#the lines are from richard siken's dirty valentine

[xwhitenoise]

obsessed with how richard siken has recycled some lines from older works and given them new life later on.

like

"I float too much to wander, like you, in the real world. I envy it but that’s the dealio—you’re a train and I’m a trainstation and when I try to guess your trajectory I end up telling my own story." ("The Long and Short of It," 2002)

vs.

"All day the snow falls down, all night the snow. I try to guess your trajectory and end up telling my own story. We left footprints in the slush of ourselves, getting out of there." ("Landscape with Black Coats in Snow," 2015)

--

"Here is a place for it to happen. A place where I can love you. The letter delivered, the year decembered, the river swum." ("The Long and Short of It," 2002)

vs.

"I'll give you my heart to make a place for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger." ("Snow and Dirty Rain," 2005)

--

(more tucked away under the cut because boy oh boy!)

"He could build a city, has a certain capacity, makes a little bird and then they say it's not a bird and he says Okay, it's not a bird and he and the bird just laugh. I could be talking about anyone." ("Ornithopter," 2001)

vs.

"He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. There’s a niche in his chest where a heart would fit perfectly and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place — well then, game over." ("Road Music," 2005)

--

"History repeats itself. Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters, its bottle of gin. History is blue. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to describe a room he is outside of. History says So, we meet again. History says Let me tell you just a few things, maybe. I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours." ("Ornithopter," 2001)

vs.

"History repeats itself. Somebody says this. History throws its shadow over the beginning, over the desktop, over the sock drawer with its socks, its hidden letters. History is a little man in a brown suit trying to define a room he is outside of. I know history. There are many names in history but none of them are ours." ("Little Beast," 2005)

--

"Like Hansel, we'd like a map, some landmarks, a trail away from doom, more knots in the rope, a ratchet that catches and holds so we don't have to start from scratch each time we want to rise from the floor." ("Ornithopter," 2001)

vs.

"Drew and I are still Hansels lost in the woods, looking for maps, looking for a trail away from doom, but we did what we could for as long as we could." ("Six Point Goodbye," 2007)

vs.

"Together we trace out the trail away from doom. There isn’t hope, there is a trail. I follow you." ("War of the Foxes," 2015)

--

"There are so many things I'm not allowed to tell you. I touch myself, I dream." ("Dirty Valentine," 2005)

vs.

"There are so many things I’m not allowed to tell you. That’s another reason I’m a liar. And a poet. And very good at my job." ("The Ethics of the Taxonomy," 2006)

--

"Another friend says the local body is a fallacy. Yet another friend says Aw sweetie, you have your own body so you can do what you want without me." ("Love from a Distance," 2001)

vs.

"His insides and his outsides kept apart with an imaginary line— thick and rude and imaginary because there is no separation, fallacy of the local body, paint on paint. I have my body and you have yours. Believe it if you can. Negative space is silly." ("The Way the Light Reflects," 2005)

--

"Why make a map? Why do anything at all? Not how, because hows are easy, series or sequence, one foot after the other, but existentially why bother, what does it solve?" ("The Definitive Version," 2006)

vs.

"Why paint a bird? Why do anything at all? Not how, because hows are easy—series or sequence, one foot after the other—but existentially why bother, what does it solve?" ("The Language of Birds," 2015)

--

"Fact is, the world is full of things that are trying to kill you. We do not walk through a passive landscape and sometimes you need a map to find the food, the hiding places." ("The Definitive Version," 2006)

vs.

"Can we love nature for what it really is: predatory? We do not walk through a passive landscape. The paint dries eventually." ("Landscape with Fruit Rot and Millipede," 2015)

--

"If we wanted to tell you everything, we would leave more footprints in the snow or kiss you harder." ("You Are Jeff," 2006)

vs.

"So here’s the open window where we pranced around and did our tricks and left these footprints in the snow, performing in this puppet show." ("Close Parenthesis," 2007)

--

"There are two birds in your head, raven and crow, and only one of them is yours." ("Black Telephone," 2001)

vs.

