STATUS:
Graduation has happened - I am no longer a teacher. Won't have to work 12 hour days + weekends anymore, so maybe I'll actually have enough time for hobbies.
8 mos ago
Current
Graduation has happened - I am no longer a teacher. Won't have to work 12 hour days + weekends anymore, so maybe I'll actually have enough time for hobbies.
10
likes
10 mos ago
I sound like a broken record, but only 2 months left till I'm done teaching. Not sure what's next, but it feels like anything would pay more and be less stressful lol
5
likes
1 yr ago
Only 6 more months till the school years over. If I renew my contract, someone kill me lmao.
3
likes
2 yrs ago
Teacher update: I feel like a villain from a cartoon. The laughter of teenagers gives me migraines, and I no longer feel guilt when giving bad grades to kids that sleep through my lessons.
10
likes
2 yrs ago
First day as a Biology Teacher tomorrow - hopefully the kids will be able to read my handwriting.
Personality: Victor is extremely egotistical and narcissistic, constantly exaggerating his feats and accomplishments and bragging, especially when women are involved. He does his best to keep situations light and jovial, even in dire situations that could mean life or death. Victor constantly seeks the approval of others, and that was the main reason he decided to become the pilot of the GAHS-CM-4. His cocky attitude isn't entirely for show - he is very skilled at piloting his mech, even when considering the fact that he has had very little time to get used to the controls. Victor has a carefree attitude, and adventurous spirit, and despite what he says, a caring heart. He would rather take a hit than let someone else take one, and will do his best to protect the people that acknowledge him.
Victors cockiness is actually an act, which he uses in order to hide his insecurities. He is terrified of being a pilot, and only became one so people would respect him. Victor has an intense fear of failure, and will go to nearly any length besides harming others in order to win. Additionally, he suffers Monophobia, which he developed through years of isolation and abuse. When alone, he will be extremely meek, and lack the usual hotheadedness of his 'Social Personality'. Finally, he vehemently disapproves of drugs, and will refuse to even drink or smoke.
Skills: Victor is extremely proficient at handling traumatic situations, almost to a disturbing degree. Along with this, he is above average physically, and can withstand physical stresses better than most.
Short Bio: Born to a poor Cuban family in Chicago, Victor lived a very depressing childhood. His mother, a woman who was struggling with a meth addiction, died when he was only 6 years old, and ever since then, his father rapidly grew more and more abusive. Being hit for no reason whatsoever and going days without food was a common occurrence during his developing years, but Victor never spoke out against the abuse. He, like many other victims of abuse, was simply too afraid of voicing his suffering, and decided to suffer the abuse instead. Despite the malnutrition, Victor rapidly grew to be quite physically fit, and at the age of 15, the physical abuse stopped. Instead, emotional and mental abuse took it's place. Victor was forced to stay in his small room for days at a time, and without any form of entertainment during this period of isolation, Victor quickly developed his fear of being alone. To help him through the times of loneliness, Victor decided to exercise and train his body, only increasing the fitness of his body. By the time he was 17, he was extremely popular at his high school and local gym, had decent grades, and even had a somewhat stable job. All of that only added onto the shock the people in his communities felt when, on a warm June night, him and his father were caught in a gruesome car accident, leaving Victor orphaned.
The accident itself was thought to be caused from Victor's father, the driver, being heavily intoxicated, and Victor luckily escaped with light wounds. In actuality, Victor's father, driving his son home after he had gotten in a brawl at the school, told him that the second they got home, Victor would be spending the next three days in his room. Victor, wallowing in a chemical cocktail or testosterone and adrenaline, began to assault his father, slapping and punching from the rear seat. This distracted his father enough to cause the pair to slam directly into a lamppost. The father, having chosen to not wear a seat belt, died after being thrown through the windshield, and hitting the metal pole face first. Victor survived with only light bruising and a sprained knee. Until he graduated school a year later, Victor had to see a psychologist on a bi-weekly basis, and suffered extreme emotional stress having taken a human life. Eventually he graduated and, no longer being cared for by the state, found a cheap apartment and continued to work at his dead-end job. Victor's personality appeared to have returned, but Victor still struggled with the scars left by his father's abuse and death. The next 4 years were a blur, composed of hooking up with random women and dreading the nights he was forced to work the graveyard shift alone. Finally, on a night of introspection in front of a cash register, Victor realized that his life would remain like this if he didn't do something about it - that was when he decided to leave the state, in search of greener pastures.
