Batter up, amigo!

Indie RP blog for Team Fortress 2 1850s RED Scout | Multiship and multiverse | OC friendly | SFW (except gore and violence) | Semi-selective | Written by Woody.

[coffeeandtin]

[starments]

[original-gunslinger-blog]

“Nice try, jackass, but it’s 1972, and I’m the RED scout here.” Eyes look to the pocket, teeth nipping at the inside of her lip. Dare she reach in? Dare she to potentially wind up killing herself in a moment of angry naivety? Whatever he spat at her didn’t sound pleasant, and she could tell the difference between threat and compliment through language barriers. Maw opened as if ready to sink canines into flesh; to give herself to cannibalism if only just to devour this one man. But just as quickly, they shut again. There was no other doubt that he was crazy after his claims of being a scout from the 1800’s. He did mention an engineer however. Surely if there was someone else who could figure out what his problem was, it would be the more levelheaded of the team.

“Only attacked ya ‘cause you’re tresspassin’ and somehow managed to get this far without anyone catchin’ ya,” She hissed before easing up on him enough to allow some movement. “Look,” She started, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment before forcing a tight grip around his upper arm. “You said you tried somethin’ right? Probably somethin’ technological? How 'bout this?; I know everyone here – includin’ myself - could kill ya in a heartbeat if we wanted, so I’m not worried 'bout you runnin’ off, but if you just come with me, I can take ya to my team’s engineer. Maybe she can figure out what happened, but I swear to God, if you try anythin’, you’re gonna bedead where you stand. Got it?”

1972, year ri - wait what? Joaquin’s insolent grin instantly disappeared, only to be replaced by a look of utter bafflement on the Original Scout’s face. 1972? It couldn’t possibly be, even the wildest folkstales never mentioned anything as crazy as moving forward in time. Only one explanation: it was a trick of hers. But then again, what was the alternative? He had never seen that girl before, her clothes were entirely foreign to him despite recognising a strong American accent - and even though he was a man of many flaws, the Scout prided himself in being quite perceptive when it came to detecting lie from truth. Almost a requirement if one wanted to survive in the West - the young woman’s voice suddenly snapped him out of his very confused thoughts and back to his present, and rather problematic, situation.

For the first time since the start of their ‘discussion’, the Mexican didn’t immediately bite back. Instead, dark irises fixed themselves on her, attempting to decipher the truth behind the freckles, the dimples, and that scowl she was giving him. The threat made him tick and his jaw clenched once more - but miraculously, he swallowed back the comment he would otherwise have spat. “Got it, mija.” He reluctantly accepted her deal (what choice did he have?), free hand massaging his mistreated throat and grimacing at the sudden grip on his arm. “Easy now, I’m already bleeding all over the floor.” But before he could protest any further, he was already being dragged down the corridor. Soon enough, the former vaquero realised the corridor wasn’t exactly like the one back in his base. The layout seemed different - there used to be a door to the stables right here, why wasn’t it there? Something dropped in Joaquin’s stomach as a cold, rather terrifying hypothesis slowly crawled its way into his mind. 1972. It couldn’t be. “You said 1972?” He asked, unable to hide the look of growing dread on his face. “But that’s not possible. Why would this base still exist in 1972? The Mann Brothers should have been dead for years! And did they - did they just replace us? And how would I - how would I even be able to get here! People don’t move in time!”

[textsfromrosecreek]

[original-gunslinger-blog]

@lohoredscout​ Original Scout in our thread, basically.

[oceluna]

[conspiracieys-archive]

[original-gunslinger-blog]

@lohoredscout​ “You really ought to learn how to control your God-forsaken teeth, mija.”

