Post by Deleted on Apr 19, 2017 0:50:10 GMT
angelica iparis
FEMALE. | FIFTEEN. | HOMOSEXUAL. | SECOND YEAR. |
SUPER STRENGTH. | POWER NEGATION. |
POWER DESCRIPTIONS
super strength - quite self-explanatory, super strength blesses angelica with the power to surpass the average human output of strength, allowing her to defy the average limit of a human in terms of heavy-hitting. her power is rather high in terms of capability and talent, her strength output remarkable even among her peers (being able to smash through solid, dense objects and lift incredible amounts of weight), but her control requires her to consciously monitor her strength output at all times. if she doesn't, and her concentration slips (for example, when she's tired or very agitated), angelica's power can get out of hand-a simple squeeze can turn into a crushing force exerted on a bone or ligament. due to this, she's averse to hand-to-hand contact. she tends not to use this power too often for extended amounts of time, because of the strain it places on her body (her body often being unable to deal with the strain).
power negation - also rather self-explanatory, power negation allows angelica to cancel out the abilities of those around her. depending on her level of concentration, angelica can affect those in a one to fifteen-foot radius. she has a high level of control over this power, but instead of applying her power directly to those she wishes to restrict, angelica can only affect in a set area. that is to say, if her allies and her enemies are both in an five-foot area around her, she won't be able to selectively negate the powers of her enemies-she would have to affect her allies, too. this power focuses on her mental concentration-as soon as she falters or snaps out of her focus, the power will disappear until she refocuses.
power negation - also rather self-explanatory, power negation allows angelica to cancel out the abilities of those around her. depending on her level of concentration, angelica can affect those in a one to fifteen-foot radius. she has a high level of control over this power, but instead of applying her power directly to those she wishes to restrict, angelica can only affect in a set area. that is to say, if her allies and her enemies are both in an five-foot area around her, she won't be able to selectively negate the powers of her enemies-she would have to affect her allies, too. this power focuses on her mental concentration-as soon as she falters or snaps out of her focus, the power will disappear until she refocuses.
APPEARANCE
angelica has warm brown hair, the color of caramel. it's cut into a bob, curling around her face. the front two parts are slightly longer, which is a trait that should be noticeable at a glance, and she has short, sideswept bangs. it's very thick and shiny, but not long enough for her to tie it up into a proper ponytail, much to her dismay. the color is inherited from her korean mother; a shade of bright bronze.
her eyes are a darker shade of brown, sometimes dipping into a shade of burgundy or tan depending on the lighting, framed by short, straight lashes. though they're quite thin as well, there are a lot of them-and her eyebrows are plucked, something that her mom continues to uphold her to doing (because even if angelica doesn't care about her eyebrows, someone out there will). her face is notably round, the shape of an oval, and her cheeks are almost always pink.
her uniform is also worn neatly, though there are often occasions where she forgets to iron her clothing. however, due to her habit of getting into fights with others, you can see angelica almost always with band-aids on her face or braces of some kind.
her eyes are a darker shade of brown, sometimes dipping into a shade of burgundy or tan depending on the lighting, framed by short, straight lashes. though they're quite thin as well, there are a lot of them-and her eyebrows are plucked, something that her mom continues to uphold her to doing (because even if angelica doesn't care about her eyebrows, someone out there will). her face is notably round, the shape of an oval, and her cheeks are almost always pink.
her uniform is also worn neatly, though there are often occasions where she forgets to iron her clothing. however, due to her habit of getting into fights with others, you can see angelica almost always with band-aids on her face or braces of some kind.
PERSONALITY
angelica is-quite frankly-aggressive and violent. she doesn't like hurting others, but she likes the way she feels when she fights. in short, she's a thrill-seeker, which causes her to be described as reckless. also, angelica has a habit of not listening to authority. she's chatty as well and impatient-if she wants something, she wants it now. she's also forgetful, moody, and easily attached.
however, she's also open with her thoughts and liberal. protective, loyal, and determined, angelica will get things done as soon as possible and do her best to make those around her happy. she's also affectionate. angelica is also known to be intelligent and perceptive, though she's more intuitive than analytical. she's also ambitious, and wants to rise above where she is at the moment.
however, she's also open with her thoughts and liberal. protective, loyal, and determined, angelica will get things done as soon as possible and do her best to make those around her happy. she's also affectionate. angelica is also known to be intelligent and perceptive, though she's more intuitive than analytical. she's also ambitious, and wants to rise above where she is at the moment.
BIOGRAPHY
when you are ten and a half (almost eleven!) years old, your super strength manifests.
you're talking to your friend, play-fighting an imaginary opponent. the air brushes against the sleeves of your uniform as you excitedly chatter on, bouncing on the edges of your heels. your hair, cut into a simple bob around your shoulders, moves with you. you mock-punch forward, giggling as you do so.
