* / 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛 in the 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 .

all of these people and all of their friends look so good together and i don't fit in. AM I EVEN REAL?

[ofdianaes-blog]

DREA.

as diana lists all the things she put in her diary, drea couldn’t help but think on how it was in fact just a diary. she wondered what kind of quotes and music and thoughts a person like her peer would put down on paper. but she wasn’t curious enough to disrupt whatever agreed upon relationship of disinterest and distrust they seemed to have to ask. she’d just think on it. “ cooool, ” she dragged out with a couple of nods. on one hand she got it, it was private. the fact that the blonde had shared as much as she did was shocking. andrea had an art journal and that was kind of similar. but diana’s was totally some weird girl diary shit, and it was just another thing that made her wish she was speaking to her best friend. 

though the joke did earn a small snort of a laugh from drea, accompanied with a grin. “ right yeah, of course, like– duh, ” she went along, tapping her temple before lifting it quickly, expressing how obvious it was with a grin. then weirdly, another mention of kat, directly this time, and she couldn’t help the way she pressed her lips into a thin line for a second and glanced away a moment before she spoke “ you know, not to crush your ego or whatever, ” truth be told she didn’t care at all for diana’s ego. maybe it could do with a little crushing, drea’s sure could. “ but me and kat don’t really talk about yo that often. certainly haven’t discussed your potential plans to destroy the school. ” she chuckled. 

when she referenced the spot, she glanced around. observing the space for a moment. honestly, she usually didn’t need to find a spot to hide, escape. usually she was good, balanced in a sense. this week had just been shit. “ no, i mean, like i’ve come here before but it’s not my spot or whatever. ” she waved off, tagging another quick drag. “ i don’t usually smoke like, on campus. ” she gestured out, meaning to gesture to the campus but mostly gesturing to wall behind diana. she took a breath in before, deciding to continue hopefully before the opportunity was given to look into what she said. “ but three months and no one else has been here? doesn’t that kinda make this your spot? ”

Ego could indeed be knocked down a peg, and it is for a split second, before she reevaluates. As much as Diana loved attention — she wasn’t supposed to be making a splash, not one that big. A tiny ripple in the puddle of Broadripple, that’s what she was meant to be. Not still water, not waves lapping against the shore. A blip on the radar. So instead of adding something snide, she keeps her mouth shut for once, listening as the brunette continues on about the various hideways hidden within Broadripple’s campus. “ I mean, not while I’ve been here. There could be some ... ships in the night bullshit with my good old smoking tree, and I wouldn’t even know it. ” Voice is neutral, and so is her expression, but Diana reaches back and touches the base of the tree fondly. It’s a good spot. “ I’m not exactly gonna stick a fucking flag in it and advertise it as mine. ” Not aggressive, but instead a statement of the obvious: that’s basically begging to be caught. 

Another drag of the cigarette, and a beat of silence passes before Diana speaks again. “ So, like ... what’s your deal? I’ve got my big old book of secrets, and you ... ” She trails off as if waiting for Drea to finish the sentence. “ Don’t tell me you sit here in silence twiddling your thumbs. The thought of boredom that severe would make me keel over. ”

[ofdianaes-blog]

EMMA.

Yearbook photographer? Kind of a sketchy gig if you think about. Sure, it’s pretty chill when she’s given a specific wishlist from the writing team or the editor. She has proof, usually printed out on a sheet when she needs to ask people for specific things and poses. But when all she’s given is: capture everyday happenings and lifestyle shots, you might as well tell her to fuck right off because that’s just code for ‘be a creeper and take pictures of people when they’re not looking’. Still, a task is a task and Emma doesn’t like not having anything to deliver when the time comes, so…

She gets a few shots here and there. A couple of the soccer team in motion, people walking around campus in pairs or in groups, books in their arms and smiles on their faces despite the heat. It’s pretty good content for a brochure and it kind of bothers her how squeaky clean she’s making the school look. Like, hey! This is just a normal place! Join in! Yeah, right… She’s walking across the grounds when she comes across someone sitting by a tree, and it makes her stop in her tracks because like, that would be a really great shot. It’s certainly not school-appropriate because God forbid Emma takes a photo that make this school look like it’s made up of loners but it’s the type of shit Emma prefers to capture. It’ll be a good mood shot at least for her own portfolio.

She brings her camera up to take the picture but when she gets a closer look with zoom, she frowns a little. Do her eyes deceive her or is she really catching someone smoking on school property right now? Well, shit. That’s good content. She hesitates lowering her finger to capture the photo, not liking the idea of having incriminating evidence of someone in her collection – she’s not a snitch. She waits till the ‘evidence’ is more or less put away before stealing a quick photo and striding up to approach the student to warn them. 

 "You know, you should probably be more careful about that,” she wastes no time announcing her presence, figuring she’s made her footsteps obnoxious enough already for the person to know she was coming anyway. Some blonde. Emma can’t really tell where she’s seen her before. There’s like, a billion and one of them on campus. At least it’s not Faith McKay. Imagine if it was God’s Favorite Catholic that she caught with a cigarette. Hilarious. But no, this is someone else. Someone Emma isn’t quite aware of. Not that she makes a habit of getting to know her peers anyway. “I’m pretty sure there’s a spot people go to do this type of thing. You should probably figure out where that is because I was this close to accidentally snapping a shot of you with Satan’s little stick,” she shares dryly.