"A man had two birds in his head—not in his throat, not in his chest—and the birds would sing all day never stopping. The man thought to himself, One of these birds is not my bird. The birds agreed." ("The Language of Birds," 2015)

#richard siken #if you were wondering no i don't have hobbies

[ro-sham-no]

an excerpt from "dirty valentine" - richard siken

Dean touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a lanky, not-so-little kid who had (has) his big brother's heart sequestered inside his own bony ribcage but didn't (doesn't) know it.

Sam touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a young man who occupied (occupies) the space behind his little brother's sternum but didn't (doesn't) know it.

A short story about a pair of twin side-wounds.

--

It's been a week since Sam left for Stanford. For so long, it had been Sam-and-Dean; entirely entangled, perfectly synchronized. But now they are a monumental, practically unfathomable distance away from each other for the first time in their lives.

But their synchronicity doesn't just disappear now that they're apart. They have grown up so entwined that they emit the same frequency - unrecognizable to anyone but each other.

They are pieces of fabric sewn together after being shorn from the same cloth. Their lives spent constantly being shredded apart and getting their own threads woven back into the other until their fabrics were indistinguishable. Nothing so banal as time and space would ever be able to disrupt their resonance. Of course, neither of them knows this.

Their combined frequency reaches out to itself, stretching between the coasts. Unconsciously, they listen to it.

Somewhere on the East Coast, it's 5:56 am, and Dean Winchester is in the shower. He smooths a hand down his skin. Sliding it down his ribs, catching on a jagged scar - his mind flashes to the matching one he knows resides on Sam's own skin. Connected, synchronized, even through individual, independently-gotten hurts.

Sam had gotten his own side wound two weeks prior - the idiot kept tearing his stitches, otherwise it would've been mostly pinked-over by the time Dean got his. Dean's hadn't even been that bad, not really. He likely could've gotten away with just taping it shut using some clever bandage work and being cautious for a little while, no stitches needed. But Sam had just started doing stitches on his own, and he'd offered to sew Dean up, eager to return Dean's favor of repeatedly re-stitching Sam's skin back together oh-so-carefully. Of course Dean couldn't say no to the offer.

And if Dean noticed immediately - even as he received the injury - that it would match Sam's? If he'd sat subtly hunched over to one side so that Sam's stitches would be just slightly too tight and would scrunch up when Dean straightened, misaligning the healing wound into a raised line? Well, Sam wasn't experienced enough to know the difference.

And if Dean was purposefully careless in the coming weeks with how far he stretched out his side, pulling and tugging on the too-tight stitches just enough to make sure it would scar up, jagged and pronounced, just like his little brother's was turning out to be? Connecting him and Sam, forever? Well, Sam didn't need to know that, either.

Somewhere in a dorm on-campus at Stanford University, on the West Coast, it's 8:56 am, and Sam Winchester is in the shower. He smooths a hand down his skin. Sliding it down his ribs, catching on a jagged scar - pronounced from repeated abuse where he had accidentally torn out Dean's careful stitches again and again, unused to his newly lanky body at the time. His mind flashes to the matching one he knows resides on Dean's own skin. The one that started out so relatively minor, but that somehow had stayed around for such a long time.

Dean didn't let Sam take out the stitches until far past the time they should've been removed. When he finally did concede, they were stuck in Dean's skin, crusted and grown over. Sam had insisted on getting a warm washcloth to press over the stitches to loosen the skin, or loosen the stitches, or loosen something, because Sam couldn't stand the sight of Dean's skin stretching and tearing so unnaturally around the thread as he pulled. Dean wouldn't hold the cloth there himself - said he didn't need it, he could just pull the stitches out by his own damn self - but they were Sam's first stitches that he'd done all by himself, he wanted to be the one to take them out.

So Dean had sat, ever gracious in the face of Sam learning something new to do with hunting, and Sam had held the cloth against his side for what seemed like hours. It was probably 5 minutes, at most, but Sam swore it was an eternity. Sitting there, warm, wet cloth under his fingers, which sat on top of Dean's now warm, wet skin, which stretched over his warm, wet ribs, which protected his warm, wet lungs, which- so on and so forth, during this eternity. When Sam finally pulled the cloth away, he swore Dean shivered. It was just from the sudden temperature difference, surely (except that the washcloth had long gone cold).

