#the narcissist cheerleader of his football team

[jrueships]

sauce boobies ...

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff/Reader - The One Where You Punch Tony Stark - Part One

Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || AO3 (Complete)

Summary:  When the rumors that you punched Tony Stark in the face spread around your school, some interesting events unfolded. Or enemies to Lovers in high School.

Warnings: 18+; Enemies to Lovers/ Angry Sex/ Underage Sex/ High School AU/ Violence/ Fights/ Inappropriate language.

Words:  19,905K (Complete)

//-//

Sometimes it is just a punch “ - Chapter One

Rumors at your high school were spreading like the plague. No one would really admit to talking about it, but everyone knew they were gossiping. Everything about this place seemed to irritate you deeply, from your stupid and petty classmates, with their idiotic social circles and narcissistic behavior, to the body of psychotics professors who seemed to take pleasure in embarrassing the students.

Fortunately, it was your senior year. You couldn't wait to get out of this place, to get away from this troublesome town.  You let out a grumble when you noticed two teenagers pressed up against your locker. Fucking hell, you thought impatiently as you walked up to them. Then you noticed who they were, and your irritation increased even more.

Golden boy, captain of the soccer team, arrogant pain in the ass, Steve Rogers, was kissing Sharon Carter against her locker. Sharon was a cheerleader, human barbie, and honestly, she used to be a nice girl in elementary school, then you guys grew up and she became an arrogant bitch.

- Really, Rogers, don't you have your own locker? - commented a voice next to you, before you could say anything. It was Natasha, your locker-mate, with whom you had at least three classes together. She was very closed off and didn't let anyone near her, always alone at school. But if you could guess, she was the closest thing you had to a friend in this place. Steve stopped kissing Sharon when he heard Natasha, and throwing his arm around the girl's shoulders, he smiled wryly at Nat.

- Take it easy, Romanoff. We were just making out. - He says, and then adopts a debauched expression. - You know what this is, right?

- Screw you, Rogers. - Natasha says without hesitation, Steve laughs ironically and then his gaze falls on you.

- What are you looking at? - He threatens, you roll your eyes. He then leaves, dragging Sharon through the halls. 

- Fucking idiot. - Nat grumbles when you are alone. You don't really know what to say, so you just stay silent as you open the locker to get your chemistry books. - I heard about Stark's party.

That's the problem with rumors. You didn't look at Nat, but shrugged. 

- What about Stark's party? - You tried to play along, but Nat let out a little giggle.

- Everyone is talking about how you punched him in the face. - She said, turning to you as she leaned against the now closed locker, two notebooks in her hand. You finished picking up your books and turned to her. - I just think it was cool. - You smile awkwardly, looking at the floor. Nat speaks after a moment. - Are you going to the game on Friday?

You blink in surprise at the question.

- I don't like football.

Nat chuckles.

- I'm not going to the game. - She says, and seeing your frown, she adds. - You know the skate rink a little way past the bleachers. I'm meeting some friends there. You can come if you like. - Nat says finally, winking at you before turning away, walking in the opposite direction of the corridor.

 You are very surprised that you have been asked to go out with Natasha Romanoff and the friends you didn't even know she had. Ignoring how awkward the interaction was, you make your way to the classrooms, heading towards the chemistry lab.

Professor Agatha Harkness has been your chemistry teacher since the first grade. She is extremely strict, and demands that her students work hard and cannot stand, or rather absolutely detests, sycophants. You laugh with the memory of the day when Steve Rogers tried to buy a higher grade by bringing her a Teachers' Day gift, and Ms. Harkness simply threw the package in the trash at the front of the room, saying that if he wanted to pass her class, he better study.

You took your place in the last chair, yawning slightly as you sat down. You were startled when your colleague in front, Darcy Lewis, turned in her chair to look at you.

- Can I help you? - you asked.

- I heard that you punched Tony Stark. - She said. - I think it's awesome. Finally someone wiped the pretentious smile off his face.

You smiled wryly. Darcy was one of the smartest girls in the class, and she had never really talked to you before. She returned your smile before turning forward again.

 You were distracted by the landscape outside, but you noticed when the room suddenly fell absolutely silent, and turned your face to find out what had happened. You felt your body tense with the intensity of anger you received in the gaze of Tony Stark, entering the room at that moment, a large purple mark in his left eye. He didn't stare at you for long, taking a seat in one of the front chairs with his friend James Rhodes. Many of the classmates began to whisper about the party, glances running between you and Tony. But the room fell silent as Ms. Harkness entered, and the students began to rush to their seats.

If there was one thing that Harkness hated more than sycophants, it was tardiness, so you weren't surprised that everyone in the room held their breath as they watched the Maximoff twins arrive late to class.

- What an honor the Maximoffs have decided to join my class. - She sneered as they walked to their seats. A few giggles were heard.

Pietro Maximoff was a member of the football team along with Steve Rogers and Tony Stark, and you guessed that's why he gave you an angry look before he sat down. You didn't really know the twins very well, but you knew that everyone knew them. 

While Pietro was extremely popular, and changed girlfriends like he changed clothes, his sister, Wanda Maximoff, was a member of the student council, as well as being the captain of the cheerleading squad. She was ridiculously beautiful, the kind that would bring boys crawling to her door. But you had never seen her date anyone, not that you really paid attention to Wanda anyway.

When Ms. Harkness started class, your mind wandered to lunchtime.

Your week went by too fast, you realized. With the final exam period approaching, you were spending a lot of time studying. Natasha didn't speak to you again all week, and you were beginning to imagine that the invitation to go out was your imagination, but then she smiled at you and told you that she hoped you could make it on Friday, and you just nodded, too surprised to say anything.

The school seemed to get even more unbearable on game days. The players were agitated and noisy, and disrupted all the classes. Also, the cheerleaders seemed to occupy every bathroom you entered, taking over the sinks with their makeup. 

You grumbled when last period finally came around. It was literature with Mrs. Hill, and she was probably the only teacher you liked.

It was hot, and you put your leather jacket on the chair as you stretched your body and raised your arms, lifting your shirt a little. You blushed in surprise as you noticed a girl you didn't know staring at you mischievously, her gaze drifting down to your waist tattoo, which had been visible for a moment.

She continued to stare at you brazenly, biting her lip, and you felt very uncomfortable. 

- Do you need anything? - you asked snidely. The girl was startled, and rolled her eyes in embarrassment, then turned to look away. - What the fuck was that. - you muttered to yourself, as you opened your notebooks.

You heard laughter, and raised your eyes, frowning as you felt your stomach flip at the vision of Wanda Maximoff throwing her head back as she laughed at something her partner said to her as the two of them entered the room. You blinked in confusion at your own reaction, quickly looking away. 

And then your lab partner for two years, Jessica Jones, with whom you had never exchanged a word that was not subject-related sat down next to you and asked how you were doing.

- I'm sorry, what's that? - You asked in surprise, but Jessica smiled.

- What's up with you? - she repeated, causing you to frown.

- Why are you talking to me? - you retorted, and Jessica just shrugged.

- I want to be friends with the girl who punched Tony Stark in the face. - She says simply, and you stare at her for a few seconds, not knowing exactly what to say.

- All right, then. - You say, turning your attention back to your materials. Jessica smiles before adjusting her posture to rest her head on her arms on the table. 

Professor Hill begins her class shortly after, and you reprimand yourself for letting your gaze wander to Wanda and then looking away. What the fuck is the matter with you today?

You were particularly focused on an exercise that didn't seem to make any sense when your classmate in front of you passed you a piece of paper. You looked around, seeing a small commotion, which indicated that the paper had been passed around the room. You frown, opening it.

- Ulala, you have an admirer. - Jessica teased, leaning yours shoulders together to read the paper. On it was simply written "want to make out? girls restroom, second floor". You laughed ruefully. - Are you going to accept?

- I don't even know who sent it. - You comment, looking around, but no one is looking at you. You quickly hide the paper to prevent the teacher from seeing. - Besides, it might just be a joke.

