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courage-doodles-blog · 4 months

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What If Barry was in Ball Of Revenge (CTCD Fanfic)

(CW⚠️ VIOLENCE, VERBAL ABUSE, ATTEMPTED MURDER, TORTURE, GASLIGHTING)

(Characters: Courage, Muriel, Eustace, Barry(OC), Katz, Le Quack, Cajun Fox, Weremole, Black Puddle Queen, Clutching Foot and Freaky Fred[cameo])

(This is a What If... of CTCD episode "Ball of Revenge." The episode is the same but instead Eustace and the villains didn't come up with the revenge plan to kill Courage, instead the villains enter the basement themselves and find Barry in here, they added him to their revenge plan with the use of gaslighting)

(It starts with Muriel knitting a blanket, Eustace was sitting in his chair and Courage was watching Barry playing with his two plushies)

Muriel: Almost done, I thought that periwinkle would be a wonderful colour but oh the mellow yellow would be wonderful

Eustace: Yellow schmellow! Hurry it up! I'm freezing!

Muriel: And done! Oh look how lovely it is!

Eustace: (tosses his black blanket away) Come to papa! (As he reaches for the blanket)

(Muriel places the blanket on the floor)

(Courage has the blanket covering his body)

Muriel: Gorgeous!

(Courage sees Barry hugging his plushie, though he doesn't want him to feel left out, so he places the blanket over him too. Barry smiles at Courage and the two began to snuggle in the blanket together)

Muriel: Oh Courage, how generous of you, giving your blanket to Barry

Eustace: Muriel! What are you doing? Giving my new blanket to that filthy dog and that filthy cat!

Muriel: Oh Eustace, you have that perfectly comfy chair to sit in. And what does Courage have? Only a wee blankie and he has been so generous to share his blankie with Barry

Eustace: Courage, Courage, Courage. That stupid dog gets all the good stuff around here. I hate that stupid dog!

(Courage looks at Eustace after he hears his response, which hurts his feelings. Barry looks at sad Courage, he stands up to talk to Eustace about this)

Barry: Mr Bagge, why would you say that to Courage? He is your dog and you should treat him with respect-

Eustace: Shut it you stupid cat, your like that stupid dog except your more of a coward than him because your always scared of everything like him. I wished that stupid dog wouldn't "babysit you" ever again!!

(Muriel and Courage gasp by this, as Barry stood still by Eustace's response. However, Barry began sniffing and tears began rolling all over his face)

Eustace: (sarcastically) Great. Your crying already. Give it a rest stupid cat-

(Barry raises his toy gun at Eustace which shoots a cork right at his face)

Eustace: (get hits by a cork) Ow! You stupid cat!

(Barry stomps his foot and says to him angrily)

Barry: (angrily with tears over his face) WELL YOU DESERVE IT!! MAYBE YOU MIGHT TO GIVE IT A REST TOO!!!

(Barry begans sobbing, Courage tries to comfort him but Barry runs out of the living room then to the basement door, shutting it)

(Courage and Muriel look at Eustace, Muriel was mad at Eustace for what he said to Barry with Courage having an paranoid expression on his face)

Muriel: Eustace Bagge! How could you say such horrible stuff to poor Barry! You made that poor cat cry!

Eustace: Whatever! We can't have another pet like the stupid dog.

Muriel: You don't understand that Courage has helped Barry's family by babysitting him everyday

(Courage worryingly hears the two argue over Barry which worries him even more, so hides underneath his blanket until it ends)

Eustace: You can give it a rest too Muriel!! I'm going up now while you two go off helping that stupid cat (goes upstairs to his bedroom and shuts the door)

Muriel: Hmph!

(Muriel looks at Courage coming out of the blanket, whining and worrying about Barry)

Muriel: Oh Courage, I do hope Barry is ok right now... Hmm, I know! Why don't we head out to groceries so we can get something that might cheer Barry up?

Courage: Mmhmm

(Then it cuts to Barry in the basement, sitting on a stool, rubbing his tears, snffing and cradling his legs)

(Then it cuts again to the outside of the Nowhere, where six figures walking close to the farmhouse

???: This might be it, right here!

???: That's a farmhouse see

(The six then look at the farmhouse and one of them sees the door to the basement)

???: There's a door right here, let's see where it leads us too

(One of the figures open the basement door and heads down, along with the other five)

(The six figures reveal themselves to be Katz, Le Quack, Cajun Fox, Weremole, Black Puddle Queen and Clutching Foot as they look around the basement)

Cajun Fox: Your quite sure this is a good hideout for our revenge plan cat

Katz: Yes

Le Quack: Well look around you renard, there are chairs and a table

(The six then sat around each chair except one)

Cajun Fox: Huh, there's only one chair left. But who's gonna sit here

(The six then hear sounds of sniffing and little cries, they get up and check)

(Then they all see Barry with tears over his face, rubbing each of them. Cajun Fox walks to him, placing his hand on his shoulder)

Cajun Fox: Hey cat, what's sobbin' here? you lookin' pretty sad all over your lil eyes

Barry: (looks at each of them staring at him, then he jumps in fright and he almost falls off the stool since Cajun Fox picked him up and place him back onto it)

(Katz walks to Barry with a glare on his face)

Katz: Now tell us… what are you doing in here before we arrive

Barry: (sniffs) It's all because of Mr Bagge, he was being really mean to me all the time. He said that I'm a stupid cat and he wished that i… would never be here ever again…. Then I got upset at him and ran out immediately crying over here. Then Muriel became upset at him and then she and Mr Bagge argued a bit! (sniffs) why is this happening to my life right now?

(Katz sighs as he sits by and looks at Barry)

Katz: Dear boy, These "people" are arguing about you, you see. They won't accept this if you're acting too much of a coward. They are not the people you shouldn't be around because they will think that you are a coward. And they wouldn't "accept" you because of it. Maybe it would be best if you will never ever, ever talk to these "people" ever… again

Barry: But… then I wouldn't meet anyone and make any friends

Cajun Fox: Hey cheer up cat, We six right here can be your new buddies

Barry: I don't know about that, I don't think I should trust you guys-

Cajun Fox: Yeah you can, we're all great pals and believe me, we never caused a teeny weeny lil argument in our gang. So, Whaddya say cat (raises his paw out)

Barry: Well… ok

(Barry raises his paw out and the two handshake)

Katz: Perfect!

(It cuts to the six and Barry sitting on chairs)

Barry: (looks at each of them) So, why did you guys came in the basement for

All (except Barry): Revenge!

Barry: Revenge?

All (except Barry): Revenge on that stupid dog!! (They all laugh evilly)

Barry: (feels shocked about this) You're gonna get revenge on Courage?!?! But he's my friend-

Katz: (places his hand on Barry's mouth with a serious expression) We don't… want to hear that! (Takes his hand out of Barry's mouth)

Barry: Oh, sorry

Katz: Don't you apologies

Barry: Yes sir… So how is the revenge plan gonna work out

(The six discuss the plan together with Barry listening and writing the plan down)

Barry: That can work out

Le Quack: That's more we like it (pats Barry's head)

Cajun Fox: Hey since we are all a group, we should give it a name, like The Sin Seven!

Katz (annoyed): There is one like that you stupid fox

Cajun Fox: Oh

Barry: Maybe… The… Revenge Seven

Le Quack: Ooh la la~ parfaite(perfect), petite chat(little cat)

(Barry looks at the each of them with an anxious look as they laugh sinisterly)

(Then it cuts to Muriel and Courage who came back from the grocery store)

Muriel: I'm sure Barry would be happy that we brought some chocolate rabbits for him

Courage: Mmhmm

(Muriel and Courage head to the living room, to the basement door. Muriel knocks it)

Muriel: Barry! Barry! Are you alright?

(The Revenge Seven look at the door, Barry stood up)

Barry: Let me get it! (heads upstairs and opens the door) Hey Muriel, Hey Courage

Muriel: How are you feeling now Barry?

Barry: I'm fine, it's just that i-

Revenge Seven (heard offscreen): Destroy that stupid dog!!

Muriel: Barry? What was that dear?

Barry: Uhh, (shakes anxiously) Uhhh… (quietly) what do I do…

Cajun Fox (offscreen): Lie man, lie!

Barry (quietly): How?

