Luminous Beings

Academy 218: Still looking for new people to join - now is the primetime.

Its okay i still luv u bby

Academy 218: Still looking for new people to join - now is the primetime.

I'm waiting for a response to Selena before I post, Nicky boi.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

I'm okay with moving ahead.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

<Snipped quote by World Traveler>

No, the two reading are Greg and Chess, I think.

And I appreciate the thought, but I didn't have my character pick up on it because it seemed like it was making Devin happy. My character only 'hears' things people are unhappy about.

@TheWizardLizard

Hahahaha, Lynn's pessimism in his mind must be like someone shouting over a bunch of other people whispering

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Scent-Lynn probably smells like hand soap and smoke.

Voice-Throaty, Lynn's voice is a bit lower than most girls and a touch raspy. Perhaps the result of spontaneously flooding her vocal cords with fire and smoke. She has a slight Chicago accent but not a very pronounced one. Tends to speak pretty...not monotonely, but there isn't a whole lot of variation to her voice. Usually ranges from nonchalance to irritation.

Body-She stands still a lot, usually keeping her arms folded across her chest or at her sides. Not a lot of talking with her hands or too much movement.

---

Really enjoying the interactions so far, looking forward to where this RP heads. Anybody wants to engage Lynn one-on-one, feel free.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

There were a number of areas in which Lynn excelled. Few of them were entirely legal and none of them involved social graces. Leaning back against the tree, the infuriating mixture of impotency and confusion started gnawing at her. Shit, had she done something wrong? She'd lit the fucker's cigarette, what more did he want? The European seemed irritated more anything (last time I light a cigarette for you) and a few others with lighters (don't flip those on near me) just seemed miffed. Must've thought she was showing off. Lynn generally wasn't one for showing off-perhaps she suffered a bit from a Napoleon complex, but she preferred to leave and be left alone.

A few more were there, some Lynn had missed. Rich bitch with snakes for hair. Lynn had developed one hell of a poker face over the years-it never helped to show you were alarmed or rattled, and as such, Lynn managed to keep her surprise to herself-but that had been a bit of a surprise. Huh. She'd figured people would be, you know, weird, but that wasn't what she was imagining. Snakes for hair. Damn. She had a sudden, childish urge to tie all of them in a knot. Snakes was talking to her, then. Lynn gave her a cold smile, not rattled by the hint of condescension. Didn't seem to be much use replying to her, but she added "Oh honey, my clothes are still on. The party tricks haven't even started." Snakes didn't seem like her type of girl. Rich. Visibly rich. That was a bad way to be. Snakes probably flew in here on her private jet, tipped her chauffeur with a few hundred dollars. Lynn didn't like people like that. Not one bit. She felt her fingers began to burn, the kind of adrenaline tingle that had nothing at all to do with her power, and as Lynn looked away from Snakes she found herself wondering just how much that little necklace of hers would go for, if those snakes were sharp enough to notice a missing purse worth more than everything Cordelia Lynn Holmes had to her name.

Lynn felt the weight of the stares of the others-it was nothing new. The few times she walked through the financial district or moved into the touristy areas of Chicago, she picked that up real quicklike. She shrugged it off with indifference, continuing to stare at a point that focused on no one and everyone all at once. Some white girl who didn't seem fond of keeping her eyes to herself was talking to the European now. Lynn was too preoccupied with the issue of how this-this-would work to bother with small talk. What were the rules for this sort of thing? It'd been a while since she'd been in high school, and it'd been even longer since she'd had too much of a semblance of a middle class teenage life. She was out of the loop. All these people reading and...damnit. Fuck! This was a mistake. She should've taken juvy, that was what she knew, this was...this wasn't her, this-

Lynn took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to gather her thoughts. Stay cool, Holmes. Take your mind off stuff. New kid stumbled up. Oh, God. This one looked terrified. Jesus. Lynn almost felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Put the gameboy down, pull the tampon out. C'mon buddy. You're not the one worst off here. Lynn reached the butt of her cigarette-damn, this one had barely lasted two minutes-and curled it up in her hand absentmindedly, letting the last little bit obliterate itself in her cupped fist. She wiped the ashes off on her pants and resumed her normal pose. Couple people trying to break the ice. European looked to take charge. Lynn would've preferred they dropped the charade and just enjoyed the quiet, but it wasn't up to her. New game, new rules. Gotta play along.

"Hi," Lynn said. "My name is Lynn and I'm an alcohol-ah, shit, wrong meeting." Lynn pulled out another cigarette, just to have something to do. The scared looking one from earlier, his name's Casper. Good to know. Lynn privately felt that, whenever reading assignments inevitably came her way, Casper might be the one who would help her out. Casper probably wasn't aware of this, but Lynn had a sneaking suspicion that Casper would respond favorably to a bit of pressure.