"i'm the princess," you declare, placing one hand on your hip and pointing at your friend. "and you're the evil dragon."
"what? no fair, i wanna be the knight," they protest weakly, though there's a smile already growing on their expression. they'll open up to the idea, you're sure of it. "and besides, all princesses have knights, right?"
"not me!" you declare boldly, dropping your hands to your sides and winking at them. you're both waiting for your parents to pick you up, the teacher still gathering her things inside so she can stand with you both later. the other students have dispersed, disappeared-it's just the two of you, as per usual. "i'm stronger than any knight could be."
the wind feels cool against your skin, and the sun feels warm.
"alright," he says agreeably, with stars in his eyes, and you grin.
"one, two, three-four-five!" you count quickly, letting him get his head start. he yelps when your words blur together, speeding up, and turns around to shoot you a betrayed look. you laugh, but then he trips, falling into the soft grass. your smile turns into a concerned frown, and you kneel by his side, the edges of your sunshine-yellow dress collecting the soft, worn dirt. mom's gonna yell at me later, you think absently, but focus on your friend. "i'm sorry! are you okay?"
"i'm okay," they tell you, getting up. you mimic their movements. they punch you in the shoulder gently, eyes sparkling. "i'm just playing with you."
"jerk," you laugh, punching them gently in the shoulder back. you notice, with some alarm, that you've hit harder than you anticipated: not hard enough to hurt, you think, but enough to sting. you step closer. "i'm sorry, i think i-"
they scream.
the teacher comes running, her skirts aflutter. the papers she had been carrying in her arms are spilled on the table. she takes one look at the situation, at the screaming and crying friend and you, staring there with a bewildered and terrified expression, and she calls the hospital.
you're talking to your friend, play-fighting an imaginary opponent. the air brushes against the sleeves of your uniform as you excitedly chatter on, bouncing on the edges of your heels. your hair, cut into a simple bob around your shoulders, moves with you. you mock-punch forward, giggling as you do so.
"i'm the princess," you declare, placing one hand on your hip and pointing at your friend. "and you're the evil dragon."
"what? no fair, i wanna be the knight," they protest weakly, though there's a smile already growing on their expression. they'll open up to the idea, you're sure of it. "and besides, all princesses have knights, right?"
"not me!" you declare boldly, dropping your hands to your sides and winking at them. you're both waiting for your parents to pick you up, the teacher still gathering her things inside so she can stand with you both later. the other students have dispersed, disappeared-it's just the two of you, as per usual. "i'm stronger than any knight could be."
the wind feels cool against your skin, and the sun feels warm.
"alright," he says agreeably, with stars in his eyes, and you grin.
"one, two, three-four-five!" you count quickly, letting him get his head start. he yelps when your words blur together, speeding up, and turns around to shoot you a betrayed look. you laugh, but then he trips, falling into the soft grass. your smile turns into a concerned frown, and you kneel by his side, the edges of your sunshine-yellow dress collecting the soft, worn dirt. mom's gonna yell at me later, you think absently, but focus on your friend. "i'm sorry! are you okay?"
"i'm okay," they tell you, getting up. you mimic their movements. they punch you in the shoulder gently, eyes sparkling. "i'm just playing with you."
"jerk," you laugh, punching them gently in the shoulder back. you notice, with some alarm, that you've hit harder than you anticipated: not hard enough to hurt, you think, but enough to sting. you step closer. "i'm sorry, i think i-"
they scream.
the teacher comes running, her skirts aflutter. the papers she had been carrying in her arms are spilled on the table. she takes one look at the situation, at the screaming and crying friend and you, staring there with a bewildered and terrified expression, and she calls the hospital.
-
a dislocated shoulder.
your parents look at you worriedly as you sit, fidgeting in the principal's office. i don't understand, is a phrase that filters through often. why would you do this to your friend? is another, soft and gentle but prodding. you don't get it.
"i didn't think i punched him that hard," you protest weakly, hands twisting in your grip. your mother's glare silences you immediately.
"no excuses," she hisses at you, and you flinch back from the ferocity of her voice. you've heard it before, but rarely directed at you: you're usually the good girl, the golden child. you don't understand why she doesn't believe you. her focus returns to the principal, and she smiles apologetically at him. "i am so sorry about this. i never thought that our daughter would do something like this..."
"none of us did," notes the principal sharply. he folds his hands over one another as he leans forward. "angelica is excelling in everything. her teacher has reported her to be a very affectionate, cheerful child. so why would she attack her friend like that? angelica?"
the focus is returned to you. you shrink under their gazes.
"i didn't," you protest weakly, and there's a unanimous sigh of disbelief that echoes around the room. i didn't punch him that hard, i know what i did runs inside of your head.
