Sometimes I See A Woman In Baggy High Waisted Jeans & A Fedora And Just, Holy Crap Women Ya Know? Can

Sometimes I see a woman in baggy high waisted jeans & a fedora and just, holy crap women ya know? can just be so wow ya know? dont know how they do it sheer magic ahsjdjajsjjs

More Posts from Moderndayscribing and Others

4 years ago

ok let's see what's been posted since I last watched youtu-

Ok Let's See What's Been Posted Since I Last Watched Youtu-
Ok Let's See What's Been Posted Since I Last Watched Youtu-
Ok Let's See What's Been Posted Since I Last Watched Youtu-
Ok Let's See What's Been Posted Since I Last Watched Youtu-

BARBIE?? SAID BLM?? WHAT HELL YEAH WHAT


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4 years ago

i dont want to unlock shit

you only unlock this emotion by being terminally online for the last seven years

4 years ago

I know nothing and my heart aches.

Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet (tr. by Margaret Jull Costa)

4 years ago

Daily reminder to go read Cucumber Quest

moderndayscribing - Scribing away little chips in the wall
moderndayscribing - Scribing away little chips in the wall
moderndayscribing - Scribing away little chips in the wall

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4 years ago

it’s very important that i know whether or not Luke Skywalker is a dumbass or no

How smart is he on average

it’s totally work related


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4 years ago

Leff

“You look terrible,” she said. He could only harrumph softly in response. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Good morning to you too.” “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” She stood from her seat at the dining table. With the aid of her long limbs, she quickly stood before him. A gentle hand on the side of his cheek angled his face. “Have you been getting any sleep lately?” “What’s sleep?” he deadpanned, jokingly of course. His own hand lifted up to wrap around her wrist. “I’m fine,” he said. “Just been a tiring few days.” She frowned at him. Clearly in disbelief. He didn’t blame her. Not only was he terrible at lying, but they’d had also been stuck in quarantine for the past few weeks. He goes to his meetings without pants on.  “Quarantine is tiring,” he said in response to the thought that is no doubt ringing in her head. “Very stressing.” “That’s true.” She twisted her wrist out of his grasp. “What’s not true is your excuse to why you haven’t been sleeping.” “I have been,” he protested. A hand lifted up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Maybe that’s the problem,” he muttered. “Pardon?” He sighed and dropped his hand. Her worried face made him pause - made his gaze soften slightly. “I’ve been having...” he trailed off. “Nightmares?” She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a question?” He rolled his eyes and pushed past her. “Shut up,” he muttered. With a sigh, he made his way towards the sofas - flopping down on the soft cream cushions.  “I think I’ve been having nightmares,” he muttered. “But I can’t remember what they are, most of the time.” The cushion beneath him dipped downwards slightly as she joined him. A frown was sketched into the features of her face - accompanied by a pair of furrowed eyebrows. “How do you know they’re nightmares if you can’t remember them?” she tilted her head, leaning her chin on her fist. “Mostly from the...vibe?” he tilted his head, eyebrows furrowing. “I woke up feeling like I just had a nightmare, so...” She leaned back, sinking underneath the cushions. Her eyes - deep in thought - stared right through him. “You really can’t remember anything?” she asked again. He sighed and glanced away. “Not really,” he muttered. His eyebrows furrowed in thought. “I remember it was....really, really bright?” “Bright?” she prodded. Slowly, his head dipped up and down in a nod. “Really, really bright...” He leaned against the sofa, tilting his head upwards in thought. “And it was...loud.” Suddenly then, he winced. A light pain stabbed into the side of his temple - a feeling he shook off. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” he breathed out a sharp breath. Blinked a few times. “Small headache. Anyway, there was...a sort of table-” He can see it in his mind’s eye now. A table so dark it contrasted with the pure white surroundings. Except- “-it wasn’t a table.” He held his hands out, staring at them. His vision blurred slightly with the raging headache. “It was a hole...in a shape of a table.” “A hole in the shape of a table?” She sounded amused now.  He didn’t blame her. He snickered softly himself. “Uh huh, so I leaned over to look in it-” -and then? What happened after that? Why can’t he remember. Dark tendrils unfurling. Why was there a hole shaped like a table? Clicking sounds. A high-pitched growl. Why was he talking about this? Slimy, boney hands. His head. Hurt. She leapt off the sofa with a screech. Her heart hammered in her throat. Her fear made it hard to think as- She watched as his head jerked back violently. Watched in horror as the skull split in two. Watched as some thing- -crawled out of the gaping hole in his skull. It growled as it fell to the ground. A high-pitched sound that made her ears ring. Tendrils unfurled from its back. A being. Of nightmares. It had no head. It had no definitive shape. It kept changing and shifting- Yet somehow she knew the exact moment it’s focus landed on her. Because it, then, smiled.


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4 years ago

So imagine;

You’re a storybook author. Your books are well-known, but not crazed after. You make a decent living. You found a nice partner. Life is good.


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moderndayscribing - Scribing away little chips in the wall
Scribing away little chips in the wall

Currently living in Quarantine^2

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