Scratch That

a closed roleplay blog for crocker institute

[shrimperialduplicate]

Take You On

Having a temper wasn’t a new thing to Meenah - she could go off on anyone at any time, simply because she felt like it - but someone getting her past her generally pissed threshold took time and dedication, and a little too much effort from the other party. And today, she was pissed. It could’ve been easily avoided too, if the other person could’ve pulled his head out of his ass for long enough to consider why openly accusing someone of being a clone scion would be completely inappropriate to do, let alone handing out fliers that people now kept shoving in her face and laughing about. It really wouldn’t’ve been a big deal, that is, if the fliers and the shit he was spouting wasn’t true. Because it was true, but if people ever took to as more than just a fucking joke, Meenah’s life could very easily be threatened.

Cognitive clones weren’t a common thing, and even if they were, they were still considered property and not actually human. When people saw clones, they hated them - she couldn’t really blame them, clones were disturbingly unnatural, like cybernetically augmented humans and robots - and usually demanded they be decommissioned. Well, that was the fancy word for a mass group of people saying “We hate that you exist and we want you dead to cure our unease instead of trying to understand that you’re free-thinking”. Which was a good reason to be scared when some nutjob fuckboy wannabe started spouting trash just to make a scene. A scene that was quickly gathering footing as a joke, yes, but what if it stopped being a joke? What then?

Keeping her hood up to cover her face while stalking across campus to her MMA club meeting, the Peixes clone tried to ignore all the emblazoned posters around the campus proclaiming very openly that she was a clone, forcing her head down to keep from drawing attention to her own bubbling anger while she walked on. That is, she would’ve kept to herself until some idiot jeered out meanly, “Hey, there’s the clone freak!” which quickly caused Meenah’s judgement to lapse, her anger flaring like someone poured ignitor fluid on her and tossed the match, every single stop in her brain getting pulled then snapping from the tension as she spun and promptly decked the shitty person right in the jaw, feeling their jaw dislocate under her solid fist and not giving a single fuck about it. Watching the stranger double over, the Peixes then gave them a hard kick to the ribs, eyes bubbling with angry tears as she yelled out, “I. Am. Not. Yoar. Fuckin’. Joke. You. Dead. Son. Of. A-” Before being cut off as someone grabbed her under her armpits and hauled her back from the very noticeably stomped in and bloodied student, Meenah not taking kindly to the vigilante stepping in her way as she lifted her arms and slipped out of their grip, stomping on their foot and head-butting them with the back of her skull before booking it into a headlong sprint towards the student she was previously kicking the shit out of, too mad to say anything besides, “Stay outta this, Fuckhole!”

[thatsyourcue-blog]

Speaking of cybernetically augmented humans, Scratch was also being affected by this debacle. Yes, people were laughing. Yes, this was being received as a joke, laughable, inconceivable at this moment that it could be true. For now. Scratch was remotely monitoring Meenah, the butt of this joke, and he could easily see that she was getting progressively more and more agitated, and the short tempered girl was about to erupt. When you witness one Peixes tantrum you witness them all, and no-one throws a fit quite like Meenah does. Things and people get broken, and the girl is hardly satisfied after just one. He had to move quickly. Moving perhaps a bit too fast for what would seem possible for his short stature, Scratch gathered a force of security guards, maybe six or more, and he himself would accompany them, for he was, after all, the steward and servant of Meenah's own family. The man deemed it proper to accompany one of his charges back to a safe place, though he would give her a stern talking too. With the party in tow, Scratch emotionally blanched. Here he saw Meenah, content to pound some poor, random sod into blood sausage, and resisting any attempt from witnesses to pull her away. He looked the scene over, deciding that he should have called for a drone instead. He gestured to the security force and sighed. "Surround her." He said, watching as the security made a phalanx around her, holding their riot shields up and moving her away by way of officers moving closer to her and the ones furthest away from the fight moving away from her. Their training was evident, and impressive. "Meenah, calm down." Called the smooth tones of Scratch. "It's time to let it go, and move on." He said, hoping to any celestial being that would listen that she'd not try to fight seven security guards. If she won, it would cast immediate suspicion on her.

[thatsyourcue-blog]

Y_ur Name here.