Cajun Fox (offscreen): Say that we're your new friends and your part of a friend group

Barry: (quietly) Ok! (Turns around to Muriel and Courage) These are my new friends and I'm part of a friend group and… (looks at Courage) sorry Courage, no dogs allowed (shuts the door) (Then he opens the door slightly again) Oh and could you bring in six sandwiches and cut one of them into five slices

Muriel: Why sure Barry dear

(As Muriel made the sandwiches, Courage stirs the pudding)

Muriel: Keep stirring the pudding Courage, we don't want it to burn

(Then to the basement as Barry comes downstairs, the Six started their revenge plan)

Le Quack: So how does our plan gotta be settled like this

Katz: Yes, something cunning and something that brings her terror to her flesh

Barry: Hmm… maybe we would-

(Muriel is seen coming to the basement, with a tray of five sandwiches)

Barry (has his arms flapping): Muriel's coming!!! Huh? (however he realises that they are holding newspapers as he looks at them confused)

Muriel: (places the tray down on the table) well, everyone help yourself to a finger sandwich (she then stands beside Barry and rubs his head) Oh Barry dear, I'm sorry about before. Eustace can be like this mainly

Barry: It's alright Muriel, I'm sorry-

(As Barry was about to apologise, Black Puddle Queen places the newspaper down, takes the sandwich and bites it, then she goes back to reading the newspaper. Barry looks at Puddle Queen nervously)

Barry (whispers): Your sirenness, we can't have Muriel see you

Muriel: Barry, who is this friend you have?

(Barry shakes nervously at Muriel)

Muriel: Barry, are you feeling alright dear

(Barry shakes as he sees a cup of juice by Cajun Fox, he raises his toy gun which shoots a cork right at the cup, spilling onto Cajun's lap)

Cajun Fox (madly): Hey! What gives!

Barry: (points at Muriel) She did it! Seize her!!

Muriel: Barry, what's going on- (muffles as she is covered by a burlap sack)

(As Muriel wakes up, she is chained above a cauldron of boiling oil)

Muriel: Barry, what's going on in here

Barry: Sorry Muriel- (when he walks to Muriel, he was stopped by Le Quack)

Le Quack: Don't you apologies petite chat

Muriel: So, for all of you six, this is one of those deadly friends group isn't it

Big Toe: Forget that, we want that dog now get screaming see

Muriel: No, I won't do it

Katz: (by the washing machine) Allow me! (Puts red and white clothes into the washing machine while sinisterly laughing)

Muriel: No!!! Don't mix the colours!!!

(Katz pours bleach into the washing machine and slams the door while sinisterly laughing)

(Muriel then screams in horror to which Courage hears it and rushes to the basement only to be stopped by the Foot crushingly stepping on his body)

Big Toe: Yeah, remember us

Pinky Toe: Yeah, remember us

(The five remaining villains step forward to glare at Courage)

Courage: Oh no!

Big Toe: You licked us good see

Cajun Fox: Cooked us good too, remember that

Barry: Courage!!

(Katz gives Barry a glare in order to stop him from helping Courage get back up. Barry backs up, intimidated)

Muriel: Oh, what are you going to do with Courage

Big Toe: Now we're gonna put you the squeeze on you, see

(The Foot squishes Courage, Barry gets behind the group, though he turns back as he couldn't watch the pain)

(Katz walks to Courage and kneels down)

Katz: Care for a bit of sport before you slowly die dear boy? Let's play… (holds a red ball) dodgeball

(Courage screams, along with Barry, who is feeling very worried about this)

(The lights go off and on, forming a stadium field. Le Quack, wearing black and yellow striped referee outfit)

Le Quack: (blows his whistle) These are the rules. Le ball, she is round. Le loser, she is dead (laughs)

(Courage stands at the end, he wears a white jersey with a blue "O" and matching shorts, sneakers and headband)

(Barry sits by the stairs, worried)

(Katz and the others wear green and white uniforms with white numbers. Then the match begins. Katz gets a headstart as he throws his ball at Courage, his ball unleashes spikes which hits head across the wall, then his head began to pop out)

Barry: (watching this) Ohhh that's going to hurt

(Weremole holds his dodgeball and eats it, Katz becomes shocked by this)

Katz: Who invited this undefined beast?

(Weremole belches, Cajun Fox walks with a giant spoon besides Foot, he pulls out his spicy Cajun pierogies)

Cajun Fox: My spicy Cajun pierogies are known to pack up a wallop

(Cajun launches the pierogies at Courage's mouth, causing his body to burn from the spiciness)

Barry: (places his hands on his mouth) Oh… god

(Courage goes over to a water bottle and drinks it but then he spat it all out due to the colour)

Courage: Pooey!

(Black Puddle Queen rises from the puddle of sports drink, holding out sea creatures. Courage dodges the jellyfish and coral, but gets hit by a clam which is stuck on his head)

(The villains laugh at Courage's misery, while for Barry, watching at it just makes him feel bad for Courage)

(Katz holds a lot of dodgeballs, placing them down for Foot to straight up kick them all Courage, this hits him in the face and stomach. Suddenly, the buzzer on the washing machine goes off and Courage has his arms out in a shape of a "T")

Courage: Time out! Time out!

(Whistle blows as Courage goes over to the washing machine by placing fabric softener onto it)

Muriel: Good boy Courage! Go get 'em!

Barry: (smiles at Courage) Yeah Courage! Get 'em good! Go get 'em!

(Katz hears Barry cheering on Courage)

Katz: Excuse me!

(Katz glares at Barry, which the latter got intimidated and keeps watching)

(The whistle blows to resume the game, Weremole burrows himself underground and is tunnelling his way towards Courage. He emerges and attacks Courage, shaking him back and forth like a dog chew toy. Until Le Quack blows his whistle)

Le Quack: Le halftime

Barry: Halftime?

(The lights show two of the Duck Brothers playing instruments and singing the song)

🎵Halftime show! Halftime show! Yeah, yeah, whoa, whoa! Halftime show!🎵

(Barry claps along to the tune and gave it an applause. Duck Brothers move out of the room, which closes by darkness)

(Cuts to Katz lighting the cannon with fire, which fires right at Courage, who is battered and tired. Courage screams, causing to get the cannonball in his mouth. He holds it in, but then suction cup darts are thrown at his head, causing him to drop the cannonball. Then the piano falls down on his body and a water balloon is thrown at him. Courage is completely damaged from all of this)

(The five hold weapons out. Katz has a flamethrower, Foot has a spiked club, Cajun has a cleaver, Puddle Queen has a shell which launches a rocket and Weremole has a flyswatter. With it all, they attack Courage with them, causing him to get more in pain by this. While Barry is covering his eyes as he couldn't bear to watch this moment)

(Courage whimpers)

Katz: Now we would like someone to give you that dear boy. (snaps his fingers at Barry) Come over here

(Barry comes downstairs and walks to Katz)

Barry: Yeah

Katz: So we seen that you hold a gun around, yes

Barry: Yeah, but it's a toy gun-

Katz: Good, then let us show you this

(Katz holds out a red gun to Barry)

Barry: What's that

Katz: A flare gun. One bullet, one shot right into the dear boy's chest (loads it and gives it to Barry) Now keep your eyes on the target

(Barry stands still, eyes straight onto Courage while holding the flare gun, the five villains watch him retrieve Courage's final moment)

(Then Barry drops tears out of his eyes, this is all because he doesn't want to kill the one who he cares mostly)

Barry: (sniffs) I-I… I can't do this…

(Barry drops the flare gun and buries his face with his hands)

(The villains are shocked by this except Katz who's downright upset at Barry's attempt failed. He came to Barry with a sinister glare and begins to grab him by the neck)

Katz: You… ungrateful, disappointing CAT!!! YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO SHOOT HIM GODDAMMIT!!! HE IS OUR ENEMY!!! THINK CAT!!! THINK OF YOUR OWN FUTURE YOU COULD HAD!!!

(Katz brutally tries to choke Barry as he pressing his neck really hard)

(Courage witnesses this and feels shocked by this, he whimpers)

Muriel: Come on Courage! You can't give up! There must be something that you can do!

(Courage looks at Barry, choking)

Muriel: Come on Courage! What can you do!

(Courage thinks and he gets an idea)

(Courage takes a step forward and inhales a deep breath. Then he unleashes his longest scream ever, which shakes the entire house, cracks started forming in the walls, ceiling and floor of the basement)

(Barry drops down to the floor, since Katz lost his grip because of the floor shaking. He runs over to Courage screaming his lungs out)

(The villains either cover their ears or cringe in pain from it. Weremole sees Puddle Queen's clam, hops inside and closes it. Then the cauldron underneath Muriel, cracks apart and breaks

Muriel: Ooh!

(Courage, while screaming, tears off his jersey. The villains now lost their footing, as they all fell to the giant cracked hole to their demise. Finally after 41 seconds, Courage stops screaming. He sighs and then collapses to the floor, sweaty and exhausted, but victorious. Barry goes close to Courage and hugs him. The shackles securing Muriel crack and break, which allows her to fall on her bottom safely)

Muriel: Oh!

