Star Wars “fans” Are Truly The Worst Fandom To Exist. Yall Are Genuinely So Fuckin Whiny Jesus

Hello,my name is Yousef Hilles from Gaza. I followed my campaign and was verified by @el-shab-hussein I hope you can help you can help Campaign number(209)

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My name is Youssef Helles, 42 years old. In 2019, I left Gaza in search of a better… Omar yousef needs your support for A Father's Plea: H

Tech: How is the most beautiful person in the world doing?

Phee: I don’t know how are-

Crosshair: I’m fine, thanks for asking.

redraw meme to cope lmao

Raven: I'm cold. Hank: Here have my jacket. Charles: I'm cold. Erik: What? [taking off his coat] I told you to bring more layers but of course you didn't listen and now [piling scarves on to Charles] now look, I've got to make sure you don't FREEZE to death and [taking somebody else's hat] how long have you been cold? You should have said something sooner.

if I can’t have crosshair, my oc will

accidental first kiss with Rexy-boy!! god I love that man with my whole heart! (Ps, this request is from @snippy-tano, this is just my main blog)

Yayyy @snippy-tano -- Here ya go! <3

Rex x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.3k

Amidst the bustling corridors of the Republic starcruiser, you were going about your duties in the med bay, tending to injured soldiers as the Clone Wars raged on. The constant influx of casualties was a grim reminder of the galaxy's turmoil. As a medic, you had become accustomed to the chaos of the war, yet it was the healing and saving lives that gave you purpose and perseverance. 

One day as you worked diligently, a familiar authoritative voice disrupted the typical clamor as a few orderlies accompanied the new arrivals. Captain Rex, the steadfast leader of the 501st, had been brought in with a minor injury. The proximity of such an iconic figure in the Grand Army of the Republic gave the room an electric charge, and it wasn't just from the buzzing medical equipment. Your position as medic had allowed you a variety of encounters with the clones, and there was one who had always stood out to you. Not that you’d ever expect him to actually notice you, considering his position and yours, but the short conversations you’d enjoyed had always been laced with a surprising depth that drew you to him like a magnet.

"Captain Rex," you acknowledged him, your voice maintaining a professional tone while your heart raced. His handsome face was marred by a jagged cut from his eyebrow to his hairline, dark with dried blood. "What happened this time?"

Rex offered a half-grin, a mix of pain and amusement in his eyes as he answered, "I think a clanker was trying to kiss me." His tone was playful, but his words brought immediate *thoughts* to mind, and you pulled the flimsy curtain closed behind you as he sat on the exam table, muttering “I don’t blame it,” under your breath.

There wasn’t any way to stand in front of him that didn’t feel awkward; you didn’t want to put one of your legs between his, so you shuffled to the side to lean over his head, which was just below yours in his seated position. You swallowed as you tried to remain nonchalant, reaching a hand to his chin to gently tilt it upward for a proper assessment. Maker, his amber eyes reflected every light in the room, and you found yourself lost in them for a split second before jerking your gaze back to his head. You left your fingers on his jaw and placed the other hand on the side of his head, his blond hair bristling beneath your palm. 

"You're fortunate it wasn't more severe," you commented, seeking anything to discuss to take your mind off of his proximity… his quiet gentleness… his broad shoulders... You cleared your throat, “You could have lost an eye.” 

Rex's gaze was unwavering, filled with respect for your dedication and an unspoken admiration that ran deeper; it was something he had held for a while as he watched you go above and beyond in your care for the endless stream of injured troopers. He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the small space. "Yeah, I suppose I am. But if it gives me a little time to… ah… hang out here… then it’s not all that bad.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but blush slightly as you began to clean the wound with delicate hands. The war had left little room for such conversations, and this unexpected exchange felt like a breath of fresh air. Especially from him. 

“I mean,” he continued, “because you’re… you’re such a skilled medic. No one sprays that bacta quite like you…” He faded off at the end, cringing at his own words and causing you to wonder if he was so quick to correct himself because he would never want that sort of assumption… 

“Yes, that is pretty much all I do,” you said, intending it to be light and playful but realizing as it came out that it could be interpreted as indignation or sarcasm. Before you could clarify, he had already jumped in.

“No! No, I know you do more. You do… a lot! So much more… Ah, kriff,” he finally declared, and his earnest floundering made it impossible for you to hold back a giggle. How could someone be so fearless, commanding, strategic, and… awkward? 

“I was just teasing,” you offered, giving him a wink as you sprayed the all-purpose bacta. He closed his eyes at the cool sensation, and you released your gentle hold on his chin, allowing him to lower his head. You bent closer to ensure adequate coverage, resting a hand on the outside of his bicep. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about touching his arms before… gliding your hands across the scars and muscles as you lay in his embrace, listening to his smooth voice in your ear as he shared more of himself with you than he’d ever allowed to anyone else… 

You noticed suddenly that some of the silky liquid had gathered on the edge of his eyebrow, threatening to drip into his eye. Without thinking, you wiped it away with a brush of your thumb that lingered on the edge of his face for a moment longer than was medically necessary. At the same time, he was opening his eyes, and they widened at the sight of your face so close to his. You couldn’t pull your hand away, resting bent fingers against the side of his head and staring at him like an idiot. Gods, he was enrapturing – an inexplicable combination of competence and humility.

He lifted his face to yours, moving suddenly and deliberately as if you’d given him an order. His hands were tightly gripping the edge of the bed on either side of his legs; you could feel his knuckles pressing into the side of your thigh as his nose touched yours, lips slightly parted. As if in a dream, you closed your eyes and met his mouth with your own.

Fireworks exploded across every inch of your skin, and you dropped your hand to his shoulder, tilting your head to meet him more fully. You were frantically trying to memorize every detail of this moment, because you were positive that you would wake up soon and none of it would have really happened. His lips were so soft, yet pressed against yours with a firm resolve. The scent of his face and the sound of his breathing were intoxicating, and you felt as though you were drifting on a cloud. 

As quickly as it began, it was over, both of you pulling back with shock and awe painted across your faces. Your mouth remained slightly open as you stepped back on wobbly legs, and he lifted a hand to his own mouth in disbelief. 

“Is that… That wasn’t what you were… You weren’t going in for a kiss, were you?” he stuttered, muffled between his fingers as his face blossomed red. Your heart swelled in your chest at his reaction, and you couldn’t resist touching his cheek one last time with a shaky, adoring hand. 

“No,” you admitted shyly, “but that was… amazing.” Your voice was quiet and breathy as it carried your vulnerable admission, and his mortified expression began to melt into one of unsure curiosity. 

“I’m sorry, though…” he continued, “I didn’t mean–”

“Please,” you interrupted, “Don’t be sorry. You don’t need to say anything. Just… thank you.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand as you stood up straight again, and he rose to his feet beside you, eyes unable to leave the ground. He chuckled as a preface to his next words, “Head wounds, you know…” Your sudden laughter brought his gaze up to meet your own, and you couldn’t hide the affection and admiration on your face. 

“Head wounds,” you echoed with a smile. 

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That should be illegal to send pics like that to your friends who are working in the really cold climate.

Girlhood is laying in bed at 2:00am surrounded by squishmallows crying to Cherik edits on tiktok while being on day 2 of your period.

they both reached for the gun