- Maybe. But the whole school is talking about you, so I think you might have suitors. - Jessica commented, writing in her notebook. - Besides, you're hot. It's not like no one notices you.

- Thanks. - You laughed, returning your attention to the exercise.

The class finally came to an end, and Jessica patted you on the shoulder, wishing you a good date even though she knew you weren't going, and you laughed, realizing it was a joke.

You were putting your notebooks away in your locker when school counselor Nicolas Fury approached you.

- Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Could we talk for a moment? - He asks, leading the way to his office. You sigh, knowing exactly what this is about, before nodding in agreement.

In Fury's office, you sit in the armchair opposite his desk, while he assumes his typical thoughtful position.

- I'll be straightforward, Y/N. - he begins. - I heard rumors about you getting involved in a street fight outside of school hours.

- Great choice of words, Fury. - You counter. - Out of school hours, and even off school grounds so I really don't understand why I'm here.

Fury smiles, crossing his legs.

- So you admit you were in a fight? You know as a counselor I need to warn your mother...

 - I admit nothing. - You cut without patience. - It's my word against the other gossips. 

The man lets out a chuckle before continuing.

- I imagine Anthony Stark's black eye was a domestic accident then?

You smile wryly, shrugging your shoulders.

- I think Tony Stark would rather say he hit his face against a wall than admit he got beaten by a girl, so I would put that in your report.

- Please, Y/N. - Fury asks with a serious expression. - If you tell me the reason for the conflict with Mr. Stark, I can find a way to help you.

You laugh, crossing your arms.

- The reason is that Tony Stark is an arrogant jerk who thinks he can do and say whatever he wants without consequences. - You say, and then stand up. - I don't have anything to tell you, and school hours are over. Excuse me, Mr. Fury.

You say before hurrying out of the room, annoyed by all the talk. Leaving the hallways, you roll your eyes at the excitement of your classmates, all of them heading for the soccer field, while the remaining team members in the hallway were applauded and patted on the back as if they were war heroes.

You were happy to remember your date with Nat and her friends as you walked out of the school.

Good thing I brought my jacket, was your first thought as you headed out to the skate park to meet Nat. You could hear the noise from the stands, which must have been packed since everyone in the school seemed to love football.

You had bought some French fries from one of the stalls set up for the game, and walked alone toward the park, around the iron bleachers.

A few minutes later you arrived at the skateboarding rink, observing the small group of people that was there. Nat waved to you as soon as she saw you, and you smiled.

- Hey, you made it. - She remarked as she approached. You waved. She turned to the group. - Guys, this is the girl I told you about, Y/N. 

You waved to everyone, who smiled at you.

- This is Clint, Laura, Thor, Valkyrie and my boyfriend Bruce. - Nat said, introducing everyone. You have never seen them at school. - They are owls.

Oh, that makes sense. You thought. They were all students at the state school that was two blocks away. Their mascot was an owl, and their team was your school's opponent in today's game. That's why they were all here.

You sat down with them, offering them some of the fries you had bought. You smiled as you noticed Nat sitting with Bruce, it was different to see her like this, completely comfortable and smiling openly.

Thor then stood up, a skateboard in his hand.

- Hey, Y/N, want to give it a try? - He suggested and you hesitated. You didn't really know how to skate. But Thor seemed nice and willing to teach you, so you nodded and stood up.

It was fun to learn from him. You laughed about the times you fell on your buttocks, and Thor seemed concerned about checking to see if you were all right. And when you got tired of that, you and he joined the group again, talking about various random things.

You eventually found out that Clint and Laura were already engaged to be married, and intended to move in together after college. You thought Thor and Valkyrie were boyfriend and girlfriend at first, but she commented that she hoped to meet more interesting girls in college. Also, Thor told you that he was applying to colleges outside of New York, wanting to be closer to his brother. Bruce wanted to go to medical school, and he and Nat were looking forward to sharing an apartment together. You told them that you had applied to colleges all over the country, that there was nothing really keeping you here. 

You spent the whole period of the game talking, and having fun. And then, when the fireworks went off from the stadium bleachers, you thought it was time to go.

The vast majority of the people had already gone home by the time you reached the stands, and then you thought you heard a noise. Investigating the source, you walked slowly around the iron construction, letting out an exclamation of surprise at the image you saw.

Tony Stark was wrapped around Steve Rogers in the passionate kiss. You wanted to laugh at the hypocrisy. You were going to leave in silence, because you didn't give a fuck about what these two were doing, but Tony pushed Steve away and opened his eyes, and then he saw you.

Assuming an aggressive posture, while Steve looked worried, he advanced toward you.

- What the fuck are you doing there girl? - He shouted, and you took a few steps back in surprise.

- You must be looking to get punched in the face again. - You retorted angrily, hiding your nervousness. You could fight, but being alone against Stark and Rogers, you might push your luck. 

- I think you'd better not tell anyone what you saw here. - He threatened when he approached you, Steve following close behind.

- You think I care if you're banging Rogers behind the locker room, Stark? Screw you. - You retorted in a provocative tone. Stark advanced on you, his fist raised, but Rogers held him back.

- You're out of your mind, it's a girl. - He spoke, shoving Tony away from you. 

- Listen to your boyfriend, Stark. - You teased last, reveling in Tony's anger.

Tony let out an irritated snort and jumped toward you again, but when Rogers grabbed him, he punched him in the face. You blinked in surprise, and then they started to fight, rolling on the ground.

What the fuck, you thought, frowning at the scene, and taking a few steps back to avoid being bumped into.

And then someone shouted, and you looked up from the fight to see Pietro Maximoff coming out of the locker room along with Wanda, and another boy from the team who you thought was named Bucky.

The boys ran to separate the two, and Pietro held Tony by the arms as Bucky stood in front of Steve.

- What the fuck are you guys doing? - shouted Pietro.

- It's all this crazy bitch's fault! - Tony shouted, pointing at you. You rolled your eyes as Pietro looked at you in confusion.

- Are you fighting over her? - he asked. And you burst out laughing when you understood.

- Oh, Maximoff, that's not the kind of fruit they like. - You sneered and Pietro had to hold Tony back to keep him from jumping on you. 

- Let's get them out of here. - Said Bucky dragging Steve away. Pietro nodded as he dragged Tony to the opposite side.

You frowned when you were left alone with Wanda, and she looked at you.

- Do you need something? - you said snidely, and Wanda let out a wry laugh.

- I don't know what your deal is, girl. - she said, stepping closer. - But I think you'd better leave my friends alone.

You laughed.

- What friends, Maximoff? - You countered. - Those kids are narcissistic sociopaths who will fuck anything that wears a skirt. And your brother is an asshole. You're just a trophy to them.

- You don't know shit. - Wanda spoke angrily.

- Try to stop behaving the way they want you to. - You provoked by taking a step forward. - One day of not being the perfect little lady that everyone thinks you are.

- You shut your mouth. - She retorted with fury in her eyes, and then she shoved your shoulders, making you laugh ironically. - Stay away from me.

- Oh but I can't wait to get out of this fucking school! - You shouted back, laughing wryly. - And I'll never have to endure Stark's little group ever again. But mostly, I won't have to deal with Miss Perfect Girl here, with her fake smiles and annoying comments. - You punctuated your sentences with your finger, as you approached Wanda, who was staring wide-eyed. You let out your breath through your mouth as you realized how close you were, and stared intensely at Wanda. - I hate you.

- I hate you too. - She whispered before breaking the distance between you.

You closed your eyes tightly, lifting your hands to Wanda's waist and squeezing. Wanda sighed against your mouth, and you took the opportunity to push your tongue against hers, moaning at the new sensation.

Feeling her whole body respond to the kiss, you pushed her, until she slammed her back against the locker room wall. You pressed your knee against Wanda's center, and she moaned against your lips, lifting her right leg and entwining it around your waist. You felt your body tremble in anticipation, and the new friction made you press Wanda tight against the wall.

