#Cajuns

[apollolewis]

Growing up in southern Louisiana then going on tumblr makes it very apparent to me how small of a population Cajuns make up and how little people really know about us. Looking at the Cajun tag most of it is related to food that isn’t even really Cajun, a lot of it is Nola food there’s some cajuns in New Orleans but acadiana is where the heart of Cajun culture is. Most cajuns I know live out in the rural areas, not in the bayous but that’s because my family is from the Cajun prairies. I’m sure a lot of people think we all just live in the swamps though.

[anakinsafterlife]

Music and Arts for Interview with the Vampire and other French-Enjoyers

I am so genuinely excited to find out that Zachary Richard, the Francophone folk singer from Louisiana, has released a novel! The story addresses the concerns of the American Francophonie with the story of a family wracked by politics and violence in the wakr of the American Civil War.

Friends, this the is the first American novel to be published in French since 1894! Although there is still a Francophone community in Louisiana to this day, they have been dealing with forced Anglicization for well over a hundred years, including the forced Anglophone education of Francophone children.

Zachary Richard remains an outlier in an largely English American cultural landscape. He wrote and recorded the majority of his songs in French and is popular in the international Francophone musical community.

I have been meaning to talk about Richard for a very long time, particular in the context of Interview with the Vampire. There are a good many cultural references in Interview, but unfortunately it seems that the show-runners are not really too informed about historical French arts because there aren't many references to French music or playwriting. Lestat would be more likely to act Moliere than Shakespeare. Louis would be somewhere in between, probably listening to and speaking both French and English songs. Unfortunately, I'm not too familiar with Black Creole musicians, of which there were/are indeed plenty in Louisiana. I've been meaning to educate myself in that area and post a selection along with my favourite tracks from Richard, but life has been very pressing indeed these last few years, so that never happened.

Here, then, are a few of my favourite songs from Zachary Richard and a few brief recordings from Black Zydeco artists, as well as the blurb from Richard's novel.

I didn't include translations, because that would make this long post long indeed, but Richard's lyrics are readily available in any search engine.

The novel:

Summary:

In the disarray that fell on southern Louisiana following the Civil War, André Boudreaux, seventeen years old, discovered life with his grandfather Drozin. This southern veteran, who became a rich man thanks to the arrival of the railway, tries to regain his prestige and his political power. But the sordid murder of André's uncle, the turbulent elections of 1882 and the political aims of his daughter-in-law will turn his world upside down. Les Rafales du carême is the first French-language novel published by a Louisiana author since 1894.

The music:

Dans les grands chemins. (On the big roads). A song about personal history and being drawn away from your place of origin to explore the wider world.

Au bord de Lac Bijou (On the shore of Lac Bijou). One of his bigger songs and very basic of me, but it's beautiful.

Le Ballade de Jean Batailleur. Again, one of his big ones, but it's a ballad about an orphan who grows up to be a criminal and dies alone. Depressing but gorgeous.

And this one gives me chills every time. It's a live rendition of Richard's song "La Promesse Cassee," performed with Celine Dion. This is hands down Dion's best performance ever, imho. Her voice is so nuanced and her expression so powerful, without ever once over-singing. The song's content probably has a lot to do with that. Richard wrote it in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, when New Orleans was so utterly devastated, and the US federal government promised aid, which, after days of waiting, never came. "The Broken Promise" is a scathing and haunting commentary on that betrayal.

"Laisse le vent souffler" (Let the wind blow) addresses the same issue, but years later. The singer tells the story of the police arriving to evacuate the community as another hurricaine approaches. He refuses to leave because he has already survived other storms and he has seen how the police have failed to support a scattered community in the past.

Can't believe I almost forgot this one:

Reveille--A powerful song addresses the expulsion of the Acadians, the forced removal (by British/English Canadian forces) of the Acadian French from the Canadian east coast and northern USA east coast. Many of the Acadians were shipped further south or "back" to Europe, where most had never been. Plagued by attendant atrocities of starvation, drowning and disease, thousands of Acadians were killed. Those who survived the journey down the American coast eventually became known by the shortened name of "Cajuns."

There are also a few extra things here from Richard's YouTube, where he highlights other Louisiana French singers and musicians. I've only included a couple, but people writing for Interview might want to explore his page more, since there's some Black Zydeco (Louisiana folk and French) musicians there.

