|Posted on May 21 at 1:35 pm with 4 notes||Reblog|
Vanessa walked with her arms folded across her chest, forehead creased in serious concentration. She was deep in thought about her next therapy session, how she could coax some form of medication out of her newest doctor. It never worked, of course. They didn’t seem to think Vanessa required medication. She didn’t, but anything that would give her the slightest buzz in here would be excellent.
She’d only been here a few days, not long enough to understand the place, nor long enough to make any friends or cause any trouble. And she was bored. She needed something to do, anything at all, some form of amusement. ‘Even a narcissist is allowed to get bored of her own company,’ She thought, a small smirk crossing her pretty features.
Glancing up from the ground to check the distance to the building, she caught sight of a guy she’d never seen before. Her smirk turned into an amused smile as she called, “Hey, you know it’s almost curfew, right?”
Ro glanced up quickly and saw the brunette. She was much prettier than he had took note of before. Although it was rarely correlated, he was betting on a narcissistic disorder. Different types of social experiments started developing in his mind, but he quickly pushed them back as he closed his sketch pad, slipping the pencil behind his ear.
He smiled softly, unsure how he was going to handle the situation, but remembering his first goal. Find out what disorder she had. If his hypothesis about narcissism was correct, she’d take a compliment well. If not, well, it was back to the drawing board.
“I should be reminding you of the same thing. It’s awfully late for a lady as beautiful as you to be out here alone. I hear rumors this place is full of dangerous people.” He raised an eyebrow, hopeful of her response to solidify his educated guess.
Ro shifted a bit away from the wall, uncrossed his arms (as it was a sign of defensiveness) and lightly gripped the blank sketch book he had pretended to be drawing in.
|Posted on May 21 at 1:11 pm with 3 notes||Reblog|
-walks up to him with a smile. She held up a piece of paper that read something-
I guess we’re roommates. I’m Tink.
-takes the paper and stuffs it in his pocket, reaching in his other pocket he takes out a marker and writes on the wall- Excellent. -he smirks and signs his name; two letters: Ro-
|Posted on May 21 at 1:05 pm with 3 notes||Reblog|
|Posted on May 20 at 7:55 pm with 4 notes||Reblog|
Vanessa was used to taking advantage of others to get where she wanted to be, but recently it hadn’t been working at all in her favour. Ever since she’d been put into the asylum, everything had changed. Her manipulative, twisted ways didn’t work anymore. She didn’t get the attention she wanted, let alone the attention she knew she deserved. She’d called her parents too many times to count, begging them to take her home, adopted the sweet as sugar attitude she’d always had around them and waited for them to pick her up. But they never did. They (her parents and the doctors alike) told her that she was sick, that she needed help, but Vanessa didn’t feel that way at all.
She sat alone at the edge of the running track that extended around the building, her knees pulled up to her chest, with her head resting gently on the top of her knees. She run through her diagnosis – or self-titled ‘diag-nonsense’ – in her head with a sigh, ‘Narcissistic Personality Disorder. An over-exaggerated sense of self-importance, worth, and an obsession with personal vanity. Bullshit. I’m mischievous and a little vain at best.’
Just then noticing that the track seemed a lot emptier than usual, she swore aloud, glancing down to the watch she always wore. The curfew was almost up, although she should have roughly enough time to get back to her room before it was checked. Missing the curfew didn’t seem like a good idea, not at all. Getting to her feet, she brushed dust off of her legs and turned back towards the asylum, glancing around for any sign of someone else who was almost late.
Syndrome was bored. He was constantly apathetic of the asylum and it’s inhabitants. The only fun he could find was in the books that lined the library walls. Book after book, story after story, the library allowed for hours and hours of amusement. Most of any day, Ro could be found in the dusty room curiously seeking the shelves for the perfect book to spend the next several hours engrossed in. Today he was not in the library as he had been banned from such actions by some snooty doctor who told him that socializing would help with his mental stability. Not only did this anger Ro, but it caused him to want to retreat even more into his self. Without books, Syndrome was bored.
Being the intelligent fellow that he was, Syndrome decided to take it upon his self to find something interesting to do. He was going to be social, but not the the usual convention. See, Ro realized that every patient in this place had a problem. They had a disorder, an issue, a syndrome. It was only fair that Ro took advantage of this glorious opportunity and started a few experiments. Nothing morbid, just bits of social interactions that could be labeled as questionable.
As Syndrome left his room near the final curfew, he felt a slight rush as his new hobby was going to involve the asylum patients, their mental instability and his own ability to converse and persuade. He made his way outside, figuring the craziest people would be outside at a late hour such as this and thus they would be the most humorous for the start of his study. Sure enough he saw a brunette, a girl he’d not seen around the asylum, not even in passing. He made a mental note that it would be important to start people watching more often to keep his recollection of patients up to date.
Before he was seen, Ro pulled out a sketch pad and pencil, leaning against the closest exit’s wall, knowing the brunette would make her way past him thus forcing the beginning of communication. First goal: Figure out her disorder.
|Posted on May 19 at 10:25 pm with 14 notes||Reblog|
Fuck you! Fuck you, fuck you! I’m Drizella, I’m perfect. Perfect!
If you’re perfect why would you even consider my opinion?
|Posted on May 19 at 10:25 pm with 66 notes||Reblog|
You’ll laugh at me but…I want to dance.
Have at it.
|Posted on May 19 at 10:07 pm with 66 notes||Reblog|
Awh, I was hoping you’d say you enjoy my company, but then again, I hate liars. Let’s go outside or something. It’s raining and I like rain.
Righty-oh. -leads her outside- Now what?
|Posted on May 19 at 10:07 pm with 14 notes||Reblog|
Are you implying that I don’t have both?
I’m not implying anything.
I’m flat out saying that you don’t.
|Posted on May 19 at 9:48 pm with 66 notes||Reblog|
Do you enjoy pushing helpless women aimlessly around in wheelchairs, Ro?
I enjoy spontaneity.
|Posted on May 19 at 9:48 pm with 14 notes||Reblog|
At least it’s not as stupid as you look.
Brain over looks. Any day.