you will see.

i'm grantaire. or r. whatever floats your boat. art student by day. and night. most of the time, actually. but never in the morning. [hello! this is a modern au grantaire blog. fair warning: it's fairly self-indulgent and slightly ridiculous. messages and so forth are encouraged and very much appreciated. ok good.]

[caravaggista]

Vincent van Gogh, Detail of eye from Self Portrait (1889).

[enjolweiss]

The sound of knocking should not really have sent Enjolras into orbit, considering he had watched the familiar shape of Grantaire appear behind the crystal glass, his blurred figure taking more human form as he stepped closer to the door.

By that point Enjolras had almost convinced himself that it wasn’t creepy that he had been perching on the bottom stair, heels tapping a frenetic rhythm, and staring a hole into the front door since Grantaire had accepted his invitation to come round.

And so he shot to his feet - and promptly plopped back down again because it was creepy to be waiting by the door like an impatient puppy and he really ought not to fling it open before the poor guy has even finished knocking.

He congratulated himself on the three seconds he managed to pause before rising to his feet again and stumbling a half-attempt at a casual gait towards the door. All trace of his pride evaporated, however, when opening the door revealed Grantaire looking less human and more drowned rat.

"Jesus, Grantaire, don’t you own an umbrella?" He shook his head suddenly, stepping aside, "Sorry, I didn’t mean to be brusque, come in." 

[grandarr]

Grantaire shrugged with one shoulder as he stepped through the door and squeezed past Enjolras with as much casual confidence as he could muster. "It's okay," he said, smiling sheepishly, "I left in a hurry."

After peeling off his soaking jacket and hanging it on the coat peg, he found himself standing awkwardly in the middle of Enjolras' hallway; droplets of water were already dripping from his wild, wind-blown curls and pooling in puddles on the floor. Even under his jacket, his t-shirt had soaked through. Self concious, he shifted from one foot to the other, and winced when his shoes squelched. 

"I, er, don't suppose you have a towel I can borrow? It's just -- I'm kind of dripping on your stuff."

[grandarr]

After spending almost a full minute frowning at his laptop screen and processing Enjolras' invitation, Grantaire finally exhaled, hastily logging out and exiting his browser. Well, fuck.

He stood, grabbing his jacket and keys, and darted out of his room and into the hallway. He paused in front of the mirror there to run a shaky hand through his hair and stare at his own bewildered expression.

"This is fine," he told himself. "We're fine."

We're really not.

Groaning, he stepped out the door, anxiously peering into grey, heavy skies that promised rain. He briefly considered taking the bus, but decided that maybe, just fucking maybe, if he walked to Enjolras' place he could work off his ridiculous nervous energy, and if he was quick, he could miss the rain.

When he finally found himself outside Enjolras' front door, knocking softly with white, stiff knuckles, he was soaked to the bone.

[grandarr]

enjolweiss replied to your post: enjolweiss replied to your post: Oh, well, I...

((yeah idk >:C but yes, I thought it’d be more fun to rp - especially because I want silly squirmy nervous E - if you’d like to, I’d be more than happy for you to start. my brain is so blehh at the moment, I think it might need some help :’D))

[[i was going to suggest the same. grantaire needs to have a proper internal angst/panic/possible boner c: i'm cool with starting us off. bear with~]]

[grandarr]

enjolweiss replied to your post: Oh, well, I apologise for interrupting. Combeferre? No, I just wanted to ask. Well, actually I was hoping we could have a word. It's not serious-- well, it is, but what I mean to say is that it's not because I'm angry at you or anything like that.

Would you like to come over? Or I could stop by yours if that’s more convenient. I just feel this would be better face to face. ((idk if it’s my end or yours but R’s askbox won’t let me send asks???? D:))

it's probably best if i, er, came over. my place is a bit messy. i'll be there in a few, hang on

[grandarr]

Oh, well, I apologise for interrupting. Combeferre? No, I just wanted to ask. Well, actually I was hoping we could have a word. It's not serious-- well, it is, but what I mean to say is that it's not because I'm angry at you or anything like that.

you weren't interrupting. it's cool, enjolras.

well, it's good to hear you won't be telling me off. that's a good start. what's up?

[alisonzai]

[snowce]

Gustav Klimt, Island in Lake Atter, 1901

[grandarr]

Good evening, Grantaire. I hope I'm not bothering you, I only wanted to ask whether you'd had a good day. Of course, if you're busy, disregard this message, but I thought I'd ask nonetheless.

hey goldilocks! nope, i was just gonna smoke out on the balcony and listen to embarrassing music, so. not bothered.

uh, well. today was okay i guess. nice of you to ask. did combeferre put you up to this?

[grandarr]

eyyyyy hot stuff

eyyyy right back at you grey face

[combeferrifying]

It took about fifteen seconds of blank, brow-furrowed staring at Grantaire before Combeferre realized what he’d meant to indicate by tapping his head.  “Oh,” he muttered, pulling his glasses out of his tousled locks and using his shirt to de-smudge them.  “Thanks.  And yeah, I — yeah.”  He set the spectacles on his nose and began opening and closing cabinets until he found the one he’d stored his soup in.  He popped open a can and dumped it into a microwavable bowl without ever fully losing the glazed look in his eyes. 

Once he’d gotten the food into the microwave and punched the buttons necessary to heat it up, he dropped himself into the chair opposite his friend, removing his glasses again so he could drag both hands down his face.  “Organic chemistry’s kicking my ass.”

[grandarr]

Grantaire stood - with difficulty, slouched as he was, and his bones creaked with the effort - to quickly rinse his bowl under the tap and put it away. He stifled a yawn and nodded in sympathy before collapsing back into his chair.

"Well, that sucks. Major suckage. I would offer my services, but alas, I'm completely ignorant on the subject. And even if I had some knowledge, well. I finished my latest art commission yesterday - at least a week late, shh - and I fear my brain has turned to complete and utter useless mush."

He snorted, self-deprecating, and ran a hand through unruly curls. "Don't tell Enjolras, he'd never let me hear the end of it, but I fear my brain cells are staging a revolution, flag waving and all, and are refusing to cooperate."

[combeferrifying]

Combeferre wandered into the kitchen.  Blinked.  Squinted.  They must be in here somewhere…

By “they,” of course, he meant his glasses, which were, unbeknownst to him, nestled comfortably in his mess of brown hair.  He huffed a sigh, shuffling papers and boxes and appliances around on the counter.  Lose my own damn head next…

[grandarr]

Grantaire snorted softly, finishing his cereal and affectionately watching from his dining seat in the corner.

"You look lost there, my friend," he grinned, and stretched, catlike and smug in the knowledge that he'd spent the day doing absolutely nothing. He tapped the top of his head, indicating where the glasses were perched. "Been busy, I take it?"

[noirlac]

[theshellshack]

[mountvision]

An art student drawing tattoo designs on a pad on the uptown Broadway local train, nyc september 2013.

Gregory Muenzen

[weh-tun]

Visit Original Link

[mountvision]

In the Metropolitan Museum of Art

Gregory Muenzen