"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
if i look back, i am lost
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🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Kaledo Art
Claire Keane
Discoholic 🪩
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YOU ARE THE REASON
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art blog(derogatory)
Cosmic Funnies
titsay
we're not kids anymore.
shark vs the universe
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Andulka
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@witheyeslikeafortuneteller
Open Chat
I-I think everyone was m-more active as-as a teen but yeah I-I know what you mean. I-I’m sorry, well okay h-how about this. We should g-get together an-and have a movie night or-r something. Like th-the good old days!
Yes! That sounds great, honey! When are you free?
Open Chat
Y-Yeah it was umm i-it was well needed th-that’s for sure. I’m glad y-you’re fine. Th-That’s great to hear act-ually. Yeah I kn-know how that goes. I-I have so m-much make up w-work for b-being gone for so l-long. I-I don’t have any real e-exciting news… D-Do you?
Meh. I wish. I think I was a much more active and exciting person when I was a teenager. But don't worry about the work, I'm sure you will do great.
Open Chat
H-Here and th-there ya’know… A-Actually I’ve just b-been swamped with sch-school so I took a-a m-mental health break. How have y-you been?
Oh, that's good. I'm fine. Same as usual. Trying to survive work and school but well, you know how that is. Hm... We haven't talked for quite a bit. Any exciting news?
Open Chat
D-Did I? Oh I-I’m sorry! Th-Thank you so much Ch-Chetta!
No problems, darling! So.. I haven't seen you in a long, long time. Where have you been?
Open Chat
Oi! You dropped your wallet.
SEND MY MUSE A SENTENCE
"You’ve got to me kidding me."
"Get your ass in here now"
"What have I done now?"
"How old are you really?"
"I can’t believe you lied to me"
"Do you wanna build a snowman?"
"I can’t believe you lost him."
"I hate you."
"I love you."
"Please, don’t leave."
"I told you. I do give the best hugs."
"You so owe me."
"What’s a soulmate?"
"Would you kiss me in the rain?"
"Get off me."
"Leave me alone"
"What are you doing here?"
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Grantaire laughed, a lazy sound as he rolled his eyes and held the bag out of reach until she gave up. “I love being tall. Besides, I’m skinny like a fucking toothpick, but I’m sure I can handle an extra bag. Might weigh me down so I don’t blow away.”
Musichetta rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well, love, if only you ate a bit more, and a bit more healthly, you wouln’t have to worry about that.” She said, finally having stopped to jump and deciding to just poke his stomach. “What lead us to the question of the hour: what are we having for lunch? I haven’t eaten yet, I was hoping to eat with you today…”
Grantaire squirmed and made a noise of protest as his stomach was poked. His heart sank when she mentioned lunch. He shrugged.”What ever is in the bags, I suppose. And uh, don’t you have work….?” He asked hoping to give her an excuse.
"Not in the next 3 hours. Trying to get rid of me?" Musichetta joked. "We have a lot in the bags, and I eat anything that doesn't involve eggs. I'm done with them for now." She looked at him expecting some answer "So...?"
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Grantaire laughed, a lazy sound as he rolled his eyes and held the bag out of reach until she gave up. “I love being tall. Besides, I’m skinny like a fucking toothpick, but I’m sure I can handle an extra bag. Might weigh me down so I don’t blow away.”
Musichetta rolled her eyes dramatically. "Well, love, if only you ate a bit more, and a bit more healthly, you wouln't have to worry about that." She said, finally having stopped to jump and deciding to just poke his stomach. "What lead us to the question of the hour: what are we having for lunch? I haven't eaten yet, I was hoping to eat with you today..."
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
After they paid, right before they stepped into the street again, Musichetta shifted the bags to have one free hand and stopped walking, putting it on Grantaire’s shoulder. “You do know that you can tell me anything that’s bothering you, right? I don’t mind. Actually, I would love to know.” She looked seriously at him in the eyes “I mean it, sweetie”
Grantaire met her eyes, his own a tired and fractured look to them. “I’m fine, Musichetta. Nothing that hadn’t happened before and that I can’t handle. Please, do not worry.” He told her, hand shaking a little. “Now, let’s go home, here give me a bag.”
