Expllo
PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016
Student Name:
Gender:
Nationality:
Age:
D.O.B.:
Appearance
Reference
Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Ethnicity:
Height:
Weight:
Powers & Abilities
Power Name:
Power Description:
Abilities:
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
About You
Family:
Personal Statement:
Student Name:
Yanna Analynn "Jinkee" Torres
Gender:
Female
Nationality:
Filipino American
Age:
Seventeen
D.O.B.:
May 08, 1998
Appearance
Reference
Hair Color:
Dark Brown
Eye Color:
Green
Ethnicity:
Asian/Pacific Islander
Height:
5'0"
Weight:
92lbs
Powers & Abilities
Power Name:
Mucus Manipulation
Power Description:
I can secrete mucus sort of like a frog but less poison and more corrosion, hehehe!
Abilities:
Let's get this Big One out of the way- when it comes to life or death situations, Mucus wraps around me like a bubble and protects or heals me. Thing is, most of the time Mucus doesn't know the difference between life and death so if my heart rate goes a little too intense for its liking- i.e, getting hype at an event- if I don't think about it, I may find myself wrapped up in a Big Ball of Protective Mucus.
For the most part, I don't have a bubble and it stays dormant. Mucus can be secreted from my body, or straight up replace my body parts. In the few years I had the power, it's let me do a few things- Construct or Deteriorate.
In terms of Constructing, if I so wish it, my body can become entirely mucus. It helps when say, I get an arm clipped off, I can use the mucus to (I hate using this word) regenerate the missing limb. I can do the same for simpler things, like cuts or bruises- who knows, maybe I'll be able to iron out my wrinkles when I get older! Assuming, of course I live that long.
I can do the same to other people, Constructing, though not at as big as scale. I assume though, that if I were to form my bubble and let them stay inside with me, I could heal a broken bone or two.
Moving on to Deteriorating, sometimes the mucus has about it a corrosive ability. From college ruled lined paper to car doors (which was, by the way, an accident), the mucus that I choose to spread over it can burn it off. I can do the same to myself in that I can like, let an arm go but why would I do that? And I could probably, I mean I can do the same to other people, but again, why would I do that?
The two are just a few basic ones in terms of my abilities. If I try, I can form the mucus into tentacle like coverings over my arm, and it helps flinging the mucus around. That way, instead of being up close and personal, I can use Deterioration at a distance. I'm also trying stuff out like coating things in mucus for like an added kick- example, coating a rock in corrosive mucus and throwing it so that it eats away at nearby things. Like a grenade, except less explosive. The corrosion works quickly though, and I've got a bad throwing arm, so it's more trouble than it's worth.
Given that mucus is fluid, I'm gonna chalk up my flexibility to that and not to my mom's side of the family. I can also harden the mucus if I want, but only as hard as a bouncy ball. Good for durability when it comes to falling off things, if the Bubble doesn't pop up first. For the most part hardening it doesn't do much except make it glitter all pretty like under the light.
For the most part, I don't have a bubble and it stays dormant. Mucus can be secreted from my body, or straight up replace my body parts. In the few years I had the power, it's let me do a few things- Construct or Deteriorate.
In terms of Constructing, if I so wish it, my body can become entirely mucus. It helps when say, I get an arm clipped off, I can use the mucus to (I hate using this word) regenerate the missing limb. I can do the same for simpler things, like cuts or bruises- who knows, maybe I'll be able to iron out my wrinkles when I get older! Assuming, of course I live that long.
I can do the same to other people, Constructing, though not at as big as scale. I assume though, that if I were to form my bubble and let them stay inside with me, I could heal a broken bone or two.
Moving on to Deteriorating, sometimes the mucus has about it a corrosive ability. From college ruled lined paper to car doors (which was, by the way, an accident), the mucus that I choose to spread over it can burn it off. I can do the same to myself in that I can like, let an arm go but why would I do that? And I could probably, I mean I can do the same to other people, but again, why would I do that?