She’s already ready to cut it and run when the footsteps come along with a voice, and she begins to seriously consider it when she sees a camera. Her own is in her bag, full of film and ready to be utilized — but the one this girl holds is much nicer, and unfortunately for  her, that fear is amplified when she realises who the other is. Diana might be one of the dime a dozen pale blondes that resided on campus ( a third lost McKay — some fucked up universe where she was named Chastity, Kat’s evil clone from another dimension ... ) but Emma is distinctive, and though Diana can’t place a name, creepy yearbook chick suffices. 

“ But you didn’t, right? ” She says, and because she’s feeling exceptionally brave, another cigarette is withdrawn from her bag. “ I mean, it’s not exactly the squeaky clean, establishment yearbook material. Art’s dead, and brochures killed it. ” Flick of a lighter, and Satan’s stick is back in her mouth, when she gazes up at Emma expectantly, daring her to snap the photo, branded forever as a tattletale or not-so-bad, depending on what she did with it. Maybe Diana’s feeling too brave. 

[ofdianaes-blog]

GWEN.

Despite her cruel intentions, Gwen was rather easy to please if one would only throw her a bone and grovel. The immediate apology was enough to soothe her for a moment, and so her hard stare softened, now look more inquisitive than anything as to how out of line a student could be after having at least a few months under her belt by now at the academy. Also smoking — Gwen hadn’t done that in almost a year since she stopped hanging out with her brother’s friends, it felt oddly juvenile now. As if she recognized it for the rebellious act it had been and moved past it.

She let the girl sweat for a moment longer before Gwen’s expression changed completely into a girlish smirk, “There are. Plenty, in fact,” Fewer contraband ways to relax, that was. “But if we’re being totally transparent, they’re not exactly better.” Hearing that Diana didn’t want to make a fool of the Seton house was the most perfect thing she could have said to the senior at that moment, coaxing her to thaw faster than usual. “Just… do it behind the art block, like everybody else. There’s a staff parking lot that nobody really uses because the gate rusted a long time ago.” Tit for tat, Gwen thought to herself. She’d scratch Diana’s back as long as the junior would drop everything for her when she requested it.

“I wouldn’t recommend Lorehill either, I don’t care what anybody says they’ll sell you there. It’s like, we’ve all heard the story of Little Red Riding Hood and the flowers aren’t worth it, believe me.” She advised Diana before taking refuge in the shade, but not sitting. She didn’t sit on grass like losers and get stains on her skirt, she was better than that. 

Diana nods obediently, though she wants it to come across as moreso nonchalant and less eager. Eager wasn’t cool, eager wasn’t the right material. Even though a willingness to please was sewn into the fabric of who Diana was, she had to fight frequently to combat it. Act like you don’t give a shit, and the judgement eventually won’t matter. But with Gwen, the air of authority she carried, felt more like a boss than a peer. And so: she kissed ass when she needed to, a much better way of keeping herself under the radar rather than getting on her bad side. 

“ Art block, kinda fitting. ” She says, visions of artsier students dangling Newports from their lips. Back to the pretentiousness of basics, instead of vaping out a bathroom window in between classes like most teenagers she’d known before coming to Broadripple. Gwen wordlessly refusing to sit feels like it amplifies the dynamic between them — the older girl reaping the benefits of the shade of the tree, but still being above Diana. She stands, tentatively, back pressed against tree trunk in a casual lean as she smooths blades of grass off her skirt. “ I try and veer clear of Lorehill even without accepting illicit offers, ” she explained, even though she’d explored it relatively recently. No harm, no foul, Gwen doesn’t need to know that sketches of the ruins reside in her notebook with pencilled in fascination. “ Figured I’d either get possessed or ... get tetanus. ” She smiles brightly, an attempt to show she’s joking, and it feels unnatural with the scowl that usually overtakes pale features after a sarcastic remark. 

[ofdianaes-blog]

NICO.

Domenico chuckled. Diana had a flair for the dramatic didn’t she? Yeah she would definitely fare well in Hollywood if she ever got there. 

“At least I’d be smoking it in your honor. Must amount to something.” He smiled playfully. 

“Don’t worry the sisters don’t come here, foolproof hiding spot.” The young man smirked, yep he himself definitely didn’t want to be caught having a joint, it was unlikely that they would kick him out for just one infraction, but who knew he wasn’t feeling exactly lucky since the party. Yep it definitely was a night worth remembering. Not for the booze, though, or the girls, fuck not even for Kit’s ghosts and demons. He would have never thought that evening would screw him up that much.

 “…he said before realizing too late that one of them was exactly behind him.” He narrated playfully, luckily though his words didn’t prove to be prophetic, not for now at least.

“Let’s stop tempting fate.” THe young man chuckled again and he took the lighter. “Nks.” He lit the joint and took a quick sip, mostly to let the makeshift cigarette properly light up and  exhaled a small cloud of ‘incense’ scented smoke. He found a spot to sit close to her, leaning with the back against the same tree as Diana. “All yours.” He passed her the joint so that they can alternate it between each other. “Was I interrupting something?” He eyed the pile where she had hidden the diary, not that he had exactly figured out what it was, but he did have a good guess at least. “I mean a part for you committing  a terrible sin that I masterfully replaced with a better one.” He grinned playfully,

Diana didn’t know Nico particularly well, only in passing. On paper, she’d be bothered by him: some guy who thinks he owned the world, confident to the point of being cocky, fast enough to keep up with her. Just exactly the right brand of irritating where she couldn’t discount him or take him in as an ally in her fight against ... well, whatever it was she thought she was fighting. But Nico was fine. Half past acquaintance, but the hand hadn’t quite turned over to friend yet. She was fine with that, the in between state. It made things more pliable to promote or demote him depending on how he acted. 