(The timer on the washing machine buzzes. Muriel rushes to the machine and sets the dial to "Gentle." The laundry is saved)

Muriel: (wipes her brow and sighs deeply) Oh, my! (runs to Courage and Barry) Courage, what big lungs you have. The winner! (She lifts both Barry and Courage and raises Courage's arm in a victory pose)

(Courage laughs deliriously and waves to the audience. along with Barry, who also waves to the audience and then he looks at him with a smile)

Barry: Muriel, I'm sorry that I… got a bit upset. And i'm sorry for causing you and Mr Bagge to argue

Muriel: (hugs Barry) Oh, Barry. It's not your fault dear. You know how much I love you like how I love Courage as the child I would've had

(Barry smiles and hugs Muriel back)

(Cuts at night-time, Muriel is folding a blanket, then it goes to Barry and Courage cuddled up together in Eustace's chair with the blanket over them. Even Barry holds his plushie along with him)

(Courage holds the remote and presses the button to turn on the TV. The TV turns on and it only shows Freaky Fred, holding his electric razor)

Fred: Courage…

(Cuts to the outside of the farmhouse, Courage and Barry both scream, causing the upper half of the house to fall apart and crush the foundation of the house)

#ctcd #courage the cowardly dog #ctcd oc #katz #courage the dog #fanfic #story #le quack #eustace bagge #muriel bagge #cajun fox #black puddle queen #freaky fred #clutching foot #weremole #cat oc

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somer-writes · 4 months

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I lived in Louisiana for… shit like three years? and Twi with a deep Louisiana Cajun accent is… very funny. A lot of the people there throw in seemingly random French words (it’s a requirement of their school systems to LEARN IT and speak it close to fluently, very cool imo). So would Twi do that ? Would it be random Twili words or does Ordon have a secret sub language you think?

omg cajun twi would be spectacular. im minoring in french and louisiana is one of the official french speaking areas (the word is escaping me rn)

thats a good question! i think twi could reasonably code switch with twili and hylian, but i could also see ordon using like Olde Ordonian in some instances still for very specific words

twi speaking with this incomprehensible accent speaking 3 languages randomly while stewing a pot of gumbo is hilarious

#somer answers #love me some cajun food #etouffee my beloved #jambalaya too #i actually hate gumbo but ive never had good gumbo so maybe thats the diffrence #imagine twi telling a story about wrestling gators #and everyone is like wtf is a gator #and no one believes him #twi covered in chigger bites from fucking around moss #he drinks gin and tonics

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thebarefootcajun · 8 months

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Juneaux, Woman in a Man’s Body

Junior they called him. She preferred to be called Juneaux. But he’d never felt right as Junior. See, Juneaux was a woman trapped in a man’s body.

She wore women’s clothing. So shocking for her parents that Juneaux moved out of her parents house immediately after graduating from High School at the Lily High School of the village of Lily. In that small village were the largest assortment of Louisiana day lilies found anywhere in the state.

Juneaux was quite ambitious. She wanted to be a veterinarian in this small village. She loved living here despite being ostracized as a weirdo with leprosy.

Thank goodness for a childless older couple who loved because they followed Jesus, not the church. They felt Jesus wouldn’t have been associated with any of the churches that they knew. Jenny and Frank offered to house Juneaux. Since they couldn’t have children of their own why not invest in Juneaux’s young life. They sent her to vet school and covered all costs.

Juneaux left the state for vet school. She left the South and went up North where the people there were more accepting of outliers. Juneaux graduated with top honors; she stayed on two more years and specialized in veterinary surgery. Juneaux was offered a partnership in upstate New York; she declined because she was homesick for Louisiana, Jenny and Frank.

Not a great era to be a woman trapped in a man’s body; the year was 1932. But Juneaux was determined to live her authentic life and she had two adopted parents who would support her, Jenny and Frank.

Juneaux opened up a veterinary practice on the outskirts of the Village of Lily. Her business struggled since no one wanted a man living as a woman to treat their animals. Juneaux was patient; she knew she was different and that would take some getting use to, but she also knew that Cajuns were good people who when they got to know her would trust her.

The closest vet was about twenty-five miles over in another Village named Verger de Pêchers, Peach Orchard, a place with an abundance of peach orchards making the sweetest peaches. It was quite a hike in 1932. Juneaux was right there ready to use her veterinary skills, but people snubbed her because she was a man in a woman’s body.

One morning an older widowed lady Mrs. Ronde found her old dog Sharon hardly breathing in the bed right next to her. In her nightgown she picked up Sharon and walked her to the vet. Juneaux was there with open arms, gently taking Sharon from Mrs. Ronde’s hands into the examination room. After a thorough exam it appeared that Sharon had developed congestive heart failure. Juneaux gave her pills to help with the breathing issues, instructions for a new diet and some gentle exercise to keep Sharon agile and moving.

As Mrs. Ronde left Juneaux’s pet service she hugged her with these words, “Chère,

Bébé, tu a sauvé mon vielle chien. Merci beaucoup!” (Dear, baby you have saved my old dog. Thank you so much!)

Word got around about Juneaux’s pet care with Sharon. People began to trust Juneaux with their pets and her business began to thrive. Juneaux was seen through different lenses after that, not as a freak, but as a beautiful

woman, a gentle spirit, and a trusted vet.

#prairie #cajun prairie #short story #cajun french #flash fiction #louisiana #woman in a man’s body

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1tuffprincess · 24 days

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Gambit and Rogue moments X-Men The Animated Series

youtube

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iii-days-grace · 5 months

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a customer told me that apparently to people from France, those of us who speak quebecois french apparently sound like. very country lol? (i mean im sure france herself has hicks too that's just the french i know and love here)

like here it's more common to say bonjour (lit. 'good day!') than salut or Allô and that apparently comes off as kind of old-fashioned, haha.

super excited to go to france someday and confuse people by being a young person who apparently uses grandpa vocabulary though!

also, i've had a few people here giggle at my accent too, not because it's terrible but because. i learnt french initially from my stepmom, who is from RURAL-ass rural quebec, and also Radio Canada, the renowned national french radio channel .

also, hanging around bilingual army guys, unfortunately. and Acadians which is something else entirely

so i have an okay accent for an anglo, but sometimes i bust out with either a professional radio voice or like, the worlds most maple-syrup soaked french-canadian hoser.

#original post #pronouncing oui as 'why'#actually there's a movie about a guy faking a disability to get better work benefits but he gets posted to the absolute sticks of france #and has a heartwarming story getting fucked with and getting to to know the locals #we watched it in high school #for the acadian thing: it is literally where Cajun comes from #if you hear a thicc cajun accent that's kinda what canadian french accent can sound like sometimes!

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thebarefootcajunpetiteshistoires · 1 year

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Slept a Little Bit Closer That Night

Jaylyn and Raylyn had started first grade together. In those days on the Cajun Prairie there was not a kindergarten so all children went right to first grade. Most of the farm children went much later than August since that was the height of the harvesting season. Children helped bring in the crops. Jay and Ray as they were called, sometimes even called JayRay since the boys were always together. When you saw one you saw the other. Often identified as fraternal twins. They had been born on the same day by two different mothers almost to the second, and had become best friends.

The boys were next door neighbors out on the South Louisiana Cajun Prairie. They both had skills learned on the prairie on cotton farms. They were born in 1953 in the summer during the hottest month, August. Speaking of hot, these two were quite the lookers. Natural beauty, also quite the jocks in high school. They both played football and were on the first string team.

Therefore at every game they played most if not all of the innings of the game. Jay was the quarterback and Ray was a blocker. That suited the boys fine. Jay was slim, lithe and a fast runner; a quick thinker who oftentimes showed the coaches winning plays. Jay also liked to be in the limelight; the more people cheered for him, the better he played. Ray on the other hand was a bigger guy, in blocking he packed a punch. He protected his best bud Jay in order for Jay to gain yardage, throw passes and or make a touchdown. Ray didn’t much like being in the limelight. He preferred the joy of the team sport and enabling his BFF, Jay, to be the star.

After graduation the guys decided to take a house together. Their parents admired the boys independence and desire to make their own way. They took a rental place between their parents on Gros Orteil (toe). Named so because the region was shaped like a big toe. The guys’ rental was right spot on the big toe towards the edge of the region. The house they rented was a one room cottage, simple in design, created by using all natural materials from the prairie. It suited the boys, plain and rustic. All they really needed in their own words was a roof over their heads. There was a natural spring right out their back door; there they could bathe in the clear water bubbling up through the ground and pooling into a manmade lake.

Jay and Ray were outdoor guys. They planned to live mostly outside, but wanted a place to shelter in the event of inclement water. Also as a place to escape mosquitoes, one of the menacing live creatures on the Cajun Prairie. The boys moved in shortly after their high school graduation. Both of their families owned cotton farms a mile or two away. Each boy would continue to farm with his own family and help each other’s family if time allowed. The boys were ecstatic with this set up. They were close to their families and to be able to live within a mile of each of their families was a dream come true. To live with a best friend was even better, especially a friend since birth. More like brothers, but since high school something was different, the boys hadn’t acted upon it; they hadn’t even shared it with each other, but each had sexual dreams of the other. Not sure what to do, they did the only thing they could; ignored it.