[original-gunslinger-blog]

"Uh, Joaquin...?" Nervously, Tobias stepped towards the RED Scout, his own BLU uniform seemingly glaringly obvious now he we standing right beside the opposite team's base. It was a ceasefire for Christmas, and Tobias was more than happy to visit the only friend he had made on the other side. "Happy Christmas, mein Freund! It isn't much - I just made a small thing from some spare parts lying about - but I hope you like it nonetheless!" [@originally-eccentric]

@originally-eccentric

“A present me for? Aren’t you scared your BLU friends will be mad at you if they found out you’re giving something to a filthy RED?” Joaquin pointed out with a smirk, but accepting the offer nevertheless. Cocky grin quickly turned into a proper and rare heartfelt smile as dark warm eyes examined the small metal horse. “You made this?” A chuckle, as calloused fingers rose to scratch his stubble. “I thought you were only interested in lightnings and thunders. Good to know there’s something else you’re good at, guero.” He shot back, tone teasing and looking up at Tobias, irises glimmering with a touch of sincere gratitude. “Gracias, my friend.”

[original-gunslinger-blog]

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about this time?” Harsh words were muffled as forearm was dragged across mouth; trying to be rid of the metallic taste of his blood on her lips. “I didn’t donothin’ ‘sides protect myself and my base-! And at least I ain’t some posin’, creepy ass, cowboy-lookin’ bastard that’s callin’ themselves me.” Whether it be anger or disgust at the man who dare to trespass, and dare to make her nervous in her own stomping grounds, the two seemed to blend together as she grabbed him by the collar; shoving him further onto the wall.

Get rid of them? The thought made her brows furrow together in thought. What the hell could he mean by that? No, it couldn’t be anything. He was just some crazy person who heard about the mercenaries, and got lucky finding their base. He had to be crazy. There was no lingering stench of alcohol on his breath. His eyes weren’t bloodshot. There seemed to be nothing that could have impaired his thoughts or actions. No, this all had to be deliberate.

“The only Spy and Soldier here are the ones on my team, wiseguy,” She started, voice dropping to a low, throaty growl as her grip on his collar tightened. “And how the hell would you know who I work for, and why the fuck are you tryin’ to take my name?-” Body shifted closer to his in attempt to pin him to the wall. “-start talkin’.”

In other circumstances, he would have laughed at the streak of compliments she just paid him - but given the fact that his life was probably on the line and his arm and abdomen still hurt, he abstained. Blood dripping from his tanned forearm made a curious regular sound his mind somehow hooked onto; stubbled jaw clenching as she spoke this nonsense again. Trying to take her name? What the hell was she on about now? 

This wasn’t leading anywhere. And honestly, Joaquin was growing tired of it. He glared at the young woman, weighing his options. “Chinga usted, mija.” He growled, not bothering for a translation that would surely earn him a punch in the face anyway. She wanted him to talk? Fine. At this point, what did he have to lose anyway. “Ha, as if I needed to take your name, it’s already mine! I’ve been the RED Scout since 1831, got hired as a replacement for their former Scout who switched over to BLU.” A furious smirk crawled across his face. “You can ask your so-called Spy to check my file if you don’t believe me. I don’t care.” His head motioned toward the pocket of his vest. “I snuck something out of Barnabus Hale’s office. Even our Engineer didn’t know what it was, so, I tried it. Next second, I was here, and you jumped at my throat, claws out like a mad stray cat.” 

His hand slowly pointed at the pocket in which the small (time-travelling, though he didn’t know it yet) device was resting. “Just take it out and see for yourself.”

[silvertons]

I’m Mexican, cabrón. No such thing as a Texican.

[uncannygears-archived]

“Hello loves, quick message from our Mun Woody here, who says she’s terribly sorry for the delay in our replies, the Internet has been awfully shonky when we were down in the South and the lass has been busy visiting friends since she came back two days ago. Luckily tomorrow the New Year celebrations will be over and she’ll be able to retreat back under her blankets to write, so bear with us and thank you for your patience!”

“Mun also slept five hours between 8am and 1pm today after pulling an all-nighter, hopefully that’ll teach her a lesson about accepting two New Year’s Eve parties in a row. Not sure her brain will be entirely functional by tomorrow.”

“I’ll help her out if she has trouble focusing. There’s nothing a little pain can’t stimulate.”

“This is going to be a disaster. Our apologies in advance if she accidentally butchers any thread she has going on.”

“Oh this should be good. Bring out the tequila compadre, I am not missing the show.”

“Wot am I even doin’ here.”

