jess is going to hell for this

anonymous asked:

Jesse after being reckless and dragging Angela through the mission equivalent of hell: "Hey, we lived and it's all thanks t'my angel! Um, yer armor is a little singed, darlin'." Angela as her eye twitches: "Jesse, Süsser? I am not a violent person but, I swear you are going to turn me into one!" Mission with Jesse McCree, free ride on the misadventure train! Choo! Choo!

Hi my name is Jesse McCree and I have a gun called Peacekeeper (that’s how I got my name) and a cool hat and a serape and brown eyes that look like the dirt and a lot of people tell me I look like Clint Eastwood (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!) I’m not related to Gabriel Reyes but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a cowboy but I’m like a cool cowboy. I have tan skin. I’m also a member of Overwatch and I go to a secret base called Gibraltar which is in Spain where I’m a veteran (I’m thirty-seven). I’m a cowboy (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly western. I love Country Outfitter and I buy all my clothes there. For example today I was wearing my red serape with my hat on my head and my super cool belt buckle. I was smoking outside of Gibraltar. The sun was setting, which I was very happy about. A weird japanese man on a cliff stared at me. I shot a bullet at him.

mccree being like a cat and bring reyes all sorts of weird shit as ‘presents’ and reyes is like ?? why??? 

“hey boss look it says 420” “IS THAT A LICENSE PLATE” 

“yo boss, check this out” “WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET A TRAFFIC LIGHT”

hell also grab expensive pens from the important people they go to meetings with or like expensive shit from hotels, watches and rings and reyes just has no idea what the hell to do with this petty criminal he’s somehow tamed

reyes usually silently puts them back or pawns them except the really nice solid gold plated lighter he still uses to this day. 

Idk what possessed me but here I made part 2. (13 panels)

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Headcanon #124

McCree, Genji, and Hanzo were lounging around in the living room while looking at all the other members of Overwatch and discussing which of them were waifu or husbando. When Genji asked McCree if Reinhardt was waifu or husbando. McCree was conflicted as to which of these perfectly fit the huge muscled man.

McCree: “Ya know, I kinda feel like that ol’ Rein does fit the bill for both waifu and husbando but I don’t think either of those words do the man justice.”

Hanzo: “Then tell us, what word would you use?”

McCree: “…Well… I kinda don’t wanna say it, especially as an honest answer. Cause I want my parents to still love me and I wanna go to heaven.”

Genji: “Ok first off, you don’t have any parents. Second, pretty sure you’re still going to hell for all that Deadlock shit you pulled. And don’t worry Jesse, we won’t judge you.”

Hanzo: “…outloud.”

McCree: “Fine, fine. I would describe him as…………. daddy.”

Hanzo: “…………..Oh dear god.”

Genji: “Yeah, sounds about right.”

Hanzo turns to look at his brother with a face that shouts ‘You bring dishonor to us all.’

Hanzo: “I’m starting to not regret killing you.”

Genji: “You can’t kinkshame me brother.”

Will there ever come a day where I don’t draw Jesse accommodating for their height difference? Yes, just not today. That and Hanzo isn’t exactly flat on his feet here either :P

Anyway, posting a wip for tonight because I wanna line and color this proper tomorrow. 

You don’t remember how exactly it happened, just that there was one hell of an explosion that was way too close to you. You can still see it behind your eye, a hazy dream at every blink; one second you were fighting along the payload, the next you were hundreds of feet away, too shocked to move, too disoriented to understand what was going on. That was, until you looked down to see the gnarled mess that was your leg. The pain flooded into you rapidly, ripping through you, tearing you apart from the inside-out. The deafening screams around you didn’t help in the slightest, until you realized they were actually your screams. You blacked out.

You wake up, relieved that it was all just a nightmare; you didn’t lose your leg, you can still dance just as well as the day before, in fact you were thinking of getting up right away to do some dancing, get this nightmare out of your head. You open your eyes, or at least try to because for some reason they were particularly hard to open today. You tried to move just an inch and the soreness of your whole body hit you; no big deal, you get sore all the time as a dancer, some days were more achy than others and today happened to be one of them, nothing to worry about. Although…what was that noise? The consistent digital beeping you normally didn’t wake up to unless… Your eyes flew open and you tried to sit up, throwing your blanket off of your legs.

