Queering TV Conventions: LGBT Teen Narratives on GLEE | Raffi Sarkissian - catchsomeair.us
Jacob: [noticing Santana's boob job] How was YOUR summer? . I get now that in order for this relationship to work, I have to open up my Rachel: Ladies, the Kurt/Karofsky bullying situation is getting way out of .. In the voting, you beat out the following losers: the economy, Mel Gibson, the housing market, Dina Lohan, . The Santana-Dave Relationship, often referred to as Santofsky, Karopez, Davetana, and non-romantic relationship between Santana Lopez and David Karofsky. Naya, you had a big storyline with Santana's sexuality. How did people . Do you think we'll see any more of Santana and Karofsky together?.
You can drill me any time. I think I might be better at brushing and flossing if I could see myself in the mirror. There you go, blue tooth. I don't brush my teeth. I rinse my mouth out with soda after I eat.
I was pretty sure Dr Pepper was a dentist. This looks like the alien spaceship where I was probed. Brittany, you have the worst teeth I've ever seen. You have cavities in every single tooth. It's got to be some sort of record.Santana and David Karofsky - Fight (Glee)
Please don't pull out all my teeth. When I smile, I'll look like an adult baby but with boobs.
Can I have a blue toothbrush? I'll give you a hundred toothbrushes. Are you a cat? Look, my dad's a doctor, which means I have a killer health plan.
Now get up in my grill, 'cause Brits and I wants to get our anesthesia on. And your breath smells really nice. And you know why? Because this is a fantasy. I'm more talented than all of you. I see that clearly now. I'll give you anything. I'll give you my house! I'll kill my parents and I'll give you my house! Normally you dress like a fantasy of a perverted Japanese business man with a very dark specific fetish but I actually dig this look.
Kurt, I'm done talking about this! Loose a little, would you? Kurt, I'll see you in the principal's office.
I'm going to be quarterback again and I'm going to throw a touchdown in our first game. Then I'm going to point to you in the stands so that everyone in this school knows that you're my girlfriend.
I love Britney Spears! I wanna be that hat! Schue, let me be your Britney! Schue I want you! Don't stop doing that! It turns out to be a guy] Uh-oh. It's a Britney Spears sex riot! You know what William? That's what one Hubert Humphrey said back in at the start of the Democratic National Convention. But then hippies put acid in everyone's bourbon. Daley became so incensed with sexual rage that he punched his own wife in the face.
And spent the next hour screaming "Sex Party! I'm gonna sue the pants off of you, Will. I'm going to take your house, your car, your extensive collection of vests — I mean, seriously, you wear more vests than the cast of Blossom. You're such a great teacher, Will. No, probably the best in the whole school. So why would you want to be someone else when the someone you already are is so amazing? Because the boring someone I already am, wasn't good enough for you.
I said what you wanted me to say. And he shot me down. Congratulations, he must really love you. I'd like to dedicate this song to my boyfriend, Finn. I was wrong, I shouldn't try to control you. I've just, I've never been this happy before. And I realize that I was trying to hold on to how you were making me feel so much that I was strangling you in my hands like a little bird.
I get now that in order for this relationship to work, I have to open up my hands and let you fly free. Wait, I thought I was the only one getting the solos from now on. I would just like to say that from now on I demand to have every solo in glee club. When I had my teeth cleaned I had the most amazing Britney Spears fantasy.
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I sang and dance better than her. Now I realize what a powerful woman that I am. You need me to stay with you or anything? No, I've been drinking herbal tea and taking anti-anxiety pills and reading the unabridged biography of Britney Spears. I look forward to the day when paparazzi provokes me and I attack them.
How do you feel about me not being on the football team anymore? I'm actually kind of happy about it. Now I don't have to fantasize about what song I'd sing at your bedside if you were in a coma.
I was super hungry but my mom was gone so I busted out the George Foreman. It wasn't making cool grill marks like it used to after I tried to use it to dry my shoes, but when it comes to grilled cheese, I'm not that fancy. When I pulled the sandwich out, I saw the face of God.