[rapidrecovery-a]

original-gunslinger:

The girl was slowly, but surely starting to get on his nerves - first off, how dare she be as stubborn as he was, and second, it was the first time he encountered such resistance from a young woman instead of, say, a bounty hunter or a particularly resourceful train robber. The Scout was enjoying it and hating it all at once, and quite frankly, he had never been one to dwell too much over his own conflicted feelings. 

Grin blossomed on his lips again as she tugged on his arm and properly threatened him. Damn, the girl could bite back. “Tt-tt-tt, cálmate  cariño.” He hissed without bothering to translate, taking one second to enjoy the feeling of having the upper hand back. “That is not very nice, not answering my questions when I was polite enough to introduce myself. What are you, an angry kitten in a skirt? And what is this outfit anyway? Is that what Barnabus Hale and old Redmond make their secretaries wear?” He continued, arrogance exuding in his voice - but confusion more and more visible in his eyes. It was becoming more obvious by the second that wherever he was, it was not his base. And that he had no idea how to go back. The perspective made him tighten his grip on the young woman. “Alright, say I believe you and this isn’t my base. Doesn’t tell me who you are and where the hell this is supposed to be, if not the RED base in Teufort.”

An involuntary wince ran through her as his grip had tightened, but she remained silent for the moment. Blue gaze wandered down to the fabric of her skirt but, sun speckled cheeks did not redden. It was just simply the cleanest thing she could wear at the moment, and it wasn’t like she was in an actual fight with bullets flying over head. However, before moving her gaze back to meet his, a slight opening had been noticed. It was a dirty move, but hey; at least it was ‘non-lethal’, and besides, she was a casual opportunist in fights. It made no qualm with her morals.

She looked back up at him with narrowed eyes meeting his own; lips pressed into a thin line as she dug nails into the arm holding her against the wall. God, she already hated him. Him and his smug goddamn grin. The nails dug deeper into flesh - getting a better grip - before she yanked his arm to meet her lips; teeth meeting flesh as she sunk her teeth into him. The taste of blood lingered in her mouth, but goddamn did it feel great to feel a sense of control back over this. Even if it was just from biting the man who tasted almost exactly how he smelled. She refused to let go until she brought her leg sharply upwards between his own (aiming for the only weak spot presented); only releasing his arm from her jaw with the movement. Blood lingered on the corner of her mouth, but she made no move to wipe it away.

“I don’t have to tell you nothin’,” Came her growl again, placing hands on his chest in effort to push him off of her.

[original-gunslinger-blog]

A furious and surprised yelp escaped him when the girl’s teeth brutally dug into his arm, sharp pain immediately making him release his grip - a fatal mistake, but he only realised it when it was already too late. Joaquin tried to shake her off but she was stubborn as a bulldog, and more treacherous than the enemy Spy. Before he could see it coming, another sharp pain much more acute and humiliating suddenly came from his lower abdomen, forcing a painful grunt and a streak of Spanish curses and insults out of his mouth. He didn’t even have time to register his body instinctively bending - she had already shoved him away, and his back collided with the opposite wall. 

Hazardously finding his balance against the wall, numb pain still radiating from between his legs, he sucked up a breath of air before glaring daggers at the wildling who was proving much more resistant than he had thought. 

“Estás loca, mija.” Joaquin mumbled in a low growl. “Coming out of nowhere, attacking me for no reason? Did you deal like this with my partners as well? Knocked out Spy and Soldier and the others? Lured them in here, locked them up somewhere in this place, maybe?” He angrily spat out, standing up a little more straight, ignoring the blood slowly dripping from his tanned forearm. “I take it back, you cannot be working for Mann or Hale. They would not plot something that elaborate if they wanted to get rid of us.”

[original-gunslinger-blog]

[horrificmemes]

Send me “Bad Touch” for some randomly generated violence.

Or send “Bad Touch reverse” for our muses to switch roles.