J'ai une chanson dans mon coeur:

I couldn't find anything out about this. A young, Black American girl sings this song in an American school. I think, and hope, that she's another member of the French Louisianian musical community. Very sweet.

Zachary Richard talking about his influences and earlier Zydeco music in Louisiana.

[dearyallfrommatt]

“Opelousas Sostan“

Depending on how you feel, Mamou is a rock-influenced Cajun band or a Cajun-influenced rock band. Or it’s a bunch of Cajuns playing rock music and that’s how it comes out. In any event, they’re a pretty good band. Sort of like a bit rowdier Beausoleil, so if you like that sort of thing you’ll like this sort of thing.

This is a cover of a 1970 song by a group called Rufus Jagneaux, and yes, that’s supposed to remind you of Mick Jagger. The frontman, bassist Benny Graeff, was nicknamed “Rufus” at one point and some clever producer went from there. It hit 80 on the Billboard Top 100, the first Cajun song to make the pop charts.

[fandomaddictwut]

I’ve seen some people complaining about Channing Tatum/his accent in Deadpool & Wolverine, and I just want to set a few things straight.

Channing has been on the docket to play Gambit since 2005, but each and every time, the character was cut from the script, he had a prior contract, or the director kept getting replaced until the project was scrapped 4 years later with the Fox/Disney merger.

He has family in Louisiana and grew up in the bayous (albeit in rural Alabama). This character has meant something to him since CHILDHOOD when it comes to representation in media.

Gambit doesn’t speak SAE (Standard American English). He’s a street urchin from Acadia/New Orleans. He grew up speaking Cajun (a mix of Southern American, Canadian French, and España Spanish grammar applied to a mostly English vocabulary) and Louisiana French (an offshoot of Canadian French from Acadians).

Every person I’ve seen online who ACTUALLY GREW UP around people who speak Cajun, Creole, and/or Louisiana French has said that his accent is SPOT ON, maybe even a little too clear.

All this to say: if you can’t understand Gambit in Deadpool & Wolverine, you’re not supposed to. That’s the bit: unless you’re used to those dialects and accents, you’re shit outta luck trying to parse it out without help. Hell, even Rogue, who grew up in the South, doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time.

[timbit-robin-art]

Cajun Dan is right. Give this man a gator or two.

[lostdathomirian]

broke: channing tatum sucks at a french accent

woke: gambit is cajun. cajuns just sound like that man. idk what to tell you. iirc he even got “sha” right (as opposed to the french pronunciation of chère). he doesn’t sound the way his dialogue is portrayed in the comics bc in the comics they just threw in some chère’s and some non’s and called it a day. channing tatum had the accent DOWN PAT

[scintie]

Deadpool & Wolverine - Remy LeBeau #8/?

[daily-deliciousness]

Cajun chicken alfredo

[ciderjacks]

I drew more of cajundn chilchuck bc I can and bc I have a duty

[lustingfood]

Crispy Cajun Smashed Potatoes (x)

[sun-snatcher]

If you're writing for dp3 then Hiraeth from your prompt list would work SO well since they're all stuck in the void! 🤲🏽😭 We need Gambit fics its a DROUGHT HELP

♧ ⎯ LUCK O’ THE DRAW !

summ. You find the Devil himself at the end of the world. Surprisingly, it isn’t the first time you have. It is, however, the first time it hurts. pairing. Void!Gambit x f!Anomaly!reader (established relationship. Kinda. Multiverse be funky like 'dat.) w.count. 1.8k a/n. Because Channing deserved that Gambit all those years ago, and I've come to (attempt to) deliver what the the people have asked. Masterlist here.

MOST PEOPLE MEET THE DEVIL at a crossroads, but you meet yours in— quite literally— the back end of fuckin’ nowhere.

It hurt more than it should.

Your heart practically stutters. 

“Remy.”  

Then he turns, and you wait for the flash of recognition in his eyes.

Nothing comes.

And then. And then.

Realisation— logic. The cold, hard truth: This isn’t your Remy LeBeau. Your Remy had died long before, in a Universe that was pruned and erased into nothingness by the TVA. Your Universe. The joke? That the Gambit before you is merely a variant amongst a million. The punchline? He looks exactly the same as the day you’d lost your own. 

“Well, this is awkward. You know off-shoot Hawkeye here?” Wade says, astonished, before his eyes widened. “Ah. Tragic exposition time for the readers, I see.”