[apocalypticaries]

Aradia fought the urge to recoil in disgust as he clasped her hand in his own, shaking firmly. He appeared so close to human, yet enough was off about Scratch that he instilled a sense of mistrust in her. His hand was too heavy, his skin felt closer to silicone, and his body moved with a jerky, mechanical gait. Wrinkling her nose, she quickly pulled her hand away, wiping her palm against the fabric of her shorts. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” She replied, trying to keep up pleasantries. Normally, she wasn’t the type to mask her reactions, but given his unusual nature and air of unease, she thought it best to not aggravate the situation. Aradia tensed as he continued to speak, gesturing to his own body in reference to the scars marring her abdomen. Lightly resting her hand against her skin, the young woman narrowed her eyes at Scratch as he broached the topic that so many left undisturbed.  

“Well,” she paused, inhaling sharply, the words getting stuck in her throat. “…I had an accident, I was exploring and thing shifted and we…” She let out a shaky breath. “I fell and landed on a bunch of support beams, impaled in multiple places.” As she spoke, she indicated to the puncture wound scars spread across her skin. “Needless to say, things got fucked up.” Aradia shook her head, letting out an exasperated sigh.

[thatsyourcue-blog]

The history professor’s smile broke into a grin, showing teeth as white and as flawless as porcelain, though his teeth are made of a personal blend of acrylic resin that he favoured over porcelain. “Truly?” He said, setting a small box of tools to the side, and going to the AC unit. He sighed, having been sent by the Dean to fix the AC unit in this particular room. He went about his work, though if she thought he was going to drop the subject at that, she was dead wrong.  “I have seen you about campus, Dear. I’m the history professor here, though I will admit it’s merely a hobby of mine...” He began, setting down screws and bolts in a perfectly uniform distance and pattern from each other. Three centimeters of space between then, exactly. Screwdriver in hand, he had his back turned to the woman, looking at her as little as possible. This was a test, to see if she preferred him to not look at her. A bit of psycho-analyzation, to determine how best to offer her his services in a way that would be likable to her. “Perhaps I should introduce myself properly, though. I am Doctor Edward Thomas Ebenezer Scratch. I am, arguably, the systems leading scientist in prosthesis. This involves robotic limb replacements and synthetic organic implants.” He said, looking around for a container, as he removed the indoor coils from the AC unit. They had frozen over, and would need to defrost before he placed them back inside. He began to check a few things, as the problem could be narrowed down.  “Hmm..” He said, pondering to himself, keeping himself tuned to her reactions. He was paying attention to any changes in her voice patterns, glad he had taken the time to upgrade his own aural receptors. Being robotic has many advantages. 

[obstinatebaker-deactivated20200]

I was Here First!

Jane had been eyeing the torch since after moving to Skaia, and really, who wouldn’t want a brand new, high tech culinary torch? Jane’s old one had died before leaving Prospit, and her father had graciously let her borrow his while she was still at home. He’d kept it back on Prospit however, and Jane had been looking for one since. Culinary torches were incredibly helpful! Also probably illegal in the campus rooms, but Jane was much more careful than most of her classmates when it came to this kind of stuff. Ok, well, most of the time she was careful.  The perfect torch, a bright, fire engine red one, was calling her name from day one. Jane had to wait of course, until she’d saved up enough to buy it at the specialty shop, the only one near the campus that didn’t need an hour drive to the north of the city. Jane already had the canisters of propane back at home, ready to be used.  Jane was looking through the window of the shop, seeing the newer products being displayed, before stepping over to the door and wandering inside. She smiled at the cashier before making her way to the back of the store. She knew exactly where her prize lay, and soon, she’d be making toasted meringues for her tarts, creme brulee again. God, it was so exciting!  Calming herself down with a few deep breaths, Jane turned the corner to in store destination before stopping in her tracks. Someone was picking up the last of the torches. The bright red torch that she’d been saving up for since she’d started at the coffee shop. Oh hell no.  “Hey! Uhm, hello, excuse me.” Jane hurried over to the gentleman, hoping that maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with some asshole who’d probably try and buy it even after hearing that Jane had been saving up for it. The store didn’t have a policy where it would hold certain items, and their website said it was out online. This was the last one in store. She was not going to give it up. “I’m really sorry to bother you, sir, but I’m hoping that I can have that torch? You see, I’ve had my eye on it for a few months now, but I’ve had to save up and it seems as though that’s the last red one. I’d really appreciate it if I could just..oh, take it off your hands? There’s a nice black one there, or that white one, since it seems to be more your color…” 

