taste of les

hc: les amis kind of vaguely assume that enjolras is pretty healthy because he doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, he’s pretty lean, when they see him eat it’s healthy stuff, drinks loads of water, has nice skin, and god he always has so much energy ?? how does he do it ?? but in reality he pours red bull in his coffee when no one’s looking, sleeps a maximum of like 4 hours a night if at all, has absolutely horrifying blood pressure, jfc someone please stop him before he has a caffeine induced heart attack please 

anonymous asked:

I'm in desperate need of fluff and things outside this ridiculous shit going on in the world! Would one of or all of you amazing writers PLEASE write a fluff piece? Baby Fraser's? Baby MacKenzie's? Just something happy and not in the least bit tainted with the destruction of our actual reality. Thanks!

Murtagh on the Ridge AU

“Sorry,” Roger apologized as he shifted Jem down from his arms and hiked the empty game sack higher over his shoulder. He touched the knife at his belt and the bag with their midday meal slung over his other shoulder before nodding to himself, his mental checklist complete. “Bree just wanted to––”

“Aye,” Jamie interrupted with a raised hand. “It’s the lad’s first time on the hunt––”

Murtagh scoffed but Jamie ignored him.

“––I ken why ye’re late. Let’s no waste any more time or we’ll no be reaching home again till dark.”

“If we were goin’ a proper hunt it wouldna be an issue,” Murtagh muttered. He adored Jem in small doses but spending an entire day with the three-year-old without his mother to pass him off to when he got fussy wasn’t Murtagh’s idea of a productive way to spend the day.

“It’s how you and Da started me and Willie,” Jamie reminded Murtagh. “Or do ye no stand by yer own methods?”

“I wasna so old then as I am now. I had all the time in the world to waste on yer blatherin’ about the woods and scarin’ off the worthwhile game. Now…” he sighed as the ground began to tilt beneath their feet, the incline getting sharper and his breath coming dearer. “Now I should prefer an easier hunt––home in time for luncheon and an easy afternoon cleaning and butchering followed by a nice bit of fresh roasted meat for supper.” He practically smacked his lips at the thought.

“That being so, checking the snare line isna exactly a difficult task though it can be as tedious as waiting for a decent size stag to come along. Can yield more meat than a poor day’s hunting too, and ye ken that well,” Jamie teased.

“I wan Grandda carry me,” Jem complained already bored with walking.

“Now Jemmy,” Roger began to lecture but Murtagh interrupted.

“Jamie, carry the wee lad or we’ll ne’er catch nothing.”

Jamie beckoned for Jem to toddle over then got down on his knees and lowered his voice. “Tell me what ye see wee man.” He swept his hand and his eyes around the undergrowth. Jem’s eyes watched his grandfather intently then he got down to his knees and mimicked the movements at a much faster rate.

“Do ye see where our path lies?”

Jem screwed up his mouth and narrowed his eyes before pointing in a random direction. “Tha way.”

Jamie took the little hand and drew it a few inches to the left. “Do ye see the way through the trees there?” he asked. “Tha’s the way our line of snares is set.” Rising to his feet once more, Jamie surprised Jem by taking hold of him under the arms, swinging him up over his head, and finally settling the lad on his shoulders. Jem laughed loudly while Murtagh rolled his eyes and continued along their route, muttering under his breath. “Might be easier for ye to see it from up there,” Jamie said with a firm hold on Jem’s feet, keeping him safely in place.

Jem’s fingers wormed their way through Jamie’s hair clutching large clumps and treating them like reins. “Go, Grandda,” he instructed, pulling hard and making Jamie cry out. Murtagh laughed and Roger scolded.

“Go easy on him, Jemmy. Grandda’ll no let ye ride there again if ye pull his hair out at the roots.”

“What sorts of game to ye think we’ll find in our snares?” Jamie asked. They were making better time to the first trap and despite his head start, Jamie and Jem soon passed Murtagh on their way.

“A stag!” Jem exclaimed. “Like a one ye caught when it was before it rained that time.”

“Well, I caught that one wi’ a bullet from my gun, no a snare,” Jamie explained. “A stag would have little trouble getting free of a wee snare bein’ so big. What sorts of stews and pies do yer mam and gran usually make when I’ve come back from the snare run?”

Jem draped himself over Jamie’s head trying to peer down into his grandfather’s face. Jamie had to stop walking to look up at him, laughing. “Rabbit an’ squirrel an’ peasant an’––”

“Aye,” Roger cut him off, chuckling. “And those are the sorts of animals we’re like to catch today.”