Oho! And then there's this fucker Greg. Lynn put two and two together. Kid can read minds. That's cool. Lynn was surprisingly fine with this-she very strongly doubted that Greg would handle her lovely inner psyche very well. Go ahead buddy. I can barely stand it in here, I know you can't. Stick to the books, they've got happy endings. Lynn glanced. Casper was seated relatively close to her. She wouldn't whisper in front of everyone, that wouldn't be cool, but it also would be a dick move to humiliate him in front of everybody. That wasn't cool. Lynn figured if this guy didn't man up here soon he'd be a little doormat for Snakes and the rest of her condescending little rich friends sooner or later. 'Course, might've turned out Casper was a regular Jay Gatsby himself, but Lynn was going to give him the benefit of the doubt. She reached for her pack to offer him a cigarette, but paused. Huh. He...probably didn't smoke. Lynn turned and looked him over for a minute. Yeah, he....probably didn't smoke. It'd probably light his haircut on fire, as low as it hung. She went back to staring out, burning through her cigarette. The heightened glow cast up over her face, making her eyes glitter just a touch, her long scar darkening. Any other way to approach the kid? Nothing really came to Lynn's mind, no common ground she could bring up with this kid. He probably didn't enjoy rap and probably was still in school, so there weren't two big conversation starters. Oh well. She'd keep an eye out for him-Lynn had a soft spot for the underdogs, for rather obvious reasons. Not everybody got a million dollar birthright the way Snakes probably did. She glanced away before Casper got any wrong ideas (old habits die hard, Lynn supposed) and sighed, making another tenth a cigarette crumble off and fall to the ground. Oh no, guess I made another Indian cry or whatever.

Lynn resisted the urge to ask what time Mrs. Frizzle and the Metahuman School Bus were coming by to pick them up. They'd be here whenever. Or maybe this was like the first test or something. She halfway expected them to send, like, a bunch of bees or bears or whatever at them to see how they'd react. That was how it happened in the movies, right? Well, if that was the case, she was just going to pick up one of Greg's dumbass books and bore them to death. Maybe she'd just threaten to call Snakes' lawyer and watch the test suddenly get cancelled. Who knew? Lynn was full of surprises.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

I think this is gonna be a really interesting group of characters. Looking forward to where this goes.

And yeah, I noticed that too. I'm sure the delicacies of cafeteria food can get our characters to gain weight....

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Cordelia Lynn Holmes

"Your bag is clear?"

"Yes, mom."

Lynn suppressed a wince, but just barely. Damnit, it's my sarcasm, it shouldn't piss me off.

"Absolutely clear? Nothing in there? Nothing on you?"

"No. I promise." Lynn muttered.

"Alright. Well, here's your stop. They're gonna search your stuff, so if you lied, I'll be seeing you soon."

"Well, on that note, goodbye."

Lynn slid out the car, managing to quite easily sling everything she owned/needed over her shoulder. Her parole officer had chipped in for a duffel bag and some clothes, none of which were really her style, but hey, whatever, it wasn't cool to turn down free stuff. Especially gifts. From...well, he wasn't a friend, but...he was somewhere on that end of the spectrum. Lynn yawned lazily, an act which was half prompted by being stuck in a car for so damned long (Lynn had no trouble falling asleep, regardless of the place or surroundings; once her chauffeur had put on talk radio, it was all over) and half an effort to show exaggerated confidence. She wasn't sure what this whole deal was going to be-what these other kids were capable of. A quick glance around the clearing did not impress her. Half these assholes were reading. Christ. Reading. What better way to announce to the world you wanted someone to come along and kick your ass.

Well, one kid was smoking, so there was at least one person Lynn could get along with, at whatever level that may be. Still, these kids weren't going to be all they looked-something she had to continually remind herself. Her second mantra, of course, was that she could not risk ruining this. There were...heavy repercussions. Several hours of the trip had been spent hammering home the full extent of these repercussions. Generally, Lynn did not really care about punishment-she did what she would and endured whatever came as a result.

This was different.

Lynn scanned the clearing quickly and made little notes to herself. Lynn wasn't institutionalized, but she had led a much harder life than most, and a stint in juvy hadn't helped her paranoia. She'd learned that situational awareness never really hurt, and that first impressions were generally pretty damned accurate. What the girl lacked in formal education, she made up for with experience, with natural intellect. She was a sharp girl, and could've done well in school had events not happened the way that they did-she had merely learned different lessons than the others. Lynn couldn't tell you the first thing about ionic bonds, the Battle of Austerlitz. But ask her to size somebody up? To tell who out of a crowd's got the most money on them? That's the sort of test Lynn preferred.

First. Fellow smoker. Tall. Hair was all weird, maybe he was gay or something. No, wait. Those features. European. Yeah, that was it. European. Explained the smoking, too, Lynn figured. Pretty scrawny for a guy his size. Meant he didn't lift weights or push himself. Standing around looking for a light. Well, Lynn could sure as hell give him a light, but that wasn't her style.

Was it? She was having to, very quickly, weigh out how this worked. Was it better to be strong or merciful here? The thought that she could be genuinely altruistic occurred to her, and was quickly drowned out by the sound of her subconscious laughing. Eh, she could come back to it later.

Next up, we got-hold up, are we all featherweights? I mean, Jesus, I have an excuse, but these fuckers sure don't. Short-well, relatively speaking. Everyone was pretty tall compared to Lynn. Dressed pretty nice, and his hair was a bit more orderly than Lynn's lazily tied back bun (ponytails, you see, were a lot easier to grab onto in a fight). Lynn glanced down at her own ensemble-the usual baggy red Chicago bulls sweatshirt, sneakers that had walked many miles and would stand the test of many more, and jeans that were equal parts frayed and whole. Rich? Maybe? She got that vibe. He was the sort of person she would tail on the streets, see what kind of money Mommy and Daddy had put in his wallet that week. Lynn blinked and forced the thoughts out of her head. Probation. Remember the probation. And...huh. He'd been looking at that little sissy book of his for a while now, but not turning too many pages. Kept on glancing around. Shifty. Or checking someone out? Hard to tell.

