RC-1262, Delta 62 by assignment, Scorch by choice. You need to get rid of something quick, well then you've got the right man for the job.

((Independent RP Blog, will write with anyone. Mun is 18+ and will not RP mature situations with underage bloggers. Please read the About page first and feel free to contact me with questions.))

oomshi:

please watch your fucking language

fixer1140:

rc-1262 replied to your photo:[This may or may not be attached to Scorch’s…

"….you’re just a giant pile of shebs vod. A whole pile. A. WHOLE. PILE."

Your nephew just wanted to welcome you home, ner vod.

"That… thing is. No. No. Vod really? That’s just.. is this because I dunno, didn’t pick on you enough as a trainee? Did I not pay enough attention? This is revenge isn’t it??”

The Return

armedandglamorous:

rc-1262:

He was… “tired. So damn tired.”

That was the only adequate word to apply to his current situation; trudging up the last of the stairs into his bedroom, pack dragging by fingertips as his boots scuffed the floor with every step. Sure, he could have gone exhausted -that would have worked too- but even thinking those extra syllables felt like a battle all its own. There’s a moment where long-engrained laws of tidy rooms and of orderly gear scream at him to take the extra time to shine and clean, but his grunt is as close to a “kriff off” as he’ll get. 

A slam from his bag hitting a wall, a hollow-esque thunk from his bucket dropping onto the dust covered nightstand and then a fleeting, flickering image of his sheets and pillows rushing towards him as he literally falls onto the bed.

It feels like paradise.

Loathe even to drag his body into a more human position, one not composed of sprawled limbs like some sort of oddity from the sea, Scorch’s last thought before the darkness creeping in at the corners of his vision is that he’s never been happier to see a bed.

A little bird had told her that a long missing friend of hers had returned the barracks. It was always a wonderful feeling knowing that he’d made it back, safe and sound and she’d gone running to see him as soon as she possibly could, which amounted too the next morning. Sunrise found her knocking on his door, with a cup of caf in each hand.

The knocking had turned into borderline-pounding before Scorch could peel himself off his mattress and drag himself down the hall. There was little thought to how he looked or what he was still covered in, only that whomever was on the other side of the door was going to die in a fashion Sev himself would approve of.

There’s a snarl on his lips as he opens the door that falls away into a fury of emotions all at once; joy, surprise, and oh-manda-she’s-got-caf.

"You… are a blessing. You. Oh, just get over here and let me love you."

hitrecord:

NYC skyline

The Return

He was… “tired. So damn tired.”

That was the only adequate word to apply to his current situation; trudging up the last of the stairs into his bedroom, pack dragging by fingertips as his boots scuffed the floor with every step. Sure, he could have gone exhausted -that would have worked too- but even thinking those extra syllables felt like a battle all its own. There’s a moment where long-engrained laws of tidy rooms and of orderly gear scream at him to take the extra time to shine and clean, but his grunt is as close to a “kriff off” as he’ll get. 

A slam from his bag hitting a wall, a hollow-esque thunk from his bucket dropping onto the dust covered nightstand and then a fleeting, flickering image of his sheets and pillows rushing towards him as he literally falls onto the bed.

It feels like paradise.

Loathe even to drag his body into a more human position, one not composed of sprawled limbs like some sort of oddity from the sea, Scorch’s last thought before the darkness creeping in at the corners of his vision is that he’s never been happier to see a bed.

null-arc-12:

Scorchy Scorch, ner vod, I came across something this morning that you might be interested in.

HINT: It’s edible. 

Hint TWO: Okay, so it’s cake. And it needs to be eaten before it goes stale.

HINT: I like edible.

Hint TWO: I’m on my way.

silentsxrcxsm started following you

"Can I help you? Or are you just following me to enjoy the view?"

bloodbeautiful:

▼ ((ANGST ME!!))

bloodbeautiful:

rc-1262:

15.

"Stop."

It wasn’t a snarl, not a growl, but his throat felt raw from everything that had happened the past three hours and his body felt like meat pounded thin. He slammed open a drawer, drawing out a heavy looking med kit -one he had to pause for breathe to lift because damn those Suns could hit hard- before flopping onto a chair and prying open the latches slowly, each bend of a swollen wrist making him clench his teeth.

