Posts by Santana.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]The simple stutter was enough to irritate him. Jericho's way of speaking was rather annoying as well, but there was little he could do against the leader. He was, after all, the one in power. This BlizzardClanner was simply another member, but he did not know of the hierarchy within the other group. He didn't have knowledge of the clan up until this point. He could only stare forward, watching as the creature bounded away, not awaiting a response. That was quite impolite. Santana would have at least had the decency to stay. Even if one individual appeared, he would still be at the figurative border awaiting the arrival of the individuals of said ally. He was not sure if he would go to the garden party. If he had decided to go, his pyrokinesis could easily torch their territory, especially since it had much to do with nature. While he was quite in control of his ability, it was still unpredictable. As he approached and stopped beside Immortalkisses, he sat back, peering at Suga and then Finn. They were both higher in authority, and could possibly accept invitations.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]updated with the stars/hearts!!! will fill out opinions later when i get back from riding :^) note: this is all ic!! none of it is ooc

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]Nymph was still an intriguing character with her vine coated body, and soft personality. She generally seemed kind and amiable, but beyond that he knew little of her other than the fact that she was Suga's child. He couldn't imagine how someone like Nymph came from Scarletscream and Suga. Neither of them had the mutations their daughter had. It was...odd. Santana couldn't help but stare forth at her, chocolate visionaries narrowing upon her thin form. Unlike her, he was slim, and despite being young, forming muscles. He often trotted laps around the territory, as he had little else to do in camp other than practice his pyrokinesis. His ability had been coming along, ever so slowly getting better, and more controlled. It was still a bit volatile and unpredictable at times, despite his ability to extinguish the flames or form shapes with the fire. He didn't understand why the fire did it. Santana crinkled his nose as he stepped closer to Nymph and the others who had gathered near her, focused on her body rather than her face. It was obvious she wasn't completely plant, but most of her form was covered in vines and leaves. Despite how strange she appeared, it was also alluring in a way. How would she grow? Flowers could sprout from the vines, and she'd always carry a sweet smell, rather than SunClan's usual scent.

Santana halted and proceeded to sit back on his haunches in a few swift, hasty motions. His posture was slumped, indicating his relaxed state of mind and body. His shoulders were a well-rounded slouch as well, and the mellow expression grazing his facial features strengthened his seemingly "chill" way of living. Lately, however, he had become more aggressive and a bit...bitter. He was unsure why he acted in such a manner, but he did not question it for too long at a time. "Fire and plants don't mix well, esa. I don't got any requests," San stated with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, one corner of his lip twitching down in a half-frown.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]At the mention of a game, Santana carried himself over on sluggish paws, movement lethargic, yet lax. It was often that he felt quite mellow; he was a rather laid back individual, but his temper was often volatile. He was easily irritated, and very easily angered if the right words were said. For a moment, he couldn't help but ponder if it was because of Chutriel. Why would the demon stir so much anger and frustration in him? He was gifted with pyrokinesis. Perhaps the fire was altering him for the worse. If that was the case, then the ability could be considered a curse rather than a gift. Of course, he didn't think such things, nor did he delve deeper into the reason of his change in personality traits. He didn't much care how he was altering. It was normal for young individuals to change as they grew and aged.

The fawn kit seated himself, not particularly close to any of those who had flocked to Alice. The femme was rather...odd. There was just something about her. She always seemed unusually calm. Santana's lips curled back in a thin frown. Soon enough, he thought of why he would care about Alice. He only had to care for himself rather than anyone else within the clan. He had yet to make a friend with the exception of Duskmire. He actually quite liked the warrior. He was pleasant to be around, even if he was a bit awkward.

With a twitch of his nose, he glanced towards Zarya, somewhat shocked to see her. She had disappeared for a few days, unless they did not cross paths. He gave a nonchalant roll of his eyes, though it was not directed at her. Santana was now beginning to feel a bit stiff as well, his posture rigid and straight which was abnormal. "I'm gonna play, esa," the keeper stated simply, casually. He focused on Alice for a moment before flickering his chocolate gaze to Ulyssa. "It's a damn good game. I'm thinkin' you'll like it, homie," San told the young femme, flashing a grin, but it soon faded from his features. His expression went back to being neutral, especially when he maneuvered his gaze away from her. "Yo, who's gonna start?" His head tilted up as he addressed Alice with a simple question.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]sorry for the late + semi-short reply!!