Third....this guy's eyes. Damn. Lynn almost felt a little bad for the fucker, looked like he'd let a trigger-happy squid be his optometrists. Squids were the ones with ink, right? Or were those octopuses? Octopi...octo...fuck it, Lynn didn't really care what the proper plural was. He was just...standing there. Weird. Maybe a hippie. Or a, what did they call 'em, Wiccan. Lynn was unusually well versed in terms of religions-she'd crossed paths with her fair share of pamphlet-passers and rejects, although the Wiccans generally fell moreso into the second category. Not about to kill a tree to print a brochure. Eh. Weird. Nature type. Probably not much to worry about. Must've had crappy vision with eyes like that. Made Lynn a little uneasy-she didn't like not being able to see where somebody was looking. Reminded her of security cameras a little too much. She would be keeping an eye on the standalone, even if he wouldn't be returning the favor.

Then-Lynn felt a brief sense of worry-why the hell was everyone reading? What the fuck? Was it really that popular? Her own reading comprehension skills were...somewhat subpar...and Lynn briefly wondered to what extent this school would be poring over poetry and to what extent it would be...cool stuff. She might have to play nice with one of these nerds after all. Or just kick one of their asses if they tried to-

A deep breath. Nope. No. Can't do that. Probation. Lynn sighed and didn't even bother sizing up the last guy. Not a lot of overlap between people who read to themselves and people you shouldn't turn your back to.

Well, this was going to be a really, really great experience, wasn't it.

Lynn, cursing steadily under her breath, walked across the clearing. She moved over to the smoker and lifted up her right hand to the end of his cigarette, sharply told the boy to hold still, and gripped the end of his cigarette. She rubbed her fingers for a moment and felt the warmth rushing down her arm, the double-time thumping of her heart for a few seconds. The friction and heat between her fingertips intensified, quickly igniting the end of the cancerstick. There was the slightest-ever so slightest-change in her hair and eyes, a faint lightening that was probably unnoticed, what with all the book-reading. Ugh. Books.

This event probably held next to no significance to the others-perhaps they would be interested in what Lynn could do. She really didn't care if the rest of the circus knew what her particular freakshow display was (so long as they always wondered if she had one last trick up her sleeve). But you wouldn't have asked for a light like that. Not on day one. Not where Lynn was from. So if this fucker was doing it, she might as well play along. There were new rules, apparently, and that was whatever. Not how she preferred to run things, but she couldn't expect these pampered, private schooled sons of bitches to get it. Lynn moved over to an unoccupied spot of the clearing and threw her duffel bag down, leaning back against a tree. She had a good view of the whole clearing from here, able to get every single one of those "Sell me for a pack of Marlboro" looking kids in peripheral vision if she looked ahead. She pulled out a cigarette of her own, cupped her hands around it as she clenched it in her teeth, and made it come alive with ease. One long pull and she let it hand down by her waist, eyes darting around. The tip of one of her tattooes was visible on her neck, peeking out from beneath her sweatshirt, as if it wanted to see what was going on too. As she rolled up her sleeves, her forearms displayed their own markings to match.

"And now we wait," Lynn muttered, wondering how long it took to get a diploma here.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Fair warning now, Lynn's cynicism will be going full-steam ahead for the forseeable future, it's not a reflection on my views on anyone's characters.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

((To help filter through some of the unreliable narration, I'm going to put stuff that was officially filled out, a la her parole officer/psychologist in juvy in blue and have the regular text be what Lynn wrote. Okay, I'm colorblind, so I THINK it's blue but it may not be hahaha. Let me know if this works, and if not, what needs to be fixed!))

PITY -Court-Mandated Application for Academic Year 2015/2016

Student Name:

Cordelia Lynn Holmes. (Nickname: Lynn).

Gender:

Female.

Nationality:

American

Age:

17

D.O.B.:

Exact date unknown due to poor documentation of early years-she names December 31st, 1998.

Appearance
[Please attach a photographic image of yourself for our records]

Appearance

My probation officer said to take a nice respectful picture of myself for your files so here ya go. You're not going to accept me so why the hell bother. I know how this works, not getting my hopes up again. School sucks but I hear you guys have a pretty dope cafeteria so I guess it's a mixed blessing or whatever that phrase is. Uh description. I'm like 5'2 or something, I don't remember the last time I checked. Shit, when was the last time I was in a doctor's office? People make short jokes about me sometimes but generally if you kick those people in the nuts really hard you wind up standing taller than them so hey funny how that works. I'm like a hundred pounds or so. I think it's supposed to be higher. Fuck it. I've got a couple tattooes. Big-ass phoenix going down my back and left arm. It's pretty badass I'm not gonna lie. Got a sleeve of the four horsemen on my right arm. That's pretty boss. Nothing on my stomach. Should probably get something to cover up the ribs. Uh clothes are normally whatever. I...found...some pretty cool shoes. Got a pair of jeans with holes and stuff in them, but they're comfy as all hell. Big-ass red sweatshirt. It's baggy. People give you less shit when you have baggy clothes on because they think maybe you're packing. Which my probation officer has told me I am also not supposed to do. I got a little chip on one of my teeth from that time I pissed off those Mexicans. Or maybe they were Puerto Ricans. I don't know, I was pre-occupied kicking their asses to find out for sure. Yeah how's that for a school application. can I apply for security or some shit instead of being a student? Okay what else. Uh, hair, normally back in a ponytail. Also the hair and the eyes change color sometime. It's a thing, just roll with it. I got a bunch of scars. Not those sideways "I'm really sad" kind but like the real ones you get from out and doing shit. One on forearm from a barbed wire fence, a few on my legs from whatever. Got one on my knee from trying to jump out of a car. Didn't work out so well. Uh I also got a scar over my nose, going all horizontel. Touches both cheeks. You want more identifying features go ask the Chicago PD.