I have made a Grilled Cheesus. I sort of worship Eric Clapton and Ochocinco. Dear Grilled Cheesus, first of all, you're super delicious. Please, Grilled Cheesus, please let us win our first football game. I mean, you did kind of screw him in the leg department.
And in return, Cheesy Lord, I'll make sure we honor you this week in Glee club. Suzanne Somers says that skipping breakfast is suicide. Oh my God, he's coming out. Why, yes, there is a man who's sort of recently come into my life, and that man is Jesus Christ. Sorry, uh, but if I wanted to sing about Jesus I'd go to church.
And the reason I don't go to church is because most churches don't think very much of gay people. I don't see what's wrong with getting a little church in here.
I've had a really hard year, and I've turned to God a lot for help. I, for one, wouldn't mind saying thanks. That it didn't come out a lizard-baby? Whenever I pray, I fall asleep. You got a problem with Jesus? Oh, I got no problem with the guy. I'm a total Jew for Jesus. He's my number one Heb. What I don't like seeing is people using J-Money to cramp everyone else's style 'cause it seems to me that true spirituality or whatever you want to call it is about enjoying the life that you've been given.
I mean, I see God every time I make out with a new chick. Carole and Finn are coming over. Those Friday night dinners are ritual in our family - one your mom started. Friday nights are kind of important to me.
Why are you making me feel guilty about this? What up, Grilled Cheesus? I need to ask you for something. I didn't go to Sunday school so I don't know if God works the same as a genie and I only get three wishes, but here's the thing Dating Rachel is great, but she's kind of a prude and I'm sort of going crazy.
Anyway, her boobs aren't that great, but they're still girl boobs and I'll still like to touch them. So, Jesus, considering that I've dedicated a week of my musical life to you, I hope you can see it in your heart to answer my prayers. Hey Kurt, we're really sorry about your dad's heart attack. I did a book report on heart attacks, if you want to give it to the doctor. I got knocked down an entire letter grade 'cause it was written in crayon.
My mom just called me. I don't know what it looks like to everyone else, but I thought we were sort of family. Your voice is stunning but I don't believe in God You've all professed your beliefs, I'm just stating mine. I think God is kind of like Santa Claus for adults. As if someone would choose to be mocked every single day of their life.
Look, Kurt, how do you know for sure? I mean, you can't prove that there's no God. You can't prove that there isn't a magic tea pot floating around on the dark side of the moon, with a dwarf inside of it that reads romance novels and shoots lightning out of its boobs, but it seems pretty unlikely, doesn't it?
Is God an evil dwarf? Let's discuss your new-found love for Jesus and how it's affecting me. I want this relationship to go the distance, but I need to know that when I'm 25 and I've won a bunch of Tonys and I'm ready to have intercourse and babies, that those babies will raised in a certain way You don't think you're gonna have sex until you're 25?
Both of my dads' people were slaves once. I need to know that my children will be free to worship in the way that I decide is right. Yeah, they should totally go to Jew church and wear those hats and eat that salty orange stuff with their bagels. I made him a card that said "Heart attacks are just from loving too much. They say his condition is critical but stable. Good news, I guess. I'm sorry for what you're going through, Lady.
Santana Lopez | Deconstructing Glee
I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy, and I guess I don't have to--I think Mary Lou Retton's, like, an orphan or something. So you want me to be your scapegoat? I admit it-it aids digestion. I also want you to protect the fact that she is apparently in a relationship with Lady Santana, without interfering, and report any signs that the Church might be communicating with either of them.
Can you do that for me? Can't say I'm surprised. You've been dancing around each other for weeks. Kurt kind of loved her for that. Noah finally spoke up, saying, "Santana has a pretty good idea, but no confirmation. General consensus around the estate, though, is that Sue plans to rent her dancing slaves out, rather than sell them. I doubt we could arrange to buy her at any price. Noah, your sister might have to … um, disappear.
