It's my way, or... well, who am I kidding? It's my way.

Lots of people are clowded about this just because McCree is listed between the "good guys". Good guy or not, he has done bad things, and he shouldn't be seen under a distorted glass as an immaculate bean while Ashe is described as more or less a bitch.

So he tipped the Deadlock Gang in order to get Echo. He used the gang to get to Echo. He took into account the clear emotional vulnerability Ashe has about him. Aside from that, he literally used Ashe there.

So why is Ashe so angry about it? Doesn't take much to realize she knew his charade the moment he mentioned the crate, and that's why she was not willing to budge.

Whether you ship McCree with her or not, discrediting her anger is a very biased point of view, and uwufying McCree just because he worked with the good guys is not the best course of action.

Okay, that caused a laugh out of Ashe. Remembering all the childish jokes she made out of Jesse not being able to take a proper seat for all that time was probably a bit overkill, but the jester was worth it.

Now she was standing, of course, hands over her hips and shaking her head. It did come with a bite to it, so it was expected.

Again catering to the rich girl argument. Not that she was able to do anything about it.

That was a nice one, although of all things she didn’t quite imagine the fantasy would involve Lead Rose, and let alone a pool.

She would have expected the chaise lounge, or perhaps the barn, but the pool was a new one. She guessed that’s what she got for even asking, though it wasn’t the strangest question she’s ever done to him by far-

Now wait a damn second.

Shit me and my friends say / Accepting

"Do I look like I remember it, McCree?"

Snarky response, with a little metal to it. But she did in fact remember that one night, back when the gang was just beginning to flourish and the hideout was just recently claimed, in which he might have had too much booze, or maybe he just didn't see the evident crack below him as he laid on the trunk and sunk on it like if the thing was intangible.

                You keep spouting off about what happens 

                                to people who cross you, 

                   when you should have been worrying more 

                  about what happens when you cross me.

JK I do not own white Vans. Anyways, hi y’all.

Just a quick rambling about this blog, and how (I hope) I will managing it from now on. I feel a little vulnerable opening up like this, but I don’t have any excuse. If you don’t like to read a lot, just skip what’s below the little dashes. the rest is just me rambling.

mobstxr​:

Starter for @dustysixshooter

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She was too confident on her own hand. So confident, that when she looked at what Jesse laid on the table she just laughed, red eyes coming to her own hand to drop her own sets.

But then she actually looked at her own cards for once.

“Wait, what-”

...Oh for fuck’s sake.

Her face dropped so hard, if it could have made a sound it would have. “Fine.” Eyes rolled as she quickly shifted into a grunt, putting the cards on the table. The bastard had actually won those crates. Good thing was that there were more where those came from, but Ashe’s pride was a fragile thing.

-------------------------------------

It’s been on Ashe’s mind for the longest time, even after the humiliation she had to endure after that crate being taken away from her by Jesse McCree, along with a few of her gang members being put out of commission, to just know what was it even for.

She did remember it clearly, and her eyes took every detail on it, but disassembled as it was, she did not picture the actual function of its content.

Now, after her eyes witnessing the actual deployed shape of that crate’s interior, the gang leader’s curiosity only grew bigger, and she managed to track them down to where they could reach to them.

“Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’ of what you would’ve worth on the black market. But now I doubt they’ll ever snatch ya.” The curiosity never actually faded, only making the gang leader be more drawn to what this seemingly unique omnic model’s purpose truly was, and why was it transported in such a awfully custodied hypertrain, of all things.

---------------

“Come on! We don’t have all night waiting for ya.” A snicker escaped Ashe, poker cards over the wooden table. The night has been going smoothly, and they were taking a break after a rather easy train bust, but one that actually paid of quite nicely. 

Cocky as she was, Ashe was just throwing cards, and the game has turned into a drinking game so fast she could not notice. At this point, she was starting to care less and less about the cards she’s got and more to what they were betting, the tilt of chips and glasses coming down from the lively surroundings of the hideout.