"Things that have happened before doesn’t mean ‘fine’" Musichetta murmured, hopeful that Grantaire wouldn’t listen. "No! Both of your hands are occupied, I can handle the bags in mine!" She took his arm with her still free hand and got closer to him. "Okay, let’s go"
Grantaire sighed, having heard her but not having the energy to pursue it. He didn’t protest to their looped arms, but took the opportunity to snatch an extra bag from Musichetta. “Home it is then.”
"Hey! Give it back, Grantaire" Musichetta yelled, jumping to try to reach the bag with her modest 5'1". "This is not fair, you... Argh! Fine. Feel free to get an aching back for yourself, stubborn person"
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
After they paid, right before they stepped into the street again, Musichetta shifted the bags to have one free hand and stopped walking, putting it on Grantaire’s shoulder. “You do know that you can tell me anything that’s bothering you, right? I don’t mind. Actually, I would love to know.” She looked seriously at him in the eyes “I mean it, sweetie”
Grantaire met her eyes, his own a tired and fractured look to them. “I’m fine, Musichetta. Nothing that hadn’t happened before and that I can’t handle. Please, do not worry.” He told her, hand shaking a little. “Now, let’s go home, here give me a bag.”
"Things that have happened before doesn't mean 'fine'" Musichetta murmured, hopeful that Grantaire wouldn't listen. "No! Both of your hands are occupied, I can handle the bags in mine!" She took his arm with her still free hand and got closer to him. "Okay, let's go"
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Musichetta could see that he wasn’t feeling comfortable, but figured that he wouldn’t say anything if she pressured him too much. So she just walked down the aisle, grabbing what was needed and putting it on the cart.
Grantaire followed her, resolutely only looking at the cart and what was in it. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or curse the silence. He really didn’t want to talk, but every step they took his mind recalculated how close they were to the alcohol isle or how far. “Excuse me..” He muttered, walking as far as he could to the family bathroom; luckily close by-and throwing up into the toilet.
When Grantaire suddenly left, Musichetta got more worried. She left the cart in one corner and waited him in the bathroom’s door. She really wanted to talk to him now, and pushing the memory of the last time they had a talk of this nature to the back of her mind, she decided that she would speak with him. Of course, trying not to test him limits so much. When she finally spotted the dark curls leaving the bahroom she walked to Grantaire. “Are you alright? You are pale.”
"F-fine. Just not feeling so hot." He mumbled closing his eyes for a couple seconds before opening them again. "C’mon, we’re almost done. Let’s go checkout out whatever, yeah?" He walked back to the car, trying not to keep thinking about it.
"We could just head back to your house. We’ve already got a lot of food and if anything is missing, you can call me." Musichetta took the cart and looked concerned at Grantaire. "Unless you want something else that you remember now?" She asked unsure.
Grantaire clenched his jaw at the question, several different brands of alcohol running through his head immediately. “No, nothing. We can go. In fact, let’s.” He said tightly.
After they paid, right before they stepped into the street again, Musichetta shifted the bags to have one free hand and stopped walking, putting it on Grantaire's shoulder. "You do know that you can tell me anything that's bothering you, right? I don't mind. Actually, I would love to know." She looked seriously at him in the eyes "I mean it, sweetie"
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Musichetta could see that he wasn’t feeling comfortable, but figured that he wouldn’t say anything if she pressured him too much. So she just walked down the aisle, grabbing what was needed and putting it on the cart.
Grantaire followed her, resolutely only looking at the cart and what was in it. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or curse the silence. He really didn’t want to talk, but every step they took his mind recalculated how close they were to the alcohol isle or how far. “Excuse me..” He muttered, walking as far as he could to the family bathroom; luckily close by-and throwing up into the toilet.
When Grantaire suddenly left, Musichetta got more worried. She left the cart in one corner and waited him in the bathroom’s door. She really wanted to talk to him now, and pushing the memory of the last time they had a talk of this nature to the back of her mind, she decided that she would speak with him. Of course, trying not to test him limits so much. When she finally spotted the dark curls leaving the bahroom she walked to Grantaire. “Are you alright? You are pale.”
"F-fine. Just not feeling so hot." He mumbled closing his eyes for a couple seconds before opening them again. "C’mon, we’re almost done. Let’s go checkout out whatever, yeah?" He walked back to the car, trying not to keep thinking about it.