Your mind is still reeling. It feels like someone’s just jammed a chisel straight into your gut. “I— Knew a version. Variant, I guess,” you manage to correct yourself, distracted by the skirting trenchcoat and the all too familiar sound of shuffling cards. 

Christ, it’s like he’d stepped right out of your memories.

Remy’s eyebrows shoot up as he studies you. Something in your chest pulls taut, threatening to snap as he speaks. “Apologies, mon ami. But as far as I remember, I ain’t never seen you before.”

“Ouch,” Wade winces, looking between you both. “What a classic trope! This is like, me talking to my past Mom in The Adam Project. Funnily enough, my Mom was you!” He snorts, pointing to Elektra. 

You ignore Wade and offer Remy a wan smile. “I figured. It’s okay.”

…It is obviously, in fact, not okay. 

You avoid him like a plague shortly after the entire commotion; it’s almost comical. Wade had managed to come up with a plan with the rest of the group, albeit a ramshackle, flimsy one, but you’ve hardly been able to pay attention through the bloodrush of shock rocketing in your head, anyway. 

Being around this Remy is stunningly stifling. 

The lilt of his accent, the sharpness in his smile; the flourishing of cards and the faint hum-drum of kinetic charge against his fingertips. 

You’ve seen it all before, once upon a time. You never thought any of it could ever bring you to this bad of a heel. 

It hadn’t taken long before you’d tried drowning yourself at the end of a bottle of brandy Logan had handed you that night. (The whiskey tames his mordance and makes him uncharacteristically civil. He’d said something along the lines of: Y’need this more than I do, bub; look like you’ve just seen a fuckin’ ghost. Shit, I guess you did, huh? )

“Mais la,” comes a huff. “Ain’t that mine?”

A frisson runs through your heart. 

“Sorry,” you say, barely glancing up from the barrel fire tucked outside the team’s hideout. You’re not quite sure you can handle meeting his gaze. “I know I should’ve asked.”

A playful hum. Remy settles on the log adjacent to yours. “S’alright. No harm done, chèr.”

It takes everything in you not to flinch at the endearment. If he’d noticed, well— he’s smart enough not to mention it. He’s curious and it stands to reason; afterall, he’s never quite seen someone look at him as weathered as the way you do. It’s as if the effort itself to do so would be unbearable.

“Y’kno’, I been told I’m easy on the eyes. Not for you, tho’, eh?” Remy shoots you an amicable smile. It’s charming, if a little compelling. “Guessin’ I made bad on you where y’from? You done been boudéin’ since y’first got here.” 

You let out a laugh. It’s the most brittle sound he’s ever heard come from someone. 

“No, no,” you shake your head. “It’s… You just make me a lil’ homesick, is all.”

Remy bristles with his deck of cards. A Charlier cut; a One-handed shuffle. It’s a mindless tic; your variant used to do the exact same with the exact same ease.

(Such a miracle, you remember thinking once, that there could be symmetries in the Multiverse. Now you learn, perhaps, it’s far more a curse. Either way, you can hear Remy’s doting voice in a distant memory, dimpling coyly at you: “S’just the luck o’ your draw, chèr.” )

You tamp down the memory before it could sink its jowls any deeper in you. 

“You’re curious,” you say.

He makes a noise of assent. Revolution cut; One-handed shuffle. Repeat.

“I ain’t gon’ axe if y’ain’t wanna answer.” 

It’s kind of him. 

You forgot he was like this.

Witty, yet gentlemanly. The way Remy always has been.

Underneath the blanket of the night, the crackle of the flames limn the planes of his face in flickering, hazy saffron. The look in his eyes is sincere as they meet your red-rimmed gaze. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him, and in this light no less: tall, cutting, strong.

Lively.

The last you’d seen Remy, he’d been drawn out and battered by the war. Not that he’d ever admit it; he always insisted on keeping up his sunny disposition despite the constant losing battles happening. (Sometimes you think you resent him for doing that; it’d felt like he’d taken the light of the world with him when—)

You thank your lucky stars the variant Remy doesn’t make a comment on how you must be staring so openly. It’s a feeble attempt to committing every detail to memory, you suppose, in case you don’t get the chance again.

“In my Universe, a war was waging against mutants.” Your nails tinker against the empty bottleneck of the flat whiskey you’d nursed, thinking of how to cut a bloodshed of a story short; to get your point across before you falter and lose your footing.

