< < s-i-l-e-n-c-e [closed for... repairs? x3]

[youlovedinktoo]

This is bullshit, Lola thought as she treaded down the halls of Carson High. Fucking, screwed-up bullshit.

It had started innocently enough: her first few weeks into her senior year had been fairly quiet, lonely though, but quiet. No one bothered her. In fact, most people ignored her; yet there were a few noticeable stares, the whispers, the glares. Lola wasn’t sure, but she thought once just by looking at a girl, she made her cry. It had made her feel pretty bad afterward, but she hadn’t known the girl, so she soon forgot about it.

Lola hadn’t realized it was apart of a bigger problem.

Apparently, students had been complaining about her. According to some, just the “presence” of Lola in some of these students’ classes was “detrimental to their education,” and just “an overall problem.” These were the exact words of the school’s principal, who had just yesterday left a message on the Floyds’ phone that Lola ought to be speaking to someone. And by someone, they didn’t mean the police. Oh, no. Lola had already done that back in May, and way into July, and her record was clear. But by the way the principal made it sound, she wasn’t off the hook. Perhaps he thought he could pry more information out of her? Well, there’s nothing else, Lola thought bitterly, as she continued onward to her destination.

So where exactly was she going? Why, surprise-surprise! The guidance counselor! “Fucking A,” Lola had remarked bitterly after she listened to the voice message, and she deleted it with a calm anger that pulsed through her veins. In a way, she was expecting this: her mom had been pushing her to start seeing a therapist, or a psychiatrist (“Ma, do you really think I need drugs?”), but she hadn’t really expected it to be on behalf of the school. Well. Tough shit, right?

Lola wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone; except for the times she was taken in for questioning, she had basically gone silent and found there was nothing she could talk about. And she didn’t really care, anyway. Who would she talk to? The kids at school? No, they didn’t give a shit. They avoided her like the plague. It didn’t really bother Lola, though, for she was used to this; yet this time, of course, it was different. Back “then” no one would talk to her but at least they acknowledged her. Yeah, it was bad (they slammed her into lockers, stole her knapsack, that kind of thing), but now it was worse. The bullying had seized, but the isolation had started to get to her. People didn’t look her in the eye anymore, taunt her (behind her back or to her face), and made it clear that they despised her. It was clear that she was still talked about, but no longer was it in a joking or teasing matter. The fear Lola saw in everyone’s eyes was legitimate.

Lola wouldn’t admit it scared her, but it did. And as she approached the guidance counselor’s office, she gave a heavy sigh, one of doubt and misery. Her hand trembled as she turned the knob, and opening the door, Lola realized she had forgotten to knock. But it hadn’t matter, for the light was on, and it was quiet...

...And Lola no longer cared about respect. She had lost it long ago.

Tag;; lola y ransom
Words;; 585
Notes;; i like penis
Outfit;; ehhh, garbage bag?
Credit;; This Template was made by Cherryb22 of Caution 2.0. Steal this and I shall shower you with violent kisses.

[ransom dalton king]

And while he wishes he could escape this,
It all seems so contagious,
Not to be yourself and faceless,
In a song that has no soul.

Eyebrows slightly furrowed and mouth set in a straight line, Ransom practically glared down at the stack of papers and files that were in front of him. His desk was a jumbled up mess, like usual, and he was running late, like usual. He should have already looked over this file the night before, but of course, he hadn't. Ransom was a bit of a slacker when it came to doing... well, anything, really. If he weren’t so highly recommended he probably would've already lost his job because in all honesty, he had an odd way of going about things. While most school counselors are sweet and kind towards their "patients" and always in order, Ransom was the exact opposite. He was disorganized, impatient and sometimes just down right rude. His office was a cluttered mess and the man's appearance itself was also messy quite often. Sure, he followed the school staff's dress code of semi-formal clothing such as a button-up shirt, tie, and suit pants but his tie was often very loose around his neck and his shirt only ever managed to stay half tucked in. At the moment his tie wasn't even tied and was just draped loosely around his neck, it was obvious he hadn't shaved in a couple of days and his hair was disheveled to the point of being considered "bed head". Looking at him you'd think he was some bum who had managed to steal some fancy clothes... or you'd just think he was someone you wanted to fuck right there and then. But hey, no matter how much of a mess the man was, he really did know what he was doing when it came to psychology. He just had an unusual way of showing and proving it.