Though now, things were fine. She takes the joint gladly, and the anticipation of what comes in the minutes after inhaling deeply is enough to make her relax enough to not immediately prickle at the thought of revealing anything close to what she was doing. “ Just some bullshit writing stuff, ” She says, another hit and it’s passed back to him. “ Way less about that and more for the sinning. You wanna do the mealtime prayer once we get the munchies? ” She deadpanned, glance tossed back over to him. 

[ofdianaes-blog]

ELLA.

“God, tell me about it,” Ella groaned, curling herself in her blankets like a human burrito. She probably should be getting ready to shower before her hair got too dried out by the chlorine, but a few minutes of blissful relaxation wouldn’t hurt, right? “When I first got here, I was so annoyed that I couldn’t wear my favorite bracelet during the week. Father Spence told me he’d confiscate it if I didn’t put it in my backpack. Fucking dick,” she huffed. Ella reached for her bedside table and plucked up the bracelet from it’s Monday through Friday resting place. She ran her fingers over one of the silver wings. As much as Diana loved to complain, about school, monotonous rules, how totally lame current blockbusters were in comparison to the black-and-white classics, Ella couldn’t think of anything she’d rather listen to after a long day. Even if she didn’t agree with one of Diana’s many opinions, there was still something cathartic about listening to another person rant. 

Ella peeked up from her covers as Di hopped into bed. “Tragic. We’ll have to find some torture for you to glean inspiration from,” she teased. Although, it wasn’t entirely the worst idea. Not that Ella would ever encourage or hope for Diana to seek out heartache, but in Ella’s experience, it truly was the best muse. It was the most thorough lesson her father had ever taught her. He just hadn’t even realized he was doing it. Ella laughed, propping herself up on her shoulders to see Diana more clearly. “For you, my schedule will be completely cleared. I wouldn’t miss the experience of body-burying for the world. Think of all the notes I could take for a murder mystery,” her brow darted up as she flashed a mischievous grin. But her smile slowly melted into a groan. She slipped her bracelet back onto her wrist and leaned back into the mattress, resting her chin on her folded arms. “Honestly, I’ve been like, feeling kinda down since the Barn Party.” Not entirely true. She’d had a ton of fun at the party, even in ways she hadn’t even fully expected. It was the situation with Kit, with Nico that was putting a damper on her mood. “I actually,” she shrugged and spun her bracelet around her wrist, “I broke things off with Nico, so that’s a thing now.”

“ That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard, El. Even if you’re using my murderous tendencies as your own personal muse. ” Well, personal benefit was always a plus. Diana, ever selfish, knew that in spades — Though it’s hardly the descriptor she would use for Ella. “ Maybe it’ll be Father Spence. Vengeance for your bracelet. ” She says, absently, though direct threats of murder, no matter how joking, are probably not something she should say out loud. Topic is passed over quickly, however, and brows furrow with focus fixated on the other girl as she continues. A nervous spin of silver jewelry, and she’s at full attention now, even more so as Ella explains herself. 

“ What did he do? ” She asks, the accusatory Ella-clearly-did-nothing-wrong nature of her comment evident in how she says it with just a hint of anger already poking through. She’s not hoping for massive heartbreak and betrayal — she didn’t exactly hate Nico, thinking more fondly of polite conversation and a joint passed back and forth than she would think of most of her interactions with fellow Broadripple students. But, admittedly, she only had spent any time around him because of Ella. Priority lied with her roommate and friend. Even if he did have good weed. “ I’m ready to put my other plans on the backburner to take care of him. ” She pops a fist out in a mock punch, hitting nothing but the air in front of her, however pleased she looks with her form. “ And ... ” Tentative pause, expression softens considerably she’s not really good with the whole feelings and comfort business. But Ella was her friend, and so — “ I mean, like, obviously ... are you feeling okay? ” 

[runawaysource]

[ofdianaes-blog]

GWEN.

Despite her confident nature, Gwen wasn’t exactly a socialite. No, in fact, she enjoyed the limited company of a select few people or otherwise, preferred to be by herself so that nobody could judge her. This week hadn’t exactly been one of Broadripple’s best, but Gwen didn’t have time to sulk about it. ( She did, but only in the privacy of her own dorm room while Faith was busy being a bother somewhere else. ) So instead, she packed her back full with homework and study notes she had to organize and set off on a journey to study hall, until she glanced out of one of the windows and snagged the sight of a blond sat beneath a tree. How very Jane Austen, she thought annoyingly, hating sitting on grass without something between her skin and the spikey green like some hippy. Alas, it was only when she saw the figure lighting up that House Captain sirens went off in her head. Right, were people stupid? Did they just think that because nuns were sometimes allergic to the outdoors and had better things to do than traipse the grounds for degenerates, that smoking on campus was just okay?

Gwen tightened her grip on her satchel and glared, twisting in her step and heading for the door that led to the outside world. Punching through it, she almost took out a sophomore, but she didn’t have time to cast an apology at them, nor did she want to. She was a House Captain on a mission, a mission to scold some kid that obviously didn’t know better-

Until she got closer and realized it was Diana Archibald, another girl from the system put into Catholic Care, likely for a nice foster cheque to a family who didn’t have the time. Gwen didn’t really know her that well, but that was just what she had to assume when Sister Keough had given her a short rundown on the new Setonite a few months ago. Since then, Gwen hadn’t made a whole lot of time for Diana. It was only when she needed something from her, or from the junior grade in general. 