“There was a mission sanctioned, and during it— a decision had to be made at that moment. So… you chose. Easily.” Your brows pinch tight against your will. The molten burn returns to the back of your eyes. “You saved so many lives the day you died.” 

Something catches in your throat when you realise your mistake, find yourself amending instantly, “He. He died.”

(It had been swift. A small mercy, all things considered. There wasn’t even a need to check for a pulse when you finally managed to reach for him.)

You’re fidgeting, too, with something in your other hand. Remy catches sight of it only now: a card, sitting pinched between your ringed fingers. Nine of Hearts. Its edges are torn and creased across the face, singed an ashen black. 

A proverbial piece of Remy’s heart, carried to the end with you.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a cold rush over his body at the sight. 

“…I’m sorry, chèr,” he offers quietly, inadequate as it is. He hadn’t expected that. 

He can’t imagine how haunting it must be to look at someone you’d shared a lifetime with and be met with a complete stranger instead. 

A living, breathing, ghost.

That unbiddable feeling of longing had always seemed to accompany the sight of him; but now it’s different. Now, there’s a blistering, brutal pain to come with; All-encompassing grief, thick as molasses in your lungs, overturning itself like a phantom from wherever you thought you’d buried it a long time ago. 

The only way to smother it would be to reach out, to hold him like you had once before, and isn’t that an ironic inconvenience? 

“No, no. I’m sorry,” you tell him, sigh coming out as an awkward laugh. A breeze passes and you inhale deep to ground yourself. Press your eyes shut momentarily to will away useless tears. “It must be so weird to hear all of this from me about— well, you, technically.”

“Mais, can’t ‘ave all been a bad memory, tho’, right?”

Right. No. It hadn’t been. There’s something else too. An undercurrent. Beyond the grief, the deep ache in your marrows— you think it’s nostalgia. Hiraeth. More bittersweet than it is painful.

It’s… It’s watching mutant schoolkids teaching him UNO for the first time. It’s the bickering over the beignets for breakfast, or your feet on his lap at the couch in the lounge after dinners with the rest of the X-Men. Lazy banter. Conversations that go everywhere and nowhere.

“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something bloom in your chest you thought long lost. “You taught me everything about your home, too. Down South. Told me about the bayou, the cypress trees. Your Cajun, your ways. We used to play Bourré.”

Talk of home has him ducking into a laugh. Remy had been in the Void far longer than the rest (he figures, at least)— he’s very nearly lost most of his fragmented memories to time by now. “Did I? Oughta’ play a game or two wit’ you.”

You buckle at that. “Ah. You were always the better player.”

Then:

He makes the leap before he runs out of steam. “Was we…?”

His finger darts between the space you two share.

“Oh, no,” you override, sheepishly. “No, we, we were good friends and stayed good friends. I was—” Your breath scurries; a reconsideration. “I was glad with that. You had a Southern belle named Anna Marie. A powerful mutant called Rogue. You two were good for each other.”

You must have given yourself away somewhere, though, the way Remy is reading you with a pinned gaze. It’s the same, levelled look you’ve seen before— the kind he gets in a game of cards. 

Something discerning eclipses in his eyes.

He’d gotten the measure of you in an instant. 

“Gambit musta’ been blind blind not t’see you.”

Ah.

You smile. It’s windswept. Resigned. “Well. Doesn’t matter now, does it? My Gambit’s gone. No matter how much I wish I can see him again.”

Remy’s eyes dart to your hands.

“Y’kno’, chèr,” he begins, something spirited in his tone. “In the world of cards, each a’ these and they suits hold a meanin’.”

He flourishes his deck, hypnotisingly smooth with every elegant cut, fan and spring. Every shuffle cascades as smooth as liquid in the sleight of his hands.

“Some of my folks back in New Orleans I remember, they learned me to read ‘em. Now, outta the whole deck? What you got there; the Nine of Hearts is also called the Wish card.”

The small laugh that punches out of you is bell-like. “Really?” 

It’s warm. Bright. Musical to his ears. It washes over him, and he can’t help but hang on to the peal. He wanted to hear it again. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Remy clicks his tongue as he shoots you a sunny look. “Would never lie t’you, chèr.”

The cracks in your soul don’t disappear, but they surely lighten as you look gently at him. “Huh. Well, I guess I got my wish, didn’t I?” 

He chuckles. 

“Mais, I ain’t your Gambit but—” 

He leans. Reaches out behind your ear with an empty palm, playfully revealing a gilded card from seemingly thin air with a sharp flick of his wrist:

Another Nine of Hearts. His. He hands it over to you, by way of meaning—  I’m here, now.

