God I miss the days when you could show up to a stranger’s farm and he’d say “What’s your name, boy?” and you’d take off your hat and hold it to your chest to better let him see your face and reply “Why I ain’t got none, sir, on account of my mammy passed on before she could give me one” and he’d tell you he’s real damn sorry to hear that and ask what he can do you for and you’d tell him that you can’t read nor even write neither but you’re mighty good with horses and can mend them fallen fence posts what you saw on your way in and won’t ask for nothing much more than a hot meal and a warm barn to sleep in and he’d keep his wife and daughters inside but send his boy who ain’t got married yet even though his mama tells him he needs a woman out with a lantern and some stew at night and the two of you’d get to talkin and he’d throw you his flask to take a swig from and watch you drinkin from it while he leant against the door frame and when he finally got called back on up to the house again he’d take a sip from it too real slow-like like it weren’t the whiskey what he were tryna savour
We need a Deserduo anonymous support group. The brain rot is getting too much.
guys, at what level of desertduo brainrot disease am I, my mind keeps coming up with desertduo at almost EVERY song I listen to. why why is my mind giving me homoerotic visions. send help.
Do you remember the flowers that bloomed? I remember how they peppered the countryside. I remember how they hid the bloodstains in your hair.
Do you remember a towering spiral of stone? I remember how it kept us safe. I remember how it was supposed to keep you safe. I remember how the grey stone turned red when you smiled.
Do you remember wooden floors that creaked? I remember how we built this home together. I remember when I didn’t recognize who you were. I remember how the blood never left my hands. I remember how I kneeled.
Do you remember the beautiful sky? I remember the sunsets kissed by golden light. I remember the sand under my nails. I remember your blood mixing with mine. I remember wilted petals. I remember how I couldn’t bring myself to cry.
Me, seeing scarian: gosh, they're so fucking gay. I want them out of my following fyp page. They keep infecting my brain, I don't want to see them making out at all.
Me, coming back to tumblr like a girl loser not seeing a single scarian content: No, wait come back. Where's my little sand bugs? my gay little sand bugs? I cannot live like this.
The beauty of Scarian fanfics is whenever they call each other's names I can always hear affectionate tone. Especially Grian. Even if most of it, he's exasperated, I can hear it.