The stitches came out easier after that, but still tugged and pulled at the skin they held together for so long. Dean didn't so much as twitch, except when Sam would adjust his hand on Dean's side to pull a different section of skin taught as he worked.

And if Sam took what even he knew was too much time, not to spare his brother any pain but rather to keep running his hands over this extension of himself that would be a part of Dean, forever? Marking him as Sam's, forever? Well, Dean didn't need to know that. He would probably just assume Sam was being overly cautious since it was his first time.

And if Sam noticed the similarity between their two side wounds and couldn't stop thinking about it, dreaming about it, secretly writing about it on papers he burned immediately after? Well, Dean didn't need to know that, either.

It's 5:58 am. It's 8:58 am. Two showers run simultaneously across the two coasts. A three-hour time difference between them, and yet they share this moment of naked vulnerability.

Dean touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a lanky, not-so-little kid who had (has) his big brother's heart sequestered inside his own bony ribcage but didn't (doesn't) know it. The space it leaves is refreshing and loyal and heady with devotion. It helps him breathe, his lungs filled with the reminder of his heart's keeper. The motel room's alarm clock, sitting on the bedside table, ticks past the hour. It's 6 a.m.

Sam touches the scar on his side and pretends it's the skin of a young man who put far too much weight on his own shoulders. A young man who occupied (occupies) the space behind his little brother's sternum but didn't (doesn't) know it. His presence is safe and warm and strong. It helps his heart beat, comforted by the ever-constant reassurance of his big brother. The dorm room's alarm clock, sitting on the bedside table, ticks past the hour. It's 9 a.m.

Their thoughts ring out over their own private radio wave, synchronized: I hope his scar never fades.

#re: the wincest bible #aka #crush by richard siken #hopefully this makes sense narratively... #( #spn #wincest #samdean #gay yearning #stanford era #dirty valentine #dirty valentine by richard siken #) #EDIT: bruhhhh no one was gonna tell me i wrote “STANDFORD”????? #y'all are all FAKE AS HELL (jk <3)

[heavensickness]

Thinking about this kind of love

#the lines are from richard siken's dirty valentine #dirty valentine #parallels #web weaving #mine #z #w #the difference between hell and home #where i end and you begin

[shredsfists]

my favorite lines from richard siken's book, crush

scheherazade: tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again.

dirty valentine: i swallow your heart and it crawls right out of my mouth.

little beast: all i can do is stand on the curb and say, sorry about the blood in you mouth. i wish it was mine.

seaside improvisation: the stone inside you still hasn't hit bottom.

the torn-up road: and he knew it wasn't going to be okay, and he told me it wasn't going to be okay

litany in which certain things are crossed out: forget the dragon, leave the gun on the table, this has nothing to do with happiness.

visible world: the dawn was breaking the bones of your heart like twigs.

boot theory: a man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he's still left with his hands.

a primer for the small weird loves: so you say you want a deathbed scene, the knowledge that comes before knowledge, and you want it dirty.

unfinished duet: his hands keep turning into birds and flying away from him.

i had a dream about you: in the dream i don't tell anyone, you put your head in my lap.

straw house, straw dog: i don't really blame you for being dead but you can't have your sweater back.

saying your names: and the tug of a simple profound sadness when it sounds so far away.

planet of love: someone's pulling a gun, and you're jumping into the middle of it.

wishbone: i will turn myself into a gun, because i'm hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own.

driving, not washing: they won't you to love the whole damn world but you won't.

road music: sure, it good to feel things, and if it hurts, we're doing it to ourselves.

the dislocated room: the wounds reveal a thicker skin and suddenly there is no floor.

you are jeff: let's say that god is the space between two men and the devil is the space between two men.

meanwhile: it's simple: it isn't over, it's just begun.

snow and dirty rain: it's not because our hearts are large, they're not, it's what we struggle with.

#richard siken #siken #crush #mlm #lgbtq+ #queer #queer lit #lgbtq+ books #literature #poetry #poems

[reylofanfictionanthology]

Authors have now been revealed for For one is love and both are one in love!

Over 170 fics were posted to our Exchange this month and we are so excited to finally share the authors with you!  Thank you so much to all of the writers who wrote for this event!  