Hair Color:

Brown. Hair color is subject to frequent and unpredictable change when powers are used.

Eye Color:

Blue. Similar to hair in color variation..

Ethnicity:

Caucasian. Exact ancestry unknown.

Height:

5'2

Weight:

100.

Powers & Abilities

Power Name:

Oh, they're supposed to have names? Um, shit. Uh, the flame...no that's dumb. Gimme a minute.
Lynn's mutation is dubbed "Phoenix".

Power Description:

I'm a phoenix, or whatever.
Lynn is capable of igniting into a phoenix-like state; she does not undergo a major transformation, but her body ignites in flame.

Abilities:

Are there a lot more sections? Because I'm already tired of this. Fine. The highlights. Basically I'm like a phoenix or something. Got the tats to match it. Whenever I get all fired up (hah that wasnt even intentional) I start to smolder up a bit. Hair lights up and stuff. Makes me tougher. I get angry enough or scare-uh, serious enough, goes all out. Ignite more, helps amp me up. I think I heal quicker from stuff but I don't really know. Not like that movie with the guy with the claws. Wounds and stuff usually calterize I guess. My hair and my eyes change color sometimes. Red, white, blue, yellow, fire stuff. So that's pretty dope. Oh and stuff around me is...hotter? Nah that's not right. Like shit warms up more easily. Water boils faster. Shot a gun one time, barrel was warped as all hell. Guess the heat and cold don't bother me a whole lot either. But that could be a side effect of my other power, not being a little bitch.
Lynn is capable of drawing upon the Phoenix to offer several advantages. When "dormant", she maintains an unusually high body temperature. This gives her some degree of resistance to bacterial infections and denaturalizes some substances, which helps explain how she's managed to scrape by without major health complications from the streets. When drawing upon her powers, Lynn begins to heat up considerably. At a certain point, she ignites entirely-her hair elongates and bursts into flame, as do her eyes. They match each other in hue, shifting from white/red/violet etc. While in this state, Lynn gains more strength-this is nothing phenomenal, but she's able to hit harder than a 100 lb. girl should be able to. Additionally, she gains a degree of durability and stamina. She also causes things to ignite more easily around her-this is a passive ability. Water boils at a lower temperature, guns fire at extremely dangerous temperatures (barrels can warp and it may case premature ignition of the bullets in the magazine), and objects are much more flammable. Similar to a phoenix, she has some degree of healing capabilities. It appears that the majority of this power goes into staving off the effects of malnutrition and sleep deprivation. When injured, her flames will generally cauterize the wound. These abilities are not rapid-she is not capable of recovering immediately from serious wounds. She does appear capable of bouncing back more quickly from major wounds-she would spend less time in the hospital, for instance. She also appears to be immune to extreme heat or cold, Lynn did not seem to notice when he adjusted her cell's air conditioning to laughable extremes.

Drawbacks & Weaknesses:

Well normally my clothes aren't non-flamamable. So that sucks. I burn out too. Dunno how to describe it. I get hit too hard or go too long and I just...skin starts peeling off like ash. Fire sputters and goes out. Hair falls out, my vision gets all weird. Cold. Really cold. Like beyond temperature cold, you know, like something...I dunno. Start thinking about dark shit. It's not fun. So on general principle I avoid getting my ass kicked. Happens if I get hurt real bad too, the...burnout. When I'm trying to warm back up (takes a while) it's not...I dunno what happens if something happens then. I guess I burnout for real, you know? Never played with it much to find out. And I go through cigarettes real fast. It sucks. I can't like control it either, I'm not like those guys from that cartoon with the bald kid. Whenever we get fucked up we watch that sometimes. Also, whenever I let the fire-stuff start happening, I get, like, super hungry afterwards. And I'm usually pretty hungry. So that's saying something.
Lynn can't extend the immunity to flame to other objects-burning through clothing could be...problematic. Additionally,her powers take a considerable toll on her (already strained) metabolism. She doesn't have enough raw material to power her abilities, full-throttle, for long periods of time. When exhausted, the flame will go out and she becomes greatly fatigued. Her regenerative abilities also have their breaking point-when confronted with extreme trauma, her flame will similarly go out, and Lynn reports extreme coldness. This coldness is, apparently, psychological to a degree, as she becomes extremely withdrawn and timid until she warms back up. In this state, she is very, very vulnerable, and none of her usual fighting spirit or vitality seems present. She lacks the biological materials to sustain her abilities for very long. While not a supernatural weakness, her lack of schooling, paranoia, and pride seem to constitute character flaws. The latter of these two are exacerbated by her "burned out" state-when observed in this state, she curled up in the fetal position and trembled for several hours until her flame returned, little by little. Physical or psychological stresses can bring about this state: whether it's being severely harmed, fatigued, or shell-shocked. Burning out comes with a total loss of morale, hindered senses, and loss of fine motor skills.

About You

Family:

None. Really appreciate the reminder, though, thanks.
Lynn was seemingly left at the orphanage as a young child, presumably by her father. Her mother suffered severe burns during childbirth and her paternity is unknown-to what degree Lynn is aware of this is unknown. Sensitive about the family issue.

