoongi seemed really serious right now, and, if you had to be honest, that scared you.