"I think you got plenty of time, esé," Santana retorted in his faint Spanish accent, staring pointedly at Luca as he appeared at the border. He shifted back a bit, looking to Duskmire, but seeing as how the male had yet to say anything, San took it upon himself to speak to the three that had flocked to the invisible scent line. It seemed they had caught the attention of the leader, and he couldn't help but fix his gaze on her rather than the other two. "We're just checkin' up on you guys," he informed with a flick of his tail, now glancing between the trio. His eyes soon settled on Fadingstar once more, however, whom he gave a slight bob of his head to. He was careful as he nudged the decorated skull forward with a petite paw, still admiring the intricate details that coated the bone. "I also got a gift, but it ain't much," Santana said, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders as his gaze lifted from the skull. He flickered his chocolate visionaries towards Duskmire, as if silently inquiring if the older male had anything to say to the SkyClanners.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]Unlike Partyanimal, Santana knew nothing about herbs and their uses. Every time he was hurt someone was there to pick him up and soothe the burning injuries. There was no room for crying in gangs, and so, he learned never to do so. Emotions in general were looked down upon, even in his gang, where the regulations were a bit more lenient. The only type of emotion he displayed often was anger, or irritation. He was easily riled up, and his feelings were volatile: always changing. It was difficult to keep your emotions in check. Perhaps that was why his expression was always neutral, lax or mellow. He was an extremely nonchalant individual, unless the wrong words were spoken. As already stated, he would lose control and his temper would flare, much like his pyrokinesis.

With a stiff sigh, he approached Suga and the small crowd forming around him for his lesson on healing: the basics. Santana wasn't particularly interested in learning about herbs, or cuts. He figured it would be better to learn more about healing than simply avoid the topic altogether. Suga seemed adept in the subject, along with warfare. He was the head of the medical guild, wasn't he? He also resided in the warfare guild as well, but San didn't know exactly why. Did the male think of himself so highly? The kit couldn't help but give a nonchalant roll of his eyes as he pondered to himself. "I'll listen in, I guess," he sounded a bit bored, though his expression did not appear that way. He, instead, wore a relaxed mask over his facial features. He stared pointedly at the kitten who appeared, boasting over his supposedly razor sharp teeth. "Pendejo," Santana muttered as he continued to glare over at Jejunekit, quite obviously irritated, despite nothing particularly annoying occurring. His posture slumped backwards as he focused on Suga again, eyes half-lidded.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]3/5

When he was dropped off, he shot Moon a pointed look before quickly lifted himself to take off towards the yacht. The rain was being incredibly difficult. It was irritating as well. It was cold, and the wind whipping around him didn't make it much better. He shivered as he attempted to trot along, movements slow because of the water coating the ground. With every step he sank down a bit, but he kept pushing forward despite the odds against him. His grit his teeth and kept his eyes closed, not wanting to blind himself. Once he felt a difference in the water, he realized he stood in the sea. "Mierda," the kit hissed under his breath, eyes opening. How was he meant to get to the boat like this? He wasn't a swimmer. There was no way he could get far enough to the yacht without drowning. Santana clenched his jaw, unsure of what to do in the moment. "Mierda, mierda, mierda," he repeated to himself, worried as well as stuck, confused. He backed up, moving to the shore, or what he thought to be the shore. The sand beneath the water didn't feel any different, even as he continued to back up.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]Santana was there in a track post, listening to the older individuals speak. He had little to say, as he had little experience with such authoritative decisions. The kit sat back on his haunches, shoulders low and relaxed, as was his posture.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]throws santana in
san is gonna have a baby crush on dusk
puppy love my homies wipes eyes
he's growing up,,,,,

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]weeeee santana por favor

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]Santana had nothing to trade, nor any interest in trading, or being given objects that meant little to nothing to him. He didn't need trivial trinkets to be satisfied, so all he could do was stare as he approached. Soon enough he was lost in his own thoughts, eyes pointed towards the ground, but not focused. The floor beneath him was blurred, but he didn't seem fazed by it. Instead he shifted back on his haunches, tail curling around his hind leg, the tip twitching. He was unaware of the movement, but once his eyes finally saw it, he returned from his trance. His head lifted, chin tilting towards the sky. Santana focused his chocolate visionaries on the visitor, offering a fleeting grin. "I ain't interested," he initially stated, his shoulders scrunching up in a tense shrug. When they relaxed, he straightened his posture, attempting to appear larger than he was. He had to admit that he was growing. Already he was five months of age, and yet his time in SunClan only felt like weeks. The fawn kit cocked his head to the side for a moment, one corner of his lips curling back in a slight frown. He shook his head to return to the present, gaze shifting back to the merchant and her many trinkets and petite objects. "Oh, yo, I'm Santana, esa," he introduced hastily, chin tilting up again as his optics narrowed slightly.