“If we’re lucky,” Murtagh muttered. “Now hush. We’re comin’ up on the first trap and ye dinna want to make matters worse if ye’ve got a scared or injured animal tha’s got nothin’ to lose.”

“Why?” Jem whispered loudly in Jamie’s ear.

“Just because a creature’s caught, doesna mean he’ll no fight ye,” Jamie whispered back. “When ye play wi’ Germain and the lasses and one of ‘em catches ye, do ye no try to get away again and keep playing?”

“Isa animal gonna bite ye like Joanie bit Germain when he pulled her hair?”

“It’ll probably try,” Roger informed Jem.

Murtagh was inching closer to where the snare had been set, a stick in his hand pushing back some of the surrounding brush to see if he could find it. He finally looked up shaking his head.

“Tripped it but didna catch the wee fiend,” he told them as Jamie set Jem down and they got closer.

“Do ye ken what we do now?” Jamie asked Jem.

“Go the next one?”

“First, we need to set this one again. Now, I’m going to take it slow so ye can watch but ye’re no to touch. When we get back to the house we’ll see if yer grannie can spare some of her string for ye to practice yer knots with so next time ye can help set one yerself.” Jamie’s hands moved with practiced ease even as he tried to go slow.

Roger clapped Jamie on the shoulder before joining Murtagh and offering him a bit of cheese from the pack he carried. When the snare was just about finished, Murtagh and Roger started off ahead of Jamie and Jem.

“Jemmy, what say we see if we can track the way they go?” Jamie suggested.

“But they goin’ tha way,” he pointed.

“Aye, but we’re no goin’ to look at them,” he remarked taking his hand and using it to direct the lad’s head to the ground. “Look there––do ye see that? See the shape there? Who do ye think left that?”

“Da! There’s nother one,” he exclaimed following the footprints Roger had left in the soft loamy forest floor.

“And here––see how this is broken here? Tha’s Murtagh’s doing. He’s doin’ it to mark the way we come through so we can find our way back easily if somethin’ happens.”

Roger and Murtagh had stopped up ahead suggesting that this second snare had succeeded in catching something.

Jamie held a finger to his lips and Jem covered his mouth to suppress a laugh. They crept up on Murtagh and Roger but Jem’s giggling gave them away. Roger pretended to be surprised but Murtagh just frowned at Jamie then went back to staring at the creature rustling behind a huckleberry bush. It hadn’t given up trying to free itself so it had probably be caught recently. They saw flashes of black fur but couldn’t make out what it was.

“Seems bigger’n a hare,” Murtagh commented, his arms crossed over his chest. “Bit of fight in it too.”

“He’s stuck,” Jem observed sadly.

Jamie took up a long stick to try and poke at the huckleberry bush and get a better look at the creature they’d caught. “We need to take care. What’s the one Claire said ye should be wary of when it’s out in the day?”

“The one wears a mask,” Murtagh nodded.

“Raccoon,” Roger confirmed. “Could be one of them.”

“I’ma let him go,” Jem declared rushing towards the bush.

“No!” the three adults hollered as Jem struggled to push the branches of the bush out of his way and they got a better view of the squat black and white body of the creature who suddenly felt threatened.


“You guys are back earlier than––Mother of God, what’s that smell?” Brianna called as she pulled her arm from the laundry tub and buried her nose in the crook of her wet elbow.

“I don’t think we need to ask you what you caught,” Claire remarked, blinking away tears as the smell made her eyes water. “The real question is how many of you did it get?”

“Jem bore the brunt of it, I’m afraid,” Roger said apologetically. Jem was curled up against his chest, his clothes and hair still wet from an attempt to wash the smell away in the river. “We all tried a wash but I dinna think it’s done any good.”

“There’s not much that does help, I’m afraid.” Claire approached Jamie warily, her nose wrinkling as she got closer. “You’re sure Jem got the worst of it?”

“I was closest to him and tried to get him away,” Jamie explained.

Claire moved on to Murtagh. “You’re not too bad.”

“Jamie makes a fine barricade to hide behind,” he responded in much better spirits than the others now that they were finally home. “Is there naught ye can do for the stink on the wee lad?”

Jem had clearly cried enough to thoroughly exhaust himself yet still looked close to tears. Brianna inched closer and Jem opened his arms, eager to be taken and comforted by his mother.

“Bonjour Monsieur Le Pew,” Brianna greeted him as she took him from Roger and cradled him against her chest. With Jem’s face safely nuzzled against her neck, she started making faces at Roger, wrinkling her nose and trying to breathe through her mouth before mouthing to her mother, I can taste it, ugh.