Sir Arthur, can you think about how to accomplish the task? He supposed that just as Kurt felt like an outcast from the rest of the nobility, Arthur with his spectacles and awkward mannerisms had felt the same way, so they'd banded together early on.
Rachel interrupted Kurt's thoughts by saying, "I recognized one of the slaves there and she might be willing to help us. Her name is Mercedes and she's a household slave, so I don't know how long she's going to be there, but she knows the layout of the estate and might be able to help Arthur get in and out. Rachel, keep your position in Brittany's household and report to me as often as you can get away.
Thank you, both of you. Noah locked both doors to the room and then pushed Kurt down onto the settee, kneeling on the floor to look up at him. Kurt chuckled a little at the sight, explaining, "I never expected you to kneel at my feet, not-humble-Noah. Come sit next to me. I saw something special in you that day at the slave market, a sort of nobility that many of my peers are sadly lacking. You are a good man, Noah and by bringing you here, taking you to lessons with me, I've been trying to make you amazing.
You find someone else and make him amazing, too? However, Kurt knew he needed to keep Noah close for both personal and political reasons, so he hugged Noah closer and whispered fiercely, "Never. Whether you stay or go when our birthdays come around again is up to you. I hope you'll decide to stay. Until Quinn finds some way to use me against you? She sees me as unfit to be king because I follow the Church's scripture so loosely just by being who I am. She sees Finn as a great man, who just needs her guidance.
Santana put her legs together gradually, wincing at the soreness between them. She wasn't sure if the wet feeling was blood or semen, but she didn't want either leaking onto her Cheerios skirt. Drawing her knees up, she smoothed the pleats with a violently trembling hand and rolled onto her side.
But Make It Fashion
It was the side facing them, but she couldn't turn the other way because of her right arm. Bending the left one, she rested her head against it and refused to look at them. It's over, she told herself. Fresh fear surged through Santana so quickly she heard a rushing in her ears. But she remained mute and immobile, hoping by some miracle it would make her invisible.
Or at least make them lose interest. She peeked at them askance, praying with more conviction than she had since elementary school. She's like my dad's Prius. Gets great mileage," Lee said, rocking his pelvis suggestively, "and rides like a dream.
And it'll be our word against a dirty little Mexican skank. Don't tell me you never wanted a piece of that. Third time's a charm. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, snapping them on with the same affectation. Then he freed the surgical mask from beneath his collar and playfully shoved Lee out of the way. Feelgood show you how it's done. Santana ordered herself to get up! Her good arm wobbled when she leaned on it, and her legs were too shaky to support her.
She dropped heavily onto her bottom as she tried to stand. Bits of earth embedded under her fingers as she clawed at it, managing to squirm a few inches away. He giggled when her shoe came off in his hand. She thrashed while he attempted to stuff it on her foot, but the kicks she dealt in just a sock were ineffectual, humorous to him. Gathering a fistful of dirt, she hurled it in his face and brought the game to an abrupt end. They were red and watery when he cocked his arm and flung the shoe at her chest.
It bounced off with a dull thud that doubled her over, clutching the spot and coughing. To Santana, who resisted being pushed onto her back yet again, he added, "Have it your way," and knocked her flat on her stomach. She almost blacked out—and would have preferred it—when her arm flopped against the ground.
But Azimio denied her even that small victory by rubbing her face in the dirt until she gasped for air. Thankfully, he soon tired of revenge and for a few blessed moments his hands left her. She clung to the freedom, wanting it to last forever; knowing it wouldn't. And sure enough, the respite was interrupted by the sound of his jeans unzipping, the awareness of him kneeling behind her.
She began crawling on her belly like a soldier in combat, but he captured the waistband of her skirt, and yanked. Several stitches popped along the seam, and she abandoned the struggle, afraid he would rip the material entirely from her body. Instead, he swept the pleats upwards, revealing her backside, and gave it a brisk slap. In her mind, Santana shouted it at him; on the outside, she had to summon the strength just to lift her head and turn it in the opposite direction.