His attention soon averted from Desdemona to the others who had gathered. First was Finnishwars, whom he had a particularly negative opinion on. He could tolerate them, but they caused fear to spike in his body whenever he was near the aquatic creature. Even at that moment, his nerves seemed to be causing him anxiety. It was quite pitiful and pathetic. He loathed feeling in such a way. His head turned away from them to peer at Jericho. The leader did well to annoy him with his constant stuttering, but otherwise, all was well in their acquaintanceship. He hardly knew the blind, three-legged individual. Santana didn't quite want to learn more about him, as he had no reason to do so. He already had an opinionated view on Suga and Violet as well, so he could only stare at them through narrowed optics before returning his attention to Des.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]Fortunately, Santana was below the age of one year, so he was secure from Suga, or anyone who spun the bottle. So far, the head of the medical guild had been the only one to spin the glass. He couldn't imagine kissing anyone simply because that was what a game was intended for. He saw no point in such idiotic games. Love, romance, anything that had to do with two individuals in some sort of relationship, was not a game. It was something to be cherished and treasured, as well as carefully handled. Love, to him, was like a glass ball. Santana thought of it in a way that if the ball was dropped, the love was permanently gone. No matter how hard you tried to piece it back together, it would never return to its original shape. If someone did try to pick up the pieces, they would fail and be devastated and wrecked from the emotional, and mental pain. However, San did not think of love to that extent. He only imagined the glass ball breaking, or remaining in its perfect sphere.

The glass spinning on the yacht's floor was enough to hold his attention as he slowly leaned back onto his haunches, chocolate visionaries narrowing the longer he stared at the spinning object. His own head began to spin, and so he hastily averted his focus elsewhere. "I wasn't gonna play in the first place," Santana informed roughly, even though he was certain they either wouldn't address him or reply curtly and without care. He didn't care much for any of them either, so he was not affected much by the views of other individuals on himself. "Are these games the only ones you cabróns can come up with? Kind of sad," the fawn kit went on to say, giving a shrug of his shoulders and fleeting grin. He appeared quite smug for a moment, but the look soon dissipated, as it nearly always did.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]The tension in the air was so thick that it could be cut open, only to pour out and drown everyone in it. He hadn't seen or witnessed such a tension like this in a long time. The gangs often fought, and none were particularly "okay" with one another. They all had their reasons to distrust the other members in the groups, whether it be from loathing an individual, or a history that had been set since the beginning. It seemed that way with these three, seeing as how they all knew each, and addressed one another as such. It was a bit disheartening, as while they didn't seem to be friends, they at least had the chance at friendship, even with clashing personalities. Santana didn't have that. He wasn't close to anyone within the clan with the exception of Duskmire. Even then, they rarely spoke; they merely chose to sit near each other in any situation. It was a silent, mutual...relationship. San couldn't help but like him, though he was uncertain if the feelings were romantic or not. Love was a fleeting thing, and being so young, he had little experience with it. He hadn't ever felt loved either. His family had abandoned him. He didn't have any knowledge of whether or not he had siblings. At this moment in time, he could only consider SunClan his "family". Santana didn't want to use the word to describe them in such a way, because they were in no means close to one another.