The two are just a few basic ones in terms of my abilities. If I try, I can form the mucus into tentacle like coverings over my arm, and it helps flinging the mucus around. That way, instead of being up close and personal, I can use Deterioration at a distance. I'm also trying stuff out like coating things in mucus for like an added kick- example, coating a rock in corrosive mucus and throwing it so that it eats away at nearby things. Like a grenade, except less explosive. The corrosion works quickly though, and I've got a bad throwing arm, so it's more trouble than it's worth.
Given that mucus is fluid, I'm gonna chalk up my flexibility to that and not to my mom's side of the family. I can also harden the mucus if I want, but only as hard as a bouncy ball. Good for durability when it comes to falling off things, if the Bubble doesn't pop up first. For the most part hardening it doesn't do much except make it glitter all pretty like under the light.
Drawbacks & Weaknesses:
Overall, Focus is a big Must when it comes to using my ability.
Construct and Deteriorate look the same and feel the same, so I have to be focused otherwise I'll end up burning someone's leg off instead of healing it. That said, when my arms are in the tentacle covering, it's at a medium between C and D. I have to take care that Deteriorate is only at the ends where it's shooting out and not near my body, unless of course I want to accidentally have my arms eaten away.
There's a limit as well on what I can Construct. I can't revive the dead- there's like a half second limit on me fixing a hole in a heart, but given that the mucus has other tissues and organs to move past, no doubt I won't be making that limit in time. Same thing for other fatal shots- once you're dead, your dead. The rule goes for me, too, the mucus won't work when I'm in the dead. That's it, Game Over.
Time is very important when it comes to Deteriorate- sure, I anything the mucus touches "catches on fire" immediately (figuratively speaking), but burning through things like metals and rock takes a while, you know? Think of like pouring boiling water in the middle of a block of ice- it's hot, but takes some time for the thing to make a hole, gets mo ba?
I also have to eat a lot to keep up this sort of thing- although it's mucus, it's still sort of technically part of me. Though I know hunger takes its toll on any person, it goes twice as bad for me- control becomes shaky at best and at worst I start sweating Deteriorate everywhere. It's not a pretty sight.
The cold also totally hampers my abilities, it freezes up my mucus without me wanting it to. And it's harder than the mucus' typical limit of a bouncy ball, it gets hard to move around and even simple things like bending forward starts to hurt a lot- like having rubber bands wrap tightly around you and pinch at skin... except everywhere.
One of the greatest things about having mucus abilities is that I can heal myself the best using Construct. One of the worst is that I can hurt myself the easiest with Deteriorate. It makes sense- it corrodes anything it touches, and I'm usually the closest thing it can touch. It sucks I'm not immune to my own ability, but Construct deflects Deteriorate most of the time, so I just gotta stay focused half the time.
Construct and Deteriorate look the same and feel the same, so I have to be focused otherwise I'll end up burning someone's leg off instead of healing it. That said, when my arms are in the tentacle covering, it's at a medium between C and D. I have to take care that Deteriorate is only at the ends where it's shooting out and not near my body, unless of course I want to accidentally have my arms eaten away.
There's a limit as well on what I can Construct. I can't revive the dead- there's like a half second limit on me fixing a hole in a heart, but given that the mucus has other tissues and organs to move past, no doubt I won't be making that limit in time. Same thing for other fatal shots- once you're dead, your dead. The rule goes for me, too, the mucus won't work when I'm in the dead. That's it, Game Over.
Time is very important when it comes to Deteriorate- sure, I anything the mucus touches "catches on fire" immediately (figuratively speaking), but burning through things like metals and rock takes a while, you know? Think of like pouring boiling water in the middle of a block of ice- it's hot, but takes some time for the thing to make a hole, gets mo ba?
I also have to eat a lot to keep up this sort of thing- although it's mucus, it's still sort of technically part of me. Though I know hunger takes its toll on any person, it goes twice as bad for me- control becomes shaky at best and at worst I start sweating Deteriorate everywhere. It's not a pretty sight.
The cold also totally hampers my abilities, it freezes up my mucus without me wanting it to. And it's harder than the mucus' typical limit of a bouncy ball, it gets hard to move around and even simple things like bending forward starts to hurt a lot- like having rubber bands wrap tightly around you and pinch at skin... except everywhere.
