4 types of star wars fans
  • Type 1: memes the shit out of prequels, probably thinks rey is overrated, worships darth vader or han solo
  • Type 2: worships kylo ren/ ben solo, overuses the word “redemption” , uses rey as a self-insert, watched tfa all wrong
  • Type 3: finn/poe/rose/jessika pava stan, gay and/or woke as fuck, hates hux with a passion, finnpoe or finnrey endgame
  • Type 4: weird mixture of 1 and 3 who actually analyzes the movie after, probably watches clone wars or rebels and probably stans obi-wan, leia, darth maul, or ahsoka tano

It’s stupid, like most of the things Nicky does.

They’re in the car, driving to the mall because buying groceries together is the new height of family-bonding and because Andrew will murder someone if he has to eat vegetable soup one more time, and Aaron took over the backseat. Shotgun wouldn’t be so bad if only Nicky would shut. the fuck. up. 

But alas, it’s Nicky, and Andrew may have only known him for three months but he’s already aware that the day his cousin will keep his mouth close is the day he’s on his deathbed. Something to think about, actually.

It’s stupid because they’re barely at the crossroad and the car that cut their way may have been going much too fast but still missed them of three feet. 

Nicky wasn’t even at the ‘stop’ line yet, but he caught the movement by the corner of his eye - nice to know he can pay attention to the road and blabber their ears off at the same time - and slammed on the brakes, stealing a loud curse from Aaron in the back.

Point is, Andrew saw the car. Andrew knew they weren’t going to get into an accident and he knew, because his cousin is an anxious mess, that Nicky would have made a big deal out of it.

Point is, Andrew did not foresee Nicky’s arm snapping his way. So now he stands still and ignores his cousin’s curses to stare at the limb across his chest, a vain attempt to keep him to the seat and out of the potential hypothetical collision that never happened.

“Fuck,” Nicky breaths one last time before turning once to him and then to Aaron behind them. “You guys okay? That asshole.”

Andrew would call him out, since his driving skills are terrible too, but he doesn’t. He glares at the arm still in front of him until Nicky realizes and pulls it back with an hastened apology. Aaron comments on the other car and the two of them get lost in insults as they start again toward the mall.

It’s stupid, because Nicky is stupid. Because it was clear that they weren’t going to get hit, and even if they got into a car accident for real it wouldn’t be Nicky’s arm that saved Andrew’s life, that’s a given. He would know, he’s already been in one after all.

But Nicky is stupid and this is stupid and Andrew is stupid for the weird thing making his pulse accelerate just a bit.

He scolds himself, because this is no reason to lower his guard, because this is no debt he owes to no one. Just because he would bet that none of his past foster families would have done the same - except Cass, Cass would have, she would -, it doesn’t mean Nicky gets special treatment. At all.

“Okay, here we are, stop brooding and get off the car or you won’t get a say in choosing ice-cream flavors. I’m joking, Andrew, don’t kill me!”

Andrew had yet to glare at him today, he’s glad he’s given a chance to do it.

He only gets off the car for the ice-cream, that’s it. He doesn’t care about his cousin, and he doesn’t care about his chats, and he doesn’t care about an arm around his chest that would do jack shit in an accident. It’s stupid, all of it is, Nicky is.

He changes his mind many, many months later, when some assholes put their hands on his cousin and honest to God believe they could get away with it.

That is really stupid.

in a language that doesn’t have the word ‘love’ I say

“I still have the receipt from the film we watched on

our first date” I say “I bought four red sweaters after

you told me it was your favorite color” I say “it’s been

exactly two hundred and twelve days since our last kiss”

I say “last week, in a hotel room, the complementary

pantene shampoo was the type that you use” I say “I walked

around smelling like you and nobody else cried over it”

I say “yes, I’m still crying over it” I say “the other day

somebody’s ringtone went off in class and it was the same

noise you set for your alarm and it took me a minute

to figure out where I knew it from” I say “I’m terrified

of someday not knowing where I knew it from” I say

“every poem I write nowadays is about the same thing”

I say “I’d almost give up writing altogether if it meant

we could try again” I say “please” I say “please” I say


another untitled poem where I’m exceptionally loud about how much I love people // WRITTEN BY CAITLIN CONLON

CuddleVerse Fic (1)

[[ @scaredysanders​, hope you don’t mind…this post was too cute, I had to. ]]

“Hold the fuck up.” 

Roman paused, startled, and turned from where he’d been about to ascend the staircase. He blinked, squinting into the darkness. “What?” 

The living room was dark, but he thought he could see a sad huddled lump on one end of the couch. 

He turned around and walked into the room, setting the glass of milk that had been the object of his midnight venture on the end table. He squinted, willing his eyes to adjust, then said: “Virgil?” 

A pair of eyes glittered in the darkness, as the anxious side looked up at him from the corner of the couch. 

“Did you say, ‘hold the fuck up’?” Roman asked. 

Virgil nodded. 

“What does that even–?”

“It’s me. I’m the fuck up. Please hold me?” 

Roman blinked, then chuckled. “Oh, dear. Did you read that on Tumblr?” 

“Yeah.” Virgil’s voice was soft and he smirked up at Roman in the darkness, but when he spoke again he sounded a little bit sad. “Figured it was worth a try.” 

Roman’s heart melted. “Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, moving to sit on the couch next to Virgil. “I suppose as far as requests for affection go, it isn’t the worst I’ve ever heard.” 

Virgil looked up at him and offered a half-smile, sliding into Roman’s arms when Roman opened them in invitation. He laid his head on Roman’s shoulder and sighed softly, closing his eyes. “What was the worst?” he murmured. “Dare I ask?” 

Roman chuckled again, resting his cheek against the crown of Virgil’s head and running his hand lightly over his back. “If I told you you had a great body, would you hold it against me?” 

Virgil groaned. “That one’s older than dirt,” he mumbled. “At least I’m being inventive.” 

“Hmm. Very well. Points for originality.” 

“Thanks. And…um. Roman?” 



Roman closed his eyes and smiled, kissing Virgil’s hair. “You’re welcome.”