ataraxion | Santana Lopez: uno + video

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Santana Lopez: uno + video

Attention, attention, all Yodas and crackwhores.

[ Santana smiles, sickeningly sweetly - or venomously, it honestly is hard to tell on her - as she scoots down with the device in her lap. She's thankfully showered since the whole goo incident the other day, and so her hair hangs a bit loosely around her face. Not her usual degree of styling but, well, she's missing a few things. ]

I got the deal that you're all fetishy weirdos with nothing better to do than kidnap some high school girls and lock them in a Kool-Aid pit for a while until your strange sexual perversions have been attended to. That's totally fine. Everyone has something they don't wanna talk about. I listen to that Rebecca Black song when I'm upset about something, for example. It makes me feel better knowing with factual evidence that there is someone out in the world who legitimately sucks on such a level that words can't describe. In fact, it makes me laugh just thinking about it, sometimes. I also own a bra from a thrift store. It was super comfy and only cost me four bucks, and after I put it through the spin cycle ten times and it stopped smelling like old people and meth addicts, it was acceptable enough to wear. Those are my things.

But what I'm not gonna be cool with is chuckin' me in this no-class room without any of my necessary shit. Okay? Miss Lopez needs herself a hair straightener, and also her curling iron. She's gonna be running low on mascara in a couple of weeks, and that's so not gonna fly.

[ Santana leans forward, holding up a finger to the camera. ] For the record, whoever was the one who tailored that jumpsuit, you better not show your lily-white ass anywhere in my presence. I can practically feel your creepoid hands still measuring me out, and, no, they're still not in fashion. The eighties want their one-pieces back. Also, prison. Prison without me being some bull dyke with a shaved head's play thing.

Let's hook a sister up. She needs wardrobe and she needs beauty supplies. [ She tosses her hair, and her jumpsuit IS on, but it's been zipped low to show an ample amount of cleavage, and her collar bones. ] I'm sure we can find some way to make it worth your while.

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no spare clothes in locker?

[ Well, other than a t-shirt that she'd really rather not discuss - ]

oh ya an entire wardrobe. i think they gave me a gift certificate to H&M while they were at it. what do YOU think?

Edited 2012-03-13 05:14 (UTC)

i got clothes.

[ Ric can't. He honestly can't even for a good second, because what even are you, Santana. But then he collects himself and speaks, exhaling before anything else. ]

This probably isn't going to make you feel better but the "creepoids" measured everyone. [ A beat. ] There are people who will hook you up with things even without the cleavage, by the way. [ Which is Ric talk for: zip up your damn jumpsuit. ]

wtf do you want? a parade?

what kinda clothes?

[ Aw, he's cute. Santana's eyes roll skyward at the mention of the measuring, because no shit, Sherlock. The thing fits her perfectly, so that much was kind of obvious. Whatever. She's leaning a bit forward, so that the camera pans further down her shirt, and pats glossy lips together in a teasing kind of way. ]

What's the matter, sweetie? Is it making you uncomfortable?

the only ones i had.

[you hear that? that's the sound of your sarcasm whooshing over her head at the speed of light.]

kool-aid pits.

[ tony being a douche in 5, 4, 3, 2....1. ]

everyone knows it's jello and mud pits that you toss the girls in.

look, i'm super sorry you were homeless or whatever before you showed up here, but unless you have something you can give me

toodles <33

been there, thought of that. moved onto the koolaid fetish becuz why not?

besides, you try wrestling in 1 of those things. dudes just like storing hot babes in them and that's way creepier.

good luck

:)

and pray tell, what if we are neither a yoda or a crackwhore? do we still have to "hook a sister up" if that's the case?

[ quinn debates sending a video response, but then she has to, she has to be sure. ]

Santana?

[ she isn't sure how to feel about seeing her ~~friend~~ ~~former friend~~ ~~frie~~ ~~form~~ ...classmate here. she isn't sure what she thinks about here. ]

congratz on the mattress, bitch! <3

and if you're not in either of those categories, which 1 is it? i figured i was covering most of my bases.

but yeah that should still be the case ♥

Qu -

[ It honestly throws her for a loop, but just for a second. There's a moment of stunned silence before the good ol' familiar Snix face settles back in, eyebrows raised in an appraising manner. ]

You know, when I mentioned Kool-Aid, I wasn't talking about dunking your head in the fruity crap. What the hell happened to your head?