How in the hell could two football jocks tell their parents that they were queer for each other. Understanding this today is impossible and understanding it almost seventy years ago was even more unexplainable. They lived with these desires in silence, and both boys knew that they couldn’t live this way forever. Imagine living with someone you love as an adult and you are horny for him, more than horny, but even think you love him. Daunting, scary, and impossible, but each boy couldn’t bear to think of not living with his love, best friend, forever guy.

Jay being the more outspoken and aggressive decided to have this conversation with Ray one night after showering in the spring outside the back cottage door. After drying off with an old cotton feed sack, Jay asked Ray to join him for a shot of moonshine on the front porch for a conversation. Ray didn’t think anything of it since the boys often had conversations about matters that concerned one or both of them. I mean really, they were best friends. That’s was best friends do.

On the porch with old mini one ounce canning jars, they did shots of moonshine. Jay told Ray what he was feeling and Ray responded with, “I’m feeling the same, have been for some time.”

Jay responded, “It’s a good feeling, one I don’t feel ashamed of. But I’m not understanding why it feels bad when it feels so good.”

Ray responded with a similar answer. No answers were given or even discussed. The boys decided that it felt good to finally have addressed this out in the open. See, the boys had never really dated in high school and had no interest in girls. Either boy had no interest in any other boys either. It had always been just the two of them, and this desire had been a new thing to work out. They boys both tired decided that it was time to go to bed, both had to be in the fields early in the morning. So they moved into the house to the bed that they shared.

That in itself wasn’t unusual either. Both boys had grown up sleeping together in a double bed since they were kids. Jay and Ray climbed into bed and got under the spread and slept a little bit closer that night.

#writers on tumblr #authors #barefoot cajun #gayromance #cajunprairie #short story #gayshortstory #gay flash fiction #flash fiction

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shadowwingtronix · 1 year

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Sing Me A Story> Big Bad John and its sequels

BW Media Spotlight's Sing Me A Story goes from a mine shaft to a rabbit hole in the multi-song tale of Big Bad John and its sequels

Before he was selling sausages for your breakfast, Jimmy Dean was an actor and singer before his passing in 2010. However, while he’s mostly known for his variety show The Jimmy Dean Show, also notable for the first appearance of the Muppet piano playing dog Rowlf, there’s only one song of his I really know, 1961’s “Big Bad John”. Even then all I remembered was the refrain, but for some reason,…

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#answer songs #Big Bad John #Dottie West #James Dean #Little Bitty Big John #My Big John #Sing Me A Story #song review #The Cajun Queen

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 1 month

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Hi there,

Saw your post about Cajun/cowboy Alastor and OMG! I don’t have many ideas other then maybe he plays poker for souls or something like that and maybe a reader comes into town and is just as good at poker as he is. And he cannot seem to win, leading him to become mildly obsessed over winning their soul.

Thats all I have as I don’t know much about cajun/cowboy stuff.

I’ll let you know if I have any other ideas!

Thank you!

Alastor - [ ACE OF HEARTS ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Omg, I love your take on cowboy Al! It got me thinking about it for days. I have never played poker, so I had to watch multiple YouTube videos to understand the game while writing this. Hopefully, it came out accurate enough! Also, this is a very, VERY traumatic/smut-heavy fic I'm working on, so please be aware and know I don't endorse anything I write.

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ GUN PLAY… ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON….eventually.] + [ SLIGHT/IMPLIED AGE GAP ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/BLOOD/CANNABILISM ] + [ KIDNAPPING…sort of?.. ] + [ PARENTAL PHYSICAL AB*SE…eventually..] + [ ANGST/TRUAMA…]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

**Cowboy Alastor** is known for his record of killing, is a skilled bounty hunter, and is far from a decently moral one. Everyone assumes his motives, guessing who his next target is and if he’ll ever feel guilt for what he does to them.

He doesn't.

What kind of demon would he be if he did…

Besides, the people he kills owe him in one way or another, all in debt to the red demon by their stupidity and lust for life, so he feels nothing for them when the time comes for the price of their deals to be paid.

Alastor arrives for them in the dead of dry nights, taking their last breath with a single bullet to the head or a clean cut across the throat. Their pleas do little to affect his decision.

“A deal is a deal…”

He reminds them that escaping a bloody end is impossible, already solidified by their selfish desires, and no amount of begging will change his mind. They curse his name, glaring at the grin on his face as he draws nearer with deathly intent in his eyes, and it only grows as he derives pleasure from their refusal to cooperate.

The riches, the riding, and the roughness he endures daily are nothing compared to the satisfaction he gets from killing. Others may deal in chasing oil, farming land, and cattle, but he stakes his fulfillment in the business of blood.

**Cowboy Alastor** dabbles in gambling when he's not off-striking deals with lowly souls or wreaking havoc on those he deems deserving.

Every city south of New Orleans with a bar or saloon welcomes his visits and not by choice.

Those who don't meet his standards or demands of hospitality drop from the face of the earth at his will, burning to a crisp full of the dead occupants who so lightly offended him, and never to be rebuilt out of fear he'd return to demolish it again.

He surely would, but no one has yet to test the theory in fear of a painful death by his hands.

Alastor leisurely travels the expanse of Louisiana's countryside, partial to riding wherever the wind blows, but he’ll always return to the rumbling city of New Orleans.

Whether for personal reasons or because his beloved mother wished to see him, it becomes second nature for the deer demon to reside there randomly. It was his hometown, after all, and he preferred the taste of whiskey from a familiar place over foreign alcohol in far-off dusty taverns he'd never visit again.

The saloon he fancies sits opposite the central townhouse, a tall building at the end of a main street that never seemed to rest.

Lafitte’s Blacksmith Bar

Summer nights brought out and drew in more people, filling the bar with patrons who knew of his deeds and those who’d only heard scarring stories about him through the ladder. The knowledge of a red reaper roaming the towns of Louisiana varied, but their fearful respect of him was abundant the moment Alastor stepped foot into the bustling bar.

He was there, in good spirits for the most part, but still an impossible threat they couldn't brush off.

**Cowboy Alastor** greets the silent patrons with a sly grin, tipping his hat to the fear-stricken owner who eyed him from behind the packed bar.

“Don't let me interrupt the fun, Cher. I'm not here to cause you trouble… that's if you're kind enough to indulge me.”Alastor chuckles, not waiting for a proper response from anyone as he stalks over to his usual spot in the smokey parlor.

A group of cattlemen stiffen in their seats as he walks by, all grabbing their drinks as swiftly as possible before leaping up from their table to avoid him, and their skittish actions cause Alastor to laugh as he settles into a particular backroom booth.

It was customary for people to keep their distance from him, some deterred by his striking appearance while others simply didn't want to risk involvement with a known killer. He saw nothing wrong with their aversion, glad that his reputation proceeded him, but there were those single few who saw him as a challenge rather than a threat.

Poor fools…

Mortal or not, he ran into them regularly, welcoming their duels like a bored child getting a new toy to destroy, and though he knew they'd fail to win against him, he'd never turn down a good game.

Ever…

**Cowboy Alastor** lets the saloon wind into chaos again, humming along to the melody of music and rowdy singing while getting comfortable in his secluded spot.

His hat rests low on his head, shielding most of his red gaze from those who look his way, only leaving the view of his Cheshire smile and effectively signaling his oddly calm demeanor. Alastor slipped his riding jacket off, tossing the tailored burgundy clothing across the back of the booth, his leather and suede black gloves following suit.

“What a day it's been…” he mumbled while flexing his long fingers, relaxing his posture while leaning back and rolling his neck until a soft ‘pop’ was heard.

Consequently, the tension tangled in his limber body from riding all day unraveled. Alastor sucked his teeth at the feeling, licking his lips as a satisfied groan left them, and just as he sat forward again, the owner hurried to his table with a bottle of alcohol and a tray of cigars.

“Your usual, Al,” he split out, setting the items in front of him with shakey hands, and Alastor clicks his tongue at the nervous tick. He'd come to this bar for years, and the old man still trembled in his boots around him. The poor fool wouldn't dare admit his fear either, rushing off as soon as he reached for the bottle, and though some might consider his retreat rude, Alastor found it amusing.

Flattering, even.

**Cowboy Alastor** drinks slowly, letting the whiskey burn his tongue and drowning the malt taste with languid drags from a cigar.

Eyes scan over him, women whisper about him lustfully under the rowdy music, and the men keep their senses about them with happy trigger fingers.