Personal Statement:

The hell is a personal statement. Fine. My name is Lynn. I do not like filling out applications. Pretty sure I spelled half this shit wrong. But half right for somebody who dropped out of high school's pretty alright. Reading is stupid and gay anyways, I don't need to be good at it. I am a dear friend of the Chicago Police Department and they really like reminding me I have one year unil I start going to big girl prison. I like reminding them their wives are probably out sleeping with police officers from a city that doesn't suck so much. But now I'll be in New York in your school or whatever so that's cool. School's kinda pointless, but the judge said it was this or juvy and I did juvy before and it was boring as all hell. So I guess I'll stick around your school long enough to get a degree so I can be a happy member of the real world. What? That not enough? Fine. I don't play well with others. Most people are dicks and most people deserve what's coming to them. I don't like cops, rich people, and have been told I have "trouble with authoritity". I'm kind of a loner. Most people get on my nerves. Most people don't have to deal with real shit, so most people aren't worth talking to. Here's my daily routine. I wake up at whatever time I wake up at and then go to the nearest TV and watch the news to see if I recognize any names on there. Usually a few people show up. Then they cut to the royal baby or some shit, which is just wonderful. Then I'll go and find food somewhere. Sometimes I skip this step. Uh, usually I skip this step. Normally try and figure out where I'm stayin' that night early on. Word gets out I'm a mutant, it's a lot harder to find places. I've got too many tattooes to really get a lot of help from shelters, plus I've been in one or two once and a few jackasses came looking. Don't want to get anybody else caught up in all that you know. Then I'll try and earn some cash, I got a few people who are cool with the mutant thing cause I do good work. I got quick hands, all I'll say about that. Then I'll get some food if I can, try and spend the rest of the doing whatever. Every now and then when I'm feeling like a functional member of society I'll go try and get a job. That usually ends up the same way. Dropout mutant with no references and criminal history? Yeah can't imagine why Hobby lobby didn't want me working a register. It's whatever though. I do pretty fine. Try and avoid familiar places. Where I grew up-piece of shit orphanage with piece of shit nuns in charge of it-or school. Couple teachers there were pretty decent. Don't like seeing them. Or kids I used to go to school with. Wasn't a mutant before I dropped out, just...hung with the wrong crowds, went down a slippery slope, all that other shit they throw at you in PSAs. But I'd do it all again you know. People always talk shit about drug dealers or whatever. Not all bad. A few assholes, but I know some good guys. Tough to earn respect being a skinny ass white girl but I made it work. Damn I rambled. So yeah accept me to your school or whatever, I dunno. Im sure your guidance counselor will turn my life around. Assuming your school is not full of rich fucks Ill make friends, do all my work on time (unless its retarded) and be like the coolest person ever. Yeah. Woooooo. I dont know how long that old-ass judge wanted this thing to be. He only said i had to APPLY to get out of goin to juvy. I'm pretty sure. Wait, shit, he might not have. I shoulda taken this more seriously. Uh okay. talents. Im okay at singing. Mostly rap. I write some too. I guess I'd be alright at sports, I got quick eyes and reflexes. Also I'm pretty good at picking up on whenever people are lying because Ive spent a lot of time around teachers and cops. I keep my word and stuff. Also I'm not bad at like fighting and stuff. No, shit, I can't say that to a school. Uh. Um. I'm very determined...and keep on going no matter what life throws at me. Yeah. That sounds right. I'm also poor as hell and bisexual after a few drinks so yeah wooohooo I'll make your demograph dimograp fuck whatever that word is-numbers look really good if you take me.

((STORM))

Despite our-repeated-insistences, Lynn does not appear to have taken this application seriously. This is not a surprise-perhaps as a result of dealing with less-than-reputable types for so long, she is extremely headstrong and confrontational. She will reject orders from authority figures simply to cause controversy. This appears to be saving face-when one on one with her parole officer or myself (Chicago Youth Correctional Center, Criminal Psychologist) she is more leery than outright aggressive. She possesses a deep cynicism of society, particularly those whom she views are more privileged or powerful-hence the trouble with authority. This stems from empathy-she mentions lost friends quite frequently, and bitterly questions why money is spent on X and not helping others. She displays genuine concern for others, albeit is careful not to let it show-while in juvy, several younger girls were harassed by the older inmates. Over the course of several weeks, each of the older inmates were overheard discussing that the water in the showers was blisteringly hot. Despite her lack of much formal education, she is perceptive and intelligent-Lynn is quick-witted, and several police reports have shown her ability not only to twist the letter of the law to her advantage, but to come out on top of gang members/lowlifes who harassed her. She also displays a fondness for art, although is extremely protective about it-Lynn very visibly does not want anyone knowing of her more personal side, and took care to ensure her poems and sketches were promptly destroyed before someone else was able to read them. The few that we recovered mostly seem to deal with issues of loss/fear/family. Tends to avoid actual conflict-she tries to avoid fights whenever possible, but her pride does not always permit this-visibly does not enjoy violence, however. Showed considerable protective instincts for younger girls in juvy and was repeatedly overheard trying to talk them out of whatever they'd done, help with whatever issues they posssessed. When apprehended, several filled out job applications were found in her belongings, along with a very battered, old teddy bear, which had a faded tag attached: To Delly, From Mom. While physically unassuming, she is cunning and determined, and has learned brutality is at times necessary. This being my main point of concern, and the reason I'm passing along this application (which is example enough of her anti-authority stance) to your institution: her parole officer was able to talk the judge into offering her the choice of juvy or going to your institution. A quick, by-the-numbers summation of her life follows:

December 1998: A woman in the Chicago area, possibly Lynn's mother, dies from severe, unexplained burns during childbirth. Mutations generally do not peak until puberty, which would explain how this outlier slipped past CPD's eye.
December 1998: Lynn is found by St. Theresa's Home for Disadvantaged Youth. No official documentation beyond a note with her name.
May 2002: Lynn is enrolled in kindergarten. Performs admirably, model student.
June 2004: Lynn becomes more reclusive, sullen. Performance in school slips.
July 2004: Lynn begins interfering with the nuns' carrying out of punishment, becomes increasingly more argumentative. Slowly but steadily Lynn begins acting out more and more. An escape attempt.
September 2006: Mutants attack White House. Public backlash ensues.
November 2006: Internal Review of St. Theresa's finds the disciplinary practices of some of the nuns to be needlessly cruel. These are fixed, but Lynn remains hesitant: doesn't act out as much as before, but remains reclusive. Has trouble connecting with the other children.
January 2007: Lynn attempts another escape-after several years of disciplinary struggles and paperwork, Lynn is shifted into a foster home.
March 2007: Lynn's foster parents register as sponsors of HAM. Lynn's school performance is acceptable, but seems to have trouble focusing.
August 2013: Lynn becomes a freshman in a Chicago High School. Reserved. Takes a large number of extracurriculars, notably ones which keep her at school and away from home as long as possible.
September 2013: Lynn volunteers at the concessions stand of her high school for football games. Large discrepancy in sales begin showing up.
September 2013: St. Theresa's reports a break-in. Nothing reported stolen, although nuns find large quantities of candy. For fears of it being poisoned/"razor blades in the apples", candy's confiscated.
December 2013: Lynn attends a New Year's party, during which time she becomes intoxicated. Returning home, foster parents are furious-relations begin to become increasingly strained.
February 2014: First of Lynn's friends to be arrested for misdemeanors. Lynn's schoolwork begins slowly slipping. Loses interest in extracurriculars. Does not pursue a driver's license.
April 2014: Lynn is caught trying to break into St. Theresa's; fallout at home, school, and with the law follow. No formal charges issued but Lynn receives suspension. Marked drop in school performance afterwards.
June 2014: Lynn begins smoking cigarettes.
July 2014: Foster family's donations to HAM increase. While Lynn does not out herself as a mutant at this time, there are noticeable discrepancies. Lynn's reports about her family become shorter and shorter. Relations extremely strained.
August 2014: One of Lynn's known associates receives 10 years in prison for drug-related crimes.
August 2014: Lynn receives her first tattoo. This goes over poorly with foster parents.
September 2014: Lynn attempts to join an afterschool program, a la "Big Brothers/Big Sisters", application rejected.
September 2014: Lynn's grades drop further. Struggling to pass at this point. Several classes dropped.
November 2014: Local mutant girl beaten, raped, and left for dead in the street. Aggressors unknown, but suspected gang affiliation.
November 2014: A local trap house burns down. No gang members were present, owing to a series of bizarre events that led to everyone leaving the house. Several thousand dollars worth of illicit materials are suspected to be lost in the fire. Lynn sent to school therapist for irritability and jumpiness in the following week.
December 2014: Following a run-in with the police over driving over the limit without a license, Lynn is kicked out of her foster home.
December 2014: Lynn arrested for setting off fireworks on New Years from a water tower. Curiously, police did not locate a lighter or matches on the scene. Community service is the sentence.
January 2015: St. Theresa's children continue to receive little presents. Local toy stores and candy shops report minor break-ins with minimal losses.
January 2015: Gang war escalates. Numerous gangs in Chicago suffer casualties, some at the hand of local law enforcement.
February 2015: Lynn caught trying to break into a police car. She is carrying felony-level quantities of cocaine (albeit no trace in her system) at the time. Pleads not guilty, refuses to speak during hearing, spends next months in juvy.
March 2015: Lynn's behavior in juvy noted as standoffish but not necessarily hostile. Does not shy away from conflict-several fights reported, most of which Lynn emerges the victor from. Several guards accused of sexually harassing inmates and several inmates with a reputation for brutality begin to suffer from mysterious burns.
June 2015: Lynn released from juvy. Presumably out of shame, visits to St. Theresa's stop.
June 2015: Girl matching Lynn's description narrowly avoids apprehension following reports of pickpocketing.
July 2015: Lynn, as per the sample post, misses a parole hearing, and fills out application for PITY.

There is not a clear correlation between these events-at least, not one that the CPD has discovered. It's my suspicion that, if Lynn spends time in a hostile environment for more months on end, it will become exponentially more difficult for her to recover. While convicted of past crimes, Lynn is not violent; repeatedly, she's demonstrated attempts to avoid direct conflict when possible. While troubled, and confrontational, she doesn't appear beyond recovery-all reports of her, from her school psychiatrist, to foster care report letters, to my own assessments, indicate more of a troubling reclusive nature. I firmly believe if she is surrounded by criminal elements for the next five months, she'll emerge a much more hardened individual. Given that she already resists attempts to receive help, this is obviously not ideal: accepting her to your institution would offer a much better environment for her. This would serve several advantages: primarily, Lynn's future. Academic probation would serve as a good motivator for her, and while resuming life in school would be difficult, I think an atmosphere of similarly abled (and, I suspect, similarly isolated) individuals would help her regain some semblance of normalcy. Furthermore, the current atmosphere towards mutants is...volatile. If allowed to go unchecked, it's possible Lynn will wind up committing more violent crimes-as any in her situation would do. She has repeatedly shown an aversion to using her abilities unless pushed to the breaking point, but does not hold back when that point is reach. While not to the same degree as the White House attacks, your institution does have the opportunity to avert more mutant backlash in one of the largest cities in America. While Lynn has committed wrongdoings in the past, I've looked through files of mutants in other cities and seen she is not an isolated incident-helping her recover could offer a foot in the door for enacting similar programs for kids in similar situations. Her crimes have not been of malice, and her motives, if flawed, are understandable-she's been hurt, and is attempting to deal with it in the only way she knows. Show her another way.