So it wasn’t a nightmare after all…

Your first thought was well….damn. But then it hit you, how the hell were you going to dance now? Would you ever be a good dancer again? What are you going to do now? You started to sob at the fact that your life was tearing apart at the seams, dancing is your passion and now it’s gone, or at least it’ll never be the same for you again. The hopelessness draining you, your wailing filling the room to the brim, you got so lost in it all you didn’t know what to do with yourself anymore, you almost forgot who you even were, until you felt a hand at your shoulder and you looked up to see him, or at least see what you could of him behind the blur of your tears.


He’d dry up your tears with peppered kisses to your cheek, reminding you that you are still you; a dancer. No matter what happens to your legs you will always be a dancer and you will be able to dance again. He’ll sit by you every day while you recover, playing some of his latest jams to his most relaxing songs, helping you heal faster and alleviate your pain both mentally and physically. He’d research day and night for you, presenting you with what he had found on prosthetics for dancing, and even showing you other dancers in the world who went through the same thing as you, showing you that you’re not alone and that there is always hope.


He’d run his hands through your hair and kiss your forehead, holding your hand and guiding you through your thoughts. He’d tell you to take deep breaths and work one thing at a time, listening to you as you slowly spilled your fears and worries. With every fear you had, he’d counter it with a kiss to your hand and remind you; you are strong and brave, you will be able to get through this, you will dance again in no time, all is not lost. His unwavering patience and understanding bringing you hope and inspiration and he’d be by your side at every step of the way through recovery, always there to listen and provide words of encouragement. He’d praise you on doing so well each day, and help you relax when things got a bit too tough for you. Always guiding you through your emotions so you were never lost.

Soldier: 76

He’d rub your back softly, allowing you to let your tears out until you were too tired to cry anymore. He’d do everything in his power to get you the best prosthetic replacement and work tirelessly to get you on your feet again; always there as a crutch and help you walk, pushing you further than you imagined and achieving so much more because of it. He was a beacon of light in this dark time in your life, supporting you in every way he could from helping you walk to sitting by your side as you rest, reading to you, talking with you, or even just relaxing in the peace and quiet, basking in each others presence.


He would outright climb onto the bed beside you and carefully place you in his lap as you clutched onto him, soaking his shirt with your tears. He’d hold you softly and rubbing your back, your arms, sifting his fingers through your hair, comforting you with soft touches and nuzzles. He’d whisper in your ear that everything was going to be ok, that you’ll be dancing once again just as gracefully as ever, that you have nothing to fear because everything will be alright just you see. He’d always be there cheering you on as you learned to walk again, whooping and hollering as you learned to dance again, encouraging you at every step of the way. He’d be your number one cheerleader through and through.

~Mod Phil

Alright alright, I’ve seen some people who are still, to this day, bagging on Jess. like, present day, 2016 Jess in the Gilmore Girls tag.
And let me explain to you a thing. Most of the people who are TeamJess, like myself, who I have come across. In no way excuse the shitty things he did as a teenager.
Most of us love Jess because he grew up, he matured and he has a hell of a lot of strength, and the bad things he did, he always regretted. Sometimes right away, sometimes after a little while.
Jess is loved not because he was a perfect boyfriend for Rory, their relationship was super fucking unhealthy. But so were her other relationships. So if you’re going to get all wound up about how awful a boyfriend Jess was to Rory you’ve gotta acknowledge how awful Dean and Logan were too.
Jess grew up and matured, and that’s why we love him, he was the sad broken character that needed some love and being loved made him better. also yeah, when we were teenagers we all loved the badboy thing

Please, Marvel, give us a scene with all the defenders in the trash together.
I’m just imagining how glorious this would be.

Matt: *slightly muffled* Jess. Jessica. *coughs* I don’t mean to be rude, but your elbow is digging into my spine.
Jessica: *gruff* Well since Luke’s ^#*>%> heavy leg is on mine, I think you can get the hell over it.
Matt: it is literally going to break if you keep this up. I can hear it creaking.
Jessica: *sarcastically* Oh of *course* you can.
Luke: Will you two shut up!?
Danny: *at the bottom of the pile* Ow.