He observed the crowd flocking to Malkyn, whom he immediately felt disdain and fear. She was a hellhound, and a tremendously sized one as well. If she wanted, she could crush him with one simple step. San didn't want to approach her in fear of that, or fright of her personality. He didn't know if she was laid back or extremely volatile. The kit swallowed at the lump forming in his throat as he finally emerged from the shade, heart racing a bit. He could feel his pulse in his ears as he pricked them forward. His facial features were adorned with a neutral expression: half-lidded eyes, slow, relaxed walk. Despite the trepidation he held for her, he found it quite easy to act as nonchalantly as he usually down. At times, however, he found that he occasionally dropped his act and displayed some sort of face. When he finally reached them, he grimaced and pulled back a bit, moving to make sure the scent of dead lion didn't reach his nose. "Uh, Santana," he introduced, eyeballing the carcass rather than the female digging into it. The sight was sickening, as well as revolting.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]"Why the hell would I do that?" He questioned Partyanimal, quirking a nonexistent brow in the tiger's direction. He gave a soft snort before averting his attention from the deputy to Suga. The sunguard replied a bit defensively, while also pinning the blame on another. Finnishwars most likely knew that Suga would enjoy these stupid games. Kissing was gross anyway. "It's just my opinion, bro," Santana commented afterward, observing the bottle as it continued to spin. When it eventually landed on the elephant-sized hellhound, a shiver ran down his spine. He pawed at the necklace hanging from his neck, the gold cross subtly pointed towards Malkyn. He believed in God: the humans' version. Others might have thought of him as ignorant, or naïve. The religion had been a part of him growing into who he was today, even if he had been poorly executing his mild devotion to God. Santana was actually taken aback at his lack of respect for the higher being. He constantly cussed, and was generally impolite and crude to some individuals. Most of which were people he didn't exactly enjoy being around. As he thought this, his gaze flickered to Suga, though only for a moment. The movement of Malkyn's tail and the spinning of the bottle eventually captured his focus.

Around, and around it went, but who would it land on? Santana continued to stare at the swirling glass bottle, knowing for certain that it would not stop on him. Besides, he was too young to be...kissing anyone. His nose twitched in distaste as he thought of the act, somewhat grossed out.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]What was up with this guy?

The foreigner was...strange looking. He had hair atop his head, and it was blue in color. It looked unnatural, especially on an animal, and more specifically, a panther. Not only was his hair odd, his eyes were black in color, with white. It appeared as though he lacked pupils, which reminded him of darkness and sinful, though thinking that would be somewhat hypocritical. He had many sins he still needed to make up, though he had yet to actually do anything. This stranger didn't seem to be malevolent, merely tired or bored. Santana fleetingly hoped this male wasn't like Finnishwars. They were a bundle of joy with little to no personality. He was revolting as well: eating domestic felines while they were many of them within the clan. It was sickening.

Santana padded towards Stuart, chin tilted towards the sky as he peered pointedly at the larger male. "Who're you?" The fawn kitten inquired in a somewhat accusing manner, the tone subtle. His Spanish accent was faint as well, but it could easily be picked up if you listened well enough. He sniffed in his direction, and recognized the SunClan scent. He took a few steps back, yet continued to observe him. His focus shifted elsewhere as he lost interest, attention span relatively short. When he settled his gaze on Stuart again, he wore a more aggressive expression. His nonexistent brows were furrowed, and his lips were curled back in a frown, teeth showing, though only slightly. "Name's Santana," the somewhat angry kitten introduced, shoulders rolling as he fought for more to say. Unfortunately nothing came to mind, thus he was stuck staring at the panther. "What's up with the whole hair thing? You ain't a human," Santana questioned, nose crinkling as his features softened a bit, though not by much. His gaze flickered to Sockett, whom he stared at as well, maw becoming a frown.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]He knew his way around the neighborhood relatively well. He had to be seen throughout it to keep gangs from finding him. After all, who would expect a gang-banger residing in some fancy ass neighborhood? Compared to where he had been raised and grew up, this place was a heaven. In his childhood, he was immediately introduced to gangs, as well as what they did with whomever they pleased. His own mostly dealt with drugs: a cartel for addicts and druggies, in a sense. Their gang had an array of selections, from narcotics to simple...herbal relief. Santana was intelligent enough not to get high off his own supply, when many of the lower gang members had idiotically done so. They had been terminated upon finding out. San found it was better not to give a shit, and so he did that. It was much easier than he thought it would have been, but belonging to a gang his whole life caused him grow up faster than any kid should. And now? He was the head of the gang, and only at the ripe age of nineteen. Other gangs, and in particular, their leaders, refused to comprehend how he achieved the position at such a young age. Santana had to keep his secrets to himself.

