Conor

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

How about the GREEN Lung Brigade :^)'

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

The bus journey was long, but Mako had a good sense of discipline and patience when it came to waiting. Mostly, he would just stare out the window, his music providing a mere soundtrack to whatever zoomed past his way, rather than blowing out his ears with decibels. Occasionally, he would turn to laugh at a joke he had heard in the background, the joker smiling as they realised he appreciated the effort they were putting in to relieve some tension from the situation. After all, there was no doubt in Mako's mind that everyone was anxious to get to the place.

Mako didn't pay much attention in the assembly, and was severely underwhelmed by the general arrival. Now, people were being herded into their assigned rooms. He waited in the queue for his name to be called out, and sure enough it came, with a few confused faces looking around at the odd name.

"Mako... like the shark?" he imagined someone would pop up and say at some point, preparing himself mentally for the facepalm he would inflict upon himself at the time.

He took his key and nodded in thanks, completely ignoring his roommate and not even catching his name in the process. Mako didn't exactly feel at home, though he knew everyone was in the same boat. He glanced at the key in his hands and read the room number for only a second, before deciding on a direction to head, and doing so with haste. As much as he wanted to chat, Mako couldn't be distracted from what had concerned him since deciding to join PITY - his living space.

Sure enough, Mako found it. Room 137. And as he opened the door, he let out a sigh of relief to see that his roommate had not yet found the room. It was empty.
The room was snug, and matched everything about the school. It was also particularly bland, with a nice space on the walls around the bed for photos, notes, etc. But Mako wasn't much of a materialist, and immediately threw his heavy bag onto his bed, and took a seat. Then, there were footsteps.
The door opened slowly, and Mako glanced up to see a young, slender, dark-skinned man poke his head around the door. The two met eyes for a split second, Mako too taken off-guard to muster a sound that made sense, cigarette poking from his lips.

"You wouldn't 'appen to have a light would you, mate?" he asked "All I've wanted to do since we got on the bus is have a fucking fag."

Ayy lmao

What a lovely community :^)

Ayy lmao

Yo, I'm Conor. I like to surf and write things and play guitar. I've set this thread up a bit late, so at present I'm in an RP called PITY. Join it, it's pretty fun. Catch you later, masturbator.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

MAKO REED

Mason was dropped off late by his trainer, Nix, in an old, tattered Honda. Staring out the window, Mako noticed the hoard of controversial-looking teens stood by the roadside - waiting for the next bus no doubt - and urged his trainer to drop him off there instead. I short nod was exchanged between the two, no more, no less, and as the door closed behind Mako has he lurched his bulk through the door, many expectant eyes stopped to look. It wasn't so much the sound of the car that drew their attention, but more the constant under-the-breath swears and clumsy movements of Mako that seemed to be causing a scene.

"Fuck this bastard bag." Mako barked in a thick Yorkshire accent, dragging an old gym bag with his academy's logo on the sides. Strapped to it were a pair of boxing gloves, and on top of that, Mako wore an equally raggedy old rucksack. He dragged it up to the group, who had fell silent apart from the odd conversation still going strong. Girls with snake heads, emo hair, dungarees. This must be the bunch, and Mako couldn't help feeling a little self-conscious - all he was wearing was a hoodie, a pair of red Adidas Gazelle's, and his 'going out' tracksuit bottoms. His hair drooped down, the curls in the ends whipping around in all different directions, and he had forgotten to shave his stubble beard.

"I don't mean to to be shit at first impressions..." Mako began, pulling out a rolled-up cigarette and sticking it in his big-toothed smile, of which a bumpy, broken nose hung over "But has anyone got a lighter I can borrow?"

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016

Student Name:

Mako Reed

Gender:

Male

Nationality:

British

Age:

19

D.O.B.:

5/5/1996

Appearance


Hair Color:

Blonde

Eye Color:

Blue

Ethnicity:

Caucasian

Height:

5"11

Weight:

178lbs

Powers & Abilities

Power Name:

Telekinesis

Power Description:

I can move things with my mind.

Abilities:

When I concentrate, I can move, bend, twist, throw, push, pull and squeeze things with my mind. I practice a lot on cigarettes, cans, pens, tennis balls, any small, light thing. When I am using my ability, my eyes will glow bright blue and begin to release some sort of cyan steam or smoke, which causes me no harm. Anything I am using my abilities on will also begin to glow a faint blue.