"i'm sorry," your mother tells the principal quietly. your father is a silent, stony presence in the room, and he says nothing, instead sending a meaningful glance towards you.
"don't apologize to me," the principal says quietly, gaze still locked onto you before it shifts towards the door, where you can see a familiar shade of hair. your heart seizes in your throat. oh. your classmate's parents are outside. "i think they'd like to hear it more, to be honest."
your parents look at you worriedly as you sit, fidgeting in the principal's office. i don't understand, is a phrase that filters through often. why would you do this to your friend? is another, soft and gentle but prodding. you don't get it.
"i didn't think i punched him that hard," you protest weakly, hands twisting in your grip. your mother's glare silences you immediately.
"no excuses," she hisses at you, and you flinch back from the ferocity of her voice. you've heard it before, but rarely directed at you: you're usually the good girl, the golden child. you don't understand why she doesn't believe you. her focus returns to the principal, and she smiles apologetically at him. "i am so sorry about this. i never thought that our daughter would do something like this..."
"none of us did," notes the principal sharply. he folds his hands over one another as he leans forward. "angelica is excelling in everything. her teacher has reported her to be a very affectionate, cheerful child. so why would she attack her friend like that? angelica?"
the focus is returned to you. you shrink under their gazes.
"i didn't," you protest weakly, and there's a unanimous sigh of disbelief that echoes around the room. i didn't punch him that hard, i know what i did runs inside of your head.
"i'm sorry," your mother tells the principal quietly. your father is a silent, stony presence in the room, and he says nothing, instead sending a meaningful glance towards you.
"don't apologize to me," the principal says quietly, gaze still locked onto you before it shifts towards the door, where you can see a familiar shade of hair. your heart seizes in your throat. oh. your classmate's parents are outside. "i think they'd like to hear it more, to be honest."
-
you're a fighter.
in the literal sense of the word, that is. you fight tooth and nail. somehow, the "shoulder incident" has circulated the rumor that you will fight anyone who so much as blinks in your direction threateningly. people gang up on you and at first it's self-defense, but then you realize you like fighting. sometimes that monstrous strength rears its head but sometimes it doesn't, and it's honestly hit-and-miss.
you win too many times for you to count and it's exhilarating. you're good at something (besides studying, but what does that matter? you don't need to study, you're the type of girl that reads things once and remembers them even though you don't have a photographic memory and makes connections in the blink of an eye). you fight like you've got something to prove and a spirit pushing out of your limbs, and your name may have angel in it but you know enough people who'll swear that you're the devil in disguise.
there's a particularly memorable instance. you're dropping by the local grocery store, bruises and scrapes hidden under gauze and band-aids. you need to pick up some milk and some tape for your project, and when you walk out, stretching in the cool evening air, there's a figure, and then two, and then three.
one swings their arm around your neck. you eye it with trepidation. "walk with me, yeah?"
you're about to snap back, ask why, but then you notice the gleam of a knife and you freeze. you're not a killer, never have inflicted any serious wounds on people on purpose with a weapon even though a part of you wonders what it's like. all the wounds that needed professional help that you've caused-they're all accidents, every single one of them. and maybe it's bad to say that you've never given them a second thought, but you haven't.
you wonder if you're going to be an afterthought, too.
you manage to nod. they hum, and keep up a cheerful pretense. you continue walking, and you remember this area vividly-it's the low-class area of town. this is where you live, actually.
"you know ritsu? about this tall, girly, likes to talk-yeah, her." one of them remarks, leading you behind a building. it looks abandoned. their tone is airy, light-but her voice is strained with something. the glint of a blade shines, hidden in her palm. "she's my sister. you broke her arm."
you don't do anything, instead try to take all of them in. all of them are wielding knives, except for one of them, who's got a knapsack. you're...not really sure where this is going. one of them sighs, taking the lead. he shrugs, obviously feeling awkward, even though you're pretty sure that you're the one that's the most on edge. "look, we're not stupid. we don't wanna hurt you, we don't wanna do anything that'll hurt us. you're one of those weird-ass people who are just ridiculously strong. just promise to leave our friends alone, got it? that's it."
you stare at him, uncomprehending. they brought you all the way out here to do that? you kind of want to laugh, so you do. the guy that has the knapsack tenses, and then brandishes a gun. you stop laughing immediately. "we're not messing around! just agree and we'll-"
bang.
a shot embeds itself into the ground, all of them gang up on the guy with a gun, whose expression is shocked. he didn't mean to shoot, probably. the gun clatters to the ground, but none of them seem to notice.
you grab it.
"stay back," you warn them, voice shaky. "just-stay back."
you'd like to say that it was self defense. they had started advancing towards you slowly with their knives drawn.
shooting a person was still shooting a person, though.