For one is love and both are one in love collection on AO3 |  Gift Fic Master Post Part One | Gift Fic Master Post Part Two

Treats Masterpost:

Only Now Can We Remember by misszeldasayre for america_oreosandkitkats

Ben Solo arrives home, disgraced. All of Hanna City judges him—all but Rey.

just want the devil to hate me by walkingsaladshooter for america_oreosandkitkats

Three years after he killed the past, Kylo Ren returns to the town where he was only ever Ben Solo. Nothing is even remotely healed, but maybe he can start.

Each Day is Valentine's Day by HellyJellyBean for andabatae

Accidental Praise by QueenOfCarrotFlowers for andabatae

Ben likes his new roommate, Rey. She's smart and funny, and she's a good cook; she's fun to hang out with, although she seems to blush a lot. Maybe she's coming down with something? Anyway, when she has an interview and she needs some help selecting her outfit, Ben is there to help her out, any way he can.

She learned that word from Whom? by itsinthestars for aNerdObsessed

Rey and Ben Solo's young daughter, Reia Solo, says a bad word in front of them and now the couple wonder where she learned it... 👀

Her Inspiration by itsinthestars for Ann3onymous

Art student, Rey Johnson is preparing her Final Portfolio and her inspiration for it all is her boyfriend, Ben Solo.

Regeneration by crossingwinter for bitterbones

She should have known it wouldn’t work. Not wanting to tell her friends because she knew she’d have gotten a you can’t be friends with benefits with your ex talk should have told her all she needed to know.

Gentle Sin by QueenOfCarrotFlowers for CeciliaSheplin

Rey is writing a new song, maybe Ben can help.

As Boundless as the Sea by SpaceWaffleHouseTM for crossingwinter

Padmé survives and raises her kids, but decades later her grandson meets the granddaughter of the man who took everything from her at a masquerade, and sparks fly. Upon realizing who the other is, the two must make an impossible choice: risk losing the love of their families, or risk losing the possibility of loving each other.

Within and Without by misszeldasayre for CwenPhy

When Rey brings Ben back to Ajan Kloss after he saves her, Finn objects to his presence and burgeoning relationship with Rey. However, he can't ignore their friends who observe something real between Rey and Ben.

Strays by crossingwinter for dankobah

Rey rescues a mangy mutt from the site of a junkyard and brings the dog to the Solo Veterinarian Clinic. There she falls in love with the handsome son who's just really trying to save all animals.

The Gentleness That Comes by shewhospeakswiththunder for ilum

For the prompts: "1990s New York AU. Ben rejects his wealthy, reputable family (bonus points for !lawyer Leia) and decides to fend for himself. He ends up getting involved with an underground boxing community. One day, bloodied and bruised after a fight, he goes for a drink to the local bar he frequents. To his surprise, he finds a young, fresh-faced girl behind the bar instead of the usual bartender." And: "We have not touched the stars, nor are we forgiven, which brings us back to the hero’s shoulders and the gentleness that comes, not from the absence of violence, but despite the abundance of it." Richard Siken - "Snow and Dirty Rain."

Stay Safe by crossingwinter for itsinthestars

Just one curse.  Just one simple curse and she’ll be gone.  Blasted off the face of the earth.  When had that idea become repellant to him?

prince and the sea by thewayofthetrashcompactor for kuresoto

Prince Ben Chewbacca Solo Organa, descendant of the house of Naberrie and the line of Skywalker, heir to the Starbird pirate fleet, has followed in the family tradition of slaying monsters and ruling the high seas. Which in no way is an attempt at ignoring his soulmate bond.

to be held, and held together by walkingsaladshooter for Lightningpelt

“I want to stay here with you,” he murmurs. “In this bed. And I want to make you feel nothing but good things.” — "After the war, Ben and Rey travel to Naboo for a vacation. The first thing Ben wants to do is spoil Rey as best he can.

Beneath The Stars by itsinthestars for MBlair

Rey and Ben celebrate their first Valentine's Day with snuggles, comfort, and kisses beneath the stars.

In the Name of Whitney, Mariah, and Aretha – Amen by reylogarbagechute for MBlair

A snapshot of happily-coupled NYC Ben and Rey via: one overblown Valentine’s Day fight, one dramatic rendition of karaoke, and one round of bang-and-make-up in a dive bar bathroom. Literary merit questionable, ridiculous crack-fluff guaranteed. A #RFFA fic.