Drawbacks & Weaknesses:

After long sessions, I get really bad headaches and nausea, and I usually have nightmares if I use it heavily before bed. It can also be very physically draining. If i've used it a lot that day, my eyes might look a bit red and sore.
In terms of how 'competent' I am at using my ability, the only things I can move in a controlled manner are usually no bigger than a computer. So I could potentially use a pencil as a weapon 'cause I can 'fire' it, 'cause it's small and light. I could throw, say, a printer, but it would be slow and sluggish and not go very far. I've never done any of these things. I have lifted a grown human being before, and have also pushed a car, but both of these occasions were accidental. I moved the car when I was around 17, because I got stood up on a date, and I just really wanted to fling her car into the sky, but I knew I couldn't. But I was really mad, and I managed to just give it a budge and it jumped a few feet backwards. I was just as surprised as the little kid watching me on his scooter.
As for the person, I was in a boxing match, he wasn't harmed, and I honestly have no idea how I did it. I think it has something to do with my pulse or blood pressure, because in both instances my heart rate will have been sky high.

About You

Family:

Mother: Kim Reed
Father: Riley Reed

Personal Statement:

I was born in London, but moved up North to Sheffield when I was 3. I was a pretty average kid. Not academic, but very creative. No surprise, because my Dad was an artist, but also an alcoholic. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't by any means good, but I think his art was so boring that it made me want to make exciting, interesting art. Stuff I was into, like comics and stuff. My mother was a caretaker.
The next part of my life I think as a defining part of my story is my introduction to martial arts. I began studying karate at age 10, then went on to study Muay Thai boxing at 14, which is also when i began competing. Personally, I think if it weren't for my love for martial arts distracting me, I would have developed my abilities sooner.
I first began to experience my mutation at 16, but my parents often recalled strange moments that suggested I had an ability around my early teens. The first thing I did was show my friends after i started pinning a stick around in my hands, but without touching it, if you see. They thought it was cool, told their parents, and they didn't muck around with me after that. I lost a lot of mates because of it.
School didn't really know. Well, I mean, they did, but just like everyone else they just kind of... ignored it. Pretended it wasn't there. I didn't really mind because i tried to spend as little time in that building as possible, and my grades weren't the best, not even in my art class. I just wasn't motivated. I just wanted to train.
Around 17, after balancing my time neatly between martial arts and 'freak practice', as I called it at the time, I started having strange outbursts where I couldn't control my telekinesis. Nothing dangerous, but I would only need to think about something at times and whatever it was would just fling into the hair, or break into pieces, or whatever. There was one time when i was hitting the bag. I was tired, fed up, I think I'd had a really bad day, and I just think about smashing the shit out of this bag. All of a sudden, it breaks off the chain and slams straight into this little kid. He didn't really come back after that.
But I make light of what was ultimately a very serious moment. The way i saw it was that my mutation... mutated more? Became stronger, like a muscle. I was having freak practice pretty frequently towards the end of my 2011, so surely that will have made the ability stronger? That's what I figured anyway, and I didn't really know who to ask for help at that time. I was just trying to keep it under control with more practicing.
But then, on April 12th 2014, I was competing. The first fight I'd had in ages. I was pumped, i was having fun, I was buzzing. The final fight came up, I'd made it that far. i was super determined, the first time I'd been really joyful in a while. But sudddenly, I go in for a flurry and after the third punch - that's how well I remember it - the guy just goes flying up in the air, glowing blue. And he's just up there, levitating, looking down at me looking up at him. He looked really terrified, and as I looked around I could see people noticing my eyes and whatnot. Suddenly, my trainer come up and gives me the biggest slap he's ever given me. The guy drops, twists his ankle when he lands, I get banned from competing in the sport ever again. It was in the paper, you'll have read it. And no, it wasn't intentional.
Then, after that, I had a real down period for a few months until my trainer actually showed me your place. So, yeah, I'd like to join. Not because I feel like I need to be 'contained' or anything like that. I just want to know what it feels like to be classed as weird if you don't do something extraordinary on a regular basis.