You weren't thinking about anything. All you felt was Wanda. Her tongue circling in your mouth, stealing all the air from your lungs. You pulled your mouths apart to breathe, and moved your kisses down to Wanda's collarbone, which made her sigh. You kissed the skin, hard, marking her. The thought of her trying to hide those marks after that, stimulated you to suck. Wanda let out a loud groan, pressing her nails into your shoulder.

You brought your mouths together again, and let your hands run up the inside of Wanda's blouse. She was still wearing her cheerleader uniform, and you tried not to think about it so much.

Your hand reached her right breast, and you squeezed without hesitation.Wanda moaned against your mouth, and you kissed her hard as you pressed your bodies together.

She whimpered as you pushed your knee up, breaking the kiss to rest her head on your shoulder. You let out a wry chuckle, lifting her chin with your hand and forcing her to face you as you brought your mouths together again. This time you let your tongue play with hers slowly and sensually, making her shiver. 

And then you reached down into her blouse again, pulling down her bra. With her breasts exposed, you played with her hardened nipples, feeling Wanda rub against your knee. 

You lowered your hand around her waist, pulling up the fabric of her skirt. Your hand moved down to her now exposed ass, and you squeezed the flesh, pressing Wanda against you. The contact made you both moan with intensity.

When you interrupted the friction with your knee, Wanda grumbled at the lack of contact, but you kissed her firmly, one hand squeezing her neck, and she trembled completely. You released her ass, to run your fingers up her thigh, until finally you reached her pussy. 

Reaching up with your fingers to pull down Wanda's panties, you kept up the pace of the kiss, wanting to keep her distracted.

You found her pussy soaked, and moaned as you felt it. Massaging her superficially with just one finger, it didn't take long for Wanda to whimper, moving her hips in search of more contact.

She broke the kiss with a moan when you penetrated her without warning. You moved your hand from her breasts to grip her leg around your waist, seeing that the intensity of your touch was making Wanda shiver and lose her balance. 

You withdrew your finger and then sank in again, and Wanda rested her head on your collarbone, sighing breathlessly.

- I'm sorry, Wanda. But I won't be gentle. - You whispered against her ear before sticking two fingers in without warning.

Wanda cried out against your skin, completely surrendered. You didn't wait for her to get used to the sensation, moving your fingers immediately afterwards. She bit your shoulder to keep from moaning, and her hips began to move frantically against you next, trying to increase the speed. You smiled mischievously, following her request. 

It didn't take long for her body to quiver in spasms, you delighting in the feel of her pussy tightening against your fingers. A thrust or two later, and she came apart against you, letting out a sultry moan against your ear that made your own intimacy pulsate. 

You continued to stimulate Wanda's swollen clitoris even after she came, and she bit your shoulder, trying to normalize her breathing and stop shaking. She quickly lowered her hand to yours, asking you to stop your touch, and you gave her a dirty smile before moving your fingers up to your mouth, tasting Wanda's sweet flavor on your tongue. She looked at you with dilated pupils, and then moved forward, kissing you again and tasting herself in your mouth.

Kissing like this, she was soon ready for another. But you were interrupted, a hissing noise in the distance. You grumbled, pulling away, as you helped Wanda fix her clothes. 

- Who's there? The game is over! - says a voice. You knew it was the janitor, he had probably come to lock up the locker rooms. 

You and Wanda laughed as you ran past him, holding hands, while he yelled that you couldn't be there.

When you reached the parking area, you caught a glimpse of Rogers' car parked next to Pietro's car. The four boys were there, talking. They didn't see you.

Wanda also looked and then pulled you to the corner of the wall of the school building, hidden from the rest of the place. 

- I guess this is good-bye. - You commented, letting Wanda press you against the wall, as she slung her arms around your shoulders. You kept your hands on her waist. - It's a shame really. I wanted to make you cum in my mouth.

Wanda bites her lips, holding back a giggle as her eyes sparkle with mischief.

- It doesn't have to be the last time. - She says, bringing your mouths closer together.

- No, it doesn't. - You agree, closing the distance, meeting her in a slow kiss, while your hands press her ass into you.

- Hmmm, I should go. - She grumbles, breaking the kiss without pulling away. You bring your mouths together again, biting her lip gently, which makes her close her eyes and chase after your mouth, but you don't kiss her.

- You can go. - You play, squeezing her flesh again and pressing her against you.

- Fuck. - She whispers before kissing you again, one last time. 

You separate amidst giggles and stolen kisses. Wanda gives you one last look before walking toward the parking lot. You stand there against the wall for a while, your heart racing, with the promise that this would not be the last time.

[murderxselfie]

starter for @brmaddox​

Tyler wasn’t really up for a party with a bunch of rich kids, but Rachel insisted he go – especially since it was her family’s country club. One of the reasons why she decided to rent it out to the Jacob family was because she thought it would be a wonderful way to integrate Tyler into their society. He wasn’t as optimistic after his first few days of school. The jocks were mean and narcissistic and the girls followed them everywhere. Brooke included. As much as she may have wanted to, she couldn’t break away from the mold — not when her boyfriend was Hillcrest’s reigning king.  She had to play her role as the dutiful, cheerleader girlfriend. But as salty as he felt, Tyler showed up on his motorcycle in black jeans and a tee-shirt. He didn’t really care that everyone else was dressed up like extras in Gossip Girl. He was only here as part of his agreement with Rachel. Spotting Brooke across the room with Jake, Tyler rolled his tongue against his teeth and looked away. Just in time for Jake to spot him and smirk with ill-intent. “Guy’s got some balls to show up here.” Jake’s hand fell from Brooke’s lower back to rest on the curve of her ass. He grabbed her to exert dominance before pulling her closer. “Guess dragging him out to Devil’s Creek and leaving him in the well wasn’t enough.” It was a cruel prank but what did he expect when he joined the football team – that there wouldn’t be any hazing?  

[bicenek]

Skip to main content

DONATE



Mother Jones readers and reporters are rising to the challenge every day. If you can, please consider supporting essential journalism during this crisis.

Donate

CORONAVIRUS

16 MINS AGO

Will Trump and His Enablers Ever Face Accountability for the Coronavirus Massacre?

The Iraq War is not a good precedent.



DAVID CORN

Washington, DC, Bureau Chief

Bio | Follow



Mother Jones illustration; Oliver Contreras/CNP/Zuma; Getty

For indispensable reporting on the coronavirus crisis and more, subscribe to Mother Jones' newsletters.

They misrepresented the threat. They disregarded experts. They did not prepare adequately. And thousands of Americans died.

And they got away with it.

The implementers, cheerleaders, and enablers of the catastrophic Iraq War were never punished for their actions. It’s not too early to wonder if Donald Trump and those who joined him in discounting and downplaying the coronavirus threat or who were part of his lethal mismanagement of the crisis or who echoed his false statements and absurd claims of winning will ever pay a price for conduct that has led to a current death toll of 12,000, which could end up a magnitude of order greater.



Advertise with Mother Jones

The Iraq War and occupation, a strategic blunder of historic proportions that was mismanaged from the start, caused the deaths of almost 5,000 US service members and about 200,000 Iraqi civilians. And it was all for naught. There was no WMD threat to neutralize. The invasion did not remake the region and spread democracy. It wreaked chaos and violent instability that continue to plague Iraq and the world.

Yet the architects and engineers of this epic disaster never faced a reckoning. George W. Bush and Dick Cheney were reelected, and after their second term was done, they were rewarded with lucrative book contracts, as was former Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld. Paul Wolfowitz, the assistant secretary of defense, became the president of the World Bank. Bush went on to become a pal of Michelle Obama. Ari Fleischer, Bush’s press secretary, was hired as a media consultant for the NFL. National security adviser Condoleezza Rice returned to academia and public speaking and served on the college football playoff selection committee. Columnists who championed the war—Thomas Friedman, David Brooks, the editorial writers of the Washington Post and the Wall Street Journal—kept their prestigious and well-paying jobs. The dogs of war who howled on Fox News and within the conservative media were not punished. Sean Hannity, a month before the 2003 invasion, declared, “We’re going to go in and we’re going to liberate this country in a few weeks and it’s going to be over very quickly…We’re going to find all of the weapons of mass destruction.” Today, Hannity is the biggest, highest-paid loudmouth at Fox. Democratic legislators who voted in 2002 to provide Bush the leeway to launch the war were not banished. Two won their party’s presidential nomination (John Kerry and Hillary Clinton), and a third (Joe Biden) is on his way to do the same.

