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Post by emma pillsbury on Aug 8, 2010 21:44:50 GMT -5
 when the devil wants to dance with you ,YOU BETTER SAY NEVER[/color][/font] because a dance with the devil might last you forever[/color][/font] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/color][/center][/color][/font]
It was everything I could do not to roll my eyes in some exaggerated fashion. At least once a week, ever since his Freshman year at McKinley, Jacob Ben Israel wandered into my office and complained nonstop for about two periods straight. I didn’t know whether he was just upset and confused or whether he just liked skipping class, but no matter how often I told him he needed to get going, he’d start off into some other insane dilemma that I was forced to sit and listen to. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I love helping students and I always find sympathy for them, but when you had a boy come in and go on and on about Rachel Berry or vampires then it grows quite tiresome.
“She’s dating that Finn Hudson jerk,”
[/i] he said for perhaps the fifth time this school year, and I merely nodded. I didn’t know what he wanted me to say. I mean, I knew they were together and I knew it was a long time coming. I may have been merely a Guidance Counselor but I saw students in the hallway and knew what puppy love was like. They never exactly hid it. Or, at the very least, last year they didn’t. I hadn’t seen them together much, but school had only just started. That was understandable. “Perhaps you should respect that, Jacob,” I responded, just as I did each time, and took a deep breath as I watched him sigh in an over dramatic fashion. “Surely you want a girl who likes you back, right?”“I like the thrill of the chase.”“But if she weren’t dating Finn, then there would be no chase, would there?”After putting things in a new perspective, Jacob huffed and leaned back. “Can I have a pass to Chemistry?” For the first time since he stepped into my office, I grinned brightly and nodded. After writing a quick note and signing it, I pushed it across the desk, though frowned as his fingers brushed mine when he reached for it. I quickly retracted my hand and pumped hand sanitizer into the palm of it, narrowly avoiding another panic attack. Jacob slumped out of my office, leaving me to my thoughts, and I closed my eyes. Perhaps I was being selfish. Even if I had heard Jacob’s sexually distressed complaints countless times, I really happened to get frustrated whenever anybody brought up relationship problems. Probably because of what I was dealing with in regards to Will -- I couldn’t get him off my mind, no matter how hard I tried, he was always there. Looming. Sometimes singing. Sometimes giving me those cute little puppy dog eyes that made me melt. Sometimes proclaiming his love for me. I had a rather overactive imagination, it seemed. I frowned and reached forward, straightening out the Lima News coffee mug that sat on my desk so that the words faced forward directly and the handle was parallel to the edge of the desk. Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I leaned back in my chair, gaze snapping to my appointment book. I had no one scheduled for the rest of the day, and I was all caught up on paper work, so unless I had a walk-in, I was free to work ahead as I pleased. I enjoyed days like this. Very relaxing, and very rare. [/blockquote][/blockquote] 577 WORDSsantana. TAGGEDhere. OUTFITtemplate by LISA@GBBS, lyrics by immortal technique CREDITpointless post is pointless. NOTES [/color][/font][/RIGHT] |
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Post by santana lopez on Aug 8, 2010 22:10:23 GMT -5
 YOU'RE A HOT MESS AND I'M FALLING FOR YOU[/font][/color] and I'm like, "hot damn lemme make you my boo"[/font] ______________________________[/center] The day has been going slow for the Latina Cheerio, and the more time seemed to tick passed slowly, the more frustrated she grew. By the time her Chemistry class was over, she swiftly opened her locker, grabbed the needed books for the next class, and slammed it shut, making a freshman jump next to her as she passed. Rolling her eyes, Santana grumpily stalked down the hall, her head held high though she felt the weakest out of the students in the hall.
As she kept walking in the direction of her next class, her mind went crazy with Brittany and the numerous times the blonde had managed to say something or do something absolutely stupid. Normal people would take pity on how slow the Cheerio was, but not Santana. Nope, never Santana. She grew up with it, and though it pissed her off at first - Brittany would never catch on to her sarcastic remarks -, she grew to love it. And that was what frustrated her the most. She should pity the girl, should say something like 'Aw, we should pray for her' like a good girl, like Mrs. Fabray would say. But, here she was, not feeling any sort of anything, save for love, for the girl.
During her next class, Science, her thoughts didn't cease. Instead of focusing on the subject like she was supposed to be doing, she imagined Cheerio practice at the end of the day. She imagined Brittany meeting her at her locker and hooking arms with her. She imagined the little spark igniting those feelings that made her thoughts die. She could just imagine a dumb look on her face, and she wrinkled her nose when she realized how awful she would look, how unattractive she would be.
So, when the end of class finally came and the bell rang, she walked back to her locker, huffing slightly once she noticed the familiar blonde wasn't waiting there for her. She's probably off with that retard, she thought with a roll of her eyes. She scowled, wondering why Ms. Sylvester would allow that ... thing on their field, on their team. It was ridiculous! Huffing once more, she jerked her locker open, almost slamming into one to her right. She packed up her bag with the things she needed to take home, and shut the locker like last time --quick and loud; a slam. On her way out the door however, she stopped when a sudden, stupid thought fluttered in her ear, to her brain.
Maybe Ms. Pillsbury knows what to do. It was a stupid thought, and she'd probably regret it later, but she acted on impulse and stalked her way to the crazy's office.
She stopped quickly in front of the open doorway, staring at the red-head that appeared to be tidying up, or whatever she was doing by repositioning a coffee cup. Clearing her throat hesitantly, the Cheerio walked in the office, shutting the door behind her.