The next 3 months were spent driving around the US, surviving off of odd jobs that he found along the way. Finally, Victor stumbled upon it - a government agency known as MAX FIRE. It was here that, upon seeing the various benefits, Victor applied for a position as a janitor. While the ridicule of being a janitor at 22 was somewhat disheartening, the truly horrible occurred only a month into his employment there - the first attack. A creature of gargantuan size attacked a city, killing many innocent people. It was eventually taken out after being chased several blocks, but the damage was irreversible. Fear consumed Victor, but even more so, anger. The strong were trying to bully the weak, and that was an act that was truly despicable. This was when Victor decided to make a difference and help people for once. Sneaking into the pilot candidate pool, Victor was successfully able to prove his skill at piloting, and when it was discovered he snuck in, he was offered two choices: Become the pilot of the fourth component, or face life imprisonment for sneaking into government facilities. Victor chose the former, becoming the pilot of 'Sharur'.
Model: GAHS-CM-4 Lower Module "Sharur"
Specialty: Surprise Assault / Underground Support
Features:
Strong hull, capable of withstanding both damage and pressure.
Exhaust vents, double as smoke screen in enclosed spaces.
Armaments:
Dozens of missiles designed to drill through the earth and pierce enemy hulls.
Large, destructive drill.
Weaknesses:
Joints are obviously weak, can be easily cut.
Slow walking speed, Drilling speed isn't much better.
@Crimmy I made an outline and stuff, but I was planning on waiting until you gave an official CS. I'll just follow @Plank Sinatra's and post mine later today or tomorrow.
Pushing open the two doors, Karada made his way into the cafeteria to see that it was fairly populated. The goat boy, Gank, was sitting at the table, alongside the white-haired girl from earlier. While he didn't see who it was, he did hear another person in the connected kitchen, and the sounds of bubbling oil revealed that a still active fryer was being used. The room itself was, like the rest of the house, old and beautiful. Karada walked forwards, making his way towards the kitchen while doing his best to hide the limp, before Gankona noticed and called out to him.
"Ay, Karada, throw me two cigs and a light. I need my sixth smoke for the day."
Karada reached into his pocket, pulling out two cigarettes and one of the matches he had with him. He tossed the two to Gankona. Most people would probably be a little pissed that someone was going through their cigarettes so quickly, but Karada really couldn't care less - He rarely got past a single pack in a month, and he hated the taste anyways. Gankona caught the three items, revealing the condition of his hand - it was red, and had slight burns all across it. They looked fairly minor, and looking at his plate revealed that he most likely spilled grease on his hand while cooking. The chunks of fried material seemed to be too small to be fried chicken or a meat product, and Karada was stumped on what it was. Karada was about to turn and enter into the kitchen to make himself a sandwich, before Gankona called out again.
"I think the other blondie is gonna make pizzas. Take a seat if you want."
Karada sighed slightly. He was thankful to the blond boy, 'Yuri' if he remembered from the introductions they made. Karada was very tired from the fight and patching up his wound, so not needing to make your own food was a very nice prospect. Slowly, Karada made his way over to the table that the two were seated at, before gently lowering himself into a chair. The girl seemed to have a plate of grilled cheese, with some meat inside of the bread, and was just as small as she was earlier. Karada now noticed that Gank was offering her the second cigarette, to which she was vehemently refusing to take. At least he wasn't the only person who didn't like the taste of cigarettes, but the fact that the bug girl didn't like smoke was pretty hilarious. Karada turned his head quickly to the boy that had just entered, the black haired young man that entered throwing a glance to the table before slowly reaching into his bag and pulling out a small tube...
It was bug spray. A slight chuckle escaped Karada's throat, before he stifled it quickly. He found the expression on the boy's face to be completely hilarious, and the careful way he walked towards the group only added onto the humor. Quickly, Karada adopted a straight face. After all, he was supposed to be the serious guy. He chose to acknowledge Kaz's existence, but not comment.
Instead, he turned to the group. Perhaps this would be a good time to get to know one another, to learn each other's stories. Perhaps they could find some common ground with one another. Of course, Karada had no desire to share the circumstances for his coming here, and chose to instead sit with the group in silence, awaiting for Yuri to finish the meal. All the while, he did his best to avoid the white-haired girl's gaze. He still was apprehensive towards women. After all, he was nearly inconsolable after the incident that sent him to Reject High, so it would be understandable. Despite this, he still felt childish for being afraid of a girl he was nearly a foot taller than and must have been nearly double her weight.