There has never been true accountability for this massive screwup that cost thousands of Americans their lives.

Will that happen again?

It is undeniable (for any reality-based observer) that Trump botched the response to the coronavirus pandemic. A recent Washington Post article depicted this tragedy of incompetence in painful detail. And Twitter is loaded with videos showing Trump repeatedly uttering false statements, discounting the coronavirus threat, and claiming the virus was contained. For weeks, he conveyed the message that there was nothing to worry about. He was late to accept the need for social distancing and did not encourage governors to implement necessary shutdowns. He claimed a national testing system was about to start. It never happened, and his administration has failed to develop wide-scale testing. He did not move quickly to prepare health care workers with needed personal protective equipment and ventilators. He essentially told governors they were on their own.

SIGN UP FOR OUR NEWSLETTERS

Subscribe and we'll send Mother Jones straight to your inbox.

EmailSign Up

The most recent of all the revelations showcasing Trump’s ineptitude was especially stark. In late January, White House aide Peter Navarro sent Trump a memo noting, “There is an increasing probability of a full-blown COVID-19 pandemic that could infect as many as 100 million Americans, with a loss of life of as many as 1-2 million souls.” The warning never registered with Trump.

There has been an endless series of profound errors committed by Trump and his administration prior to and during this horrific crisis. Then–national security adviser John Bolton shut down the White House’s global health security office in 2018; the Trump team ignored a pandemic playbook left for it by the Obama administration. And Trump, the malignant narcissist, has, to no one’s surprise, explicitly rejected all responsibility for the glaring missteps and deadly miscalculations. Instead, he has boasted about the ratings for his daily press briefings.

Trump and adoring sidekick Mike Pence will face a moment of judgment in November, when voters will render a verdict. But what of all the others who helped make this moment of mass-death possible? The Dear Leader crowd that supports Trump no matter what has echoed, protected, defended, and bolstered him as he has guided the nation into a nightmare of economic calamity and rampant death. You know who they are. (If not, watch this.) White House advisers Kellyanne Conway and Larry Kudlow—who each will likely look for remunerative gigs after their time with Trump—both claimed the coronavirus was “contained.” Trump’s newly acquired press secretary, Kayleigh McEnany, proclaimed in February, “We will not see diseases like the coronavirus come here..and isn’t it refreshing when contrasting it with the awful presidency of President Obama.” Rush Limbaugh told his millions of Dittohead listeners that the coronavirus was no worse than the “common cold.” (Should he give back the Medal of Freedom Trump awarded him in February?) Numerous Fox-heads, including Hannity and Laura Ingraham, misled the public, reinforcing Trump’s insistence that the threat was a hoax and discounting the seriousness of this virus. Only Trish Regan was booted by Fox after she derided what she called the “coronavirus impeachment scam.” The others have remained in place.

Then there is the Republican Party. None of its leaders have dared to challenge Trump, as he misrepresented the threat and lied about his administration’s response. Rep. Devin Nunes (R-Calif.) encouraged his constituents to ignore calls for social distancing and to go to restaurants. Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-Fla.) mocked concerns about the virus by wearing a gas mask on the House floor. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell (R-Ky.) and House Republican leader Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) never publicly questioned Trump’s multiple blunders, and they continued to lead their party in a cultlike manner of total obeisance to Trump. Many others share the blame. Conservative and right-wing evangelical leaders, including Jerry Falwell Jr. of Liberty University and Matt Schlapp of the American Conservative Union, reinforced the no-big-deal theme that was pushed by Trump’s White House and have considered Trump faultless.



Advertise with Mother Jones

So with thousands of Americans dying in part because of Trump’s feckless and reckless response, who will be held responsible? Rep. Adam Schiff (D-Calif.), who prosecuted the impeachment case against Trump, has proposed creating a coronavirus commission like the 9/11 commission that investigated all the mistakes and misconceptions that preceded that horrible attack. The 9/11 commission produced a detailed and elegantly written report that offered a stunning indictment of the Bush-Cheney administration and the US intelligence community. (Still, Bush and Cheney were reelected.) But one can expect Trump, the Republicans, and their amen choir to rabidly oppose Schiff’s idea (as Bush opposed establishing the 9/11 commission).

American society does not do accountability well. The instigators of the Iraq War did not suffer. Nor did the bankers who crashed the US economy in 2008. We do have elections, and Trump, Pence, and their Republican handmaids will be on the ballot in seven months. But what of the Fox barkers, the conservative movement that has become no more than a promotion vehicle for Trumpjackery, and the entire right-wing noise machine? With their obsessive devotion to Trump, they all have helped pave the way to a national massacre. Will they be able to wash the blood off their hands? Can a large and deplorable slice of the national political media apparatus be judged guilty of murderous culpability and locked up (metaphorically)?

“Nations should have memories,” Frederick Douglass once said. But Gore Vidal frequently referred to the “United States of Amnesia.” And the past is not a good prelude for accountability. Too often the culprits who contributed to death and destruction end up skating along, even experiencing personal benefit. At this moment, the priority for the nation is to rise above Trump’s incompetence and contend with a killer virus that is robbing us of our friends, neighbors, and loved ones and causing severe economic and societal dislocation. But there ought to come a time for a tallying: who did what when, during a life-and-death national crisis. And it is not too early to be collecting receipts. None of this should be forgotten.

FACT:

Mother Jones was founded as a nonprofit in 1976 because we knew corporations and the wealthy wouldn't fund the type of hard-hitting journalism we set out to do.

Today, reader support makes up about two-thirds of our budget, allows us to dig deep on stories that matter, and lets us keep our reporting free for everyone. If you value what you get from Mother Jones, please join us with a tax-deductible donation today so we can keep on doing the type of journalism 2020 demands.

Donate

More about:CoronavirusDonald Trump

RELATED



“Like a Used Rag That Was Thrown in the Trash”: Coronavirus Comes for Domestic Workers

FERNANDA ECHAVARRI



The Acting Secretary of the Navy Just Resigned

DAN SPINELLI



Trump Declares War on Watchdogs

DAN FRIEDMAN



How Republicans Exploited the Coronavirus to Steal a Wisconsin Election

ARI BERMAN



Advertise with Mother Jones

WE RECOMMEND



WhatsApp Takes Steps That Could Slow the Spread of Coronavirus Misinformation

SINDUJA RANGARAJAN



Here’s Where the Demand for Guns Is Soaring

JULIA LURIE



Exclusive: Elizabeth Warren Has a Plan to Protect Your Right to Vote From the Coronavirus

ARI BERMAN



What Do the Cast of “Hamilton” and Jim Halpert From “The Office” Have in Common?

DANIEL KING



Advertise with Mother Jones

LATEST



Trump Fired a Government Watchdog for Doing His Job. Congress Isn’t Stopping Him.

DAN FRIEDMAN



My Father Was the First Federal Prisoner to Die of COVID-19. He’d Been Trying to Get Out for Years.

CHRISTOPHER WALKER AS TOLD TO SETH FREED WESSLER



It’s Hardly Shocking the Navy Fired a Commander for Warning of Coronavirus Threat. It’s Part of a Pattern.

T. CHRISTIAN MILLER AND MEGAN ROSE



The Elizabeth Warren of This Recession Is…An Elizabeth Warren Staffer

KARA VOGHT



Advertise with Mother Jones

We have a new comment system! We are now using Coral, from Vox Media, for comments on all new articles. We'd love your feedback.