Scorch could all but feel her hovering behind him, and he grunted, the best he could do as teeth were used to pry open a package full of bacta patches. He could barely get the wraps smoothed onto his arms before starting on whatever else was within reach, all with what felt like a dislocated shoulder -but he knew wasn’t- because asking for help wasn’t an option.

Not from her, not again.

Osik Mesh. Seriously. Just… stop worrying about me.”


She twitched a little as his fist drove into the table, the wall denting under the weight of his armor as he collapses against it. She listens to his words, part of her shrinking back away from him in his anger, but another, larger part of her, getting equally as angry. Clenching her fist, she gritted her teeth, a twitch of her cheek the only give away to how she was feeling.

She let him finish his protestations, letting him sink against the wall towards the floor, not moving to help him, her anger keeping her rooted to the spot. “You done? Yeah, I know that apologies don’t make things right, but I made a mistake Scorch.” Not Scor’ika. Scorch. “I’m not fucking perfect, I didn’t deliberately go out and think ‘oh, you know what, I’ll take this job because it might kill me and my partner. Contrary to popular belief, I do give things more thought than that.”

Sharp intake of breath as she unclenched her fists, pointing at him angrily. “When have you always had all the answers, eh? When have you ever thought out every possible angle that could, can and will happen? Mr Dive-In-Headfirst-And-Hope-For-The-Best? You think every problem can be solved by throwing something explosive at it, well, clearly it can’t, because that almost got us killed!”

Chest heaving with anger, she moves over to him, roughly putting an arm around him as she lifts him back up, not showing the exercsion it takes to lift him and his gear as she starts to drag him over to the bed, knowing that he’s going to take exception to this, but not really giving two osiks either way. “And don’t you worry, I won’t ever ask you for your help again. Consider this us parting ways professionally.” 

She gets him halfway to the bed before he wrestles away from her  -surprisingly strong- grip, all but pushing her onto the less then comfortable mattress. His body is shaking with tremors from what feels like head to toe as he all but bares his teeth at the women in front of him.

"Oh so what, these things are always my fault? Do you know why I throw myself into the crazy situations I do? Why I did what I did tonight? Because that’s what I was bred to kriffng do. Complete the mission, get in, get out, get osik done. Except before I had them, I had a squad with me to be there when I needed them and my six covered at all times. Oh, and intel?” He laughs harshly, coughing as he does as he limps towards her. “Intel was never this ‘go into a bar and find the ugliest chakaar and hope it works out for the best’ either.”

He’s gasping for breathe now, standing out of sheer will and dumb luck as he gestures at his half demolished kit in the corner, the familiar grey and yellow of years past. “I do what I do because I’ve already lost them okay? Lost them when osik hit the fan and I couldn’t do enough to bring them back. Couldn’t save Sev, couldn’t help Dar, couldn’t… I lost Delta. I lost my brothers, my vod. I’ve lost too much to let you think for a gorram second that I’m going to lose you too, do you understand?”

The adrenaline begins to wear off and he slips back, sliding down the wall, breathe coming short again as he covers his face with his still shaking hands. “I do it because you getting hurt means I could lose you too. So I always make sure you get out in one piece, always. Even if it means I don’t.”

bloodbeautiful:

▼ ((ANGST ME!!))

bloodbeautiful:

rc-1262:

15.

"Stop."

It wasn’t a snarl, not a growl, but his throat felt raw from everything that had happened the past three hours and his body felt like meat pounded thin. He slammed open a drawer, drawing out a heavy looking med kit -one he had to pause for breathe to lift because damn those Suns could hit hard- before flopping onto a chair and prying open the latches slowly, each bend of a swollen wrist making him clench his teeth.

Scorch could all but feel her hovering behind him, and he grunted, the best he could do as teeth were used to pry open a package full of bacta patches. He could barely get the wraps smoothed onto his arms before starting on whatever else was within reach, all with what felt like a dislocated shoulder -but he knew wasn’t- because asking for help wasn’t an option.

Not from her, not again.

Osik Mesh. Seriously. Just… stop worrying about me.”

Things had gone wrong from the start with this job and it had been all her fault. 