One of the greatest things about having mucus abilities is that I can heal myself the best using Construct. One of the worst is that I can hurt myself the easiest with Deteriorate. It makes sense- it corrodes anything it touches, and I'm usually the closest thing it can touch. It sucks I'm not immune to my own ability, but Construct deflects Deteriorate most of the time, so I just gotta stay focused half the time.
About You
Family:
• Alyanna Garcia Torres, Mother, 37
• Victor "Beboy" Allan Torres, Father, estranged
• Maria Analynn "Lia" Torres, Sister, 20
• Anton Maria Fe Torres, Brother, estranged
• Lola Betty Ramas Garcia, Grandmother, estranged
• Victor "Beboy" Allan Torres, Father, estranged
• Maria Analynn "Lia" Torres, Sister, 20
• Anton Maria Fe Torres, Brother, estranged
• Lola Betty Ramas Garcia, Grandmother, estranged
Personal Statement:
I don't suppose you're asking for a backstory are you? There's not much to tell- not for me, anyways. My mother on the other hand was a teen mom to my dad back home in the Philippines. Like good Catholics, the two got married and decided to raise the kid. Thankfully, the two had been dating before the whole pregnancy thing, so at least they'd already gotten a preview of the Married Life. I was born three years after Lia, my sister, was. The two of us became one another's best friends for the brief five years before my brother was born- she taught me how to chase chicken and how not to give money to the squatters in the city and how to climb bookshelves. After Anton was born, the duo didn't become divided, rather, it stayed a duo. Just... with different persons.
The age difference between Lia and Anton was huge, and she found herself taking care of the baby more often than playing with me. I mean, I helped take care of him, too, but I also couldn't help but find it a bit unfair that not only was my mother distracted by the new addition, but it also detracted Lia from playing with me. With my two people I normally played with, who else was I supposed to turn to, my father?
And I would've, if he wasn't so hard to talk to. He was the Discipline in the family, the one with the belt and the one with the loud voice- it was hard talking to Authoritative Power like that, especially to a kid like me. Instead, I opted for playing with the kids in the neighborhood and getting into trouble. Looking back on it, I guess if I hadn't caused so much trouble I wouldn't have gotten punished as much as I did.
Three years later, my parents decided to go to America for a few months to try and land a house and job. We spent those months with the rest of the family in my father's house, dictated by Lola Betty, a woman with a sweet name and smelled of tobacco. She didn't smoke, but her husband did when he was nervous and boy was that man always nervous. Lola Betty knew how she liked the house run and the addition of three runts meant an additional amount of chores that could get done quicker and better. Nevermind that Anton was only three, we had to wax the floors with him in our arms or back.
Needless to say, I was glad to get out of that place and into America. I remember, it was February and I was eight, just about to finish fourth grade. When I arrived in New Jersey, it was snowing and cold. Like, really cold! Unbearably cold! Looking back on pictures always make me laugh because we had to layer in thick mountain gear for the simple suburbs.
My time in the American school system went pretty well- the lessons in Philippines were a bit more advanced, so I had better grasp of some things than other students did most times. I was terrible at math which was sucked because science was really cool and I couldn't grasp the maths behind it. If there was one thing I was good at though it was sports and literature- I liked reading and climbing the rope in gym.
The only trouble I had sometimes was fitting in- we moved from our apartment in South Jersey to a bit farther up in Pennsylvania where we hit the jackpot of white suburbia. I was in sixth grade, so thankfully everyone was also transitioning to the middle school, but not so thankfully I didn't know how to talk to white kids. It may sound silly to you reading this, but there's a big difference when it comes to talking or eating or studying with other ethnic kids compared to white kids.
I've got the social skills of a butterfly though, and managed to awkwardly force myself into some friendships here and there. They were shallow for the most part, either with girls who prepped for gym by wrapping their hands around their thighs and complaining about how wide they were getting, or with girls who were shaped similarly to me and smoked weed with boyfriends twice their age. In this safe balance, I never worried much about my weight (I mean, I worried a little, but like who doesn't) and also jacked up my troublemaking skills by hanging with high schoolers and sneaking out of the house.