VIEW COMMENTS

Independent. In print. In your mailbox.

Inexpensive, too! Subscribe today and get a full year of Mother Jones for just $12.

Subscribe

 April 2020



Smart. Fearless. Audio.

It's us but for your ears. Listen on Apple Podcasts.

Subscribe »

Looking for news you can trust?

Subscribe to our free newsletters.

EmailSign Up

ABOUT

Our Staff

Financials

Jobs

Events

Contact Us

SUPPORT

Ways to Give

Advertise With Us

Store

SUBSCRIBE

Magazine Subscriptions

Give a Gift Subscription

Email Newsletters

Podcasts

Customer Service

Copyright © 2020 Mother Jones and the Foundation for National Progress. All Rights Reserved.

Terms of Service Privacy Policy





[ternamive1984-blog]

We need a new government. The citizens know it. How do we get one?? PEACEFULLY?? That means being very careful to include the Trump people, and work WITH them. If he tries to eat something inappropriate when you walking, redirect his attention and treat/click. Or bring his favorite toy with you and redirect his attention to that. My puppy is a typical lab and loooooves sticks so I would just make a startling noise ("Bop!") and reward him with a quick game of tug or a stick if he left the inappropriate thing alone. To buy the amount of covers needed (at least 4) is around $40 plus s+h, and fst are cheapish but I used them before and personally hated it. They leak, don catch ebf poops well, and you have to double or triple them for overnight. We prefer prefolds or flats, but that can get pricey. See how long it takes to get down to 10.5 volts (100% discharged) or 12.0 volts (50% discharged) measuring the current periodically as you go. To do the test correctly with 계룡출장샵 a constant current load and repeating the test to determine the 20 hour rate will take expensive equipment and a lot of time. A 30 watt bulb, an amp meter and a volt meter will tell you the condition of the battery and improve the condition of the battery if you give it a full recharge right away.bandroidx 1 point submitted 계룡출장샵 1 day agothanks for responding. Just to echo everyone else here's my thoughts. Use stairwells in buildings/parking garages go up and down to build strength and to help with the eccentric loading from downhills. The treadmill is your friend do at least one treadmill workout per week. I think they have a strong support network of powerful people who are protecting them. All their resources are being put into protecting them legally, including suing the pants off anyone who mentions they might be guilty. Have we seen any of the money from their fund being used to help other missing children?. The trail starts in a thick jumble of redwood and Douglas fir. Since it's only 5 miles (8 kilometers) long, you're not expecting dramatic changes in scenery. But before long, the path leads you out of the forest and up 1,466 foot (447 meter) Barnabe's Peak, where you're treated to sweeping views of the countryside. She was an ethnic whirlpool. The flags of all nations flew in her harbour, and at the climax, the yearly coming and going overseas numbered together upwards of two million human beings. To Europe she was America, to America she was the gateway of the world. Fear of the pain and consequences and unsuccessful attempt might result in. Suicide isn't easy without access to a gun or effective pharmaceuticals that might result in a relatively painless death. It is definitely possible to be successful at suicide with limited resources, but also very easy to miscalculate, and end up with a lot of pain and regret and in a worse situation I started out in (and still alive and even more miserable).. Middle aged, even older women who wanted to dress be sexy alluring were viewed as trying to hold on to the vestiges of their youth. They were considered not to be respectable. They were even seen to have deep narcissistic issues. There are two groups of concerned citizens that attend every speech. I have a PTA group for the involved parents. A cheerleader squad that hangs out at the mall along with a high school football team.

[writeallofthethings]

How to Write Dialogue That Captivates Your Reader

If your writing bores you, it’ll put your reader to sleep.

And unfortunately, your first reader will be an agent or an editor.

Your job is to make every word count—the only way to keep your reader riveted until the end, no small task.

Riveting dialogue is your friend because it can accomplish so many things:

It breaks up narrative summary.

It differentiates characters (through dialect and word choice).

It moves the story, showing without telling.

But writing dialogue well is not easy. If yours is bloated or obvious or telling, readers won’t stay with you long.

How to Write Effective Dialogue in 6 Steps

Cut to the Bone

Reveal Backstory

Reveal Character

Be Subtle

Read Your Dialogue Out Loud

Create a “Make My Day” Moment

Step 1. Cut to the Bone

Unless you’re including them to reveal a character as a brainiac or a blowhard, omit needless words.

Obviously, you wouldn’t render a conversation the way a court transcript includes repetition and even um, ah, uh, etc.

See how much you can chop while virtually communicating the same point. It’s more the way real people talk anyway.

Like this:

“What do you want to do this Sunday? I thought wWe could go to the amusement park.”

“I was thinking about renting a rowboat,” Vladimir said. “On one of the lakes.”

“Oh, Vladimir, that sounds wonderful! I’ve never gone rowing before.”

That doesn’t mean all your dialogue has to be choppy—just cut the dead wood.

You’ll be surprised by how much power it adds.

Step 2. Reveal Backstory

Layering in backstory via dialogue helps keep your reader engaged.

Hinting at some incident introduces a setup that demands a payoff.

As they headed toward the house, Janet whispered, “Can we not bring up Cincinnati?”

Maggie shot her a double take. “Believe me, I don’t want that any more than you do.”

“Good,” Janet said. “I mean—”

“Can we not talk about it, please?”

What normal reader wouldn’t assume they will talk about it and stay with the story until they do?

As the story progresses, reveal more and more about your protagonist’s past.

This both offers setups that should engage your reader, and it allows you to avoid relying on cliched flashbacks.

Step 3. Reveal Character

Your reader learns a lot about your characters through dialogue.

You don’t have to TELL us they’re sarcastic, witty, narcissistic, kind, or anything else.

You can SHOW us by how they interact and by what they say.

Step 4. Be Subtle

Dialogue offers a number of ways to powerfully understate things.

Here are three:

1. Subtext—where people say other than what they mean.

Cindy falls in love with the slightly older boy next door, who sees her as just a little sister type.

When she gets to high school, Tommy is already captain of the football team, dating the head cheerleader, and largely ignoring Cindy.

Tommy leaves for college and word soon gets back to Cindy during her senior year of high school that he and his girlfriend have broken up.

So when he comes home after his freshman year of college and is changing a tire on his car, Cindy just happens to walk outside. She strikes up a conversation with Tommy, and he looks up, stunned. Who is this beauty—little Cindy from next door?

She says, “Making a change, are you?”

Tommy looks at the tire and back at her and says, “Yeah, I actually am making a change.”

Cindy says, “Well, I’ve heard that rotating can be a good thing.”

And he says, “Yeah, I’ve heard that too.”

That’s subtext. They’re not saying what they really mean. They’re not really talking about changing the tire, are they?

2. Sidestepping—when a character responds to a question by ignoring it.

Instead, he offers a whole new perspective.

In the movie Patch Adams, the late Robin Williams played a brilliant young doctor who believes the Old Testament adage that “laughter is the best medicine.”

In the children’s cancer ward he wears an inflated surgical glove on his head, making him look like a rooster. He wears bedpans for shoes and stomps about, flapping his arms and squawking.

The children find it hilarious, but hospital directors consider it undignified and demand he stop.

Patch is trying to make one girl in particular—a hospital volunteer—laugh. But while everyone else thinks he’s funny, she never cracks a smile.

Finally, Patch leaves the hospital to open a clinic in the country. Imagine his surprise when that humorless young lady appears to help him set up.

At one point, she goes outside to rest, so Patch follows and sits opposite her. He says, “I’ve got to ask. Everybody thinks I’m hysterical, but you. I’ve tried everything. Why don’t you ever think anything I say is funny?”

After several seconds, she says, “Men have liked me all my life…all my life…” And we realize by the way she says it, she was abused as a child.

Suddenly, we understand what this girl is all about. She doesn’t trust men, and she doesn’t laugh, because life isn’t funny.

She had not really answered his question. Her problem had nothing to do with him or his humor.