Sample post

These moments before the actual fight were always the hardest. That's what loads of people said anyway. But for me, it's just a time to relax. To find comfort in the complete lack of control you have in this situation. You're gonna fight, you can't not now, it's gonna happen whether you're ready or not. Some boxers, you know, they'll jump up and down on the spot like fucking kangaroos, punching air that doesn't punch back. Others, they go all quiet, staring into space preparing themselves for the oncoming shit storm that's gonna smack 'em square in the face any minute now. My coach, Nix, he always used to tell me to breathe. Just breathe. Think of nothing else, and just take in just that little bit more chi energy with every breath.
What bullshit. You don't have to do any of that before the fight. All you need to do is kick back, relax, and sit there with a big fucking grin on your face. Then when your coach tells you it's time to rock, you walk out with a big grin on your face then, too. And before you get in the ring, you keep grinning at everyone in the audience, at your coach, at any friends our family you have in the audience. You just keep grinning.
Then, when you get in the ring, and that big ugly bastard you're about to trade numbers with waddles up to you with the rage of a thousand damned souls behind his eyes, you stop smiling. 'Cause now, you're not before the fight anymore. You no longer lack control, and therefore, you have to concentrate real hard on not getting the shit kicked out of you. In fact, now you have complete control, 'cause you know that when he steps over there, you'll get in with that hook, or when he throws that jab you can roll and get his ribs, whatever. 'Cause you know you've got control over the situation.
That's the scary part for me. 'Cause, when I'm in control, if I mess up, that's it. It's my fault, no one else's. But here, in this shitty little changing room, where I can hear the angry dads in the audience yelling, and Nix is trying to teach me how to inhale oxygen, I can relax, knowing that i don't have to worry about anything, 'cause I can't fail in here.

That's how I see it, anyway.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Yo can anyone gimme a link to the roleplaying thread please, I have no idea where I'm going on this site heh.

EDIT: S'cool I found it.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Also, Tyler did you want this for your character:

Scent: Mako exercises a lot, so usually either smells of sweat, or men's deodorant. You know, the kind all the kid's used after P.E class. He also smokes, and may often smell of it. If caught in his room, his fingers may also smell on cannabis. On nights out, he usually wears standard men's aftershave and herbal shampoo in his hair that smells on lavender. Because he's worth it.

Voice: Mako has a deep, boyish voice that can sound croaky from his smoking habit - an exact contrast to his singing voice, which is soft and quiet (which could make for an interesting scene). He often laughs, but is politely quiet and often chilled in his pronunciation and tone. He has a thick Yorkshire accent and will often use slang terms, which non-English characters could find hard to understand.

Body: Mako is usually relaxed and fine with being touched, embraced etc. however, he is also quite sturdy and bulky. He tends to add gestures when explaining things, and finds it hard not to fiddle with things when sat down. Mako is a hugger, not a hand-shaker.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

Edited my original post with what peeps wanted.

Portwood Institute for Talented Youths (PITY)

PITY - Application for Academic Year 2015/2016

Student Name:

Mako Reed

Gender:

Male

Nationality:

British

Age:

19

D.O.B.:

5/5/1996

Appearance


Hair Color:

Blonde

Eye Color:

Blue

Ethnicity:

Caucasian

Height:

5"11

Weight:

178lbs

Powers & Abilities

Power Name:

Telekinesis

Power Description:

I can move things with my mind.

Abilities:

When I concentrate, I can move, bend, twist, throw, push, pull and squeeze things with my mind. I practice a lot on cigarettes, cans, pens, tennis balls, any small, light thing. When I am using my ability, my eyes will glow bright blue and begin to release some sort of cyan steam or smoke, which causes me no harm. Anything I am using my abilities on will also begin to glow a faint blue.

Drawbacks & Weaknesses:

After long sessions, I get really bad headaches and nausea, and I usually have nightmares if I use it heavily before bed. It can also be very physically draining. If i've used it a lot that day, my eyes might look a bit red and sore.
In terms of how 'competent' I am at using my ability, the only things I can move in a controlled manner are usually no bigger than a computer. So I could potentially use a pencil as a weapon 'cause I can 'fire' it, 'cause it's small and light. I could throw, say, a printer, but it would be slow and sluggish and not go very far. I've never done any of these things. I have lifted a grown human being before, and have also pushed a car, but both of these occasions were accidental. I moved the car when I was around 17, because I got stood up on a date, and I just really wanted to fling her car into the sky, but I knew I couldn't. But I was really mad, and I managed to just give it a budge and it jumped a few feet backwards. I was just as surprised as the little kid watching me on his scooter.
As for the person, I was in a boxing match, he wasn't harmed, and I honestly have no idea how I did it. I think it has something to do with my pulse or blood pressure, because in both instances my heart rate will have been sky high.