Considering the extenuating circumstances, I ask you to consider accepting Miss Holmes to your institution-I and her parole officer will maintain correspondence with your disciplinary staff and Miss Holmes to ensure her adherence to any guidelines. She is well aware of the legal repercussions facing her should any illegal activity be continued while at the university.

((This is a fair deal longer than 2-3 paragraphs-I apologize for that just started and it kept on going. Normal posts won't be such a tank, I promise))

Sample post

Cordelia was a pretty recognizable figure-not that she was famous, but she generally stuck to the same ensemble. A backpack held together by electrical tape, blue jeans held together by duct tape, and a face that appeared to be held together by a permanent scowl. A crier on the street turned to offer her an advertisement and not-so-subtly withdrew. He may have a suspicion that Lynn was not entirely interested in Chicago's opera house.

If you were to watch Lynn as she walked-well, you'd have to do so from a distance, and very subtly, or else you would have a hundred pounds of fury with nothing better to do coming to ask you a few questions. I digress. You'd notice she walked quickly, the seasoned walk of a city native. Her eyes flickered back and forth as she darted in and out of slower people on the sidewalk, just keeping a good sense for where she was. Lynn didn't really stick to the nicer parts of town-a pinch of paranoia carried you a pretty long way. Occasionally she'd shudder, miss a step. Clutch her chest or rub at her stomach. A wide and weary yawn. Her neck twisted to unhealthy angles as she walked past food vendors. Occasionally she'd pass the sorts who linger outside the tourist traps, panhandling or sleazing. Lynn's reaction was varied-to a few, she'd roll her eyes, call them by name, give them a jovial "Fuck off!". A few she ignored, keeping her eyes straight ahed and moving on through. A handful brought a quieter reaction-Lynn would let her eyes roll over them and grimace a bit before she recovered. That wasn't her. She wouldn't be that. No. Of course not. She was different.

Stop to smoke. Supposedly, those things were pretty bad for you. Lynn figured even if she did live long enough for that to matter, the fact her body spontaneously burst into flame kinda offset any health risks. She was gonna be breathing in smoke (or breathing it out) one way or another. Might as well get a little chemical tranquility in the process. She leaned back against a corner, backpack cushioning her frame (underneath that sweatshirt, Miss Holmes, just how skinny how are you?) as she took long draws. Her eyes stared off across the street, not really focusing on anything. Occasionally a noise would break her reverie, making her flinch and jump up, right hand falling to her back pocket, her other clenching around the lit cigarette (which would flare up with hunger). These little smoke breaks never lasted long-she burned through the whole cigarette in maybe two, three minutes. She was pretty environmentally conscious-there was never any butt to leave lying on the ground.

The hours would pass. These got spent in a myriad of ways-Lynn had a few usual haunts, and was somewhat in-between posses. There was a sizable number of mutants in Chicago's underground, and it...complicated things. Gang wars had a tendency for escalation whenever the superhuman were around. Between arrests or deaths, Chicago's gangs were a revolving door since mutants went public. Lynn watched the morning news every day. Read the numbers and tried to see if she recognized the faces. Not much else she could do. She did little jobs-pickpocketed a bit, occasionally did some running across town. Guns or drugs. These were riskier, and she didn't get too many offers. Fine by her.

Around once a week there'd be a run-in with the law-Lynn, for her trash talk and put-on bravado, was pretty Machiavellan about what she did. The girl stayed clear of anything violent, and the serious stuff was few and far between. A mutant girl was enough of a target-one without the money for legal fees or any real allies? Lynn played it pretty smart. Relatively speaking-the girl was still not in the best of situations, and whenever she put her head down at night (wherever it wound up being) she'd get that low feeling in her gut. Tick. Tock. Not many people ran in her circles past the age of twenty five. Sooner or later she'd get her ticket.

Lynn walked slowly, one arm clinging to the pack slung over her shoulder and the other hanging at her waist, fingers dancing about. Immediately, she got that electric-wire fear of stepping between a mother bear and her cub. The alleyway was pretty narrow, and a casual glance over her shoulder confirmed Lynn's suspicions. Blocked in. Shit. Ahead there were two of them-Lynn didn't recognize them. Didn't see any noticeable marks, no lightning bolts from the brotherhood, not any colors she picked up on. Might've just been loners like her. Lynn kept walking steadily, but began to prepare herself. In most fights, Lynn was generally outgunned. She fought holding nothing back out of necessity-a hundred pounds and a few hairs over five foot? Not exactly the top contender in street fights.

"You lost?" one of them asked, sizing her up as she had done to them. Within about three seconds, both parties had full situational awareness of the other. Lynn was walking alone and, judging from her dress, not going to be going to the cops about this. These thugs were not tough enough or smart enough to roll with any real group so they were hanging here, in the middle of nowhere.

Lynn sighed, more resigned than really frightened. The girl may not have been able to make above a C, but she was far from foolish. She stayed cold and collected in situations like these-it would be later, when she was lying in bed? That's when the panic sets in. "Fuck off."