1) Slapping your muse across the face 2) Punching your muse in the face 3) Punching your muse in the shoulder/arm 4) Kicking your muse off of their feet 5) Stepping on your muse’s foot 6) Biting your muse 7) Grabbing your muse’s face 8) Wrapping hands around your muse’s neck 9) Pushing your muse into a wall 10) Pushing your muse to the ground 11) Holding a gun to your muse’s head 12) Shooting your muse in the arm/leg 13) Holding a knife to your muse’s throat 14) Using a knife to slash your muse across the arm 15) Hitting your muse in the head with a blunt object 16) Scratching your muse with their nails 17) Throwing something at your muse 18) Stabbing your muse with a sharp weapon 19) Breaking one of your muse’s bones 20) Twisting your muse’s arm

[original-gunslinger-blog]

❄ [Younger Helen, because why not.]

@virulent-virago

The Scout barely heard the swishing sound before the snowball collided with the back of his head, drawing a distraught yelp out of him. The cold mass quickly melted into a freezing powdery and watery mesh in his neck, and he quickly raised a hand to try and wipe it off, hurriedly turning around to glare at the culprit… Only to freeze in astonishment and for his eyebrows to shoot through the roof when he realised the identity of the person responsible for getting snow down his shirt.

“Administrator?” Joaquin asked, an incredulous smirk already forming on his lips. “With all due respect, I don’t think I deserved this!” He said, re-adjusting his hat, sparkling dark eyes betraying his irrepressible desire to strike back. “And I assume I will get fired if I try to get revenge?”

[original-gunslinger-blog]

Closed RP with ask-la-bala

[original-gunslinger-blog]

A laugh bubbled in the Scout’s throat - television was stupid, and it didn’t seem to get any better. He could see Bullet’s point and nodded in agreement, dark eyes smiling as he received his own glass of tequila with a muttered ‘gracias’. He did not wait before taking a sip from his drink, letting the strong alcohol burn his palate and oesophagus in a familiar sensation.

“I can’t say I did.” Joaquin chuckled. “I don’t even know how to play baseball, so imagine my face when they gave me that stupid bat! But it is fun to run aroudn and smash people in the head with it.” He conceded. Well, it was fun, as long as they didn’t die permanently from it.

“I got into some trouble before I landed here. I think the Administrator or Miss Pauling heard of my little… illegal accomplishments, and decided to give me a job.” He shrugged. “It was either that or jail. The choice was not too difficult to make - and it pays well, and we don’t die! What more could a man ask for, eh?” He concluded with a confident grin, one elbow resting on the counter while the hand holding the glass motioned towards her in a toast-like gesture.

[senorita-armero-blog]

Bullet reciprocated the toast with an intrigued face. Although she shouldn’t really be that amazed- her story of joining the team was similar enough. It just caught her off guard for a moment. She was almost impressed. “That I can toast to.” She chuckled as she downed the rest of her drink with a huff. This was good aged Tequila, strong and numbing, just how she liked it. “Illegal accomplishments jou say? Care to explain a little?” She asked him with a raised eyebrow and friendly smile, placing her glass down and pouring some more alcohol into it. She wondered if his past was as bad as hers, or worse.

[original-gunslinger-blog]

One thing was for sure, the girl knew how to hold her drink - a quality he could appreciate in any human being. With an amused smirk, he followed her example and downed this tequila in one swift gesture, shameful experience showing in his relative absence of reaction to the alcohol going through his system. His free hand came to scratch his stubble, and he tilted his head, returning Bullet’s friendly smile.

“Ah, nothing I should be very proud of, but you know. A man does what he’s gotta do to live.” He grabbed the bottle and poured himself another drink, before gesturing to his colleague, seemingly asking if she also wanted another round. “Burglaries and bank robberies, mainly. Being fast is pretty handy in these situations. And, well... If you’re from Mexico, like me, you know we’re famous for our drug cartels. When you’re looking to make money, if you can run, shoot a gun, and beat some skulls without being too picky about it, it’s easy to find a job.” Joaquin admitted, eyes a little less cheerful as he recalled a few inglorious gigs he had taken for his cartel bosses. 

“But these are not very fun stories. Let’s say it was a good training for this job - and I do not want you to think of me as some sort of petty hooligan.” He added, tone joking again.

[oceluna]