Because as they say: “Red Reaper, Red Reaper. The devil's solemn deal keeper. Beware him & the hell he seeks…”

Alastor imposes his intensity, grinning at those who stare too long, watching the women who drink him in with an equally sultry stare, and daring the men to throw a bullet his way with a knowing smirk. He invites trouble, waiting for it like a preying snake in tall, dry grass, but after some time, he assumes no one in the saloon will accept his invitation.

That is until you step in, looking lost among the worldly thrills of a bar but unafraid to venture further into it with an air of certainty surrounding you.

**Cowboy Alastor** makes no move to approach you, laid back as ever, as he observes the gentle way you speak to men who drunkenly approach you. They make offers to dance, almost crowding your more diminutive form as you trail to the bar.

“Sorry, boys, but I'm here on business, not pleasure. Now, run along..” you wave them away playfully, purposely flirtatious but avidly stern.

He expects them to continue bugging you; you're a doll, after all, prettier than most women he's seen. However, the men retreat politely, leaving you be as the owner approaches your side, and you immediately turn to hug him despite his apparent concerned expression.

Alastor observes the exchange closely, reading your lips perfectly while sipping at his drink, and it's all too easy for him to assess the situation.

The daughter of a businessman returns home after finishing school in the north, wanting to visit him at work as a pleasant surprise, but he's far from happy about a young lady like yourself being out late at night in a place like this.

You're too mannered to be seen around the patrons, it's dangerous for you to ride alone in the evening, and your father isn't pleased you intend to stay out to celebrate your school completion.

He tells you it's best to go home, that he'll come with you, but you insist on staying and remind him, “I'm not your little girl anymore, Daddy!..” The older man can't seem to rein you in, having to drop the lecture as a small brawl breaks out in the corner of the saloon, which draws his attention immediately, and this leaves you to wander the scene freely.

A perfect time for Alastor to reel you in close and personal…

**Cowboy Alastor** whistles when you walk past his area, catching your attention with a short, soulful melody, and you quickly notice him in the dim back room.

“Hi there, lil’ lady. Searchin' for somethin'?” He inquires playfully, tone bordering sensual, and his grin slipping into a closed smile as your gaze settles on him.

You’re curious, not scared of him like most are, and the moment he speaks to you, questions race through your head.

Who is he?

How have you never seen him here before?

Why, in God's name, is he sitting away from the masses?

Is he a rider, a hunter, or maybe a convict?

It was hard to tell from a distance, so without a second thought, you flashed him a gentle smile, gradually approaching where he sat, “Hello, and who might you be, sir?” You chirp a greeting, resisting the urge to bite your lip as he stares into your wandering gaze.

Alastor assumed you’d been away from the South too long to realize who he was, that your father's earlier warning didn’t sprout from overprotectiveness but rather fear of his presence.

You didn’t see him as a threat, nor a danger, but a new face in an old town.

He chuckles, putting out his cigar after taking a particularly long drag from it, blowing smoke past his lips with a coy hum. You blink as the convoluted air fans your face, unbothered by it and itching for a taste of tobacco yourself. It’d been a few years since you’d let loose, not allowed to frequent bars or act unladylike in the limelight of northern modesty.

“A loyal patron, but it’s been some time since I’ve paid this place a visit.” He answers you politely, an odd trait that most men only reserved for themselves but refreshing to experience.

“Oh, well, that’s nice to hear, but your name is what I would like to know.”

A tender smirk stretches your lips, a red hue dusting your cheeks as he tips his hate apologetically before uttering a response, “Alastor Hartifelt. A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he pauses, quirking a brow at you expectantly, and you take a moment to analyze him further.

You've heard your father utter his name many times before your departure to the north. He'd described him brutally, having less than pleasant things to say about bounty hunters in general but especially about the man in front of you now. You'd heard people talk of his deeds, deals, and evil.

He was dubbed the ‘Red Reaper’ for a good reason, lurking around in the bitter nights and drawing blood from one poor soul or another in his travels.

Supposedly, he was a terrifying monster, but you'd always found beauty in the demented. It was one of the reasons your father had sent you away, but fortunately, the influence of the posh upper class did nothing to change your consciousness.

Besides, the rumors had failed to mention how attractive the red reaper was, let alone dashing. He seemed nice enough hadn't flashed his weapon, threatened, or catcalled you disrespectfully.

So, you found no harm in telling him your name, “Y/n L/n. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Hartifelt.” You blink slowly, drowning in his red eyes, unconsciously swaying where you stood, back to a wall that hid your presence near him from your father's eyes and the curious stares of others.

Alastor glanced at the space beside him, silently asking that you join him, but unlike most women, he rarely took an interest in, you didn't move until he asked you outright.

“Would you care to join me for a drink, Miss L/n? I'd like to have your company for a while..”

He doesn't speak any louder than needed, using every bit of charm he has to lure you in, and you let him believe he's succeeded with a sensual laugh and purring laugh.

“Why, I thought you'd never ask..”

**Cowboy Alastor** asks a lot of questions. Subtly gathering information about you that he has no use for.

You give him answers; some are lies, others are indiscriminate truths, but you can't bring yourself to be completely honest with a stranger known for his cunning. He keeps your glass full, pacing the liquor with you, reveling in your gentle laughter after every sip, and softening faster and faster the longer you conversed.

You kept your wits about you as best as possible, inviting his fleeting touches but never going further than whispering in his ear or tapping a finger under his sharp chin when he'd stare too long.

Alastor didn't mind your soft hands on him, nor your lingering gaze and confident provocations. He absentmindedly returned the gestures just as boldly.

Your fifth glass of whiskey was running low, and without a hint of hesitation, he refilled it alongside his own. You watched as the amber liquid filled each glass, utterly relaxed as he spoke to you tenderly, “You say your father sent you far up north. May I ask why?…”

He peers at you, sliding the transparent glass into your waiting hand, and you chuckle wryly while taking a sip. “Daddy says it was for my good. You see, my mother is a stickler about manners, and I didn't have much of any growing up. Ironic, seeing as I was raised well enough.” you paused, frowning at the memory of your strict but loving mother.

She was lovely to look at and kind most of the time, but her ambitions for you outweighed her patience. Alastor noted the haunting sadness in your eyes but said nothing as you continued, looking out into the crowd of patrons fussing about as you did.

“My mother died a few years back, leaving daddy to handle me, and when he realized he couldn't manage the business and a daughter, he sent me away. Couldn't blame him either; I was getting into trouble left and right and had some bad habits on the rise, too.”

His ears perked at the words ‘bad habits’ leaving your lips, naturally drawn to knowing a mortal's darkest secrets, so he pressed for clarification.

“Bad habits, you say? I couldn't imagine a sweet thing like you havin’ such things.”

You scoffed, glad your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol buzz to mask the blush his comment invoked, “Well…I did. Still do if I'm honest.” you admit in a hushed tone, knocking back the last of your drink before glancing his way.

“It's hard to resist doing things you're good at.”

Alastor leaned back into the seat, drink in one hand, the other fixing his hat so it sat back on his head. The adjustment gave you a peek at his fluffy red hair and the distinctive blood-marked x on his forehead. You thought to ask what the mark meant but saved the question for later, as he agreed with your statement.

“Very true, ma chere. Although I'm one for killin’, your passion may not be so grizzly and easier to alleviate.”

“My father thinks gambling is just as bad as killing. It doesn't matter if he's addicted to it himself or not. If I do it…I'm the devil's daughter in his eyes..” You roll your eyes, an action that jolts a nerve Alastor hasn't felt in years and subconsciously doesn't ignore.

“Gambling? That's your unproper poison?” he narrows his gaze as you nod lazily, a few ringlets of your hair falling from its pinned-up style as you do, resting on the skin of your shoulders and neck.

Soft.

Your locks look soft and silky to the touch, tempting him to run his fingers through it, across your skin, and, god forbid, under your dress.

A heavy breath settled in his chest at the possibility, a familiar rush coursing through him as you moved your lips to speak, “Yes. I see a stack of playin’ cards, and I just can't help myself. I got rather good at playing too but when you beat everyone in town at it people start to be less kind about your reputation.”

You laugh, attempting to make a light-hearted joke but ultimately grimacing at the mention of lousy sportsmanship from others. You couldn't help winning a challenge in poker, and many saw the talent as disgraceful, which prompted I'll rumor about you.

“That's a shame, sugar. Everyone deserves a chance to play a good game of their choosing.” he feigns concern, meeting your curious eyes as you shift to face him, “Everyone except me if my father has anything to say about it. Still, I suppose it's best I let it go…” you sigh, grabbing the bottle of whiskey to pour another shot.

Suddenly, you freeze, feeling his body heat invade your space. Alastor tilts his head down close to yours, breathing in your scent discretely before pressing his lips to the lobe of your ear as he mutters into it, “Why don't you play a game with me, chere? One lil’ round for fun… right under your daddy's nose, hm?”