"Even though everyone thinks you're crazy, I need your help,"
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status; complete.
character; santana lopez.
music; none.
words; eh.
notes I actually kinda like this post. :3 |
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Post by emma pillsbury on Aug 11, 2010 2:28:39 GMT -5
when the devil wants to dance with you ,YOU BETTER SAY NEVER [/color][/font] because a dance with the devil might last you forever[/color][/font] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/color][/center][/color][/font]
“Even though everyone thinks you’re crazy, I need your help.”
I heard the voice and I snapped out of my reverie, looking wide-eyed up at the door to see a familiar face standing in front of me. Santana Lopez was someone who very rarely came into my office, and when she did, it was never voluntary. Really, the only times I’d spoken to her were when she had problems with scheduling, and she was never extremely pleasant then. But I certainly knew who she was. Yes, people in my office have talked about her, about times she’s ridiculed them, or about being jealous of her, or intimidated by her. She was a Cheerio, and one of the main members of the squad, so she walked around quite haughtily in her uniform on a day to day basis, using her social power to get her own way. She was best friends with Brittany Morris, who I’d once had to speak to about a bird in her locker (though I still had no idea what happened -- that was an interesting session, to say the least). But the main reason I knew her, I was sure, was because she was in Glee Club. Yes, I’d sat in on rehearsals and watched them perform and even took them to Sectionals. She was a great singer, that was for sure, and I’m sure she hated to admit it, but she really seemed to enjoy show choir.
But why was she asking for my help? The first part of her greeting rubbed me in the wrong way. I knew everyone thought I was crazy, especially the students. I had a legitimate mental disorder but they always wrote that off as insane, criticizing my cleaning habits. I hated it. It upset me, really, considering it had no affect on them either way, aside from the fact that I might have saved a few from getting sick in my office over the years. Usually, when I saw students whispering to each other when I passed or when they played pranks on me to create a mess just to see my reaction, I’d go talk to Will and he’d make me feel better. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? I shouldn’t have wanted to go see Will, anyways. I should have been thinking about Carl. Carl was my boyfriend. Carl was to support and comfort me. Carl. Not Will. Carl.
Yet, no matter how many times I said it, I wasn’t convinced. Damnit.
Clearing my throat, I smiled that formal smile I reserved for students and gestured to the chair on the other side of my desk. “Of course, Miss Lopez, that’s what I’m here for. What can I, uhm, do for you?”
468 WORDStemplate by LISA@GBBS, lyrics by immortal technique CREDIT [/color][/font][/RIGHT] |
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Post by santana lopez on Aug 12, 2010 16:36:52 GMT -5
YOU'RE A HOT MESS AND I'M FALLING FOR YOU [/font][/color] and I'm like, "hot damn lemme make you my boo"[/font] ______________________________[/center] Santana held back the cringe she was tempted to let show when the woman spoke. God, just her voice screamed crazy. It was like, she wanted everyone to know that she was some sort of freak, that she wasn't like the rest of the population, or most of it anyway. But she still had that same cold, arrogant expression as she shut the door behind her and sat in the chair opposite of the ginger. Her eyes darted to Ms. Pillsbury's desk, looking at the items that were placed exact, like she spent hours, examining their places. Amusement flickered in her eyes, she probably spent all day arranging and re-arranging the papers, panthlets, etc. When she realized what she was here for, Santana straighted herself up from the lazy slouch she took when she seated herself in the chair.
"Um ... yeah. I-I kind of need some advice ...," she stuttered out slowly. Her eyebrows furrowed, and an angry scowl came to her face. Did she just stutter? Santana Lopez, cheerleader of McKinley high never stuttered. Frustrated with herself, Santana pursed her lips, staring at the woman with an intensity. She was unsure about this, and her eyes flickered to the door, like she was a wild animal, dying for an escape route. Again, when she realized how insane she must have looked, she let her face fall into that cold facade and looked at Ms. Pillsbury.
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status; complete.
character; santana lopez.
music; none.
words; ---
notes it's totally not the best, but .. |
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Post by emma pillsbury on Aug 13, 2010 2:24:06 GMT -5
when the devil wants to dance with you ,YOU BETTER SAY NEVER [/color][/font] because a dance with the devil might last you forever[/color][/font] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -[/color][/center][/color][/font]
I don’t think that anyone had witnessed this kind of weakness from Santana Lopez. I’d always thought that she just had a sort of ‘screw it’ attitude that worked well for her, even though I was pretty sure it’d end up backfiring later on in life. But… Had she really just stuttered? She needed my advice, despite the fact that I’m sure she didn’t like me. It probably was stealing a lot of her pride, sitting across from me as she was, which meant it was probably serious. I was sure it wasn’t bullying because she did most of the ridiculing in the school, though I wouldn’t bring that up. That probably wouldn’t help matters any. No matter that she was a student and I was a teacher; she sort of intimidated me, and I wanted to get to the bottom of this to try and get her to lighten up. I really hated it when kids had this kind of attitude with me.
“Of course,” I spoke with a polite smile, folding my hands atop the desk and leaning forward, getting into a more comfortable conversation. “What seems to be the, uhm, problem?” Hopefully it would be simple. Last time any of the “cool kids” had been in my office, it was when Finn and Quinn were asking for advice on how to be cool. Of course, I’d made a slip up referring to Will’s sunglasses, but my advice had backfired and they ended up with Slushie Facials. I didn’t know if that was my fault, but I had a feeling they wouldn’t be too happy at me for that one, anyways. I hoped there wouldn’t be a repeat.
293 WORDStemplate by LISA@GBBS, lyrics by immortal technique CREDIT [/color][/font][/RIGHT] |
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