False Positive by apisa_b for MissCoppelia

The health check Ben was given after he joined the Resistance didn't come back quite as clean as he expected, which causes Rey to feel rather guilty.

Tangentially MintyCel for ninecrimes

After Exegol Rey goes through a period of deep mourning, escaping to the crowded towns of Corellia where no one knows who she is whenever she needs some time by herself. But one day, a stranger walks into the dingy bar where Rey is drinking some of her sadness away, a stranger that seems all too familiar and is wearing Ben Solo's face.

Killing Me Softly by HellyJellyBean for PalenDrome

A short Mr and Mrs Smith Reylo AU treat. :-)

bittersweet and strange by thewayofthetrashcompactor for PalenDrome

Rey has decided that she's done with waiting. If she can't have a soulmate, she's going to be the best Jedi the galaxy has ever seen, and not even Luke Skywalker is going to stop her. She'll take on a mission to defeat a monster and prove that she's as good as any of his students, despite his warnings. Of course, monsters aren't always what we expect.

Conjugal Visit by radioactivesaltghoul for persimonne

Being the last Jedi comes with a lot of perks. For example, nobody questions Rey when she brings a bag full of equipment to come visit her accidental husband in prison.

This Connection by itsinthestars for persopilliankore

After one passionate night at an office party, Rey Johnson and Ben Solo, finally confront each other...

Unshakeable by crossingwinter for politicalmamaduck

Rey is performing in another fucking musical and Ben goes to see it.

Ash and Blood by CeciliaSheplin for queenofcarrotflowers

Bloodthirsty warrior Kylo Ren is betrayed by his men and must flee. He is helped by a mysterious woman and her friends. He joins forces with them to get his revenge.

In Secret, Between the Shadow and the Soul midwinterspring for RedPaladin465

Five years after defeating Palpatine, Emperor Kylo Ren and Empress Rey rule the galaxy.

If I Was A Raindrop (Would You Be My Thunderstorm) by itsnotillegal for ReyloBrit

Rey has finally worked up the courage to tell her best friend she likes him, but an awkward encounter complicates matters...

White Silk by TourmalineGreen for SaintHeretical

There is one person, however, in the office, who does not fill her with genuine joy. “Brides don’t want unembellished gowns, they want sparkles!” she’s yelling to the owner-designer-asshole who ruins her life and harshes her chill on a daily, and sometimes hourly basis. “Just last week, I had five brides who asked for more bling at a price point they—” “I don’t deal in ‘bling,’” Ben Solo is yelling back, behind his closed office door, but clearly loud enough that everyone can hear it. Everyone in the back office, thank God. Not the customers. She hopes. “I deal in couture,” he says. “I deal in design. I deal in elegance. Women want to feel elegant on their wedding day, not like a goddamn Vegas showgirl—” “Oh, oh, that’s rich, you, telling me what it is that women want?” Rey scoffs, almost laughs—she’s the only one brave or stupid enough to try this with him. “Wonderful. I am prepared to receive your insight, oh wise one.” — AKA the Say Yes to the Dress Omegaverse AU, for some reason?

Futile Devices by misszeldasayre for TheStolenQuill

When piano teacher Kylo Ren runs into Rey at his local music shop, he knows her talent must be cultivated. Who better to teach her than himself?

A Magical Surprise by itsinthestars for TheStolenQuill

Both in Ravenclaw House, best friends Rey and Ben Solo, share a moment of longing that turns into a magical surprise...

I'm the Spy by andabatae for thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)

Spy Rey is sent on a mission to figure out if Kylo Ren, tech mogul, is involved in leaking election secrets to a foreign government. She plans to seduce the information out of him. Too bad he seems completely oblivious to her advances.

Dibs by crossingwinter for tmwillson3

Ben dibses the parking spot after it snows. If he’s going to spend almost an hour shoveling his car out of the snow, he gets to park his car there later. Too bad one of his neighbors thinks dibsing is unethical and keeps thwarting his parking plans. Dibs: A Chicago Winter Parking Enemies To Lovers AU.