She’d watched the girl stub the cigarette out quickly; smart, she thought. But not smart enough. Gwen rounded the tree and looked down at the girl, a flat smile on her face that didn’t read that she was all that impressed, nor blind or stupid.

“You’re going to have to learn to get better at that if you expect to stay here,” She told Diana, eyes tracing over the mess that was the junior’s things and scribbly notebook. Why did people waste time on those things, Gwen wondered, they’d only be cringeworthy in a year’s time. “The nuns aren’t exactly generous about second chances and misunderstandings. Which you should know by now, anyway.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Uniform hadn’t been quick enough indication of who exactly was standing before her, and she’s realised just a split second before familiar voice rings in her ears, scolding enough to make her stomach burn with embarrassment. Gwen. Of course it was Gwen. Diana had made way for herself with almost every other student at Broadripple as decidedly uncaring, someone coasting through school — existing only to make sly remarks or start arguments in the common room. She embellished her existence to make herself seem stranger, a concept more intangible, so that no one could quite get a hold on her. But Gwen — that was a different story entirely. Captain of Seton, and entirely terrifying. It was fucking impressive, and there was almost a wide eyed awe combined with the anxiety that Diana felt whenever Gwen walked into a room. Commanded a room. But mostly — it was anxiety. Impressing the older girl wasn’t easy, and though the blonde usually embraced a challenge: this one was proving itself to be more difficult for Diana to master. Seeking approval instead of shirking it. Who was she?

“ Sorry, ” That’s something she hadn’t said in a while, not genuinely. “ I — needed a break, and ... it was stupid. ” Pale cheeks have already gone pink. “ There are ... ” Eyes don’t go anywhere near meeting Gwen’s, instead fixated on the blades of grass that rippled in the breeze, and the crawling mess that was her notebook. “ Less contraband ways to relax, I guess. ” She pauses, thinking of the best course of action. “ I do ... wanna stay here. ” She emphasized. She didn’t, not really; or at least Diana lacked an opinion. She was used to up and fleeing, that six months was almost too much. Too long. “ And I don’t want to do anything to embarrass Seton. ” Right now, she was only embarrassing herself.  

[ofdianaes-blog]

DREA.

drea had deduced that diana was the source of the scent before she revealed the cigarette, but it was still a nice gesture. a gesture that maybe, just maybe, neither of them were going to be assholes. it seemed unlikely but a risk drea was willing to take for the sake of a bit of afternoon escapism. so she lowered her hands, one twiddling lighter between her fingers and the other returning to her pocket and feeling paper brush against her fingers. when questioned, drea simply lifted her shoulders. “ believe it or don’t, ” she said, though taking the spot the blonde had glanced to, assuming it was invitation, “ but tattling makes one less smoke spot. ” she continued as she settled. again, not the best selling point but at least the more or less hidden spot was about the only thing drea knew they both wanted.

shaking bag off her arm she quickly abandoned it in favour of pulling joint from her pocket. or, most of a joint at least. she must have smoked some of it at some point, she assumed at the barn party and then had forgotten she had it until she found it stashed in a purse. she held it between her lips as she cupped a hand around her lighter. though just as she’s breathing in, she has to lift her eyes from the flame to diana with furrowed brows. she plucked the dart from her lips and exhaled quickly so she could comment “ unless you’ve got a bomb strapped to you under there, pretty sure you’re not a terrorist. ” amused at her own little joke. though she knew what the underlying message was, she didn’t really feel like mentioning that she wasn’t talking to kat right now. she wasn’t talking to a whole lot of anyone, but mainly she wasn’t talking to kat. so instead, she opted for an attempt to change the topic. nodding to her little leather book, as she asked “ what’s that? ” and just like praying it wasn’t some weird girl diary bullshit as she lifted dart to her lips again.

Weird girl diary bullshit it was indeed, though that became relatively obvious as Diana slammed it shut. Fingers run over the stitching on the spine, and her mind works quickly to come up with some snappish response. Sarcasm, maybe, or a curt mind your own business, maybe? But as much to her surprise as she’s sure it is Drea’s, there’s something genuine hidden underneath the layers of caution in tentative response. “ Just ... whatever bullshit I feel like putting in it. Journaling, quotes, there’s ... songs I like, a list of books to read. ” It’s back open on her lap, and she thumbs through pages, a little awkward looking with non-dominant hand flipping them across — the other used to tug cigarette out of her mouth for another second. 

“ Bomb plans, ” She tacks on, moments later, a wry smile twisting her lips upward slightly — if only for a moment, facade of hatred for the world around her cracking. It’s not as if she ( or rather, this iteration of she ) is actively opposed to smiling, but it just doesn’t come up as often when arguments are the primary source of where your energy was pooled into. Then, a beat of clarification, masked again as steely-toned disdain. “ Not that I’m angry or crazy enough to set this place ablaze. Not yet, anyway, no matter what Kat might tell you. ” Carefully, pen meets paper, and she takes the moment of silence to write something down again, thoughts that floated in and out of her head like fish darting up and down a stream. Nothing in particular to do with the conversation, her mind always divided into parts, and she lets the assumption that it might be go unexplained. “ Did I like, steal your hiding spot or something? I found it like ... three months ago, and no one really ever ... ” She trails off, pen tapping absently on paper. Or maybe it’s nervously. Comes back here, she finishes internally. 