[thatsyourcue-blog]

Doctor Edward Thomas Ebenezer Scratch could count the usage of the butane torch on all his fingers and toes, and that alone makes if very valuable to him. An accident in his lab had required the repair and replacement of several objects, the least of which is a CO2 tank, but the temperature monitor would come in handy, as well as the many smaller parts that help distribute and ignite the gas inside the tank. Scratch is, by no means, hard up for money. He saw this delectable piece of machinery as he walked past on the street, and found it to be a wonderful way to repair many of the damaged components in his lab, and replace some of the ones he had not the technical wherewithal to fix.  He was comparing the gas tank to the one he had brought from his lab, the thing had been gashed open, it’s highly valuable contents ruined by the sudden exposure to the air. He was in the process of unscrewing the butane tank from the rest of the device when the girl approached him, and he immediately frowned. She was taller than he was. Why was everyone taller than him? He put aside his pettiness and listened to the girl carefully, eyes quickly flicking to the other torches she pointed out. “Sadly, my dear, this specific torch meets my requirements. I need it you see.” He said, brandishing the ruined tank he brought with him. It was the exact size as the one the torch had. “The rest of the device is also useful to me.” He said simply, wondering if it’d be okay to merely try to muscle past the girl. 

[obstinatebaker-deactivated20200]

“My good sir,” Jane began, blue eyes narrowing behind her glasses, “there are other torches, just different colored.” There were black and green, even some white. Yet, the only red one was in his hand. They had already discontinued the red color, and Jane was not going to give in that easily.  “As you can tell, these had the exact same measurements and requirements. Plus, white really is your color.” Black was more his color, just to match his soul for ruining her day. “They’re all the same, as you can see once again, and I’ll be happy to switch it out, seeing as you won’t even be using it correctly in the first place. It is a culinary torch, you see, which is what I intend to use it for.” Jane was growing more and more stern, using her business voice. She had no idea who this fucker was, but he was going to grate on her nerves. A Crocker would not give up that easily, especially to some gentleman who wouldn’t even use the tool for what it was made for. 

[thatsyourcue-blog]

Scratch inhaled, making a show of drawing in breath. Briefly, he though about showing her exactly what she was dealing with, but such showing of his hand was distasteful, not to mention puts his very life at risk. Instead he, too, narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to one side as he regarded her. She was a willful person, something that he was used to. What threw him off initially was how polite she was being. However, if she thought he’d relent to her simply because of her whims, she was sorely mistaken.  “As you say, Madame, if the other torches are the same specifications as this one here, then you can purchase them instead and sand the paint off. I’m sure you can afford the time and money to paint some acrylic’s over the tank.” He said, aware of how rude the insinuation was but regretting not a single word of it. He folded his arms, willing the fiber optic in his false eyes to glow brighter, making his lime-green eyes to stand out more. It was a tactic in intimidation. Just bright enough for someone who was close to him to notice, but not enough to draw attention.   “Now, If you are done taking my valuable time?” He said, taking a step forward to move past the girl. 

[obstinatebaker-deactivated20200]

I was Here First!

Jane had been eyeing the torch since after moving to Skaia, and really, who wouldn’t want a brand new, high tech culinary torch? Jane’s old one had died before leaving Prospit, and her father had graciously let her borrow his while she was still at home. He’d kept it back on Prospit however, and Jane had been looking for one since. Culinary torches were incredibly helpful! Also probably illegal in the campus rooms, but Jane was much more careful than most of her classmates when it came to this kind of stuff. Ok, well, most of the time she was careful.  The perfect torch, a bright, fire engine red one, was calling her name from day one. Jane had to wait of course, until she’d saved up enough to buy it at the specialty shop, the only one near the campus that didn’t need an hour drive to the north of the city. Jane already had the canisters of propane back at home, ready to be used.  Jane was looking through the window of the shop, seeing the newer products being displayed, before stepping over to the door and wandering inside. She smiled at the cashier before making her way to the back of the store. She knew exactly where her prize lay, and soon, she’d be making toasted meringues for her tarts, creme brulee again. God, it was so exciting!  Calming herself down with a few deep breaths, Jane turned the corner to in store destination before stopping in her tracks. Someone was picking up the last of the torches. The bright red torch that she’d been saving up for since she’d started at the coffee shop. Oh hell no.  “Hey! Uhm, hello, excuse me.” Jane hurried over to the gentleman, hoping that maybe she wouldn’t have to deal with some asshole who’d probably try and buy it even after hearing that Jane had been saving up for it. The store didn’t have a policy where it would hold certain items, and their website said it was out online. This was the last one in store. She was not going to give it up. “I’m really sorry to bother you, sir, but I’m hoping that I can have that torch? You see, I’ve had my eye on it for a few months now, but I’ve had to save up and it seems as though that’s the last red one. I’d really appreciate it if I could just..oh, take it off your hands? There’s a nice black one there, or that white one, since it seems to be more your color…” 