She wouldn't give Lee the satisfaction of seeing her face while this happened. And it had started. Azimio was rubbing his cock against her, growing stiffer as he slid between her buttocks and squeezed them in his hands.
The Prince's Slave Chapter 9, a glee fanfic | FanFiction
Every muscle in her body tensed with fear and discomfort, and she whimpered unintelligible requests for him to stop. They were ignored, of course, but he at least spared her the degradation she'd expected—sodomy might have made him seem gay after all. So he raped her the same way Lee had, plunging in just as ruthlessly, jarring her slender frame with each thrust. She was still wet enough from Lee to ease some of the friction, but Azimio was larger and less skilled.
If she hadn't already been torn, he guaranteed it. The rhythmic sound of his flesh bucking into hers, light and fluid like waves lapping against a dock, was the only noise he made. Santana blocked it out, her thoughts drifting elsewhere, carrying her far away from the present horror. She wondered where her friends were They must have reached the town square by now Perhaps they had cajoled the adults into stopping at the Lima Bean for cocoa to warm themselves up.
Brittany would get the gingersnap latte, though. That was her favorite. She always offered Santana the first sip, before the cream dissolved. Tears of relief poured down Santana's cheeks. She was so glad Brittany had gone ahead. She couldn't bear the thought of the girl witnessing this.
Or worse yet, being hurt by the boys, too. Brought back to reality by Azimio pulling out, Santana used the edge of her cloak to wipe at the dirt caked on her lips, under her runny nose and to the cheek she wasn't resting on. It had started to dry already, forming a hard, pinching crust over her skin.
She flinched and hid beneath the cloak when Azimio gave her a parting slap on the ass. He walked away, not bothering to acknowledge her with words. And after a brief pause: And this is the story now. Once people find out you banged a hot cheerleader, they'll see you as something more than a greasy little shit stain. You'll get all kinds of action. No offense, dude, but look at you. Then look at her. When are you ever going to have another opportunity like this?
Santana bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood. He said she could suck a golf ball through a garden hose. But that wasn't true, what Jacob had said.
She'd never given a blowjob to Xavier Martin, whoever the hell he was.
In fact, she disliked performing oral sex—at least with guys—and had only tried it once when Puckerman claimed that every Cheerio he dated gave great head. She hadn't even worked up the courage to suggest it to Brittany back when they were still fooling around.
It required a level of intimacy she was unprepared for, despite her best efforts to treat sex casually. She wanted to tell Jacob that the Xaxier person had lied, but it took every bit of energy just to slide her left arm forward and raise up on one elbow.
Her lower body was numb with cold and trauma, knees unwilling to bend. She wished she could push her skirt down.
He motioned for Azimio to follow. She rasped the words again, watching their shoes advance from the corner of her eye. Jacob's spurs jingled with each step. When the boys stood overhead, Lee set the basket and beer aside and squatted next to Santana. He inclined his ear in her direction. I've never done that. The experiment with Puck had been brief, and though he raved about it, she had no clue what she was doing. Lee snorted behind his hand, as if his mirth couldn't be contained.
We totally believe you," he said, sweeping a tousled pigtail off her shoulder for a better view of her face. He tilted her chin up, forcing eye contact. At first, being upright alleviated the pressure on her injury.
But relief was short-lived as the limb dangled uselessly, feeling unnaturally heavy. The strain on her shoulder became intolerable, as though her arm were rending itself from the socket. Dizzy with pain, she swayed and started to drop over when Lee released her clothing. She caught a whiff of latex as another pair of hands offered assistance—one grabbing the nape of her neck, the other her chest.
Through a haze of nausea, she watched Lee intercept the phone from Jacob the hands must be Azimio's and urge him forward with a kick to the rear. Timidly, the boy stepped up to Santana, his eyes enormous behind their frames, and fumbled with the buckle of his chaps. He moistened his lips and attempted to smile at her. Jewish cowboys must not do it for her. Too bad you don't have any pussy in there for her to eat out. Avoiding Santana's bleary gaze, he unzipped his jeans and lowered them to his calves, chaps and underwear going with them.