[bevioletskies]

fashion of the mcu | runaways (2x10 // hostile takeover) ↳ karolina dean + rainbow jeans

“If they know we’re in here, why aren’t they trying to get in?”

[ofdianaes-blog]

You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it.

[ofdianaes-blog]

ELLA.

Ella had just finished swim practice, the muscles in her legs and arms still aching from carving through the pool for hours. She’d had to work on her butterfly stroke, easily the most strenuous in her opinion. It was easy enough to learn ( conceptually ) but by far the most exhaustive and difficult to master in practice. By the time she’d reached her door, she could already hear the scratchy croon of all you need is love warbling through the door. Diana was home. Ella couldn’t fight the smile that spread across her lips. Maybe she could finally get a chance to talk to her about what went down at the barn party, specifically what happened with Nico. More importantly, what she should do next about the whole situation.

Pushing the door open without so much as a courtesy knock, Ella doesn’t falter at Diana’s teasing critique. “You could have been. But you weren’t. No harm, no foul?” Ella shrugged her shoulder and flashed her roomie a playful wink. Dropping her sports bag at the base of her bed, Ella spun her still-damp hair, still perfumed by the scent of chlorine, into a towel and flopped her aching body onto the mattress. The softness of her comforter was heavenly. “Besides,” she mumbled through the sheets, peeking at Diana with half-closed eyes. “If you had to dispose of a body, there’s no way in hell you wouldn’t consult me first.” It was something she was certain of, foolishly so or otherwise. Ella adjusted her pillow beneath her head and snuggled in. She didn’t want to just barge in and start talking about herself. It seemed rude. She hadn’t seen Di since that morning. So, no matter how much the situation with Nico and Kit was weighing on her mind, telling Di ( or at least how much she could tell ) would have to wait. “How was your day?” Ella asked. “Any good material for your journal?”

The familiar scent of chlorine trails behind Ella as she enters the room, and Diana had learned to embrace it. She’s never been one to go the route of Michael Phelps, or even a doggy paddle — or maybe, she’s just too embarrassed to admit she never learned how exactly to swim. But instead of the usual headache chemical smell would give her, it almost feels homey now. The scratching of pen on paper, their dorm room was practically a writer’s retreat, pool water, the the gentle music that came out of Diana’s beat up record player. They were hallmarks of the room, and much appreciated when loneliness seemed to strike elsewhere on campus. She didn’t have very many friends. And ordinarily — she could see herself butting heads with Ella, making shared passions a competition rather than the stuffs of kindred spirits. But being shoved together as roommates ( something, something, Seton pride ), and Di had bit the bullet and actually tried to make polite conversation on her first days at Broadripple. And — miraculously, it had turned out in her favor.

“ Boring. It’s like ... every single staff member is constantly on my ass about everything. The wrong margins on a paper got me docked ten points. Oh, and lest I forget nail polish can’t be anything but clear, or I’ll be scrubbing away at my fingers in the nurse’s office until I smell like a liquor cabinet. ” There’s a sigh of defeat as she flops backwards, leather-bound book left to rest on her bedspread. She was a complainer, through and through, but the day to day life at school seemed less and less worthy of her attention – Ella’s too, and her journal space — as each syllable wore on. “ So basically nothing. I’m supposed to be a tortured artist, but instead ... uniform infractions. ” She spat, though there’s a ghost of a smile, something similar to self awareness, creeping up on her cheeks. “ What about you? Get everything out of the way so you can help me with the body tomorrow? ” The other would be her partner in crime, there’s no denying that. 

[ofdianaes-blog]

DREA.

drea was an extrovert in all ways but one. she needed time to be alone, it was necessary to her sanity. time to be with her own thoughts and not be concerned about the input or judgement of others. a kind of alone that was hard to come across when you lived with all your peers most days of the year. it was especially hard since the fence had been patched up. it left her having to either limit her time alone to times she was allowed to be off campus, or finding hiding places around the school. usually she went for the latter, today she went for the latter.

as she walked she dug through her bag, half hanging from her shoulder, half just being held up as she tried desperately to find her shit. it’d been a shit day. well, it’d been a shit couple of days since jay told her about ben and kat but today had felt especially bad. she’d called home on the thought that maybe some time away would do her some good, though several questions about her studies later she decided not to suggest it. she knew her parents meant well but she knew they wouldn’t get it either. so, short of money to book herself a one way ticket far from everything she knew, she was stuck at broadripple. trapped, it felt. that called for some stress relief.

as she rounded the corner she finally managed to grasp lighter that had been living in the bottom of her bag. pulling it free from random pieces of paper and pencil shavings triumphantly as her hand went to her pocket and wrapped around joint. however, thankfully, before she pulled it out she spotted the other student in her would be hiding spot. she froze, one hand still in her pocket and the other pretty evidently holding up a lighter. um, what the fuck. she hadn’t anticipated anyone being there so it took her a moment to switch back on. and what the hell was that smell? god, she was going to have to hand sanitiser the shit out of herself and she hadn’t even smoked anything yet. she let go of the joint in her pocket and lifted both her hands as if she were surrendering “ that smell’s not me so i won’t tell if you won’t? ” it wasn’t exactly the most appealing offer, nor did she necessarily want to share the spot, but she didn’t feel like finding a new spot.