[thatsyourcue-blog]

Doctor Edward Thomas Ebenezer Scratch could count the usage of the butane torch on all his fingers and toes, and that alone makes if very valuable to him. An accident in his lab had required the repair and replacement of several objects, the least of which is a CO2 tank, but the temperature monitor would come in handy, as well as the many smaller parts that help distribute and ignite the gas inside the tank. Scratch is, by no means, hard up for money. He saw this delectable piece of machinery as he walked past on the street, and found it to be a wonderful way to repair many of the damaged components in his lab, and replace some of the ones he had not the technical wherewithal to fix.  He was comparing the gas tank to the one he had brought from his lab, the thing had been gashed open, it’s highly valuable contents ruined by the sudden exposure to the air. He was in the process of unscrewing the butane tank from the rest of the device when the girl approached him, and he immediately frowned. She was taller than he was. Why was everyone taller than him? He put aside his pettiness and listened to the girl carefully, eyes quickly flicking to the other torches she pointed out. “Sadly, my dear, this specific torch meets my requirements. I need it you see.” He said, brandishing the ruined tank he brought with him. It was the exact size as the one the torch had. “The rest of the device is also useful to me.” He said simply, wondering if it’d be okay to merely try to muscle past the girl. 

[thatsyourcue-blog]

Y_ur Name here.

It was a common sight to see Doctor Edward Thomas Ebenezer Scratch moving about the campus grounds, carrying odds and ends. Seldom does he ever really bring anything into a dorm, but today was such a day. Caliborn, as insufferable as always, demanded that scratch go out and fetch little things here and there that didn’t take much effort but was quite time consuming. A pack of flour, Some more ammunition, his package from the mailing system. Scratch wasn’t a particularly busy man, But he did have his own studies to conduct.  With that being said, he was always on the look out for those who needed his help, through one way or another. He wandered throughout the campus to begin with, trying to find anyone who looked like they’d be amiable to his line of word. Sadly, with how he looked and moved, people gave him a wide berth looking upon him in revulsion. He allowed himself an inward smirk for this, deciding that their reaction was pleasing. When he finally got there to his Charge’s dormitory, he was met with the sight of a barely dressed woman, in short fitting shorts and a Sports bra. To any hot-blooded teenager who was interested in such things, This surely would have been an appealing sight. As it stands, there was only one thing Scratch was interested in. The scarring around her waist. With a daring smile, he began to go about setting down everything he was sent to retrieve before he smiled to her. “Evening.” He said, his warm and tired tones meeting with the air. “I see they’ve not fixed the air conditioning. I should purchase a window unit.” He offered. Small talk, to warm her up to the idea of conversation.

[apocalypticaries]

The summer heat felt utterly inescapable as Aradia lounged around the dorm. Normally the campus buildings provided cool relief, the air conditioning on full blast throughout the warmest months, but the temperatures had even been too hot for the cooling systems. The units overheated, sputtering out in the early afternoon and while an official message had gone out, assuring students that the issue was being handled with the highest priority, the air had still not come back on. Really, Aradia wasn’t sure how people handled the heat, the AC had been out for less than a day and already she felt like she was going to melt into a puddle. She had spent most of the day alternating between her own dorm and Eridan’s dorm, trying to determine which area was cooler. With each trip across the hallway, she had lost a layer of clothing, until she had lazily crossed back into her dorm in nothing but a pair of tight fitting dance shorts and a sports bra. The wild mess of curls were twisted into a high bun, short stands sticking to her face. 