The bald, tattooed teenager tilted his head to the side as he approached the scene, the darkness keeping him hidden. He shoved his hands into his pockets and remained relatively silent, aside from his shoes passing over fallen leaves and the grass. A children's movie was playing on the large screen, and immediately he lost interest. There were very few reasons for him to be in the area, other than to converse with the gringos, make friends with them. It was the perfect cover up, even if he stuck out in this general area and neighborhood.

He pulled one of his hands from his pocket to rub his chin, fingers slowly cascading down to his throat where the large "13" was displayed. Various tattoos could be seen, though he kept most of his body covered. The jacket that adorned his slim frame read "The Hillsiders" on the back, indicating his gang. It could be seen as something else, however, so he had no reason to worry. If the adults looked down on him, he obviously didn't care, and it was their own problem. He wasn't a bad person outside of gang-related issues and business with the consumers. In this neighborhood, though, he was simply a kid trying to get by. His tattoos were probably intimidating, perhaps even menacing. Santana padded forward regardless of the detailed ink covering his body, not at all concerned. When he sat, he crossed his lower limbs, but kept his legs elevated so he could rest his forearms on his knees. He quietly watched the screen, the images flashing in his eyes.

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]screams meeting

faux dont worry this is completely unrelated too lmao
ok i need help
does anyone listen to awolnation
or at least know their song sail??
THERE ARE TWO LINES THAT I STILL DONT KNOW
is it 'this how an angel' cries or dies?
and the line after that, is it sick pride, or supply?

edit: broken bones are awful but a broken tailbone is THE WORST
mine was probably only bruised but it was sO HARD TO SIT DOWN LIKE EVEN ON SOFT SURFACES

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]i love sail it started playing during our pep assembly and i fucking scre am e d
bless up welsh thats what i thought it was

the tailbone is the end of the spine near the b00ty

IMPY U MADE MALKYN ON MY BIRTHDYA

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]As he listened to Jericho, immediately growing rather frustrated with the leader's stutter, he found he was pondering to himself. An idea popped into his mind, but he was a bit hesitant to submit the proposal out loud. They had all been there when he suggested the initial plan. The clan had yet to do it, but he was waiting for a certain time to put the plan into action. He eventually opened his maw to respond to the leader. "Maybe...maybe we could do Dia de los Muertos with an ally. It's supposed to bring people together. We can jus' invite one of those clans," Santana suggested with a bob of his head. He lifted a paw to fiddle with the gold chain around his neck, the small pendant swinging from the necklace. The keeper gazed at Jericho, and the others, expectantly, wondering what he would say to his idea. "Uh, if you don't wanna do that, I can think of somethin' else," he added on, Spanish accent faint in his voice. His chocolate optics narrowed slightly as he glanced between the four gathered.

suPER LATE SORRY

[justify][fancypost borderwidth=0pt]Santana had been idly wasting his time around the general area, using most of the time he had to produce small flames only to make them flare and shrink once more. He was attempting to create images in the fire, but found it much more arduous than he first perceived. He had yet to see someone do such a thing, however, so he planned to be the first to successfully perform the act. The fire subdued as the scent of blood wafted through the air. His nonexistent eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Eventually, he shifted so that he laid on his side, head perked and aware of the elephant-sized hellhound writhing in pain. For one fleeting second, he thought that she deserved the pain. If she was truly from hell then...she deserved it. His head shook off the thought, suddenly realizing exactly what he was pondering over. But then the feelings came back stronger, more powerful and prominent in his mind. The idea flashed like a bright, fluorescent sign. Frustration flared up within him, and it showed on his facial features as well, even if it was slight. His lips curled back in a frown, teeth barely visible. Santana pushed off the ground to stand and pad towards Malkyn and Desdemona, offering the latter a small nod of his head. He had no reason to be infuriated with her.

San knew better than to get too close to her, and kept a large distance between her and himself. There was no way in hell he would approach her willingly, especially with her poking holes in her head. It was a somewhat gruesome sight to witness, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to seeing. "Coño, you look like shit," the Keeper commented rather coolly, soon taking a seat. His tail curled around his hind leg, but did not settle around his paws. Instead, he lifted one of them to gingerly touch the cross hanging from the gold chain he wore. Santana wouldn't have been surprised if someone came along to scold him or give him shit for the way he was acting. He didn't care. He acted how he wanted to, and no one else, aside from Jericho he supposed, was going to shape him into another person.