Post by SANTANA CARMEN LOPEZ on Nov 20, 2011 7:40:49 GMT -5
MISS. SANTANA CARMEN LOPEZ
seventeen | McKinley High | Naya Rivera
code word: admin edit
"I'm Santana Lopez; you'll wanna remember that name for later when I'll be blissfully contemplating the cute names I’ll be referring to you with and when you’ll then dejectedly attempt answering me with another sad, sad response that’ll make me feel so bad for you, and a whole lot better for myself.
I’m seventeen and I go to McKinley High where, let’s face it, I spend most of my time blessing the majority of the student body with the presence of this hot piece of sexy right here. Sexuality? Right. Listen up chica; where I’m from – even just the mention of Edward Cullen’s flamboyantly flat glittery stomach gets boys killed. So considering how much we know each other, it’s heterosexual to you. But … between us … I … I kind of … need Brittany in my life. But luckily I have the glee club and cheerios that kind of keeps us together. And trust me, if it weren’t for Brittany, I’d be out of the Glee club in a heartbeat along with Barbara Nose’s head on a plate. "
" My ‘stunning’ personality - jesus, you really don’t know me at all do you? In fourth grade, I once attached a boy to a flagpole with his underwear tucked over his face and ‘Geek’ written across his chest with a permanent marker. And don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I’m like mean or anything. I’m just honest and straightforward; I like to let people know exactly how I feel about them and giving them a piece of my mind is how I do it. It’s really just a favor to be honest.
My range of interests mostly come down to dissing under aged self-conscious girls who think they’ve got something going for them, and obese kids with serious childhood issues. And … ehm … watching horror movies. With Brittany. She never gets scared, she always just cries cause she always feels really sad for the characters. And … singing. Sometimes it’s easier to just … sing how you feel instead of talking. But otherwise I guess reminding Asshole Berry of her pathetic existence is always a good source of entertainment …
So listen carefully; what I’m about to say, I will only say once. If you ever repeat this to anyone I’ll deny it and then I’ll beat you so hard your future kids will be born with bruises. My biggest fear is … well it’s for people to really see me. For everyone to figure out that actually I’m not who I try to be and I guess … ultimately my fear is that people will judge me. And while all of the glee kids spend like all of their time erecting over dreams of becoming big shot super-stars, all I want is Brittany. And to settle down. And to be happy without having anyone bothering us or anyone judging us or mingling in our business.
"
"Ever been to Lima heights? Probably not. And if you have, I’m surprised you ever got out alive because let me tell you something freakenstein; what goes down in Lima heights, stays in lima heights. Once; my grand mother tried to sell me to a junkie who wanted to give me away to his daughter as a doll. Light? The only light thing I can think of in my past is the white color of my father’s shirt the day he left my mom and me. Red was the color of the stains on his shirt the day he came begging for my mom to take him back.
I live with both my parents in a house off the borders now; thank god we got out before the Asians got a handle on me – I never did work the bad ass Whinehouse trashed out look anyway. We moved the same year I came to McKinley; and since? Well. I’ve settled down just fine – doesn’t mean I can’t wait to get out of here, but at least everyone here knows not to mess with me."
"Hey all (: I'm Michael. I'm eighteen. I'm from the UK so it's a bit of a different time zone but I've RPed for ... 5 years give or take, so it works :3 Otherwise. Ehm. I'm gay and a major gleek. You can PM anytime; I love getting messages. Makes me feel loved xD So yeah. Awesome (: "
"Santana closed her locker and remained on the spot facing it for a minute. She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the moment she’d start walking through the corridor. Rumors were already floating around and people knew. She didn’t know what to tell them, she couldn’t think of what she might be able to do to get away from this. And as hard as she wished she could be invisible, that all of this could go away, there was nothing to be done. So she took a last deep breath, and gathered herself like she had for her whole life already. She tightened the books she was holding against her chest and swiftly tightened her ponytail before then confidently walking towards the left.
People were staring at her, looking her over and whispering. Never before had Santana realized how incredibly obvious it is when people gossip behind your back. Normally, this would be the moment she’d walk up to miss skinny two-face biatch and kick Dorothy’s gossiping ass, way over the rainbow. But she didn’t want to bring even more attention to herself, so with her eyes down she just tried quickening her pace until out of nowhere she could feel the ice cold texture of a slushy hitting her face. That was it. She might’ve been in a pretty bad place right now; but no way would she let some football moron step all over her.
“Hey! Who they hell - do you think you are?” she screamed, turning around to face the boys who’d thrown it in her face.
All in a huddle they laughed and giggled while the leading one stepped up and answered, “Don’t you know? The No Direction glitter party is entertainment prey for the football team. And I, am the quarterback. Which gives me, the right to slush you all I want. Got it … lesbo?”
Santana wanted to cry. That’s all she wanted to do; crawl to the ground and feel herself disappearing while everyone stood there laughing and pointing at her. But she couldn’t; she had to be stronger than that.
“Right - listen up quarterdouche, along with your mean girls over there.
I understand that puberty’s got you feeling like you’ve all of a sudden got the ability to be a man but let’s face it; other than a couple of pubes kicking in, you’ll always just be the little boy hanging from a flag pole with his underwear pulled over his face. And while you might confuse your testosterone levels with authority and power; you’re face kind of looks like it’s been hit by a bus. Continually. For a week. But you’re complete un-attractiveness aside, can you please explain to me who in the name of god ever made you think you were so god damn special that you could walk all up in my grill and cover me in your PMS crap? … Look. I know you really desperately want to be, but you just ain’t funny. So why don’t you just run along home now and think really carefully about what you want to do with your life … okay?”
"
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