Glancing up as the door swung open, she narrowed her eyes at the sight. Caliborn’s manservant had returned, a package shoved under one arm and a near translucent plastic bag filled with miscellaneous items in hand. She knew that in all actuality Scratch was more than just a servant to the arrogant, hot headed teen, but that didn’t stop her from referring to him as such mentally. Something about the rigidity of his gait, the oddly mechanical nature of his movements set her nerves on edge. “Hey,” Aradia replied before nodding her head in confirmation. “They have yet to fix the air conditioning. I am sure your ward will appreciate a window unit. Though be prepared for everyone to flock to the cool room, I know that even I would be willing to put up with Caliboner if it meant getting out of this heat.” She chortled over the nickname, rolling her shoulders back. Pausing, she took a deep breath, turning to face the older man. “I do not believe we have officially met, though I have heard a little about you from Eridan. I am Aradia.” She offered a hand, trying to be polite, no matter how much instincts told her not to touch him.

[thatsyourcue-blog]

He bowed regally, smiling, his pale face calm as always, as he took her hand in his and gave a firm shake. He was aware that he ought not to squeeze too hard, the robotics in his body could harm her quite easily, if he was not too careful. Letting her hand go, he began to set the items he had gathered aside, humming softly as he began to place everything he had gathered in his hands to the side, speaking as he worked. “My name is Edward Thomas Ebenezer Scratch, but most merely refer to me as Scratch. I’m sure I could be bothered to fix the air conditioning, if I had the tools and time, as well as a diagram of the specific unit.” He chuckled, mild chatter to keep himself from appearing too eager. “I couldn’t help but notice...” He said, waving his hands vaguely over his own lower stomach, to show he had noticed her own stomach.  “Forgive me if I seem rather forward, but would you mind terribly if you told me what happened?” He questioned, humming softly as he began to open the box he had grabbed, opening it and kneeling down, setting up the base and stand of a fan, meant to stem the heat of the day until there comes such a day that the air could be fixed.

[thatsyourcue-blog]

"You go too far."

Ah, morning. Truly it was the most wondrous time of the day. The warm rays of the sun peeking out past the cool grip of night. The birds singing, eagerly working through the dawn. Scratch allowed himself a placated smile, today was going to be a good day, thought he. A summons from the Dean-Executive herself came to him, a parent teacher conference. He checked the time, the letter in hand as he sipped on some coffee. It was set for nine in the morning, and it was six twenty-seven in the morning. He chuckled as he stood up, taking his coffee with him and gathering a few tools. He stepped out, briefcase in hand and began to walk, fluidly leaning down to scoop today's paper up. "Oh, the graduation ceremony was in utter chaos." He said, muttering to himself. It was to be expected, he thought. Having Eridan and Caliborn together in the same place would undoubtedly spell disaster. Tucking the paper under his arm, the same one that had the briefcase in hand, he made his way to the conference spot. He was early, he knew. But a truly prudent man always ensures he makes his appointments. While he waited, he began to do some adjustments to his arm. The faux skin, parted under blade, dangled limply from the metal frame. He sat there, waiting for his meeting partner to show up, adjusting the hydraulics on his arms until it was satisfactory. It never was.

[thatsyourcue-blog]

Y_ur Name here.

It was a common sight to see Doctor Edward Thomas Ebenezer Scratch moving about the campus grounds, carrying odds and ends. Seldom does he ever really bring anything into a dorm, but today was such a day. Caliborn, as insufferable as always, demanded that scratch go out and fetch little things here and there that didn’t take much effort but was quite time consuming. A pack of flour, Some more ammunition, his package from the mailing system. Scratch wasn’t a particularly busy man, But he did have his own studies to conduct.  With that being said, he was always on the look out for those who needed his help, through one way or another. He wandered throughout the campus to begin with, trying to find anyone who looked like they’d be amiable to his line of word. Sadly, with how he looked and moved, people gave him a wide berth looking upon him in revulsion. He allowed himself an inward smirk for this, deciding that their reaction was pleasing. When he finally got there to his Charge’s dormitory, he was met with the sight of a barely dressed woman, in short fitting shorts and a Sports bra. To any hot-blooded teenager who was interested in such things, This surely would have been an appealing sight. As it stands, there was only one thing Scratch was interested in. The scarring around her waist. With a daring smile, he began to go about setting down everything he was sent to retrieve before he smiled to her. “Evening.” He said, his warm and tired tones meeting with the air. “I see they’ve not fixed the air conditioning. I should purchase a window unit.” He offered. Small talk, to warm her up to the idea of conversation.