“Monsieur Le Pew?” Jamie asked Claire quietly.

“I’ll explain later,” she whispered back.

“Didn’t they say that when a dog gets sprayed by a skunk you’re supposed to bathe them in tomato juice?” There was a hopeful note in her voice as her eyes slid from Claire to her vegetable garden by the side of the house.

“It’s an old wives tale that we’re not going to bother with,” Claire put her foot down. “We’re not wasting the tomatoes. All it does is mask the odor for a while but there’s no getting rid of it I’m afraid. Only time will help with that.”

“Time and a good airing out,” Jamie amended reaching over to take Jem from his mother’s arms. “Well, Jemmy, I think we’re goin’ to be sleeping outside tonight. Dinna want to be bringing the skunk smell indoors do we.”

“But whatta ‘bout the animals?” he asked warily.

“They’ll no want to get too close wi’ us smellin’ like we do. Yer da and I’ll show ye how to make a proper camp and sleep under yer plaid and the stars.”

“And if it’s all right wi’ you, Claire, I’ll sleep in my proper bed tonight,” Murtagh made his appeal.

Claire sniffed at him again and frowned. “You’ll have to stay in your room and keep the window open.”

Bahorel grew up in Jamaica

His mother and father were a reggae duo so He grew up around music.

They didn’t have much money but his mother taught him to make clothes and he was far prouder of the things she made than anything he’d ever bought. 

He moved to Paris for law school when he was 19. His parents were dubious bc “we know our son! a lawyer? really?!” but they supported him anyways.

Well after a year of law school Bahorel SHOCKINGLY drops out.

He didn’t want to disappoint his parents so he held off calling them about it for so long. A period of pretty heavy depression followed. To keep his mind off things he would go to the gym and let out his anger and frustration in boxing classes.

He finds a flyer for the ABC at the gym and decides that’s exactly up his street.

It’s only at the meeting he discovers that the flyer was put there by Grantaire and they spar together from then on in.

Bahorel makes the mistake of going shopping with Courf and Jehan once and ends up with 5 more dresses than he had to begin with.

After he comes in wearing one of the skirts he made with his mum everyone loses their entire mind and he starts a webshop. it gets popular weirdly quickly.

He saves the money from the webshop to open a small restaurant where he mixes flavours from his old home with flavours from his new home.

for the opening of the restaurant his parents fly out (Enjolras may have tipped them off on the exact date. Bahorel wanted to initially make sure it didnt fail before telling them. Enjolras marked that down as ridiculous) and give a small gig. They cry when they taste his food.

What kind of music do the amis listen to?
  • Enjolras: wants you to THINK he only listens to clasical music, but he is a liar. his ipod is comprised of entirely taylor swift and katy perry.
  • Courf: unironically listens to and loves ALL party music. he loves ke$ha, pitbull, lady gaga, lmfao, all the songs you would hear at a high school prom
  • Ferre: has a deep appreciation for all kinds of music, but feels a deep and spiritual connection to any weird underground band you can think of. If it sounds like a guy is playing a pickle tub instead of the drums, he probably likes it
  • Jehan: their ipod is just full of meditation music and shit with like. soothing waters in the background. they like any kind of music that is relaxing, calming, and balancing.
  • Grantaire: is really here and there about music; he either likes a band's sound or he doesnt. particularly drawn to early to mid-70s rock.
  • Joly: IS A MUMFORD & SONS NERD DONT FIGHT ME ON THIS. HELL DANCE TO THE BANJO LIKE ITS THE BEST BASS DROP HES EVER HEARD
  • Bossuet: will listen to anything, really, but he likes fun happy songs more than sad songs. feels like music is a celebration rather than a lamentation, so he prefers to dance to it rather than tk cry to it. will listen to whatever joly is listening to.
  • Bahorel: smooth jazz probably. as well as whatever weird shit ferres gotten him into. probably a healthy mix of jehans meditation cds. he is a Huge Weirdo
  • Feuilly: he learns the playlists that play at work by heart, so his music tastes are all over the place. his favorite songs are genie in a bottle and i want it that way
  • Marius: probably likes country music. he just thinks its so fun and summery and he always gets cheered up when he listens to it.
  • Eponine: everyone thinks shed listen to like punk girl bands, and while they arent wrong necessarily, she is also indie music trash. she lives for the arctic monkeys and do i wanna know is her theme song
  • Cosette: really likes female vocalists and ukeleles. her favorite artist is almost definitely ingrid michaelson, but she also loves regina spektor. while this surprises no one, she also has a deep and unfailing love for fall out boy
  • Musichetta: loves 90s alt rock. owns at least 3 cranberries cds. loves green day and nirvana like her own children
  • Gav: listens to intro-to-punk-rock music. rise against, rage against the machine, the killers, 30 seconds to mars. has shockingly good taste for a middle schooler
"Youth" - Grazia Interview w/ Kai & Sehun (Part 1)