The spirit pushed with all it's might, ignoring the writhing of it's brothers against the thorny boulder. This soul was one of the last to make it to the stone, managing to avoid the fate of it's siblings. Instead, it was able to push the overly large rock along with it's fellows, the only drive it experienced was to follow the monstrosity's orders. It had no power, that was obvious fact. The giant, the monstrous figure that commanded and ate them - it had power. The spirit didn't remember the concept of right and wrong - all it knew was that if it didn't push the rock, if it didn't obey, it would die. Even the spirit knew that dying was not enjoyable, but the work of pushing the stone made it feel something - not malice or anger, but a strange nostalgic feeling, even as blood coated his hands and thorns broke off of the stone and stabbed his feet. The other spirits lacked the mouth on their faces, but the spirit could sense their emotions. It was their eyes, the haze that coated it and the tears that streamed from their faces. They all felt overwhelming fear and sadness. Even with it's lack of a nose, the spirit could feel the disgusting scent of it's surroundings, the smell of brimstone, smoke, and feces filling every inch of the place. This only seemed to add to the misery of the place, not that the spirit minded. It's job was to push the stone, that was all.
Just push the stone, and everything will be alright.
The spirit continued to push the stone, which was easier for him now that the bodies on the thorns stopped moving, until the rock slowly came to a stop. Even when pushing harder, the spirit was unable to move the rock, and it took it several seconds to realized the cause - the others had stopped pushing, and were looking back. Turning around to see what had caught the other's attention, the spirit was truly shocked. A large swarm was descending on the toppled guard, who was aggressively clawing at it's throat. The guards staples, the pieces of metal that held the flesh of it's gut together, was slowly being pulled off, met with screams from the guard. By this point, all spirits had stopped pushing the rock, watching the carnage that was occurring. It was insane to one spirit, the spirit that had pushed the rock to survive. What did they think they were doing? They were challenging the one with power, they were challenging their superior. This was wrong. Or, it was, until the spirit saw the face of the horned guard. Of course, there was anger and pain, depicted from it's misshapen mouth. But along with that, their was something else there, something you needed to feel. Underneath that blind fury, there was an overwhelming emotion.
Fear. The monster was afraid. He didn't have power, and the spirits were the ones who were stronger now. The spirit kneeled down, picking up one of the smaller thorns that snapped off the rock as they pushed. It cut into the spirit's hand, blood seeping out and turning it's pure white hands a crimson red. The spirit made it's way over to the toppled guard, the monstrosity, until it stood close to the guards stomach. The spirit, still clutching the thorn, jammed it into the guards side.
Blood slowly seeped out of the wound. The skin felt leathery to the touch, and it was clear that the wound was merely a pinprick to the giant. Slowly, the spirit pulled out the thorn, before stabbing again, before retracting the blade once more. The intensity and speed at which this occurred only increased, until the spirit was relentlessly jamming the blade into the guard, the holes caused by the blade being somehow familiar in appearance. The guards screams continued to reverberate throughout the area, and the spirit eventually managed it - their was now an fairly large hole in the guards side, blood pooling below the creature. The thrusting continued, until the inevitable occurred - the thorn had broken, digging itself in a hard object inside of the guard, most likely bone. Not wishing to stop it's assault, the spirit climbed up the guards bloated stomach, seeking to join in the staple removal, which had made extreme progress. Countless staples fell from the beast, landing all around it's body and leaving the stomach partially exposed. The spirit merely helped it's siblings, pulling the remaining giant pieces of metal along with its brethren. Even with all of them, there were at least several more staples to remove. But the knowledge that it was in control, that it had authority, the spirit knew that it -
... No. The spirit knew that he was superior to the tormentor that he stood upon. The fat creature was cocky, it allowed the spirits to assault it. The spirit could see clearly now - the guard must have choked while devouring on the bodies of the spirits. Even with all it's strength, it ignored the strongest factor in a battle - numbers beat everything and, with enough numbers, it didn't matter how strong an opponent was. The spirit decided to return to the hole he had created at the guards side and, after sliding from it's massive form carefully, began to tear the creatures side apart. The skin was far to tough to rip with his bear hands - even the thorn had difficulty doing so. Instead, the spirit tore the flesh from the inside, digging into the guard. The work was slow, and his hands were already bloody messes from wielding the thorn, but the spirit continued. The guard wasn't going to let them kill it so easily, and being inside of it would make it much harder for the guard to reach him.