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[[deleted user]]

CHARACTER HAS TO BE APPROVED BY MOD

[sucre'd fiend]

[ age ] Twenty-One[ gender ] Male [ relationship stat. ] Single
[ dob ] October 11th[ pronouns ] He/Him[ sexuality ] Pansexual

━i'm colder than this ʜᴏᴍᴇ A lot of people have said a lot of things about Santi, and not much of it has been bad. He's the guy that gets along with everyone like it's nothing. He's the guy you could know for less than a week and feel like you're the absolute best of friends with. He's the guy you'd take home to your parents, but then he's not. He's the guy you'd avoid in an alley. He's the guy you don't let have too many drinks. He's the guy that you just don't mess around with, and yet he isn't. Santi, however, sits precariously in between these two extremes, these two personas. Sometimes he's the nice guy, and sometimes he's your worst nightmare. But, whatever it is, most people feel drawn to him.

For all his life, he's been told that he can do no wrong, but he does so much wrong. He's not a mass murderer, he's not a serial rapist, he's not an asshole. There's no words for what he is. He just exists. In some weird concoction of darkness and light that people can't get enough of. He likes to test his limits, find that moment when people realize he isn't so great. But he also likes to make himself a god in the eyes of someone else. Not a friend, not a lover, but a god. Someone they can't live without. And when he's done, he leaves them behind.

Fists have suited him as much as words. He doesn't leave just one option open to himself, but multiple. He's fluid like water, ever-changing like the weather. He's an enigma, he's a riddle. He's a shell waiting to be filled. With definition, with purpose, with something he doesn't think he understands. Being smart doesn't matter. Being a horrid person doesn't matter. What matters to him is purpose, and if living every day like it might be his last is going to get him just that, then so be it.

[ likes ] partying ; drinking ; manipulating others ; smoking ; sleeping
[ dislikes ] sobriety ; staying in one place for too long ; being told what to do
[ strengths ] manipulating others ; cooking ; good in a fight
[ weaknesses ] prone to conflict ; doesn't stick around in one place for too long

[ six ft nine × two oh one × drawling bass × tattoos × nose piercing ]

━i'm meaner than my ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴs Santiago had a relatively okay childhood. Aside from the obvious jokes about his last name, there wasn't much that anyone could pick on him for. He had a put-togetherness that was good enough to have him mixing in with the crowds, and lord knows puberty blessed him. But that didn't explain why he was so unhappy. No stress, no worries, no troubles; it was puzzling. He didn't even have an answer to it. That was, until he realized something; had an epiphany, you would say. It was so simple, and it'd taken him fifteen years to realize it: he lacked purpose.

Now, lacking purpose isn't always a terrible thing. It leaves you free of trouble, of responsibility. You have options; you can wander. And yet, he was miserable. He wanted to know what he was made for, what the reason behind his existence was. Not just to be labeled with a name and the adjectives people used to describe him. He wanted more; he wanted that dash on his tombstone to mean something. Be it negative or positive; it really didn't matter. So he changed, made himself that much more perfect. Because in perfection, there was reason. And in imperfection, there was example. But he didn't think his imperfection was a good enough example.

He didn't know what about his changes made him feel better, but it did. He felt like his life was going somewhere, even as he broke hearts and made "friends". He found that he could be anyone he wanted to be, and that was riveting. He had control of himself, the kind that could get you places and get your blood pumping in your veins. Everyone depended on him, as much as he depended on them. His life was shaped around opinions and ideals that he could meld into so easily. He felt wholesome, but was so empty.

Which prompted his travels. He hit the big one-eight, and was out. College was a thing he didn't need; he was too smart for it, anyways. He didn't have any plans of being some business mogul or lawyer or doctor either, because what was the point? It didn't seem very fulfilling, didn't fill him with any sort of conviction or reverence. And that's why he's here.

[ family ] father -- emmanuel; mother -- arabella; sisters -- lisa, rose, lucia

[[deleted user]]

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