She drew her hand back at the snarl, putting her arm back at her side, the words dying on her lips as she watched him struggle with the med kit and the bacta patches, staying silently in the background despite wanting to go over and help him. Her intel had been flawed, then again, her intel was usually flawed, but not to this degree. There had been more than the usual statistical hiccup in their troop numbers, and by more, she was looking at 40 to 50% more people that they had to get through than had been on the dossier.

That wouldn’t have been a problem. Normally.

To save space and time, Mesh had insisted, against Scorch’s recommendations, to take just enough ordinance to get them in and out against the level of resistance she was expecting.

The job had failed and almost cost her one of the most important things in her life.

Still standing beside the door, not knowing whether to stay or whether to just go, she hedged her bets and spoke up, doing her best to keep her voice from breaking. 

"Scorch, look, I know I’ve said it a thousand times but I’m sorry…I should’ve listened to you. You were right and I messed up…”

It’s that little pause at the end of her apology that has him driving a fist into the table he’d been slumped against, He stumbles out of the worn chair, not even batting an eye as it hits the wall hard, just another dent in the already tattered hotel wall. “Sorry is great in theory Mesh, real great, but you’ll notice that practical application tends to fall short.”

Do you not get what happened? We almost died out there because your osik sources kriffed us over. They knew what we were walking into, they didn’t give a flying krif and hell; they were probably getting paid to do it.”

He laughs harshly, holding his side as he waves an arm at her angrily. “Where did you even find these chakaars? I mean, who the hell digs up the sketchiest dicks they can find and then oh hey, I’ll take their word on intel for not only the biggest job we’ve taken but the riskiest??”

He can barely breathe through the mix of pain and anger, his chest heaving as he turns shakily away to lean against the wall, and before he knows it Scorch is closing his eyes and sinking just a little more into the vertical surface. “Never again. Never again do you hear me?”

bloodbeautiful:

▼ ((ANGST ME!!))

15.

"Stop."

It wasn’t a snarl, not a growl, but his throat felt raw from everything that had happened the past three hours and his body felt like meat pounded thin. He slammed open a drawer, drawing out a heavy looking med kit -one he had to pause for breathe to lift because damn those Suns could hit hard- before flopping onto a chair and prying open the latches slowly, each bend of a swollen wrist making him clench his teeth.

Scorch could all but feel her hovering behind him, and he grunted, the best he could do as teeth were used to pry open a package full of bacta patches. He could barely get the wraps smoothed onto his arms before starting on whatever else was within reach, all with what felt like a dislocated shoulder -but he knew wasn’t- because asking for help wasn’t an option.

Not from her, not again.

Osik Mesh. Seriously. Just… stop worrying about me.”

roleplayaskmemes:

Send me and I will generate a number for what my muse will say to yours.

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Anonymous:

"He knows. But he's a demolitions expert. He likes playing with things that blow up in his face." [[ this tells me that if you somehow, ever, put Kell Tainer and Scorch in a room, things will begin blowing up quickly ]]

((Yes, yes and more yes. That pairing spells T-R-O-U-B-L-E.))

((…me gusta.))

bloodbeautiful:


[She uncurled herself and slid off of the ramp, slooowly moving over to him, doing a quick turn to show him the full damage. It was professionally done at least and her outfit seemed to match the hair quite well. She looked up at him, her expression one of sheer and utter despair.]

"Scor’ika? Honestly? How bad is it?"

[ He’s able to see just how upset she is, heck it can probably be seen from orbit it’s so overwhelming. Quick movement gets him out of the speeder he’s borrowed for the day and over to her side with a smile and arms open wide.]

"C’mere Mesh’ika, you silly thing. It’s great, super bright! It suits you, ya know? Very… loud. Bubbly." [He drops a kiss onto her worry-wrinkled forehead as he squeezes her into a tight hug with a smiling curving as he speaks.]

"Sa’good look for you Mesh’ika. Kandosii’la.”

[ATTENTION]

To whom it may conern; I will be sleeping till 1200 hours and I swear to Kal Skirata’s shiny dome if you wake me up one minute sooner I will feed you to Mird.

In pieces.

All my love,
Scorch

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pohroro