It hurt, but she ignored the warning and continued to squirm until he trapped her head between his hands. He held her still as Jacob leaned in and tentatively rubbed against her cheek, then, as he became more aroused, over the rest of her face.
She squeezed her eyes shut when he neared them, grazing the lids; opened them again when he kneaded her breasts with a rough, greedy hand. She hated to see what he was doing, but it made her feel more powerless not to. Within seconds he was fully erect, stroking her compressed lips with the tip of his penis. After several light nudges failed to coax them apart, he applied a bit of force, prodded, and said, "Suck me.
Santana gritted her teeth, determined not to scream or open her mouth for any reason—even if he pulled the hair right out of her scalp, as it seemed he might.
But the other boys were laughing at his predicament, and he came up with a quick, simple solution she hadn't considered. He let go of her hair and pinched her nose shut. Santana couldn't shake him off, or move her head at all, with Azimio's vicelike grip in place. She wrenched at Jacob's hand, but she was too tired and weak to overpower him.
And he was the one boy of the group she'd been certain she could outmatch physically. Hot tears sprung to her eyes when he brushed her hand aside with ease. She fought back emotion and the need for oxygen, but she had already been out of breath from the start, and it was a short battle.
The moment she parted her lips just enough to inhale sharply, Azimio looped his arm around her head, clutching her lower jaw in his free hand.
His fingers dug into her cheeks, preventing her teeth and lips from closing. Jacob filled her mouth to capacity, suffocating the final protest. Eventually he remembered to let go of her nose, and she took in deep, frantic breaths through her nostrils, trying not to choke on him.
She followed the orders he moaned, doing her best to "lick" and "suck" as instructed, hoping that it would relieve the fullness at the back of her throat. But he didn't give her the chance to obey one command before moving on to the next, his eager thrusts making her desperate to gag.
Fortunately his lack of self-restraint brought him to an early climax and stopped him from jamming himself any further down her throat; but the dank, bitter taste of his come was just as much of an assault on the senses.
Unable to block the reflex, she swallowed when he withdrew. It was more than her upset stomach and abused throat could handle. Azimio had released her at some point, and she wavered for a moment on her knees.
Then she bent forward and retched violently, covering Jacob's cowboy boots in a dark layer of vomit that resembled blood in the dim lighting. He hadn't finished pulling his pants up yet, and he leapt back with a disgusted cry. Santana leaned unsteadily on her hand, shuddering and dry heaving until she sank to the ground in exhaustion.
She longed to lie down and let the sick feeling pass, but she would not resume a submissive pose in front of them. Though she had to hunch over and rest on her elbow, she stayed seated. She only half-listened to the conversation the boys were having, failing to absorb most of it.
And ruined my love of fruit punch. When he stepped towards Santana again, his pants and chaps were up—but still undone—his penis exposed. He stared at her coldly for a moment, then urinated down the front of her uniform as he added, "Definitely no Rachel Berry. She recoiled, using both feet to scoot herself backwards, the abrasive dirt skinning her thighs. Harsh, wheezing coughs racked her body, but there wasn't anything left for her convulsing stomach to expel. She was drained of everything except the tears that poured down her cheeks in a ceaseless flow.
He accepted the phone when Lee handed it over as if nothing had happened. He stood above Santana, his nose wrinkled in disdain as he studied her and the filth nearby. She prayed that it would repel him; that his aversion to the smell would put an end to whatever cruel plan was forming behind his blank, unfeeling eyes. But once again God turned a deaf ear on her requests. Snaring her by the collar, Lee dragged her a few feet from the rancid puddles, scooping up the basket and beer can along the way.
For the first time since being tossed into this hell pit, she noticed that Karofsky was still there with her, lurking at the outskirts. She started to say his name, to make some sort of appeal to him, but another pungent liquid began to seep onto her breast. When she glanced up in confusion, Lee emptied the remainder of his beer into her face.