He didn't so much as glance up as Lola opened the door. Was he too focused in her file that he had just pulled out to read? No, not at all. In fact his mind was completely elsewhere and he was just staring at the paper, perfectly aware that the girl he was supposed to be expecting was now here. He began to focus on the paper, reading some quick information about why she was here. His hand fiddled with his coffee mug as he continued to stare at the paper, slowly turning the slightly cylinder-shaped, ceramic object around and around. By now the black coffee was cold and probably tasted like ass but still, he slowly lifted the mug and took a sip.

After he was done taking a few sips he continued to hold the mug in the air, letting it hover a few inches over the desk. He continued to read through the file, working hard to keep his mind from wandering to other thoughts, ideas and problems. It seemed this girl was going to actually take some effort to talk to and help out. Most girls that walked in here just cried about how their boyfriend wanted to have sex but they didn't want to get pregnant. All it took was a small talk about how they should only get into things if they were ready. They'd claim they were ready but just really didn't want a baby. Like shit, all he had to do was hand them some condoms and pills and they were all set to go. He had a feeling this wasn't going to be nearly as easy. But hey, that was a good thing. Maybe he could actually play the part of a psychologist for once rather then the man who sits and listens to you bitch. He was pretty sure those chicks only came to him because they didn't want to go through the embarrassment of trying to buy condoms and pills at stores.

He slowly placed the coffee mug back onto the desk and then gestured towards the chair on the opposite side of his desk, once again staring down at the papers. "Go ahead and take a seat. I just need to finish looking over your file," he explained, a slight mutter in his voice. He managed to re-read her name a few times, each time getting preoccupied with other thoughts and beginning to read the paper again. But that was before he remembered the condition he had left the chair across his desk in. He glanced up from the paper again and looked at the chair he had just gestured to. It was covered in binders and papers. With an annoyed sigh he stood up, leaning over the desk and gripping the backrest of the other chair. With a pull back of his arm he managed to tip the chair forward, causing the binders and papers to crash to the floor. Releasing the chair, he listened to it fall back onto all fours and then sat himself back down in his own chair. "I'd say I was sorry for the mess in here, but I'd be lying," he mumbled, looking back down at her file.

Tag: L-L-L-L-Looolaaaa!
Lyrics: Innocent by Our Lady Peace.

[/font]
Word Count: 832 words.[/font]
Notes: Lalalala.[/font][/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[youlovedinktoo]

Confusion. That was the word she was looking for. Oh, and bemusement. Amusement? Words were words to Lola, and if they sounded like any other, then they basically meant the same thing. If this had still been middle school, perhaps she would have taken the initiative and gone to the library to look up such words; back then, in those oh-so innocent days, her curiosity often took the best of her and dragged her away to be solved. But as she grew older, and people grew meaner, her childhood personality vanished and was replaced by a harder, colder version that was Lola Floyd. In retrospect, she supposed she was the same person, and she could still recognize herself—but that was only because the two personalities had both once occupied the same body. Even now, at sixteen (and, of course, on the verge of seventeen), rays of her former self still poked through. And the words that swam through her head, as Lola entered Ransom King’s office, made her curious once more. The state of the guidance counselor’s alcove would have made her laugh (if she had still been the type too) and perhaps offer to help him clean up; but instead, Lola just watched Mr. King empty a chair for her and acknowledged the state of his office in silence.

Lola slid into the chair, hands gripped tightly to the armrests. She felt as though she should say something, but of course, there wasn’t much to say. So instead she observed Mr. King as he read her file. He was young (she could see that) and she pondered how such a young man could be a guidance counselor. Weren’t they licensed therapists or something? Psychiatrists? Lola really didn’t know: they were all the same to her anyway. Maybe if he was actually any good, and managed to break her, she would ask. One day. But not now. Oh, no. Lola wanted to speak but it hurt her, and it would be such a difficult task. She supposed this first session with Mr. King would be one spent introducing herself, talking about her likes and dislikes, that sort of thing. It would be, if Lola were the type to be so open. And she wasn’t. So how would this go down? Would Mr. King do most (if not, all) of the talking?