Finally, Patch realizes that some things aren’t funny. Some things you just don’t make fun of.

It’s a great turnaround in the story. And an example of sidestep dialogue.

3. Silence

Silence truly can be golden.

Many, including Abraham Lincoln, have been credited with the line: “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.”

One of the toughest things to learn as a writer is to avoid filling silent gaps.

Just like we shouldn’t tell what’s not happening in a story, neither do we need to write that someone didn’t respond or didn’t answer.

If you don’t say they did, the reader will know they didn’t.

“Well, John,” Linda said, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

John set his jaw and stared out the window.

“I’m waiting,” she said.

He lit a cigarette.

Linda shook her head. “I swear, John, honestly.”

Too many writers feel the need to write here, “But he refused to say anything,” or “But he never responded.”

Don’t! We know, we get it—and it’s loud, effective, silent dialogue.

Saying nothing, John is actually saying everything.

Step 5. Read Your Dialogue Out Loud

One way to be certain your dialogue flows is to read it aloud or even act it out.

Anything that doesn’t sound right won’t read right either, so rewrite it until it does.

Step 6. Create a “Make My Day” Moment

Certain iconic lines of dialogue have become as legendary as the films and books they originate from:

“Frankly my dear…”

“There’s no place like home.”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

“To my big brother George, the richest man in town.”

“What we have here is failure to communicate.”

“Go ahead, make my day.”

“May the force be with you.”

“Houston, we have a problem.”

“Run, Forrest, run!”

“You had me at hello.”

Most writers—even bestselling novelists—never create such an unforgettable line of dialogue. But striving to create one is worth the effort.

Ironically, it should fit so seamlessly it doesn’t draw attention to itself until fans begin quoting it.

How to Format Dialogue

1. Use Dialogue Tags

Attribution tags—he said, she said, etc.—are usually all you need to indicate who’s speaking, so resist the urge to get creative.

Teachers who urge you to find alternatives are usually unpublished and believe agents and editors will be impressed.

Trust me, they won’t be.

Avoid mannerisms of attribution. People say things. They don’t wheeze, gasp, sigh, laugh, grunt, or snort them.

They might do any of those things while saying them, which might be worth mentioning, but the emphasis should be on what is said, and readers just need to know who is saying it.

Keep it simple. All those other descriptors turn the spotlight on an intrusive writer.

Sometimes people whisper or shout or mumble, but let their choice of words indicate they’re grumbling, etc.

If it’s important that they sigh or laugh, separate that action from the dialogue.

Jim sighed. “I can’t take this anymore.”

Not: Jim sighed, “I can’t take this anymore.”

Though you read them in school readers and classic fiction, attribution tags such as replied, retorted, exclaimed, and declared have become clichéd and archaic.

You’ll still see them occasionally, but I suggest avoiding them.

Often no attribution is needed.

Use dialogue tags only when the reader wouldn’t otherwise know who’s speaking.

I once wrote an entire novel, The Last Operative, without attributing a single line of dialogue.

Not a said, an asked, anything.

I made clear through action who was speaking, and not one reader, even my editor, noticed.

Jordan shook his head and sighed. “I’ve had it.”

Another common error is having characters address each other by name too often.

Real people rarely do this, and it often seems planted only to avoid a dialogue tag. Fictional dialogue should sound real.

Don’t start your dialogue attribution tag with said.

…said Joe or …said Mary reads like a children’s book. Substitute he and she for the names and that will make it obvious: …said he or said she just doesn’t sound right.

Rather, end with said for the most natural sound: …Joe said or …Mary said.

Resist the urge to explain, and give the reader credit.

The amateur writer often writes something like this:

“I’m beat,” exclaimed John tiredly.

Besides telling and not showing—violating a cardinal rule of writing—it uses the archaic exclaimed for said, misplaces that before the name rather than after, and adds the redundant tiredly (explaining something that needs no explanation).

The pro would write:

John dropped onto the couch. “I’m beat.”

That shows rather than tells, and the action (dropped onto the couch) tells who’s speaking.

2. How to Punctuate Dialogue

Few things expose a beginner like incorrect punctuation, especially in dialogue.

Agents and editors justifiably wonder if you read dialogue, let alone whether you can write it, if you write something like: “I don’t know.” she said. Or, “What do you think?” He said.

To avoid common mistakes:

When dialogue ends with a question or exclamation mark, the dialogue tag following the quotation marks should be lowercase:  “I’m glad you’re here!” she said.

When one character’s dialogue extends to more than one paragraph, start each subsequent paragraph with a double quotation mark, and place your closing double quotation mark only at the end of the final paragraph.

Place punctuation inside the quotation marks, the dialogue tag outside: “John was just here asking about you,” Bill said.

Put the attribution after the first clause of a compound sentence: “Not tonight,” he said, “not in this weather.”

Action before dialogue requires a separate sentence: Anna shook her head. “I can’t believe she’s gone!”

Quoting within a quote requires single quotation marks: “Lucy, Mom specifically said, ‘Do not cut your bangs,’ and you did it anyway!”

When action or attribution interrupts dialogue, use lowercase as dialogue resumes: “That,” she said, “hurt bad.”

3.  Every New Speaker Requires a New Paragraph

Here’s how I handled a conversation between Brady, one of my lead characters, and his attorney, in my novel Riven:

Ravinia sat shaking her head and telling him all the reasons it would never fly. Rules, regulations, protocol, procedure, no exceptions, and the list went on and on. “I’m not going to pursue this for you, Brady.”

“Yes, you are. I can tell.”

“You can’t tell it by me. Have you been listening? It’s impossible…”

“But you’ll try.”

Ravinia rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Sure you would. You know everything, and you’ve been working inside the system a long time.”

“I’d be laughed out of here,” she said.

“Just tell me you’ll try.”

“Brady, really, be serious. Think this through. Can you imagine the warden going for this? Huh-uh. No way.”

“I like your idea of starting with the warden,” he said.

“I said no such thing.”

“Start at the top; go right to the man.” …

“Brady, don’t ask me to do this.”

“I’m asking.”

Dialogue Examples

If you’re old enough to remember the original Twilight Zone (hosted by Rod Serling) or Dragnet (starring and narrated by Jack Webb), you know how dialogue set the tone for their shows.

Serling was sometimes whimsical, sometimes mysterious, but always provocative. “Consider one middle-aged adult, lost in space and time…”

Jack Webb, as L.A. police detective Sergeant Joe Friday, was always deadly serious and monotone. “Just the facts, ma’am.”

Contrast those with the dialogue between Tom and his Aunt Polly in Tom Sawyer.

“There! I mighta thought of that closet. What you been doing in there?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing! Look at your hands. And look at your mouth. What IS that truck?”

“I don’t know, aunt.”

“Well, I know. It’s jam—that’s what it is. Forty times I’ve said if you didn’t let that jam alone I’d skin you. Hand me that switch.”

The switch hovered in the air—the peril was desperate—

“My! Look behind you, aunt!”

The old lady whirled round and snatched her skirts out of danger. The lad fled on the instant, scrambled up the highboard fence, and disappeared over it.

Such dialogue sets the tone for the entire story and clearly differentiates characters.

In Huckleberry Finn, Twain delineates between the Southern white boy and Jim, the runaway slave by hinting at their respective accents.

Twain doesn’t need to tell who’s speaking, yet the reader never confuses the two.

“Jim, did y’all ever see a king?”

Y’all is the only word in that sentence that implies a Southern accent, but it’s enough.

“I sho enough did.”

“You liar, Jim. You never seen no king.”

“I seen foh kings in a deck of cards.”

Huck’s grammar and Jim’s sho and foh are the only hints of their dialects.

Too much phonetic spelling would have slowed the reading.

The Cardinal Sin of Dialogue

The last thing you want is to produce on-the-nose dialogue.

Apply to your own work those principles and the tools I’ve outlined here, and I believe you’ll immediately see a huge difference. So will your reader.