She hissed and rubbed at her stinging eyes with the heel of her palm. After a moment, Lee stayed her hand and blotted something soft on her closed lids. She cowered from him, but he continued to dry her off with the familiar-smelling cloth.
Cautiously, she peered at him through blurred, itchy vision and saw that he was holding the sash from Brittany's gypsy costume. Her expression must have been a dead giveaway. Santana did want it. She wanted to snatch it from the monster whose vile hands didn't deserve even to touch it. But she was too scared to reach out or let him know he held something of importance to her. When she looked at him mutely, he brought the fabric to his nose and sniffed the peppermint body mist that was Brittany's fragrance of the week.
Crouching beside her, he took a whiff at the surrounding air and, deeming it acceptable, rummaged through the basket at his feet. He picked out a couple of hair barrettes and chucked them into the dark crevices under the lower bleachers. Most of it's pretty boring, but—" Suddenly, like a little boy who had discovered the toy surprise in a box of cereal, he brandished a miniature pack of Sour Patch Kids.
Now that her body wasn't under attack, the full extent of her injuries had begun to set in. It was all she could do to remain conscious.
Lee tucked the candy in his pocket. There is this one thing I found really, really interesting The dual container was the shape and length of a cigar and twice as wide. Its silver finish glinted in a slant of light from between the bleacher tiers. He leveled it in front of Santana's face, too close for her eyes to focus on the name. Now, what in the world are you doing with something that belongs to Quinn's daddy?
And what the hell is it? He waited patiently for an answer. She couldn't get it to stop shaking. Fabray gave it to you? Don't tell me you're one of his mistresses.
She spiked the punch. There were much worse things than detention or getting suspended for a few days. Nobody's going to get buzzed from what you can store in here Balancing it between his index fingers, he asked, "What would you say that is? Her flesh crawled as he went on prodding and stroking with his new souvenir. I'll say it was a stranger. I'll—" She was babbling, the words reaching a shrill pitch when the rounded silver tip circled her breasts, then slid down her abdomen.
It brushed the inside of her thigh, and she pushed it away. But Lee kept putting it back, obviously enjoying the shoving match that ensued. It's too cold for you to be dicking around.
That homo already had his chance. If we gotta wait on him to get it up, we'll be here all night. Him," Lee murmured, his voice low enough for only Santana to hear.
He flipped at the pleats of her skirt with the end of the flask. When she almost knocked it from his hand, he seized her upper arm and hauled her off the ground in one frighteningly swift movement. She staggered alongside him, tripping on her own feet as he took several long strides towards Karofsky.
Halting, Lee threw her against the other boy's chest, leaving him little choice but to catch her. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt. So, Karofsky's gonna have another go. If he can pull it off, I'll believe him when he says he isn't a faggot. If he can't, we'll toss him a big coming out party tomorrow during lunch. She was dead weight in his arms, and her head lolled when she tipped it back to look at him.
His face hovered above hers, eyes brimming with tears. But regret wasn't the only emotion she saw there; he was conflicted, too. After a futile attempt to control her rag doll limbs, she rested her cheek against him with a weary sigh, and asked, "Dave? Glancing from Santana's dirt-encrusted face to Lee's menacing one, Karofsky gave a helpless shrug and shook his head as if they expected too much.
Okay, look, I'll teach you how it works. It might have been excruciating, had she the time to comprehend it. But Lee was instantly on top of her, drowning out the rest of the world with his tall, athletic frame. His hands were everywhere at once—smothering her cries, bending her body to his will. Though she was vaguely aware of him speaking to Karofsky "It's really easy.
If you can't get a hard-on, just use something else. Here, Russell Fabray will show you what I mean"none of it made sense until she felt it: White-hot jolts of pain from pelvis to abdomen God, it hurts so bad As the skewering motion continued below, Santana disconnected from that half of her body.
She split herself in two, focusing only on what she could access from the waist up.