"We could just head back to your house. We've already got a lot of food and if anything is missing, you can call me." Musichetta took the cart and looked concerned at Grantaire. "Unless you want something else that you remember now?" She asked unsure.
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Musichetta could see that he wasn’t feeling comfortable, but figured that he wouldn’t say anything if she pressured him too much. So she just walked down the aisle, grabbing what was needed and putting it on the cart.
Grantaire followed her, resolutely only looking at the cart and what was in it. He didn’t know whether to be thankful or curse the silence. He really didn’t want to talk, but every step they took his mind recalculated how close they were to the alcohol isle or how far. “Excuse me..” He muttered, walking as far as he could to the family bathroom; luckily close by-and throwing up into the toilet.
When Grantaire suddenly left, Musichetta got more worried. She left the cart in one corner and waited him in the bathroom's door. She really wanted to talk to him now, and pushing the memory of the last time they had a talk of this nature to the back of her mind, she decided that she would speak with him. Of course, trying not to test him limits so much. When she finally spotted the dark curls leaving the bahroom she walked to Grantaire. "Are you alright? You are pale."
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Grantaire shrugged nonchalantly, giving her a smile. “I don’t care, food is food. I can either make it myself or heat it up, is all the same to me. Soup maybe?” He responded, trying to seem engaged in the conversation. Pretending he didn’t know right where the alcohol isle was, that that’s not where he wanted to go immediately, and probably would have if Musichetta wasn’t there.
Musichetta could see that he wasn't feeling comfortable, but figured that he wouldn't say anything if she pressured him too much. So she just walked down the aisle, grabbing what was needed and putting it on the cart.
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Musichetta stopped in her tracks “Oh. Sorry” And she really was. For one moment they were having such fun that she completely forgot. “Well, we are buying food, we may as well put lemons on the list” She forced a laugh and looked at Grantaire by the corner of her eyes “I am really sorry, love, I didn’t mean to…” She cut her sentence in the middle, not really knowing what to say. They had arrived at their destination, so Musichetta simply pulled the door open “Shall we?”
Grantaire shook his head at her false cheerfulness. He regretted mentioning it in the first place, it was said in a moment of frustration. The merging itching getting never went away for him, not even when he slept. “It’s alright.” He said quietly, walking in. “Lemons and salt.”
"Okay, lemons and salt then." Musichetta squeezed his arm gently, giving him a real smile. "Let's not forget of actual food. Meat, hopefuly not rotten, rice and... Do you want lasagna? Like, the one that comes frozen? I hate do do all of that."
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
Grantaire stopped in his tracks and just gave Musichetta a look. “Just because I take pools for it, the want doesn’t go away, it takes away the cravings hurting. Sometimes even that doesn’t work. I am going to want a bottle of wine so bad it feels I’m going to explode for most of my lifetime.” He told her dryly, starting to walk again. “That, and I’ve been wanting lemons.”
Musichetta stopped in her tracks “Oh. Sorry” And she really was. For one moment they were having such fun that she completely forgot. “Well, we are buying food, we may as well put lemons on the list” She forced a laugh and looked at Grantaire by the corner of her eyes “I am really sorry, love, I didn’t mean to…” She cut her sentence in the middle, not really knowing what to say. They had arrived at their destination, so Musichetta simply pulled the door open “Shall we?”
"That looked easier on TV."
"You’re telling me…" Grantaire grumbled as he scraped bits of burnt omelette off the stove. "Why are these things so damn hard to flip?"
"Yes, we do have to, honey." She laughed "Quit complaining and get on your feet like a proper adult. Just because you don’t do healthy stuff, it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try. No one can survive on eggs, R. How long have you been eating just that?"
R stood up with a huff, shaking his inky curls into his face. Some were stained with paint still, his most common reason for not seeing people nowadays was looking himself in his room and painting. “I don’t know.” He shrugged while looking at the floor, pulling his coat on. “The days blend together in a game of frustrating cravings and paint.”
"Hum... I can seewhat you say about the paint!" Musichetta smiled and started waking towards the nearest market. "It's all over you, remind me later to introduce you to one of my best friends... Shampoo and Conditioner. Well, frustrating cravings? Like what?"