New beginnings.

You take the card with a smile.

[apollolewis]

I find myself gravitating towards media and characters that are either based in or from southern Louisiana. Maybe it’s because I’m from there. Like representation of southern Louisiana is rarely accurate since we tend to be painted as being just like northern Louisiana or the Deep South in general. However when they’re accurate representation of southern Louisiana it is amazing. Princess and the frog is a really good example of representing both New Orleans and even Cajuns.

Cajun’s are normally poorly represented and Hollywood really relies on stereotypes like that we all speak Cajun French or have an accent. Most modern Cajuns don’t speak Cajun French because our great grandparents in the early 20th century were beaten for doing so in school. This is why my Granny is one of the last member of my Cajun side of the family that can actually speak the language. People also get our food wrong. Outside the state Cajun food and New Orleans/Creole food gets mixed up. A Cajun gumbo won’t have any tomato in it.

[robinhuntr]

“Why didn’t they tell us what happened to Gambit!?! Did they just leave him in the void?!? Did he get taken by alioth?!?!”

Guys chill he is fine, here he is back home

[strangenewwords]

Astonishing X-men #1 (1995)

[gentlemancowboy]

Gayest Dean Moment Not Involving Cas Honorable Mention (In the Tags) ➼ Whatever Was Going on with Benny

[theyluvlyss]

age gap😃? NOTHING CRAZY, CHILL, but yk, like,,, just a little young thing in her 20s or sumn being scooped up by one (or two🤭) of these older, more mature, aged like fine wine, and experienced men,,, that's all🥰.

I am thirsting so hard for remy after watching the movie… with this I can just imagine a young yet powerful mutant coming to the void and she never got the experience in sex in her timeline. So remy takes it upon himself to teach her the ways of the bedroom… first time may have involved a mistake with her powers when she cums for the first time but he’s so understandable and says like “you need to practice your control mon cherie” so he just dives back in for more (he makes her cum like 5-7 times from head alone cause he makes his woman feel amazing I bet) this is so long sorry hope you like this 😅🩷

𝐇𝐅𝐉𝐒𝐊𝐂𝐈𝐉𝐆𝐊𝐆𝐏𝐋𝐆𝐈𝐄𝐊𝐆𝐎𝐄𝐈𝐈𝐅𝐊𝐖𝐋𝐄𝐉𝐆 !!!!!

first of all,,, never apologize for length, especially to me who makes everything way longer than need be, we (I, it's just me, idk who "we" is lol) love and appreciate that shit over here. ppl who love absurdly long fics, requests, and other media unite✊🏽 !!!

second of all,,, *ugly sobbing* I'm always the writer and never (how does one actually say this properly🤔?) the writee, so for someone to have actually dropped this for me in my inbox is SO flattering and sweet and ughghfhf, you guys, I HIGHLY encourage more of this, I love it, I truly do.

third of all,,, THIS IS SO GOOD omg literally giggling and kicking my feet (I do that a lot on this app) !!! I am the same way, I saw gambit and just... idk what happened to me, something in my organic chemistry just altered forever and while I'm not and will probably never be a channing tatum girly, he did his goddamn JOB in that role, ATE IT TF UP👏🏽 (and I knew he would, it's about damn time like c'mon, he'd been promised the role for idk a decade or so like, again I say, about damn time) so while I might not be all over tatum, I am all over his portrayal of remy lebeau and I need more fics/content NEOOOWW😾 (plz😽) from y'all's little writer brains of yours.

anyways, onto what you've sent in specifically lmao, you said "young yet powerful mutant" and "mistake with her powers" and "...practice your control..." and for whatever reason, my brain conjured up a mutant reader with wings or just a power that involves maybe floating/telekinesis...😃✋🏽hear me out...

so, remy's getting busy, right, and he's making reader feel so good and, like you mentioned, she ain't got much control over her powers yet cuz she's younger than him, so she cvms and boom, her wings (whether they be feathered or fairy) just pop out without her realizing😻. or with telekinesis, the better she's feeling/closer she's getting, the more stuff/higher she's causing things around them to float because again, little and/or loss of control because he's making her feel that good (we all know he's got the tongue work of a god, I mean, just listen to the man speak for fuck's sake lmao🥴).

I think it'd definitely be a cute touch and fs something she'd get teased about from remy lmao.