Q: Coffee vs. Tea? 
Kai: Tea. I can’t drink coffee very well; Americano is like poison to me. I only drink it when I lose rock-paper-scissors with my friends. 
Sehun: Tea. I only drink coffee when I’m really tired; I don’t drink it for pleasure. We’re still babies *laughs*.

Q: So then you guys don’t really talk about alcohol then? 
Kai: We don’t really drink. 

Q: “Don’t” or “can’t”? 
Kai: We drink sometimes but we don’t really enjoy it. As of now it’s still fun without drinking. 
Sehun: Me too, only a bit during banquets. 

Q: Summer vs. Winter? 
Kai: Winter.
Sehun: Winter.

Q: Morning vs. night?
Kai: Night. 
Sehun: Night as well. 

Q: Mountain vs. ocean?
Kai: Ocean. I’m sick of mountains after going so often when I was young.
Sehun: Mountain. I used to be part of my school’s hiking club.

Q: Books vs. films?
Kai: It used to be books; nowadays, films.
Sehun: It was always films for me. 

Q: Action film vs. romance film?
Kai: Of course, action.
Sehun: Me too. Too much romance tires me. There’s romance in action movies. Just look at Iron Man; it has a story about loving the secretary. 

Q: Do you read comic books/manga as well?
Sehun: I used to be really into it a while back; roughly three months? 
Kai: My favorite manga used to be the Dragonball series when I was a kid; read it at least 10 times. Works by Bernard Werber for books. I almost finished reading the Les Thanatonautes series, but haven’t gone to finishing it; our debut was around then. Also, Keigo Higashino. Those two are my favorites.
Sehun: Hm, I don’t think books are for me. My Sweet Orange Tree (Meu Pé de Laranja Lima), which was given to me by my manger hyung, was the most recent book I read. 
Kai: I have a reason for reading books as well. I used to transfer schools a lot. I’m really shy, and there wasn’t much time to make friends so I spent a lot of time in the library, since there wasn’t much to do whenever I had some spare time. 

Q: That’s like a scene from a teenager film. A transfer Adonis trainee reading a book in the library. 
Kai: *laughs* is it? 
Sehun: Oh, so maybe that’s why I never got close with books. I always had a lot of friends wherever I went.
Kai: When Sehun transferred I was at the same school as him.

Q: Puppy vs. Cat?
Sehun: Puppy.
Kai: Me too; I’m raising one right now.

Q: Girl like a puppy (cute, pure) vs. girl like a cat (sexy, bold)? 
Sehun: A girl like a cat.
Kai: Me too.

Q: Pure girl vs. sexy girl?
Sehun: the latter.
Kai: Me too, although it doesn’t really matter. 

Q: Someone who’s talkative vs. someone who’s not? 
Kai: I don’t like loud but someone who’s funny and talks a lot. 
Sehun: Rather than having little words, the type whose stories don’t end.

Q: You’re attracted to someone - type to start a conversation vs. wait for the person to come to you? 
Sehun: If I really like the person, I ask for their phone number or approach them. 
Kai: Rather than waiting, I think I also actively try to engage in a conversation. But after experiencing a lot of people, first impressions aren’t as important to me now. I learn about how they talk and their overall qualities as we spend time together, and thus naturally discover whether our “code” matches or not. 

Q: If you could go back in time? 
Sehun: I want to go back to when I was 2 and just play around without thinking about anything. 
Kai: Either 16 or 17. Or 6th grade of elementary school (7th grade in U.S). Thinking about it now, I think that was my turning point. 