There was a brief pause-the thugs weren't really used to that kind of brevity.

"You know who you're talkin-"

"I don't give a shit who I'm talking to," Lynn said with a genuinely bored tone of voice. "You're either gonna try and jump me or let me by. Let's just get this over with, one way or ano-"

Lynn had a code of honor-it was warped, perhaps, but it was there. She stuck to her word, tried to avoid messing with anybody who was, you know, actually a good person. Her cynicism made the threshold for "good person" pretty damned high, but she wasn't evil. Just lost. Regardless, she didn't really like to take chances, especially when she was outnumbered three-to-one. So, halfway through her sentence, as she continued walking forward, Lynn drove her knee into the groin of the first unlucky, would-be mugger. He yelped, pained and surprised, and staggered back. His partner was caught off guard but had begun to recover, reaching for something. Lynn didn't really want to find out what-not hesitating, she shifted her weight and threw all she had at the second guy, forcing him to stagger to the side a step or two and delaying whatever nasty trick he had up his sleeve for a moment or two more.

The third one-from behind-kicked the back of Lynn's bag and knocked her to the ground pretty easily. She caught it in a roll and bounced up, making up for muscle mass with quickness and coldness. Lynn didn't half-ass her punches, and unlike a surprising amount of the people she'd been forced to fight, she fought to win. She didn't care if she played dirty. Lynn grunted and felt her sweatshirt becoming uncomfortably warm-sweat started to course down her arms and torso, and as she breathed out (through closed teeth-if you open them, it's a lot easier to get knocked out, and Lynn preferred to not be unconscious in Chicago's streets at night) a wisp of smoke darted between her not-so-pearly whites.

Her hair and eyes began to shift in color-ever so slightly, and Lynn darted forward, letting the bag fall from her shoulder. It landed behind her, provoking another startled grunt-one of the other two had tripped on it. Lynn didn't want to try and focus on any one of the three and wind up getting suckerpunched from behind as a result.

Unfortunately, the other one had recovered faster than she thought, and she wound up getting suckerpunched from behind as a result. For the second time in about ten seconds, Lynn fell to the concrete, starting to bounce up before another kick knocked her back down.

"'Fuck off'? You know, manners go a long way wit-" Lynn didn't really care to hear the rest of his speech, especially with his dirty-ass shoe pressing down on her neck. Her right hand snaked up-(the sweatshirt's sleeve, too bag, fell back and her tattooes bared to the night air) and her fingers laced around his ankle as she pushed up as hard as she could. It wasn't going to budge his leg-not with brute force. The stench of burning denim followed shortly by burning flesh, however, did make the man fall back. Lynn's form glowed softly, her hair beginning to well and truly ignite-the ponytail burst free from its bands and fell to her shoulders as Lynn scrambled back up, pressing her back to the wall and crouching, offering as little vulnerable space to them as she could afford. Her eyes began to smolder, matching her hair as they climbed to a furious red.

The other three, who, in all fairness, had probably not been able to anticipate this as an outcome to their evening, stared in varying degrees of shock.

"Whenever," Lynn panted, "I force-feed you your own dicks, do you want them cooked medium, or well-done?"

There was a moment of silence in which the thugs considered a great many things. The rising air temperature around the scrawny girl, a long series of unfortunate life choices that had led them to this point, and the rather nauseating proposition Lynn offered.

About twenty seconds later, Lynn picked up her bag and began walking out of the alleyway, cursing her stupidity for walking down it to begin with. Her body shook with adrenaline. Christ, they hit hard. Lynn rolled her neck around a bit and massaged the spot where she'd hit the concrete that second time. Her shaking fingers fumbled with her backpack's outer pocket for-oh, those bastards. They'd taken her cigarettes. "Well, this is shaping up to be a pretty good night," Lynn muttered, taking out her fury on a nearby trashcan. It smashed against the wall and fell with considerable noise. Shit. Also probably not a good idea. She emerged from the alley, hair tussled, skin slimy with sweat, and the faint odor of singed clothing lingering about her, and walked straight into her parole officer.

"Aw, damnit. That trashcan was like that when I got here."

He stopped and sniffed the air for a moment, glancing at her clothes, and then back at her eyes. He could've sworn they were a different color last time he saw her. "Looking for you. Skipped out on your hearing this morning."

"Wait, shit, what day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"Tuesday? It's Monday!"

"No, it's Tuesday."

Lynn frowned, making the scar on her face stretch down to mirror her lips. Tuesday. Shit. That...would probably not look good in court. "Uh, I'm, like, 1/8th Cherokee, and, uh, it was a holy day..."

"Not in the mood.Get in the car. Assuming I can talk you out of skipping your meeting, they've been throwing around something else instead of juvy."

Lynn was helped into the back of the car, something that was not at all unfamiliar. She took the opportunity to lay down across the back of the seats. Her parole officer hadn't handcuffed her-while she would never show otherwise publicly, she did hold a degree of respect for the guy. He was a cop, which made him by default a douchebag, but he was always pretty decent to her. Lynn figured it wasn't cool to be a dick to people that helped you out where they could. "Something else? What, like, picking up trash or..."

"Nah. School."

"Oh, Christ, just kill me now." She paused. There was a moment of silent understanding between the two-her pride would never let her say thanks, but...going back to juvy would not be ideal. He picked up on it, and didn't need to press. "...well, I guess I'll, uh, check that out." she closed her eyes before the post-adrenal hunger kicked in. "Is there gonna be a lot of paperwork or whatever? Because last time you made me do that, it really sucked. Like, a lot."