Diana regards the other with suspicion — she’s never been particularly invested in the life & times of Andrea Pearson, but daily squabbles with Katherine had her more than aware of where loyalties lied. There was certainly tension between them, that much was true, usually with the two girls playing offense and defense against and for Kat. Panic began to rise, Diana certain she was going to be snitched on — but when hands are held up and she spies a lighter in one of them, there’s a moment of relaxation. Only a moment, however, before she stiffens, a curt nod of approval at the offer granted as she sticks her hand back in her bag to retrieve another cigarette. A wordless way of telling her it was me, sorry. Sorry only maybe included. 

“ How am I supposed to believe that? ” She asks, but somehow, she does. No movements are made to make room for Drea against the tree, but her eyes meet the space across from her — again, wordless, which is rare enough when one considers just how often Diana runs her mouth. It’s an invitation so sit, an olive branch in the form of clouds of smoke and leaving tattletale days gone in middle school — or first grade, as Diana quickly learned made her more popular. Now, with another cig held between her lips, she strikes a flame on her own lighter, and presses it to the tip of the cigarette. “ Isn’t this considered ... I don’t know, fraternizing with the enemy for you? Negotiating with terrorists? ” Arms fold across her chest, and a puff of smoke is released in grey-toned tendrils. 

[ofdianaes-blog]

KAT.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” Katherine agreed sardonically as she brushed some straying grass off of her thigh before it stained her clothes, she might not have been the most popular girl in school but she liked to think that she was more universally liked than somebody like Diana. “All this, what? All this me just living my life the way I want to? I’m just minding my own business, I’m not hurting anybody,” she assured her, “Not the environment either,” she added, she would definitely be picking up every shred of litter she could possibly have left behind on her way back to the dormitory building, she wouldn’t dare allow Diana to catch her neglecting a single piece.

“Thank you,” she accepted the words as a compliment, knowing that the tone delivered them as a vicious insult. Before she could speak again she was temporarily stunned by the sudden an unexpected flash of Diana’s camera, giving Katherine a bit of a fright and making her jump. “Don’t just do that!” she squeaked, pressing her palm to her chest as if to keep her heart from leaping out of that. “Hey,” she whined scoldingly at the title of the unsolicited image, “- delete it, I probably look ridiculous and you don’t have my permission to post it anywhere,” Diana probably thought she always looked ridiculous, “-and there is a difference between being childish and being child-like, you know. There’s nothing wrong with getting in touch with your inner child sometimes, actually, it’s healthy,” she announced, tapping her own chest lightly, apparently, that was where her inner child happened to live. She’d read that on Instagram once, in fact. Instagram happened to be her major source of lifestyle changing and inspiring information, whether it was factually sound or not, it didn’t matter Katherine, she didn’t even check, “-and I was having a nice time,” until the wrapper, of course, “-is that a crime to you?” 

Fingers work adeptly to flick the Polaroid back and forth, eyes fixated on the photo as blank blackness turns to image — and when that image finally fills the tiny slip of film, a laugh emerges. Katherine doesn’t look bad in it, but she was right with the word she had used — ridiculous. Entirely bewildered by both the sudden action and the brightness of the flash, the other girl looks wide eyed and nothing short of frazzled. She doesn’t feel bad, or really, not most of her. She’d go ballistic if someone took a photo of her without permission, and she ordinarily wouldn’t do it to someone else. But the special kind of wrong way that Katherine rubbed her, the high levels of annoyance that always seemed to be tossed back and forth in every conversation like a particularly immature ping-pong game — that was enough to skew her photographer morale compass just a little bit. Or a lot a bit. 

At Kat’s words, however, Diana lets out an annoyed sort of huff, and a rolling of blue eyes comes along with it. “ Wow, have you ever considered making greeting cards with that bullshit on it? Something for people to give to dying grandmas or at weddings? ” Holding the bottom of the photo out, grasping at white frame with her thumb and forefinger, it’s not an olive branch despite of the fact that it’s between them — and over the puddle — nor a white flag. If anything, it’s a declaration of war. “ A crime? No, actually, I’m not the fun police. ” A frown of mock offense. “ All your bitching and moaning about your supposed good time attracted my attention. Maybe don’t cry wolf if it’s such a party over here with your ... ” She looks down to the puddle, and photo isn’t retracted. “ Puddle play time. ” She can feel the snarkiness, the mean-girl aggression rising in her, and she doesn’t like it, but she can’t exactly stop. Diana is nothing if not committed, and this particular role involves a rather fiery rivalry with Katherine. Morals be damned. 

[ofdianaes-blog]

KAT.

“Not Corporate America, just nosy people,” she countered, her muscles stiffening slightly at Diana’s sudden appearance. Katherine clicked her tongue disapprovingly at Diana’s snide remark, lowering the stick in a somewhat defeated manner as the other girl snatched the MARS wrapper from the puddle. Her features twisted a little, despite her virtuous intentions with the wrapper, she was a little grossed out by Diana’s ability to grab it so fearlessly with her bare hand, especially now that it was soaked. “I don’t litter, I’m not a pig,” she announced blatantly, as if she had never in her life been guilty of leaving an empty milkshake cup in the parking lot of The Scoop, or sticking a piece of gum under a desk before one of her teachers noticed she was chewing it in class, despite their constant nagging her not to. “Obviously, I was going to pick it up before I left- and that-” she pointed at the candy bar that now resided in Diana’s palm, “That’s not mine, I don’t even like them,” she assured her, though the apparent evidence she provided would hardly convincing. 