The burn of excitement seizes your body, a shakey breath leaving your lips as his voice settles in your mind, inviting you to indulge his offer. That same heat pooled in your core with every second he spent in your space, inhaling the scent of bourbon and sweet sugar cane grass he rode through radiating off him, words just as inviting and addictive.

For a horrifying, well-feared killer, he sure did entice a woman like any natural-born gentleman…

It was a deathly combination you knew he often used, killing or not, and though it'd be wise to avoid his idea, you didn't want to risk missing an opportunity for the thrill.

It'd been so long, too long, and what's the worst that could happen?

Losing to him?

You'd never lost to anyone before, and you were confident that fact wouldn't change -even going up against the Red Reaper himself.

**Cowboy Alastor** relishes when you utter a ‘yes’ to his offer. His grin widens menacingly for a split second as he sets his glass down next to your empty one, conjuring up a meticulously detailed deck of playing cards and placing them on the table.

“You can choose which game we play, sugar…”

Alastor shifts away from you, letting you regain your composure and watching as your delicate fingers reach for the top card of the deck.

“Poker. A favorite of mine..” You didn't think twice before answering him, admiring the red and black ace in your hand, wondering where he acquired such personalized playing cards.

“Poker it is then, chere,” he smirks wickedly, removing his hat entirely to set it on the table before gingerly plucking the card from your hold and sliding to sit opposite you while dishing out equal amounts of cards between you.

Your eyes light up under the oil lamp's golden hue, studying the flick of his hands as he worked, trying hard not to wander up to his piercing gaze. Afraid he'd immediately see your attraction to his nimble hands, well to him in general, and use it against you somehow, so your focus remains on the hand dealt and not him.

As you both plucked your respective set from the table, studying the cards intently, you asked the singular most crucial question every poker match was built on.

“What will the bets be,” Your innocent inquiry earns sultry laughter from him, filling the air, raising feverish chills on your skin as he stares at you through half-lidded eyes.

“I prefer bargains of the soul, my dear. The use and price of one's existence is always more valuable than money, don't you agree?”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxx

A/N: Don't be mad AT ME, GUYS, PLEASE. I HAD EXAMS LAST WEEK. I'm SORRY FOR DROPPING OFF THE FACE OF THE EARTH… sort of, but I'm back now (please do hate me :((( ). Uh, so I might merge “Down in the Dust” with this because both stories kinda originated in my brain at the same time. However, since this is a request, I wrote a two-part tangent smut as a sort of prequel to the other fic! Also, the phrase “Save a horse. Ride a cowboy” will be unironically used…I'm sorry (I'm not lol) ❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ] VOLUME WARNING!!! 🗣️

Fun fact: In the South, we have a rule that if you take a cowboy hat and end up wearing it, they catch you with it (preferably in the mutual interest of getting to know each other). That cowboy gets to fuck you (hopefully, but technically you're initiating a flirting game wearing their hat, lol). It's a cute concept and one any Cowboy Alastor enthusiast should think about. ❤️ credits to the creator.

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mads-nixon · 7 months

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Hey Mads,

I saw your requests are open. Could i please request a Dating Eugene Roe headcanon? Thank you 💕

Dating Eugene Roe Headcannons

Eugene Roe x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: My first ever BoB fic was about Gene, so he holds a special place in my heart. Thanks for requesting! I loved writing these!! this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

So you and Gene meet in Aldbourne when Easy first gets moved there in September of 43' (you meet in october).

You're sitting in a coffee shop reading in the corner, and he thinks you're easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Being a shy guy, Gene doesn't say anything to you the first time he sees you. He just subtly glances at you from his spot across the shop.

Turns out, he isn't as subtle as he thinks and you totally notice the staring but don't mind it because you think he's very handsome.

You come into the shop every saturday morning, and every Saturday morning, he's there as well. After a few weeks of sneaking glances, you decided enough was enough.

You walk over and introduce yourself to him, and BOY does he go red when you say that you've noticed him.

Despite the awkwardness of the beggining of the conversation, things fall into a steady rhythm, and you find yourself enjoying his company.

Gene's very soft-spoken and respectful (the BEST listener in the whole company if you ask me)

You get to know each other a little bit, and when you have to leave, you write down your address on a table napkin with a grin, telling him you're free the next day at 6.

The next day, he shows up to your house at 5:55 with a bouquet of roses, wearing his dress uniform. He offers you his arm, and the two of you are off to Swindon for the night.

It ended with a sweet kiss under the stars at your porch (there was no light on because of the black-out being in effect)

from there, it was history, and you soon fell for the cajun medic, and he fell just as hard for you.

Whenever he gets weekend passes, the two of you go for day trips to Swindon or London, strolling down the streets softly talking.

In London, you take him to Crystal Palace Park, where you lay out a soft blanket and have a cozy picnic. Your head lays on his lap, and he gently runs his hands through your hair as he talks about his family back home.

You LOVE hearing the different stories of his grandmother and her healing abilities. It only makes sense that Gene would become a medic to help people, following in her footsteps.

As his training continued and the concern of Sobel leading the company grew, Gene began to bottle up his anxieties and distance himself from you slightly.

I feel like Gene is the type of guy who wouldn't want to tell you his problems because he doesn't want to add to your plate, so he suffers in silence.

You confront him about it and he sighs before telling you everything about Sobel and how incompetent he is. (you hate him with a burning passion...possibly more than Eugene does, but it's close.)

Sunday dinner with your family becomes a weekly thing as time drags on. Your dad was hesitant to bring an American into your house, but he likes Gene more than he ever would have thought.

I'd like to think that Eugene buys you small trinkets that reminds him of you (idk where this came from but it's in my mind now)

OKAY...JEALOUS GENE IS HOT, MAN

we all know he can get fired up (after moose get's shot, he rips Dick and Harry a new one), but what gets him really fired up is when he's jealous

Some nights when you're out at a pub, men will make passes at you despite him sitting right there...boy it grinds his gears.

I have a feeling he would just sit there silent because if he opens his mouth, he knows he wouldn't be able to control himself (imagine his *angry* look after Sobel screws up the training mission in curahee) .

You notice and reach out for his hand over the table, trying to calm him down. "I'm going to get us some drinks," you squeeze his hand before getting up.

Gene's eyes follow you as you waltz across the room, and he takes a deep breath.

His gaze falls to the table for a moment, and when he turns back to you, he sees red. There's a British soldier at the bar who's all up in your personal space and is getting closer every second. Eugene can see the discomfort all over your face.

He shoots up from the table and quickly makes his way over to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you behind him as he faces the guy.

"Do we have a problem here?" He asks, looking down at the man with fire in his gaze.

The Brit cowers instantly, taking his drink off the table before walking away. "No, sir."

Even through the man was super annoying, seeing Gene like that is incredibly hot, and you turn him around and kiss him.

He calms down pretty quickly after that.

Whenever they have to leave for Upottery, you share a sweet goodbye filled with tears (a lot from you and a few from Gene), and promises of writing.

You keep in contact through letter for the whole duration of the war, and the second he can leave after it's over, he comes straight to Aldbourne and asks you to marry him.

Tag List: @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @bucky32557038ww2 @flowers-and-fichte @merriell-allesandro-shelton

message or comment if you want to be added to the tag list!

#band of brothers #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #eugene roe headcannons #band of brothers headcannons #hbo war headcannons #gene roe #eugene doc roe

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whatavery · 2 months

Text

Hot and Cold (Art Trade)

My part of an art trade I did with Tucsi featuring Nicocai. Funnily enough, my first time writing that pairing, but it was fun! I tried to get Nico's dialogue down, so please do let me know how I did!

Oh and of course, this story is illustrated by Tucsi as well! Look at it, isn't it adorable?

Part II

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As his grip on his own hand tightened, Mordecai's ear gave an irritable flicker from the small the unflattering sound of leather squeezing against leather. He let out a short, shuddering sigh. Even in the darkened interior of the car, he could see his breath in front of his face, a small fog that dissipated in seconds. Even clad in his thick, dark coat, the late winter cold still cut through it, chilling him to the bone.

“Aw you feelin’ cold, cher? Need me t’ warm dem hands of yours?” Mordecai didn’t even turn to face his companion in the dark, the larger, light gray cat’s silhouette clear as day despite how dark it was. The unmistakable silhouette of Nicodeme Savoy leaned in towards Mordecai as he side-eyed the Cajun cat. “My Cajun blood keeps me warm – it can warm you too…”

“Are you suggesting I use your blood for warmth?” Mordecai scoffed derisively, still side-eyeing the bigger cat. He turned his green-eyed gaze forward instead, focused on the seemingly vacant area outside. The cold night had a clear sky, the full-moon’s light beaming down, bathing everything in its pale, silvery blue light. Mordecai could see frost glistening off what little plant-life was present outside. “That’s morbid even by your standards, Mr. Savoy…”

“Lagniappe, lagniappe! Never knew you was in’trested in dat sort’a stuff, cher!” Nicodeme laughed in the dark in that deep baritone of his. Mordecai’s left ear gave an irate flicker, before it laid back against his head. He wasn't sure what was worse; being stuck in a dark, cold car at midnight, waiting for a pickup, or the fact that he had to endure Nicodeme's constant comments, his endless onslaught of jabs at him.