[aussie-mantle]

Archie's Sister- Reggie x Reader Part 2

"Archie's got a date with Betty." You skip down the stairs singing. "It's not a date." Archie groaned. "We're just catching up. We haven't seen each other all summer break." "We haven't seen each other all summer break either." You pout to your brother as you join him in the kitchen. "She's got a point Archibald." Fred says to his son. "We worked pretty much everyday together." Archie rolled his eyes getting a bottle of water out of the fridge. "Anyways, Betty is like a sister to me, you know that." Archie pointed out to (Y/N) as he sipped on his water and patted Vegas. You shrug. "Okay then." You smile. "Hey Dad. First day of school and I'm already late!" Archie runs down the stairs. "Hey Vegas." He stops to pat te family dog. You sat by the bench on your phone. You couldn't help but smile at the most recent text message from Reggie. "Hey you uhh, stopping by the site later?" Fred asked his son. "Dad it's my first day." "We gotta get you going in the office." You scrof at your father's words. "So next summer you're not on the crew. There was an awkward silence as you joined your father and brother. "I can't I've got football try outs." Another pause. "Is that not okay?" "No. No, it's uh, it's okay. Good luck." Fred says to your brother and he walks out leaving you behind. You kiss your father on the cheek. "Bye Dad." You wave. "(Y/N). Keep an eye out for him for okay? I don't want him to get overwhelmed." "What about me?" "I know you (Y/N). You've got everything planned. Archie, he's a pre-pubescent boy." Your father chuckled. "And (Y/N), no boys." He points to you. You roll your eyes leaving. Thankfully Archie was walking with Betty. You skip around the corner and spot Reggie's truck. You hop in it and give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for driving me." You smile to him. "No worries." He smiles blushing starting the car. "I hear football try outs are this afternoon." You mutter starting conversation. "Heck yeah. I'm also gonna try out for captain." "Reggie that's awesome. You're totally going to get it, but-" "But what." "But Archie's also going out for captain as well." I told him. "Looks like I have some competition with Andrews, huh?" He chuckled and you giggle. "Anyways. I think you'll get it Reg." you smile at him as he focuses on the road and then looking at you for a second. He parks the car and placed a hand on your thigh. "I'll see you in the common room." He says and pecks your lips. "Looking forward to it." You smile grabbing your bag and books off your lap and walking into school. You find Betty and Archie. "There you are sis." He groans. "I was right behind you guys. Chill." You lie reaching your locker which just happened to be right next to Archie's. Betty went off to give the new-girl who I haven't met yet a tour of the school. Just as I opened my locker I peeked down at Archie's notepad. Is he writing lyrics? "Oh, that explains the bags under your eyes." You tease your brother. "You were writing music." "They're unfinished." Archie sighed and you shrug not really caring at your brothers new found hobby. You had never heard him sing or play an instrument. Well there was that one time when everyone had to leave the recorder but that doesn't really count. "Bro, you are ready for football. I'm not kidding, you dude, you got ripped." Reggie said leaning against the locker to the right of Archie. I tuned out for a couple of seconds as Reggie said something about Archie's arms and then being made out of diesel. If we wanted our relationship to be secret, I needed to act like I was tuning out. I grabbed my things for my first two classes. "What are you benching? 220, 225. Gotta give me some tips man." He then went on about tea. Archie pinched my shoulder as he walked off with Reggie as a goodbye. Reggie gave me one last wink as he walked off with my brother. "It's from working construction Reg." Archie told him putting on his jacket. I told you that Reggie. I was working with him. That's why I couldn't sneak off heaps. "Oh yeah yeah that's right." He said like he didn't believe him. "Yo Moose!" Reggie shouted down the hall. I turned the other way and headed to my first class. An assembly was called. Probably to talk about Jason Blossoms death. I had sent Cheryl a bunch on messages when I found out about her poor brother. We had talked over the phone. I don't really know how she was coping, but I hope she was alright. During lunch I sat with Archie, Kevin and Betty. Reggies table was next to ours. I picked at my apple slices and turkey sandwich. Kevin was slurping his CapriSun in my ear. Once he stopped, Archie pulled out his laptop and began to play his new songs he had 'apparently wrote'. Betty in her blush pink cardigan seemed to enjoy the cheesy and sappy songs. "Can I join?" A raven haired girl around our age asked. "Yeah." Betty said nonchalantly. She sat down next to me blocking my view of Reggie. "Veronica, this is (Y/N). Archie's sister I was telling you about." Betty said gesturing to me. "Two red headed twins in one school. What are the chances." She noted. She turned to Archie and Betty. "What are we doing?" "Listening to one of Archie's songs." Betty added. "I thought we were going to have to pretend to like it, but they're actually really good." Kevin insisted. I opened my mouth to say something. "Wait. That was you singing? Something you wrote?" Veronica questioned. I turned to Betty. Wow another person flirting with Archie, no surprise there. "It's rough." Archie smiled shyly. "No Arch its great." Betty smiled bring some encouragement and lifting up his confidence. "It's incredible. The little snippet I heard." I turned to Betty, jealous was written all over her pale face. "Is that your 'thing'? Music?" You dong something with that?" Kevin stopped and put his drink down and looked at Archie. "Yeah, that's the plan." Archie smiled. "That's news to me." I mumbled and Kevin elbowed me. "So, how's your first day going? Good?" "Not to be a complete narcissist, but I thought people would be more-" "Obsessed with you? Any other year you would be trending number one for sure, this year though it's all about Cheryl winning the 'best supporting psycho oscar role as Riverdale Highs red widow". "Hey I should go, I've got that meeting with Miss Grundy then football try outs." Archie said standing up. "You play football too? What don't you do?" Veronica joked. "See you at home (Y/N)." Archie nodded as he walked off. "Before you ask Blue Jasmine, no she has not invited him to the dance-" "Don't talk about Archie-" "Veronica Lodge. I heard whisperings, I'm Cheryl Blossom. Can I sit?" Cheryl turned to me and I gestured for her to sit down. "Betty would you mind?" She spat and sat down next to her. "So what are you four hens gossiping in about?" Cheryl asked and I looked at Kevin and was going to speak up. "Extra curriculars." Oh God Veronica. Now she's going to begin one of her infamous 'join the river vixens' speeches again. Kevin and Cheryl had a quick spat at each other as Veronica encouraged Betty to try out with her. I wouldn't dare try out for cheerleading. Sure it looks great on a college application, but it's just not for me. After Cheryl's 'follow me on twitter' walk off we went back to eating. My phone buzzed against my denim skirt pocket. I knew it was Reggie. I pulled it out. "Good luck at try outs. I've gotta go. Principal Weatherbee was me to tutor some kids in the elementary years." I said. This wasn't exactly a lie. I had already had that meeting with our principal, I was just meeting up with Reggie. "Babe. I'm not going to a stupid dance." Reggie poured. "I'm not saying we have to go. I'm just saying, that we could do something else." "You wanna Netflix's and Chill at my place again?" Reggie smirked. "That's exactly what I was thinking." I smiled at him placing a hand to his chest and kissing his lips. "Good luck." You smile to him once more before leaving the empty classroom one at a time. You sat down on the couch, legs crossed studying and planning on how to tutor some elementary kids. "(Y/N). You're home. Where's your brother?" "Backyard." You gesture behind you and your father storms down the hall before getting a beer from the fridge. Uh oh. He's in trouble. After dads whole 'who are you lying too' speech to Archie, he had a quick shower upstairs. I was in my room, fixing up my bookshelf when Archie walked in. "Hey. Can you uhh, help me fix my bow tie?" He asked passing me a piece of material. "You're hopeless." You laugh at your brother. "That's why I have you." He said and you tied the bow tie around your brothers neck. "So, I'm assuming you're not going tonight." He chuckled sitting on your bed and tying his shoelaces up. "Nope. You know public crowds aren't my thing." You shrug. "Well, if I make the football team you're going to have to get used to it." He told me and I sighed. "I know." "I swear to god, you and Jughead are almost the same." "Jughead and I just don't like big crowds. And you know why I don't like big crowds." Archie sighed. "Because mom and dad lost you in a crowd at that carnival eight years ago. Get over yourself sis. I was there with you." Archie added. "Whatever. Go have fun at your dance." You sigh and he gets up and walks off. "I ordered fries and shakes from Pop's. What do you wanna watch?" Reggie asked bringing me inside his house. His younger brother, Oliver walked over. "Dude, you gotta stop sneaking her into the house when mom and dad aren't around." "Grow some balls Oliver." "Reggie." You sigh looking at Oliver. "This will probably be the last time anyways." "Huh?" Reggie asks you stopping in his tracks. "Well, shouldn't we start telling people yet? I can't keep lying to my family." I told him. "Just a couple more weeks. I promise." Reggie smiled kissing my forward. Midway during Harry Potter my phone buzzed and so did Reggie's. It was a text from Cheryl. -After party at mine. 10:00 sharp 💋 I looked at Reggie. "We both can't go. It's gonna look suspicious." I told him and he nodded.  "Cheryl's just gonna cause trouble. Anyways, one of was should go, she knows about us two." Reggie pointed out and you sigh. Cheryl caught us handing around the Twilight Drive-In a couple of weeks back. "You should probably go. It would be weird if I was there." I told Reggie. "You sure?" "Yeah. Anyways, you have a suit you can wear, I don't haven't anything." I told him getting off his bed. "Okay then. I'll text you tomorrow." Reggie said placing another kiss to your forehead as you left his room. I walked to Pops diner. "Hey. I'm here to pick up an order for Mantle." I told Pop. "Yeah it's on his way. Did Reggie want extra pickles." "Not tonight." I told him. I was going to take this order and give it to Dad so he could eat it. "Oh, and maybe some onion rings would be good as well." I told Pop and he smiled walking off. I spun around and spotted Jughead. "Order for Mantle?" Jughead asked and I coughed. "I don't know what you're talking about." "Your secrets safe with me (Y/N)." Jughead smiled and I smiled back. "How was your summer break?" I asked him sitting across from him in his booth. "Boring. Archie bailed on me." "What? But you guys were planning the camping trip for ages. Who did he go with then?" I asked Jughead. "Like I'd care." He spat and I raised and eyebrow just as Pop came over with my order. "Here." I said pulling out one of the burgers. "You must be a little hungry." I told him and he shrugged. "I'm alright. But thanks anyways." Jughead frowned and I put the burger back in my takeaway bag. "You know you're always welcomed to stay at the Andrews residence." I told him and he nodded. "I'm in a stable position for now." Jughead told me as I got out of the booth with my food. "Good night Jug." I waved goodbye. "Bye (Y/N)." He said looking back to his laptop. "Kids! Get in the car now!" Fred yelled at his teenage kids. Archie got barely any sleep, he was still in his suit and tie from the night before. (Y/N) crashed on the couch mid last night whilst talking business with her father. Fred drive both the kids down to Sweetwater River. "Why are we here?" (Y/N) asked her father and they all got out. Fred didn't bother answering her question. She was going to find out soon enough. (Y/N) looked around and cuddled into her coat to keep warm as the chilly breeze came past. She stood to the left of Fred, Archie to the right. In front of them was a crime scene. Jason's body had been found.