Goodness gracious, icky oakie me how does this work...

[ There's the sound of rustling, phone on fabric, and then just a blank slate as it turns to video and the camera end is facing the wall. She brings it up, and--yes, there we go! Have smiling eyes and a very thin smile on very full lips. ]

Dear small addressing the passengers of this ship as crackwhores and an unknown entity:

[ One finger moves into view of the camera. ] One, if your're to curry favours with the lads and lassies of here, it's unwise to insult them no matter how dramatic your day has been, for example. being upturned onto this mad metallic vessel with nothing but the most unflattering of underwear and outfits.

[ A second finger: ] Two, I find your monologues tasteless based on the fact old people should be treasured and respected even if they're all a pain in the arse and lastly:

[ The third finger now, and Kitten's eyes are on you, Santana: ] I have a purse full of makeup but you're going to have to trade something, darling.

[ Santana honestly doesn't answer for a moment, mouth opening and shutting. She claps her hands together then, excitedly, and that flattened smile is back, the same borderline-dangerous one before. ] You know those times in your life where you think it can't get any weirder, and then the world decides to give you your very own fairy god-RuPaul?

Here's the dealio, honey pie, [ and she starts ticking off on her own fingers to make just as much of a point. First finger, her pinky: ] If I wanted the moral lesson, I'd watch one of those Christian shows that CBS is always trying to make work. [ She shrugs. ] Or Degrassi.

Second of all, [ ring finger added now, ] the review's nice and all, but nine out of ten doctors agree that I keep it real while still maintaining the ability to be super hot. I guess you're one of the ten. Or not a doctor at all, actually, and frankly, I don't even know you, so that'll bring us to point three.

[ Initially, she's holding up her last three fingers on her hand. ] If it means having to put up with the little lectures and the you can do better's, I'll do without the glitter eyeshadow and the pudding packs you stick down your top in the morning. [ Oh, no, she's put the pinky and ring fingers down, that is definitely a one finger salute. ] But you keep it up, you fierce little thing, you.

[Wichita is almost impressed - though only because she kind of reminds her of herself in high school. Not the best with the subtlety of manipulation, but she knows a thing or two, clearly. Calling someone out on being a perv then going in for the cleavage shot? Not the best way to play it, but then Wichita never exactly had a rack to work with, so, what does she know.

Also, she can sympathize with the make-up needs. Wichita's still mourning the loss of her eye-liner abuse.]

There isn't much in the way of hair and make-up here, unfortunately. I mean, whatever shows up in your locker is what you're stuck with. --Unless someone actually found a straightener in their locker, huh.

okay i'm pretty sure that sharing eye makeup is the single fastest way to get pinkeye

(also maybe calling people crackwhores isn't the best tactic)

[ katherine herself is dressed in a gray tank that also displays a generous amount of cleavage, her hair draped over one shoulder in loose curls. ]

God, I know. You'd think they'd have a blow dryer, at the very least.

[ To be fair, Santana never really had the cleavage shot thing to work for her at all for a while either. She kind of had to give herself a boost on that one. It works marvelously now. Happiness, as it turns out, DOES come at a price. ]

[ As a resident mean girl and, well, as a tentative closet lesbian covering her actions with the guise of judging Wichita for her everything, Santana gives her an appraising once over that looks more like her mouth is contorted into a grimace. ]

They've got an entire space ship here, they can afford to kidnap a buttload of people and shove them in Jell-O pits, but they can't afford one little straightener? [ And she ticks a finger side to side, shaking her head. ] Nuh uh. That's not gonna work for me. Where's the creepazoid in charge? I'm lodging a complaint.

And maybe cracking one of those shriveled olives he likes to think of as balls.

um, i'm not gonna be sharing it. jeez i'm not THAT skanky. they're just giving it to me. grow up.

would 'prissy little hiding bitches' be more fitting for you?

[ She stops herself before she gets blatant with the checking out, at least. This newfound sexuality confusion is for crap. She knows how to hide the lechery better than Karofsky, but grown-ups know how to wipe their faces better than four-year-olds too, so that's not so hard a feat to complete. ]

[ Still. The girl is a Grade A hottie. ]

But your hair looks fierce. [ She gives a bit of a groan, maybe self-pitying. ] Come on. You're holding out on me.

How... creative.

[ yeap. not even he can handle. ]

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