She cleared her throat softly and tossed the twig into the grass, deciding it was unnecessary and possibly dangerous if Diana ever became so annoyed that she felt inspired to jam it down Katherine’s throat. She was convinced that there was at least one or two times when the idea might have been appealing to one of Kat’s classmates or more. She pointed at the camera resting against Diana’s middle, attempting to be civil despite the obvious tension in the air between them but it didn’t last long, “What are you taking photos of? Obviously not all of your cool friends,” she noted, wiggling a finger around in Diana’s general direction, glad that she was alone since she wasn’t convinced she’d be capable of managing more than one weirdo at once.

Diana doesn’t follow the usual script of her being insulted — stiffening, and firing back, letting her anger get the best of her. Expletives, maybe, snide comments, something insulting. It’s easier to slide into with Kat, to immediately go into the offence rather than defending herself; whether it be through anger or self-deprecation. It was a level playing field between them, of barbed wire jabs and mocking, and something she wholly embraced. Non-confrontational wasn’t a word in Diana’s vocabulary, and the presence of one Katherine Bishop does absolutely nothing to change that. Or to satiate her hunger for conflict — which is why she laughs, more a scoff than anything, at the last comment made by other girl. “ Right, sorry, I forgot you’re like the most popular girl in school. And that there’s not one single person who tolerates ... ” A pause, and she bites down on her lip, motioning in the general direction of Kat and the puddle. “ All this. ”

Even though she prefers in scenarios such as this ( mainly, scenarios involving the blonde standing before her ) to be full of insults rather than her own defensive nature, she can’t help but feel a little cut by the comment. Underneath it all, whatever role she seemed to be playing, Diana wanted to be liked. She wanted to have friends. And whatever point of contention the duo reaches in a particular circumstance, it always loops back to Diana lamenting about how she’s better than Kat. Smarter, cooler, more cultured. There’s no exception this time around, and she touches the camera gently, smiling politely. “ I’m actually doing something creative. You know, giving something other than landscapes the old college try. And, uh, speaking of college ... do they offer scholarships in origami boats? You have a real talent, Katherine. ” Words sound genuine, but they aren’t. Lense flicks off with the push of a button, and she holds the camera up to take a photo of the other — flash blinding even in the summer sunlight. “ I’m thinking of calling this one Playing Pretend at Any Age. Childishness is very in artistically. ”

[ofdianaes-blog]

ALEXANDER.

“Busted,” Alexander announced with a shit-eating grin decorating his features, his words dripping with self-satisfaction as he folded his arms across his chest, taking a wide stance in front of the underclassmen. “I always wondered where you did your witchcraft, Archibald, is this it?” he asked facetiously, eyebrows raised as if he was awaiting a sincere answer from the blonde. “Needs more effigies, you could probably hang one or two from-” he gestured loosely to the boughs of a tree above them, “Maybe a couple of pentagrams, one there, one there,” he kept pointing around, feeling as if he could have had quite a knack for satanic decorating in another life.

“Kidding,” he offered, waving a hand dismissively. He didn’t have any particular qualms about the existence of Diana Archibald, she wasn’t consistently an asshole and she was Ella’s roomie, that gave her a free pass of sorts, he supposed…something like that anyway. He sniffed at the air lightly, as if he’d noticed the lingering scent of tobacco for the first time, though he’d actually been following it exclusively up until the moment he found Diana and presumed her responsible for it, “Jesus, it smells like an ashtray…you weren’t sinning were you, Diana?” he tried his best to embody his cousin Damian’s abundant levels of killjoy energy as he spoke but his words remained tarnished by his cheeky schoolboy nature. “I won’t sell you out if you share with the class,” he was the class, of course, “What do you say?” he offered with an eyebrow raised as he delivered the ultimatum, not in the mood for any further negotiation beyond that point and hoping that she wouldn’t protest too boisterously. 

Operating under the assumption that everyone was out to get you was, in a sense, not worth it. After all, it seemed to fail her now — she was still caught red handed. Literally, with the tiny burn still making her pointer finger throb. Expression hardens at his first statement, and only gets increasingly annoyed as he continues. “ Not tobacco, actually, but I’m starting a little pyre for my ritual sacrifice. You showed up just in time to go up in smoke. ” She speaks sweetly, words sugar-coated enough to give even the most proactive brusher a toothache; but it’s all fake and they both know it. The bite behind saccharine tone, and the deadpan expression across pale features is more than enough to tell that story. Part of her — the larger part, actually — wants to flick attention back to her journal and ignore him entirely. But the sinking feeling in her stomach reminds her threats of tattling might not exactly be empty, and she falters in steely measure for a split second before it returns. 

“ That’s what happens to snitches, Alexander. Or was the school yard rhyme scheme a little above you. ” She gestures above her head with one hand, making a whooshing sound to add a childish nature to the mocking. “ But ... speaking of elementary years, I did also learn that sharing is caring. ” As if it’s out of the kindness of her heart. She reaches into bag, plucking out two packs of cigarettes. Lucky Strikes, with two loose Marlboro Reds tucked inside, and the companions of the Newport currently smoldering in the grass. Usually people had a favorite brand, but she wasn’t in a position to be picky when she had to bat her eyelashes outside of drug stores to convince someone to buy them for her. Too much of a scaredy cat even after six months to use the fake ID that was neatly tucked inside a pair of socks she never wore in a new place. She needed to get better at that. “ Pick your poison. Like a special kind of prisoner’s last meal. ”

[ofdianaes-blog]

NICO.