[alonebadman]

YA Cliches: Sympathy for the Devil, On Alpha Bitches and Jerk Jocks. Also, sometimes you’re just an asshole (and not the other way around).

YA is the hottest market in fiction. It dominates year after year with the hottest new Lifetime afterschool special plots, quirky, misunderstood protagonists who are totally cool, and everyone is a 1980s movie character cliche. Obviously, this has changed since the days of Heathers, Mean Girls, Friday Night Lights, and other forgotten 90s and 2000s high school movies.

While genre cliches have relaxed and been deconstructed, there is still a strange recurrence of the super misunderstood nerd/geek/hipster/theater club member changes the school by defeating the alpha bitch/queen bee/football captain. While this can be entertaining, it often does a disservice to the complicated reality of high school. Sure, teens in general are shallow, melodramatic, often breaking up, making up, gossiping like chickens, but well, yeah? That doesn’t change once you get out of high school. That’s human nature.

The Alpha Bitch is often the villain of the story. She’s rich, she’s pretty, but she doesn’t care about real stuff like our quirky protagonist. She’s probably dating the jock, controls the school’s social hierarchy like a banana republic dictator, and has a future as model or a Fortune 500 power CEO. But at 30, she’s a loser, an alcoholic, and our quirky protagonist totally got her good by becoming successful, respected for her quirks, and omg she’s just like me at 15!

Then there’s Chad (James, Rich,etc). He’s built like a shitbrick, has the iq of a potato, but goddamn is he a hunk. He hates nerds, loves sports, pounds beer, and gets the ladies (and sometimes the fellas!). He often ends up a deadbeat loser working at a local supermarket. He’s always wearing his Letterman jacket and going on about the 2001 D1 championship. Our quirky protagonist is glad she didn’t fall for him and ended up like Heather.

Then there’s our quirky protagonist. She’s not a sociopathic, equally shallow rube. No, she’s quirky (tm). She likes vintage movies, dances to Duran-Duran ironically, doesn’t want to be like the other popular people (she totally does), and just wants to be free to pursue her art college dreams! As much as I joke, this setup ironically hasn’t changed all that much. Sure, Heather and Chad have become more nerdy/tech savvy compared to their 80s and 90s incarnations, they’re just a different breed of jerk and bitch. Our quirky nerd/homely girl has become a hipster/art/band/whatever social lower class exists in a bizzaro modern high school.

Flipping through some of the blurbs/first ten pages of modern YA, there’s a disturbing trend in the protagonists. They’re no longer just quirky or misunderstood. They often harbor psychopathic thoughts that would make Patrick Bateman pause his nihilistic monologues on 1980s consumerism. There is a pervasive trend of demonizing their antagonists to the point of self-parody. The protagonist isn’t just verbally mocked, slandered, she’s beaten in toilets, has her legs broken Mafia style, is unpersoned like some 1950s KGB smear campaign. It is absurd and shows a lack of reality some writers have. Everyone has been bullied or at least harassed/insulted once in their life. Even the so called popular kids dealt with shit that their “victims” often didn’t know about or conveniently ignored. “They deserve it” is often the mantra of the underdog or quirky protagonist. And honestly? Fuck the underdog.

The underdog now a days is an equally shallow, narcissistic, passive rube who is a different brand of monster to their archnemesis. Despite what YA and pop culture would have you believe, nerds, geeks, band members, drama club members, all are equally as capable of slander, gossip, backstabbing, melodrama, and every other cliche surrounding sports teams and high school cheerleaders. This isn’t to say the so called Heathers and Chads of the world sometimes really are just bores who relive the glory days. But for writing, sometimes your outsider protagonist really is a different breed of monster. They just don’t realize it.

I’d like to see more stories from the Queen Bee’s perspective. Her family is a mess, her cousins are competing for the role of their family’s business, her mother lives vicariously through her as a stagemom, she’s got a coke addiction she knows will get her killed at 40, but she can’t stop. She’s got to be the top, always got to be the top.

Or Chad. He’s the football captain, but his grades are slipping. The coaches put a ton of pressure on him since day 1 of freshman year. He’s being scouted for the top football programs in the area. But his shoulder is shot to shit from repeated injuries, he lives in his All-American father’s shadow, he’s the hope of the school and their pride. But Chad’s cracking and Chad knows he can’t crack.

Sometimes, your antagonists are equally flawed and broken as your quirky protagonist. Instead of propping up unhealthy revenge fantasies from the maladjusted 35 year olds of the world, maybe a little more empathy in our stories would go a long way to setting positive rolemodels for kids today. Or maybe not. Maybe just have Suzie Qurkie stab Heather Carrington to death after trying to become Heather’s doppelganger and wearing a wig saying, “I’m Heather now AHAHAHAHAH!”