Translated by: dohchestra. Part 2, Part 3.

okay so, i adore coffee-loving enjolras as much as the next person - in fact, in many fanfictions, it is the only thing keeping him alive and i am okay with that - but, someone give me an enjolras that hates coffee! give me an enjolras that hates caffeine in general. give me an enjolras that adores green tea and fruit teas. he hates caffeine so much that he won’t even have it in his perfectly-decorated hipster loft conversion, a fact which annoys his coffee-loving friends - most notably combeferre - to no end. but he DOES always know exactly what tea anyone needs at any time.

tired? here, have some chamomile

feeling coldy? a peppermint tea will clear that right up (one that he is endlessly offering to joly)

he is, basically, the king (democratically elected president, if you ask him!) of tea and they all come to him for help. 

jehan also loves tea and the two of them go tea-shopping together, because obviously enjolras also knows the best place to buy tea. he will only buy fresh, fairtrade, organic tea from places with punny names like liber-tea. 

however stressful (to which he quickly offers a cup of chamomile) some people - combeferre - find his caffeine-free existence they all kind of love the ridiculous amount of tea flavours he can find simply in his own kitchen…

all of them except grantaire… who hates it all and often refers to it as fake tea. grantaire is a hardcore coffee drinker who also loves the occasional cup of extremely strong english breakfast tea. none of this “fruity crap”, as he calls it whenever enjolras offers it to him…

however, once they get their act together, he realises that he actually actually thinks chamomile tastes all kinds of incredible… when he’s tasting it from enjolras’ lips 

French Idioms (Part I)

il était grand temps - it’s about time

à son bon plaisir - according to one’s whim

Chacun son goût. - There’s no accounting for taste. 

sur tous les tableaux - across the board

les voies de fait - acts of violence

une cause naturelle - an act of God

en flagrant délit - in the act

Il a doublé ses torts d’un affront. - He added insult to injury.

donner du ______ - to address as _______

il n’y a pas à dire - I/you have to admit

n’empêche que - one has to admit

après coup - after the fact

à son corps défendant - against one’s will

4

POST-SCRIPTUM 118

DNA

DNA ON DNA

Non sans avoir préalablement rappelé quelques vérités d’ordre musicologique sur le silence et le bruit, le critique Lester Bangs énumère ses condensés d’électricité favoris dans un article du Village Voice datant de 1981. Y sont célébrés des classiques tels que « L.A. Blues » des Stooges, Vincebus Eruptum de Blue Cheer et Metal Machine Music de Lou Reed évidemment, mais aussi des disques alors aussi peu connus que ceux des Germs, de Jad Fair, de Teenage Jesus And The Jerks, de Mars et A Taste Of DNA – soit, pour les trois derniers, des combos no wave s’attaquant de front à la complaisance du rock américain squattant les ondes dans les années 1970. En fait peu de précédents à ce mouvement salvateur existaient, en dehors de l’album Trout Mask Replica dans lequel Captain Beefheart avait tordu le cou du rock en inventant une grammaire nouvelle ayant essaimé dans les marges. Appartenant au cercle fermé des formations compilées sur le légendaire No New York concocté par Brian Eno, le trio DNA s’est construit autour du guitariste chanteur Arto Lindsay. Dans un premier temps, Robin Crutchfield y tint les claviers avant d’être remplacé par l’ex-bassiste de Pere Ubu, Tim Wright, tandis que la Japonaise Ikue Mori, à la batterie, s’imposait comme l’héritière de Moe Tucker au sein du Velvet Underground, grâce à une technique rudimentaire mélangeant batucada et kabuki. Porté par des rythmiques primitives et constamment mouvantes, Arto Lindsay inventa en leur compagnie une poignée de chansons brèves pour la plupart compilées sur DNA On DNA, et qui ressemblent toutes à de faux départs sur les chapeaux de roues. Ici l’approche distanciée découle du fait que l’on a affaire à des non-musiciens (comme dirait Eno), venus à la musique par le biais des arts plastiques, et qui par exemple se reconnaissaient dans Fluxus. Sans modèle, Arto Lindsay maltraita donc une Danelectro douze cordes, à force de moulinets à contre-courant des arpèges et carillons en général tirés de cet instrument. D’ailleurs, tous les guitaristes de la no wave, souvent des filles, jouaient bizarrement, dans un style leur appartenant en propre (citons Pat Place au sein des Contortions, ou Conny Burg dans Mars). Si DNA laisse peu d’enregistrements, tous se révèlent rétrospectivement essentiels, avec leur mélange de free jazz et de syncopes psychotiques digne d’un Talking Heads sous amphétamines et décharné. A propos d’Ikue Mori, Lester Bangs (encore lui) parlera d’un Sunny Murray puissance dix (batteur free culte) avant d’exprimer combien il aurait aimé, au moment où le groupe sévissait, qu’un Albert Ayler soit encore là et joue avec eux.

( plus ou moins à propos de Lou Reed :

http://merzbow-derek.tumblr.com/search/lou+reed )