“Never mind,” Mordecai sighed, adjusting his glasses for a moment, carefully repositioning his them ever so slightly upon the bridge of his nose. The conversation wasn't one he thought they ought to continue. Who knew where it might take them. Given that this man’s sister had already carved one sigil into Mordecai's chest, he didn’t need to give Nicodeme a reason to think this was an experience he wished to relive.

“Always so serious,” Nicodeme grunted. When Mordecai turned his head to look towards him, he saw Nicodeme in the dark, looking at him with an exaggerated pout on his face, clearly doing his best to come across as what he either thought a serious person looked like… or he was mocking Mordecai, which he knew to be the more likely option. “Just make a bahbin, no jokes. Serious business.”

Mordecai turned the other way, ignoring his companion as he glanced out the window by the passenger seat. He squeezed his hands together tighter, trying to keep warm the best that he could, though the mercilessly cold winter night didn’t leave him with much of a chance.

Finally, Mordecai relented his fidgeting, reluctantly unbuttoning his coat, which immediately caused all the warmth the fabric had trapped between him and it to rush out. As the cold air within the car rushed in to fill the available space, Mordecai shuddered again and pulled out his pocket watch. The conductive nature of the golden metal alloy meant that even through his leather gloves, it felt as though Mordecai held a chunk of ice that somehow got colder and colder. The warmth coming from his own body could only affect the metal for so long, now that it was out in the open.

“They’re late…” Mordecai noted in the most monotonous, most irate tone he could muster. The nerve of these people… Although he knew it wouldn't do him or Marigold any good, the temptation to shoot them on sight when they eventually turned up was quite strong. But Mordecai just put the pocket watch back into his inner pocket. He shuddered again as he hurriedly closed his coat.

“C’mere.” Before Mordecai could even think to tell Nicodeme to leave him alone, he felt two, massive mittens around his own. Although Nicodeme's were barren, not covered by gloves, Mordecai was surprised to find that they were incredibly warm. Perhaps there was some level of truth to the bigger cat’s boastful claims about his Cajun blood. “Dere, ain’t dat better, cher?”

Mordecai said nothing. Although he detested sudden physical contact like this, he had to admit the bigger cat’s warmth was rather pleasant. His hands had previously felt as though they’d been dunked into a bank of snow. Despite there being no snow outside, the air was sharp and cold, and Mordecai knew the only thing worse than sitting in this dark, still vehicle was actually venturing out into he cold, dark night.

When Nicodeme let go again, Mordecai shot him a look, a look which was returned by a grin, a smirk. Mordecai let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“If ya’ want me to keep warmin’ you, all you gotta do is ask,” Nicodeme said with a wink of those yellow eyes. Even in the dark, the Cajun cat’s eyes practically glowed like the fireflies that would take to floating around these parts on warm summer nights.

Mordecai didn’t say a word as he squeezed his hands together again. Any minute now… They had to show up, didn’t they? How much longer could they possibly leave them waiting? When the bigger cat chuckled again, Mordecai sighed once more. “Yes? What did I do now that’s so funny?”

“Yer just so stubborn, cher – commes les vieux. It’s funny. Yer freezin’ cold and don’t want no help stayin’ warm?” Mordecai hadn't much of a clue what Nicodeme was saying when he slipped into French – he already had trouble understanding the Cajun cat when he spoke English, his thick, pronounced accent often making his words difficult to decipher. It didn’t help when he spoke fast, though mercifully he currently spoke rather slowly. “Gar ici, I’ll keep you warm.”

“What are-?” But Mordecai didn’t finish his sentence before a thick log of an arm was slipped around him. Pulled sideways, Mordecai found himself pressed up against the massive, warm body of the Cajun cat. He was surprised by just how warm he was; his body was like a furnace. It was no wonder he rarely took to wearing warm clothes, even in winter. It was strangely impressive in a way…

“Dere, isn’t dat better? Yer shiverin’, boo,” Nicodeme whispered in the dark. Mordecai gave the most feeble of squirms, a halfhearted attempt at breaking free from the already loose grip the bigger cat had on him. Nicodeme's built form was a formidable one; Mordecai knew he put great effort into staying in shape and that he was very strong; he’d witnessed Nicodeme wrestling men bigger than himself, using his brute strength to throw people around with little effort. If he truly wanted to, he could have put Mordecai in an iron grip to keep him from slipping away… but he didn’t.

Despite this, Mordecai remained in place. “You’re suffocating me…”

“I’m barely holdin’ on. I think yer startin’ t’ like me, mon cher,” Nicodeme insisted, giving yet another chuckle. Mordecai didn’t respond as he stayed put, deciding that keeping quiet was his best option; the more he spoke, the more ammo this bigger man had for teasing him, no matter what he did say. “Are ya’ feelin’ warmer?”

“… yes.” Mordecai didn’t want to admit it, but being pressed up against the bigger cat was indeed helping him stay warm, much like sitting by a fireplace. It likely came down to the bigger cat’s metabolism, Mordecai thought to himself. Or maybe he was just so cold that even the weakest source of heat would warm his bones right up.

“An’ what do dey say when a friend helps ‘em out?” Nicodeme asked in an almost sing-song kind of voice. He may as well have been waggling his finger at Mordecai, who shot him an irritated look.

“… Thank you, Mr. Savoy,” he grunted reluctantly.

“Pleasure’s all mine, cher,” Nicodeme said before Mordecai felt the bigger cat lean towards him. Having turned his head slightly to look, Mordecai's entire being tensed up the moment Nicodeme's lips made contact. He didn’t hit Mordecai's cheek, nor did he hit his lips. It was right in between, the side of Mordecai's black and white muzzle, right by the edge of where his white-fur blended into the blackness.

As if he’d been poked with a red hot iron, Mordecai felt his entire face warming up in an instant as he stared at Nicodeme in disbelief. The bigger cat looked back at him, before he roared with laughter, to which Mordecai immediately shushed him. “Not so loud…! What was that for?”

“Well, I thought it could warm ya’ up – an’ I was right, cher, yer almost glowin’,” the gray cat said, smirking at him. Nicodeme's left arm had been resting against the window on the driver’s side of the car, but now the bigger cat moved his left hand towards Mordecai. He felt that big, strong mitt of his brushing his cheek. “Don’t be shy now… I know ya’ like me, mon cher.”

Mordecai gritted his teeth, grumbling something under his breath to which Nicodeme raised both eyebrows inquisitively. Mordecai spoke up, though his voice was strangely shaky. “Highly unprofessional… You shouldn’t go giving people kisses like that – and certainly not me…”

“Not like dat? Den how? On de lips instead?” Nicodeme asked, his tone clearly feigning ignorance, as if he truly hadn't a clue what Mordecai meant. The tuxedo cat glared at him in the dark. He felt those thick, rough fingers brushing his cheek once more with a surprising level of gentleness that Mordecai wouldn't have thought this big man capable of.

“No. Please, don’t you even think about-” Mordecai was cut off almost immediately when Nicodeme put a small amount of force in to turn his head till they faced each other.

“Think about what, cher?” he asked, his gaze locked onto Mordecai's green eyes.

“Stop it…”

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mordecai almost gasped. Why did he sound so breathless all of sudden? Why did he feel breathless? His eyes widened when Nicodeme leaned closer still. “Wait…”

“Hmmm? For what, boo?” Nicodeme asked in a low, raspy whisper in the dark. His voice was so low, but it was as though he may as well be shouting at Mordecai. He heard and locked onto each and every word. “Nervous?”

“I think I hear them… They’re here,” Mordecai lied. The bigger cat’s ears perked up as he listened for a moment, his gaze turning from Mordecai to quickly scan their surroundings outside the car. Of course, there wasn't a soul to be seen in any direction.

Grinning, Nicodeme leaned closer still. “Just tell me to stop – anytime you want, cher…”

Mordecai opened his mouth, but not as much as a squeak left his lips. Nicodeme tilted his head to the side. Mordecai could feel his heart racing, as if threatening to burst right through his rib-cage. He let out one last shuddering breath before it happened.

The second Nicodeme's lips made contact with his, Mordecai felt as though he had been lit on fire, warmth coursing throughout every fiber of his being. He felt a tingling sensation down his spine all the way to the white tip of his tail.