My abilities showed up when I was in eighth grade, the same time I got my period. I'd gotten it that morning and was feeling sluggish, and got smacked in the face with a volleyball. It hit so hard that I remember there being an imprint on the bridge of my nose for a week, not to mention the nosebleed I got afterward. After washing my face off and heading out, I felt much better, and it wasn't until my bad habit of pushing my glasses up did I realize that I forgot to put them on. It was like one of those book or movie revelations- everything seemed to work in slow motion as I ran to the bathroom where I'd left them. I'd always admired green eyes, and like a miracle, I got them- they weren't like the natural ones some of the white girls in school had though. It was an unnatural hue, like they'd glow in the dark- they did eventually, in pitch blackness.
Afterwards, the abilities continued rising. I broke a bone falling from a tree, but on our trip to the hospital it finished healing. It didn't worry my mom- less hospital bills, she used to say- it didn't worry her until I started... burning things. At first, it was the pillows or the bed, which I easily covered by using towels and the excuse that I was afraid of leaking on my period. She noticed though, after she caught me in a lie- I was just grabbing the car door and burned it off. Though my mom told him not to, my father called Lola Betty regarding the matter- she, a hardcore Catholic, immediately told him to leave me and my cursed body. He took Anton with him, only ten years old, afraid that I would infect him. My mom ended up taking me out of school, and I was homeschooled by my sister who changed her major from Pharmaceuticals to Science Education, just so she could know how to teach me easier.
Homeschooling was fun, I learned a lot more with the frequent field trips, both with my abilities and science (we skimped on maths because I was obviously reluctant on taking it). Lia was a big supporter on letting me explore my powers, and I was happy to have someone to share it with- even when I burned off her arm did she talked me through healing her. I was sixteen, she was nineteen, and it was the first time my big Protective Bubble appeared. The healing was terrible and shaky, and she said trying to use it was like "Having jello for a hand", but as she practiced with it, got a better handle. You can still tell I did some damage though, her tan skin sprinkled with different sized spots of pitch black.
Even though she acts okay, to me the sight of her arm reminds me of how... easily out of control it can get. And how I'm really shitty at healing. I'm a creative kid- I like reading, the arts, climbing trees and flying kites, and I always try to get creative with my powers. But it's hard when it's just me, you know? I have to cover myself with healing mucus before going to bed, which is actually just a mattress now because my mom said that it was cheaper to buy just that than a whole new bed every time I burn through one. I can't watch movies that excite me too much or else I'll get covered in a big protective ball of mucus, and frankly, I've gotten tired of climbing the same old trees. I'm ready for a real school, with teachers who sort of understand what I'm going through and not just a sister and mother who Care Very Much. It almost seems like fate that I got a letter from this school, and I hope my application is suitable enough for PITY to take me in.
The age difference between Lia and Anton was huge, and she found herself taking care of the baby more often than playing with me. I mean, I helped take care of him, too, but I also couldn't help but find it a bit unfair that not only was my mother distracted by the new addition, but it also detracted Lia from playing with me. With my two people I normally played with, who else was I supposed to turn to, my father?
And I would've, if he wasn't so hard to talk to. He was the Discipline in the family, the one with the belt and the one with the loud voice- it was hard talking to Authoritative Power like that, especially to a kid like me. Instead, I opted for playing with the kids in the neighborhood and getting into trouble. Looking back on it, I guess if I hadn't caused so much trouble I wouldn't have gotten punished as much as I did.
Three years later, my parents decided to go to America for a few months to try and land a house and job. We spent those months with the rest of the family in my father's house, dictated by Lola Betty, a woman with a sweet name and smelled of tobacco. She didn't smoke, but her husband did when he was nervous and boy was that man always nervous. Lola Betty knew how she liked the house run and the addition of three runts meant an additional amount of chores that could get done quicker and better. Nevermind that Anton was only three, we had to wax the floors with him in our arms or back.