Syrup by walkingsaladshooter for trasharama

The first time she shows up, it’s eight o’clock in the morning and she looks asleep on her feet. Her brown hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, her sweatshirt is sitting askew on her shoulders, and she blinks heavily up at the menu behind Ben’s head. He watches her purse her lips and immediately feels a soft fondness. “Small latte. Six pumps of vanilla.”

Lucky by BastetWrites for walkingsaladshooter

Nothing makes Ben more happy than waking up with Rey in his arms. Also lazy morning sex happens. _______________ A small gift for walkingsaladshooter for the Valentine's RFFA: Reylo Fanfiction Exchange of 2020

Endings and Beginnings by Vivien for  Xochiquetzl

Rey’s hand cradles Ben’s head before it can hit the stone floor. He’s ridiculously heavy, all dead weight, and Rey’s entire body cramps in horror before she sees the faint rise and fall of his chest. He’s not dead. He hasn’t left her. Yet. She cradles his face with both hands and sobs in relief.

You can view the other two masterposts for this exchange in this tag.

#reylo #reylo fanfiction anthology #rffa writers #for one is both and both are one in love #master post #mod post #moodboard

[kabbalicgay]

hey ayhan!!!!!! i know u love poetry so i was wonderin if u would tell us what poetry u would read to ur future s/o? :0

Oh my god , this is the cutest ask I’ve ever been given sdyulask . Uhhh so fucken uhm . I’ll send link y’all to the poetry below .

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in] by E. E. Cummings . This poem is honestly so beautiful and mesmerising , I could read and recite it for fucking hours and I will when my t’hy’la arrives .

I Like My Body When It Is With Your also by E. E. Cummings . Listen , this is the type of poem you recite when you’re between your lover’s thighs or mutter into their naked chest and god it’s such a good fuck poem . I’m literally going to raw someone to this poem I swear to God . Also love [love is more thicker than forget]

Mad Girl’s Love Song by Sylvia Plath , she was a piece of shit but this poem is good .

Dirty Valentine by Richard Siken . I adore all of Siken’s poetry , but this is 100% something I will be reciting when I’m fucking someone lmfao

He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes , The Travail of Passion , No Second Troy , fucking anything by Yeats oh my god by W. B. Yeats . He has such a beautiful way of writing , as do most of the romantics , and I just adore him so much .

(Hush, Hush! Tread Softly!…)  , You Say You Love; But With A Voice  and Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art by John Keats . Good shit . Love him .

Sonnet 20 , Sonnet 14 , Sonnet 116 , Sonnet 40 , this Romeo & Juliet stanza , from Hamlet , Sonnet 18 (ayyy it’s a popular one) , Sonnet 65 , Twelfth Night , this one that I fucken forgot where it’s from , Sonnet 15 all by Shakespeare , because goddamn .

A Glimpse , Recorders Ages Hence , and I Sing the Body Electricby Walt Whitman (a gay / bi / honestly-his-sexuality-is-pretty-fucken-subjective-at-this-point-lmao poet) .

I loved you first: but afterwards your love by Christina Rossetti , You, Therefore by Reginald Shepherd , Flirtation by Rita Dove , Lines Depicting Simple Happiness by Peter Gizzi , I’ll Open the Window by Anna Swir , Neutral Tones by Thomas Hardy , Somewhere or Other by Christina Rossetti (again lol) , Yours & Mine by Alice Fulton , Take, Oh, Take Those Lips Away by John Fletcher , First Poem to You by Kim Addonizio , [lying in bed I think about you] by Joshua Beckman , Aubade by Amber Flora Thomas , Project for a Fainting by Brenda Shaughnessy , and The Imperfect Enjoyment by John Wilmot .

Secrets Belle Whispers While Noah is Sleeping , Love, You Say , this untitled one , this other untitled one , modern geography , all by Elisabeth Hewer .

The face of all the world is changed, I think by Elizabeth Barret Browning , For Love by Robert Creeley , Movement Song by Audre Lorde , and Wild nights - Wild nights! by Emily Dickinson .

I’m gonna stop here because I have , more or less , thrusted poem after poem at you and I am sure this is enough reading for all y’all lmfao

#fucking TAKE IT anon dyuadgusd #feel free to reblog this lmfao #anonymous #answered #poetry i