She watched her guidance counselor some more. His appearance was scruffy, and reminded her a bit of Jack. Jack. The blood drained from her face, goosebumps graced her skin, and she held her breath. It hurt to think of Jack. The boy whom she had loved, and the boy who had attempted to massacre the whole school, and the boy whom she trusted, and the boy... the boy... that boy. The only boy for Lola. She would be lying if she swore she didn’t love him. Because she did, and even now, she knew she’d love him for the rest of her life. Even if she moved on. There was a corner of her heart just for him, a corner with all the memories and times she had with Jack. And that’s when Lola knew she wanted to say something, to anyone really, and her eyes flickered in focus to look upon Ransom King once more. Lola swallowed (hard; even later, when she left, she could feel a dull pain in her throat) and leaned forward. It wasn’t noticeable, but should Mr. King have removed his attention from the file for just a brief moment, he would have saw.

“I...” she began, quiet at first. Lola breathed through her mouth, eyes falling to her shoes, which shone brightly against the office’s dull light. Her skin tingled, she licked her lips, and Lola Floyd forced her eyes back to Mr. King. Was he looking? She couldn’t tell; she was so focused on the struggle to speak, to form a coherent sentence for the first time in months. Lola had spoken, sure, but never with confidence. Never loudly enough. Never out of whim, and never by choice. And she was doing it now. “Mr. King.”

Her eyes teared as she glanced down at her hands, which were now being wrung tightly on her lap.

“You remind me of Jack.”

Tag;; RANSOM note! and lola, of course.
Words;; 716
Notes;; i fell into an orgy lagoon.
Outfit;; she's naked now. didn't cha see her strip?
Credit;; This Template was made by Cherryb22 of Caution 2.0. Steal this and I shall shower you with violent kisses.

[ransom dalton king]

And while he wishes he could escape this,
It all seems so contagious,
Not to be yourself and faceless,
In a song that has no soul.

Ransom continued to study the file, although by now he had all of the important information that he really needed. He was simply reading over things and giving the appearance of trying to take it all in. Why? Well, it was simple. From her file and from what he had already picked up on her during the first few moments of being in the same room as her, he could tell she was going to need some time to just settle down and think. You couldn't expect someone who was going through so much to just walk into some stuffy office and began to talk about all of her life troubles and dark secrets. So, he was going to give her space and plenty of time. She'd start to talk when she felt ready to talk and until then his job was simple: shut the fuck up and leave her alone. Hell, they could sit here for the full length of this appointment without speaking more then ten words and he'd still be doing his job. If it took the whole appointment for her to speak, then it took the whole appointment for her to speak. Simple as that. After all, there was always next time.

However, his job wasn't quite that easy. It wasn't like he was only sitting there and pretending to read her file. No, in fact he was very carefully reading her. You really couldn't tell at all, but he was observing her from the corner of his eye as he "studied" her file for the millionth time. He took careful note of her actions and facial expressions, learning a tiny bit more about her every few moments even though she wasn't talking. For starters, he could tell she was also studying him. As a rule, Ransom hated being studied. He always had hated it and the only few people who had ever really been able to study him without getting glared at or having him walk away had been his therapist (and only friend, really) and his wife. Yes, he was a hypocrite. But hey, it was his job to study people, that didn't give them any right to study him in return. But, when it all came down to it, he knew Lola did kind of have a right to study him. He was the person she was supposed to talk to when it was obvious she didn't want to talk to people, of course she was going to study him and try to figure him out a little. So with great force he managed to ignore it and just tried to focus on studying her.

He noticed the way the girl held her breath and seemed unsettled. He noticed when she swallowed and he definitely noticed when she started leaning forward. This was it, he just knew it, she was going to start speaking soon. As she opened her mouth and first tried to talk he slowly glanced up, evidently giving her his full attention while managing to keep his gaze casual and laid back so that she wouldn't feel crowed or pressured. He watched as her eyes fell to her shoes and slowly leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. This was normal. It was understandable that it was hard for her to decide what to say and get it out in the open.