Christ! How he wished he were back home right now. Well, not really back home actually, not that, never that the farther he was away from his parents the better, more like back in his hometown. Enjoying one of LA many beaches, swimming and fooling around with his friends. Fuck even if he would have likely have to spend most of the summer doing chores and odd jobs for a few bucks it would have still felt better than enduring the season there at Broadripple. Yet… Well… Only chance of a prestigious college he had, so he was kinda struck there wasn’t him?

Besides the seventeen years old would have to admit that school hadn’t been so bad until now, but that was ages ago. Before his ex-girlfriend that he still kinda hooked up with started seeing the captain of the swim team, the girl he actually did really care had stopped talking to him for unknown reasons (well the whole sleeping around thing might have been one though) and he had even trashed his phone during a fight with his dad. Yeah things weren’t exactly going swimmingly now and that’s was probably why he was feeling so fucking nostalgic. 

With all of that dancing in his mind that day and no way to get to the beaches of his beloved LA, Nico felt in dire need of a smoke. Now he had tried looking for Dyl or Chris to share it, as smoking weed alone was fucking lame, but his two buddies weren’t around and so fuck it, the boy had decided to just look for a quiet place and drown his sorrow as much as he could. Which ultimately was a mistake and he knew that, but it didn’t exactly matter.

It looked like one of his usual hiding spots was taken though. Shit! He was feeling too lazy that day to look for somewhere else. Yet, couldn’t he feel the unmistakable scent of cigarettes in the air. 

She looked so guilty didn’t she? It was almost endearing, almost. 

“No smoking on school property Miss…” He teased in a playfully disapproving tone, shook his head and smirked at the girl. “Fuck that though, who cares…” He relaxed a little, took off the jacket that he had left hanging on his shoulder, no way he would put it on in that heat and grabbed a small green plastic bag from a pocket. It was labeled tobacco, but whose true content was quickly revealed as Nico begun to roll himself a joint.

“Sorry I startled you…” He looked down at the smoldering remains and finished extinguishing it with one foot. “Want one of mine?” 

There were certain habits that were difficult to break once you embraced them — Diana still loved the cherry lip gloss and extra rainbow sprinkles on her ice cream of her cheer days, she could still play the clarinet just as adeptly as she could when afternoons were spent lurking in band class. She still got a rush from lifting trinkets and lipsticks from drug stores ( and still had teensy tattoo on her ankle ) from days masked with rebellion. And the most apt in the situation presented to her: she still loved to smoke pot, a trait gained from evenings where she stared glaze eyed and giggly at the ceiling of whoever-the-fuck’s basement and shoveled chips into her mouth. Though her affinity for tobacco products hadn’t waned at all, merely a new substance to wreck her lungs with was added to the mix. She fixates on the baggie as Nico prepares the joint.

“ Not startled, ” She corrects sternly, folding the front cover of her journal shut and slipping it into her bag. The least she can do is provide a light, and as she tucks leather-bound secret keeper under binders and pencil case, she pulls out a bright blue Bic lighter, swiping it with her finger so a flame appeared — and then slowly letting it sink back into extinguishment. “ Just ready for the scolding of my life. If Sister Florence found me instead, my ass would be dangling from the flag pole by now, anti-smoking pamphlets dangling from me. ” Head is rested against the tree, and she sticks out a lanky arm upward to offer him the lighter himself. “ And you’d be smoking up outside my funeral. ” Familiar scent fills her nose, and it’s almost a strange sense of nostalgia that comes with it. How fucked is that? She thinks, tugging bag closer to her. A shit eating grin crosses her face, and she shrugs her shoulders in response to nothing in particular. “ At least then they’d think it was incense. ”

[ofdianaes-blog]

@ecllas / Diana is cross-legged, back pressed to the wall, math homework balanced precariously on her knees. Algebra might as well exist only to be the bane of her existence — not because it was difficult, but because it was boring. y=mx + b could only bring her mind, abuzz with creativity, so much fulfillment. And if it were to be quantified ... that so much was very little. Her record turns in the background, the depth of needle on vinyl adding a tiny hum to the track that played. The Beatles, of course, a flimsy and half-warped record she’d picked up from the thrift store. I think the wear adds to the experience, she would say, if confronted about why someone with such a cultured background ( read: rich ) owned something that still had the 99 cents sticker plastered to the front cover, despite the fact that she’d picked at it nervously already. What she didn’t want to say was the truth: it was all she could afford, and costs had to be cut when there was an entirely new transformation of self every time the seasons so much as dared to breathe life into the next. 

The door creaks open as the track changes, and eyes flick instinctively to the front of the room, where Ella is ducking in. She’d prayed and prayed that she wouldn’t be stuck with a shitty roommate; not that Diana believed in God, but she figured that being at Broadripple had to give her some points in the religious department. And someone up there must have been listening, because the girls were two peas in a blonde pod. Enthusing over writing, and not even getting into spats over how Diana side of their room was a certifiable disaster zone, with Ella’s remaining pristine — they made sense together, and for that Diana was grateful. Her entrance, however, prompts a comment, though the gentle grin on her face shows it’s all in good fun. Not that many people are allotted the pleasure. “ You should knock. I could be naked. Or having sex. Or hiding a dead body. ”