About You

Family:

Mother: Kim Reed
Father: Riley Reed

Personal Statement:

I was born in London, but moved up North to Sheffield when I was 3. I was a pretty average kid. Not academic, but very creative. No surprise, because my Dad was an artist, but also an alcoholic. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't by any means good, but I think his art was so boring that it made me want to make exciting, interesting art. Stuff I was into, like comics and stuff. My mother was a caretaker.
The next part of my life I think as a defining part of my story is my introduction to martial arts. I began studying karate at age 10, then went on to study Muay Thai boxing at 14, which is also when i began competing. Personally, I think if it weren't for my love for martial arts distracting me, I would have developed my abilities sooner.
I first began to experience my mutation at 16, but my parents often recalled strange moments that suggested I had an ability around my early teens. The first thing I did was show my friends after i started pinning a stick around in my hands, but without touching it, if you see. They thought it was cool, told their parents, and they didn't muck around with me after that. I lost a lot of mates because of it.
School didn't really know. Well, I mean, they did, but just like everyone else they just kind of... ignored it. Pretended it wasn't there. I didn't really mind because i tried to spend as little time in that building as possible, and my grades weren't the best, not even in my art class. I just wasn't motivated. I just wanted to train.
Around 17, after balancing my time neatly between martial arts and 'freak practice', as I called it at the time, I started having strange outbursts where I couldn't control my telekinesis. Nothing dangerous, but I would only need to think about something at times and whatever it was would just fling into the hair, or break into pieces, or whatever. There was one time when i was hitting the bag. I was tired, fed up, I think I'd had a really bad day, and I just think about smashing the shit out of this bag. All of a sudden, it breaks off the chain and slams straight into this little kid. He didn't really come back after that.
But I make light of what was ultimately a very serious moment. The way i saw it was that my mutation... mutated more? Became stronger, like a muscle. I was having freak practice pretty frequently towards the end of my 2011, so surely that will have made the ability stronger? That's what I figured anyway, and I didn't really know who to ask for help at that time. I was just trying to keep it under control with more practicing.
But then, on April 12th 2014, I was competing. The first fight I'd had in ages. I was pumped, i was having fun, I was buzzing. The final fight came up, I'd made it that far. i was super determined, the first time I'd been really joyful in a while. But sudddenly, I go in for a flurry and after the third punch - that's how well I remember it - the guy just goes flying up in the air, glowing blue. And he's just up there, levitating, looking down at me looking up at him. He looked really terrified, and as I looked around I could see people noticing my eyes and whatnot. Suddenly, my trainer come up and gives me the biggest slap he's ever given me. The guy drops, twists his ankle when he lands, I get banned from competing in the sport ever again. It was in the paper, you'll have read it. And no, it wasn't intentional.
Then, after that, I had a real down period for a few months until my trainer actually showed me your place. So, yeah, I'd like to join. Not because I feel like I need to be 'contained' or anything like that. I just want to know what it feels like to be classed as weird if you don't do something extraordinary on a regular basis.

Sample post

These moments before the actual fight were always the hardest. That's what loads of people said anyway. But for me, it's just a time to relax. To find comfort in the complete lack of control you have in this situation. You're gonna fight, you can't not now, it's gonna happen whether you're ready or not. Some boxers, you know, they'll jump up and down on the spot like fucking kangaroos, punching air that doesn't punch back. Others, they go all quiet, staring into space preparing themselves for the oncoming shit storm that's gonna smack 'em square in the face any minute now. My coach, Nix, he always used to tell me to breathe. Just breathe. Think of nothing else, and just take in just that little bit more chi energy with every breath.
What bullshit. You don't have to do any of that before the fight. All you need to do is kick back, relax, and sit there with a big fucking grin on your face. Then when your coach tells you it's time to rock, you walk out with a big grin on your face then, too. And before you get in the ring, you keep grinning at everyone in the audience, at your coach, at any friends our family you have in the audience. You just keep grinning.
Then, when you get in the ring, and that big ugly bastard you're about to trade numbers with waddles up to you with the rage of a thousand damned souls behind his eyes, you stop smiling. 'Cause now, you're not before the fight anymore. You no longer lack control, and therefore, you have to concentrate real hard on not getting the shit kicked out of you. In fact, now you have complete control, 'cause you know that when he steps over there, you'll get in with that hook, or when he throws that jab you can roll and get his ribs, whatever. 'Cause you know you've got control over the situation.
That's the scary part for me. 'Cause, when I'm in control, if I mess up, that's it. It's my fault, no one else's. But here, in this shitty little changing room, where I can hear the angry dads in the audience yelling, and Nix is trying to teach me how to inhale oxygen, I can relax, knowing that i don't have to worry about anything, 'cause I can't fail in here.

That's how I see it, anyway.