As she said his name he nodded slightly, as if trying to show that he was listening. He noticed her eyes tear up and slowly leaned to the side to pick up a box of Kleenex from the corner of his desk. As he went to place them in front of her he heard what she had to say and paused momentarily. Quickly getting over it he placed the box of Kleenex down. While reading over the file he had to admit that the boy it talked about did remind him of himself, or at least himself in high school. But he was over being that person... for the most part... wasn't he? Oh well, this wasn't about him. He'd just have to talk to Dean about it later. For now, his concern was her mental health, not his own.

"And why might that be, Lola?" he asked softly. There. They were off to a good start. Hopefully she'd answer him, but if she didn't he could always offer to talk about it some other time.

Tag: L-L-L-L-Looolaaaa!
Lyrics: Innocent by Our Lady Peace.

[/font]
Word Count: 742 words.[/font]
Notes: I was much too lazy to count the words again. And I'm sorry that this took me so long and is so poopy[/font].[/size][/font][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[youlovedinktoo]

His response was what stopped her. In fact, it did more than that: it had been startling, scaring the shit straight out of her. And once again, Lola couldn’t speak. He had asked, he had inquired, he had done it so politely and so sweetly she would have started bawling, if the question hadn’t been so obvious. What else could a person say to the comment she had just given? Lola knew she was anticipating such an answer from Mr. King, but she had half-heartedly hoped he had not heard, and she wanted to drop it. Was this a normal thing? Lola knew from TV shows and movies that in therapy sessions, if the patient had said something peculiar and the therapist asked to hear more about, the situation would become more uncomfortable than what it had been before. That was the case here. Mr. King was being so gentle about it, and yet, it frightened Lola. She wasn’t expecting such an interrogation so soon.

She stalled answering the question by plucking a tissue from the box. She dabbed her eyes ever so slightly, but in a fashion so lightly it was hard to tell whether or not she was cleaning tears or cleaning a bothersome disturbance in her eye. Lola was well aware that Mr. King was now looking at her, and she resisted locking eyes with him. It was true, that when she peered into that curious face, she saw an image similar to her dead boyfriend. Of course, their appearances were vastly different, but the way they used them was remarkably similar. Just by looking at Mr. King’s attire Lola couldn’t help but recall the way Jack dressed, the way she teased him, the feel of slipping off his clothes as they made love. Sex was a big thing for Jack and Lola, but they way they had did it, one would think it had more meaning than just a fun time fucking. Jack had been so gentle with Lola; he removed his clothes before she did (or rather, she removed his clothes), and he’d always look her in the eye when he touched her. Eventually, it would get to the point where eye contact was no longer necessary, for Lola then had trusted him, but he always stopped when Lola was ready to. The couple had been so entwined, they were able to read each other: bodies, thoughts, speech, everything. There had been times when they were totally silent, but they both understood talking wasn’t needed. And then there was times when Jack couldn’t stop talking, and Lola would be laughing; the times Lola missed the most, however, were the times Jack got his guitar out and started playing “Lola” for his girl. The song was a joke, truly, for it told the story of a young man meeting a tranny, but the way Jack played it for Lola, you never would have guessed it was about that. He made it special. He made it meaningful.

Lola’s mind focused back to the present, to the office of Mr. King, where she was sitting face-to-face with him now. And slowly, her eyes crept up to his, and she understood one final reason why it was so difficult to pore her soul out to him. The face she saw was not of Ransom King, but of Jack Cree. It didn’t matter what he really was or wasn’t. That man sitting in the chair across for her was several years younger, had longer hair, and didn’t make her uncomfortable. Of course, she knew it wasn’t the truth, but she knew she could dream. Yet the feeling that this was the boyfriend didn’t help her any further with her lack of speech, and so Lola still held her tongue, hesitance becoming permanence.

Tag;; lola y ransom
Words;; i durno. xD
Notes;; my feet smell.
Outfit;; madonna’s pointy bra.
Credit;; This Template was made by Cherryb22 of Caution 2.0. Steal this and I shall shower you with violent kisses.