Needless to say, I was glad to get out of that place and into America. I remember, it was February and I was eight, just about to finish fourth grade. When I arrived in New Jersey, it was snowing and cold. Like, really cold! Unbearably cold! Looking back on pictures always make me laugh because we had to layer in thick mountain gear for the simple suburbs.
My time in the American school system went pretty well- the lessons in Philippines were a bit more advanced, so I had better grasp of some things than other students did most times. I was terrible at math which was sucked because science was really cool and I couldn't grasp the maths behind it. If there was one thing I was good at though it was sports and literature- I liked reading and climbing the rope in gym.
The only trouble I had sometimes was fitting in- we moved from our apartment in South Jersey to a bit farther up in Pennsylvania where we hit the jackpot of white suburbia. I was in sixth grade, so thankfully everyone was also transitioning to the middle school, but not so thankfully I didn't know how to talk to white kids. It may sound silly to you reading this, but there's a big difference when it comes to talking or eating or studying with other ethnic kids compared to white kids.
I've got the social skills of a butterfly though, and managed to awkwardly force myself into some friendships here and there. They were shallow for the most part, either with girls who prepped for gym by wrapping their hands around their thighs and complaining about how wide they were getting, or with girls who were shaped similarly to me and smoked weed with boyfriends twice their age. In this safe balance, I never worried much about my weight (I mean, I worried a little, but like who doesn't) and also jacked up my troublemaking skills by hanging with high schoolers and sneaking out of the house.
My abilities showed up when I was in eighth grade, the same time I got my period. I'd gotten it that morning and was feeling sluggish, and got smacked in the face with a volleyball. It hit so hard that I remember there being an imprint on the bridge of my nose for a week, not to mention the nosebleed I got afterward. After washing my face off and heading out, I felt much better, and it wasn't until my bad habit of pushing my glasses up did I realize that I forgot to put them on. It was like one of those book or movie revelations- everything seemed to work in slow motion as I ran to the bathroom where I'd left them. I'd always admired green eyes, and like a miracle, I got them- they weren't like the natural ones some of the white girls in school had though. It was an unnatural hue, like they'd glow in the dark- they did eventually, in pitch blackness.
Afterwards, the abilities continued rising. I broke a bone falling from a tree, but on our trip to the hospital it finished healing. It didn't worry my mom- less hospital bills, she used to say- it didn't worry her until I started... burning things. At first, it was the pillows or the bed, which I easily covered by using towels and the excuse that I was afraid of leaking on my period. She noticed though, after she caught me in a lie- I was just grabbing the car door and burned it off. Though my mom told him not to, my father called Lola Betty regarding the matter- she, a hardcore Catholic, immediately told him to leave me and my cursed body. He took Anton with him, only ten years old, afraid that I would infect him. My mom ended up taking me out of school, and I was homeschooled by my sister who changed her major from Pharmaceuticals to Science Education, just so she could know how to teach me easier.
Homeschooling was fun, I learned a lot more with the frequent field trips, both with my abilities and science (we skimped on maths because I was obviously reluctant on taking it). Lia was a big supporter on letting me explore my powers, and I was happy to have someone to share it with- even when I burned off her arm did she talked me through healing her. I was sixteen, she was nineteen, and it was the first time my big Protective Bubble appeared. The healing was terrible and shaky, and she said trying to use it was like "Having jello for a hand", but as she practiced with it, got a better handle. You can still tell I did some damage though, her tan skin sprinkled with different sized spots of pitch black.
Even though she acts okay, to me the sight of her arm reminds me of how... easily out of control it can get. And how I'm really shitty at healing. I'm a creative kid- I like reading, the arts, climbing trees and flying kites, and I always try to get creative with my powers. But it's hard when it's just me, you know? I have to cover myself with healing mucus before going to bed, which is actually just a mattress now because my mom said that it was cheaper to buy just that than a whole new bed every time I burn through one. I can't watch movies that excite me too much or else I'll get covered in a big protective ball of mucus, and frankly, I've gotten tired of climbing the same old trees. I'm ready for a real school, with teachers who sort of understand what I'm going through and not just a sister and mother who Care Very Much. It almost seems like fate that I got a letter from this school, and I hope my application is suitable enough for PITY to take me in.
