Santana Lopez

Character: Santana Lopez
Series: Glee
Character Age: 17
Canon: At McKinley High School, status means everything. Being a cheerleader means someone is on top … and being someone who sings Broadway songs and dances on a stage like an idiot means you’re definitely on bottom. That doesn’t keep the Glee Club from taking funds from the nationals-winning cheerleading squad called the Cheerios to support their struggle to make it to the top of the musical world—even if they can’t manage that in school itself. The coach of the cheerleaders sends several of her Cheerios into the club to try and keep them knocked down a few pegs. What she didn’t expect was them eventually defecting to the club as they find love, acceptance, and a chance to shine.

Even though she loves Glee club, Santana is probably the most negative member. She makes herself out to be rougher around the edges than she actually is, and she enjoys having the power to instill fear in others. She claims to think everybody sucks around her, and doesn’t hold back on telling them as much—and her method is generally done with colorful insults. These insults are generally regarded as the truth, and no one can say otherwise. But underneath all that is a scared and confused girl struggling with her sexuality. Much of her bullying is due to this, and she makes it a point to make others just as miserable as she is. After all, it seems like she can’t take it when the insults are dished back at her. The thing is, she’s afraid of being judged by other homophobic students, and she doesn’t want to tarnish her image. So she keeps up with the insults, and doesn’t stop at tearing down anyone in her way—even her boyfriend—to keep feeling like she’s on top.

Note: Santana is being apped after 2x16, “Original Song.” Also, her favorite restaurant is an Italian place called Breadstix.

Sample Post:

Oh, I definitely didn’t sign up for letting a bunch of mouth-breathers who just climbed out of a septic tank get up in my face. I wasn’t expecting much from even-more-rural America, but that’s just offensive. I mean, I knew I made a mistake when I signed up for charity work, but they promised me a lifetime of free sticks if I offered my talents at keeping it real—and ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me when I wants me some sticks. It’s like, I was expecting confused undersexed band geeks who get their jollies off on drumsticks—not a bad idea, by the way. Gotta get it from somewhere. But instead? I got overeager reptiles cloned from Charlie Sheen’s DNA. Well, if I’ve just gotta tell you how lame you really are and make sure you get it? Then my job’s the easy one.

So let’s be honest. You all suck, and the only future you have is extras’ work in the next Syfy made-for-TV movie about the zombie apocalypse. What, you wanted a spot on The Walking Dead? Please. Just keep moaning in anguish at the lost stardom, meaningful close-ups, and oh—that’s right, brains. Come on, give it up because no one’s gonna be ready to give theirs up—or give up anything to you. You don’t got anything going for you. I’m an expert in dealing with the loserly and hopeless, so I know. But I don’t gotta get down and dirty with you to know what’s missing—or how fast everything’s gonna fall off and get stuck before you even try. This is how it is: the only difference between you and most breathing idiots? Is the lung use.

Still confused? Stop flapping your already broken jaws and listen to me. I didn’t come here to hear the pitiful sob stories that belong on Days of Our Deceased. It’s like you think you’re growing on me the more I keep going. Stop getting louder, stop getting confident, and check this: I wasn’t looking to be inspiring. None of you can ever live up to my image. Sure, some losers make it in life without anything—looks, talent, or even how to use a bar of soap—but don’t go taking inspiration from James Van Der Botox’s recent rise to stardom as the front man in a Ke$ha vid. Smelling like three-week-old rotten fish won’t even land you a spot on America’s Got Talent. The only thing you might get is a PSA as a helpful reminder of the importance of good hygiene. But don’t get your hopes up—a scrub in the tub with a cute yellow ducky won’t even begin to help your problems.

Look, I’m tired, so just look disappointed so I can call it a day and get the Hell out of here. Your life isn’t gonna be some Lifetime Original about how you tried to overcome your disability—and failed. The longer I stay here, the more I’m afraid that once I get some of those delectable breadsticks on my plate, all I’m gonna be seeing is brains. And I didn’t sign up for any reality-based horror stories.