...
at least she didn't die.
that isn't to say that you've got all enemies, though.
you've got a friend or two, kept really close to your side. you protect them with the flash of your skin and the bite of a knuckle, and you give affection to them like the ocean gives water. you make bonds faster than a person can blink, whether positive and negative, and that's a trait that sticks to you.
you're good at fighting and good at school and you like both of those things in that order. you hate touching people outside of a good fight but otherwise it's fine. you're fine.
in the literal sense of the word, that is. you fight tooth and nail. somehow, the "shoulder incident" has circulated the rumor that you will fight anyone who so much as blinks in your direction threateningly. people gang up on you and at first it's self-defense, but then you realize you like fighting. sometimes that monstrous strength rears its head but sometimes it doesn't, and it's honestly hit-and-miss.
you win too many times for you to count and it's exhilarating. you're good at something (besides studying, but what does that matter? you don't need to study, you're the type of girl that reads things once and remembers them even though you don't have a photographic memory and makes connections in the blink of an eye). you fight like you've got something to prove and a spirit pushing out of your limbs, and your name may have angel in it but you know enough people who'll swear that you're the devil in disguise.
there's a particularly memorable instance. you're dropping by the local grocery store, bruises and scrapes hidden under gauze and band-aids. you need to pick up some milk and some tape for your project, and when you walk out, stretching in the cool evening air, there's a figure, and then two, and then three.
one swings their arm around your neck. you eye it with trepidation. "walk with me, yeah?"
you're about to snap back, ask why, but then you notice the gleam of a knife and you freeze. you're not a killer, never have inflicted any serious wounds on people on purpose with a weapon even though a part of you wonders what it's like. all the wounds that needed professional help that you've caused-they're all accidents, every single one of them. and maybe it's bad to say that you've never given them a second thought, but you haven't.
you wonder if you're going to be an afterthought, too.
you manage to nod. they hum, and keep up a cheerful pretense. you continue walking, and you remember this area vividly-it's the low-class area of town. this is where you live, actually.
"you know ritsu? about this tall, girly, likes to talk-yeah, her." one of them remarks, leading you behind a building. it looks abandoned. their tone is airy, light-but her voice is strained with something. the glint of a blade shines, hidden in her palm. "she's my sister. you broke her arm."
you don't do anything, instead try to take all of them in. all of them are wielding knives, except for one of them, who's got a knapsack. you're...not really sure where this is going. one of them sighs, taking the lead. he shrugs, obviously feeling awkward, even though you're pretty sure that you're the one that's the most on edge. "look, we're not stupid. we don't wanna hurt you, we don't wanna do anything that'll hurt us. you're one of those weird-ass people who are just ridiculously strong. just promise to leave our friends alone, got it? that's it."
you stare at him, uncomprehending. they brought you all the way out here to do that? you kind of want to laugh, so you do. the guy that has the knapsack tenses, and then brandishes a gun. you stop laughing immediately. "we're not messing around! just agree and we'll-"
bang.
a shot embeds itself into the ground, all of them gang up on the guy with a gun, whose expression is shocked. he didn't mean to shoot, probably. the gun clatters to the ground, but none of them seem to notice.
you grab it.
"stay back," you warn them, voice shaky. "just-stay back."
you'd like to say that it was self defense. they had started advancing towards you slowly with their knives drawn.
shooting a person was still shooting a person, though.
...
at least she didn't die.
-
that isn't to say that you've got all enemies, though.
you've got a friend or two, kept really close to your side. you protect them with the flash of your skin and the bite of a knuckle, and you give affection to them like the ocean gives water. you make bonds faster than a person can blink, whether positive and negative, and that's a trait that sticks to you.
you're good at fighting and good at school and you like both of those things in that order. you hate touching people outside of a good fight but otherwise it's fine. you're fine.
-
middle school leaves you shaken. it's an experience that you didn't anticipate-you're still fighting, tooth and nail, but you're fighting against people for a cause and-that's not something that you thought you'd ever be able to accomplish.
-
you enroll in aurora academy, having caught wind of it on your last year of junior high. your mother approaches you in stilted tones about your inhuman strength, and you talk to her, and she talks to you, and your father brushes a hand through your hair and you all end up curled into a group, huddled on the bed that your mother and father share in the one-story house.
when you arrive in the academy, you take one look and immediately decide that yeah, this isn't the place for someone who's looking to stop fighting. somehow, just glancing at the school feels like a challenge-
it's a good thing that you're pretty confident in your ability to fight, then.
when you arrive in the academy, you take one look and immediately decide that yeah, this isn't the place for someone who's looking to stop fighting. somehow, just glancing at the school feels like a challenge-
it's a good thing that you're pretty confident in your ability to fight, then.
BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA; URARAKA OCHAKO
Played By: SCHEHERAZADE
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