It was a brief experience, Nicodeme mercifully deciding not to prolong it. When he pulled back, Mordecai saw that smirk he'd gotten so used to over the past few months. “Yer shakin’, boo. Do ya’ need more warmth?”

“No…” Mordecai had thought that it was Nicodeme who was shaking, but he realized that it was indeed himself. But at least he was no longer cold. “Please… Let go of me, Mr. Savoy…”

Nicodeme seemed surprised, but he gave a light chuckle, releasing Mordecai immediately, much to his relief. “I think you can start callin’ me Nico now…”

“And why is that?” Mordecai snapped once he’d sufficiently calmed down. His heart wasn't racing anymore and he wasn't feeling tingly… but the warmth had also left his body the moment he scooted back to where he’d been sitting previously.

“I s’pose I just think it’s strange t’ be formal with someone you kissed,” Nico said, warmth immediately rushing back into Mordecai’s cheeks. The bigger cat gave a soft laugh at this, Mordecai not meeting his eyes.

Without a word, Mordecai slid sideways towards the bigger cat, pushed himself up against him and kissed him on the lips. He gripped Nico’s vest as if to hold on for dear life, like the last piece of floating debris in a shipwreck that would keep his head above water. Mordecai didn’t make the kiss last for too long either, it was just a firm, but brief kiss.

Mordecai was left breathless again and Nico seemed taken by surprise, though he did smile. “Ah, what a lovely surprise…”

“Don’t you mention it to anyone… Ever… What now?” Mordecai asked, feeling annoyance boiling up inside him again when Nico started to chuckle. What had he done now that was so amusing to him? Would he ever stop-

Mordecai gave a start when he heard loud tapping upon the window behind him. Whirling around so fast his glasses nearly flew off, he looked through the passenger seat window, horrified to see that they were no longer alone. It was time to do business… But how much had they seen?

Based on the way Nico kept snickering as he exited the car, Mordecai felt his heart sinking… He was never going to hear the end of this...

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy fanfiction #lackadaisy mordecai #mordecai heller #lackadaisy nico #nico savoy #nicocai

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my-jokes-are-my-armour · 1 month

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I know this will never happen, both because the projects for the character have been buried several times and I can't see Joey accepting a lead role in a super heroes movie, but...

Long coat type of guy, cajun french, dark past, good guy but quite shady, seductive character but with impossible love stories : Joey as Gambit 👀

Bonus : he already knows card magic tricks 😅

#joey batey #impossible but still 😅#my nonsense #my potato gifs #jaskier #gambit

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thebarefootcajun · 1 year

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Sage, Love at First Sight

His name escapes me, but his face clearly flashes before me

The eyes, sage green, as looking onto a patch of herbal sage at its peak

His smell, the same, not green, but smelled intensely of sage

Earthy aroma

A bed with sage strewn about as he tossed and turned at night

Oils permeating his manly body

It was years ago, maybe 1970 when he glanced at me from across the dilapidated pine bar

We sat at opposites ends

He wore a cowboy hat winged up at the sides

With no idea of what the crown of his head looked like since he never removed his hat

Don’t remember much of his body other than the sage green eyes

Don’t remember much of his smell other than the all encompassing smell of earthy sage

I know we must have made love in one of the motel rooms associated with the Pine Bar

I’ve a penchant for men with cowboy hats, especially ones who wear them while making love

The first and only time I made love to a man where we both stood the whole time

An intense way to make love, vertical the whole time

Hard work, I remember, but well worth the exercise

Naked except for his cowboy hat, incredibly a turn on for me

An erection that lasted hours as if on viagra and it wasn’t even a thing yet

That sage man was hot

He made me hot and bothered in a good way

Maybe he never told me his name

Possibly, why I can’t remember it

For me, he’s Sage

Perchance, salt and pepper hair

I remember his pubic hair, where no secrets hide

His was salt and pepper

It’s where testosterone levels rage

Sadly I can’t remember a whole lot more about Sage

However, he was impressive

We spent the night together, he covered his head with his cowboy hat, you know like you might see in the movies, or a western series, sleeping on a bed roll

Maybe you’ve surmised that I fell in love with his eyes and smell, two of the sexiest attributes in men

I must have told him I loved him, because I did and still do

Love at first sight

#prairie #cajun prairie #louisiana #short story #flash fiction #gay couple #gay men #gay authors #gayhot #romance #cajun #gay love #gaylife #gay

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footprintsinthesxnd · 4 months

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I’ll Wait For You

Hey anon, thank you so much for your adorable request. I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy. The best way to kick off the New Year? A Eugene Roe fic of course. Happy New Year everyone! Warnings: mentions of injury, family death, destruction of homes, themes of war, weapons.

Eugene couldn’t remember the last time his heart hadn’t been pounding out of his chest. Ever since they’d jumped on D-Day his heart had been beating like a trapped bird flapping its wings against his ribcage. He didn’t know whether it was fear or adrenaline; or both. He could safely say that he was scared, many of the men wouldn’t admit it and as their medic, he wouldn’t show it, but he was scared, scared for himself and his friends. It was normal to be scared. Yet Eugene had never seen anyone as scared as the large blue-eyed civilian girl looking up at him and Liebgott.

“What do we have here?” Liebgott had all but sneered, pointing his M1 at a terrified civilian. Eugene felt himself smacking the gun away from her, “Leave her be. She’s a civilian. What da hells wrong wit’ you.”

Liebgott quickly lost interest in the situation once Eugene took a protective stance in front of her, and hurried off to join Webster and a few of the others that had crowded in the square.

“It’s all right. I won’t hurt ya,” Gene spoke softly as he knelt beside her, his hands raised and his eyes not leaving hers. She backed further away from him, tears trickling down her cheeks as she mumbled something.

“What was that? Whatcha say?”

The girl mumbled again and Eugene’s demeanour quickly softened. She didn’t understand English, of course, she didn't, she was speaking French.

“C'est bon. Je ne te ferai pas de mal,” Eugene spoke again trying to reassure her he was no threat and this time the girl looked up at him, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Tu parles français?” She asked, no longer looking as though she was about to fly out of the nearest open door.

“Je suis à moitié cajun. Toute ma famille parle français,” Eugene explained, glad that he was able to calm her down in her mother tongue. He could only imagine the horrors she had witnessed and then hiding in an abandoned house during the siege on Caretan too. He could only imagine.

“As-tu une famille? Que faites-vous ici?”

She shook her head and he wondered if he’d crossed the line by asking too much about her family.

“My family are all dead. I came here to be with my Aunt but the Germans had got to her first,” tears began to trickle silently down her cheeks again and Eugene felt himself reaching forward to place his hand on her shoulder, she didn’t pull away, instead leaning into his touch.

“I have no one left,” she muttered and now it was Eugene’s turn to look shocked.

“You speak English?”

“A little,” she admitted, “not a lot.”

Eugene couldn’t help but smile at her. She truly was pretty, her eyes striking against her pale skin, and despite the soot that covered her cheeks Eugene didn’t think he’d ever seen a girl so beautiful.

She moved a little and let out a small whimper which caused Eugene to lurch forward. “Are ya hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” she lied, clutching her calf which was now smeared with blood, her other bloody hand raised against her chest protectively.

“What happened to ya?” Eugene asked, digging into his musette bag and pulling out a sachet of sulfa powder and a bandage. He didn’t hesitate to wrap the bandage around her thigh, pushing her dress out of the way without a second thought. She was a patient, so why should he treat her any differently, although his growing red in response told a different story.

“Tu es très doux,” the girl mused, watching as Eugene’s hands worked quickly, wrapping her leg securely. Eugene hummed in amusement, no one had ever told him he was gentle before, certainly none of the other paratroopers. “It’s true,” she repeated and giggled as Eugene’s cheeks blushed a deeper shade of red. He quickly moved on, bounding her hand, avoiding her eye contact as she watched him work.

“You should be all set,” Eugene leaned back on his feet. “Can ya try and keep off it for a few days at least?”

“I can try but I’m trying to get to a family friend's house. It’s only a few miles down the road. I’m hoping they will take me in,” she looked down at her scuffed shoes, unable to face the truth that she really was alone now.

“How about we give ya a lift? We got plenty of trucks. I can ask the Lieutenant,” Eugene added hurriedly, he didn’t know why but he desperately wanted to help this girl and yet he didn’t even know her name.

The girl just nodded, watching as Eugene stood and hurried away.

A few days later Eugene found himself passing by the quaint town they had dropped the injured girl off to. He was busying himself in an abandoned barn patching up one of the young Private's shoulders. The boy was whining and moaning at the mere flesh wound and Eugene found himself losing patience with him.

“Will ya just stay still?” Eugene grumbled, pushing his elbow firmly into the boy to steady him. The boy continued to complain but Eugene ignored him, too caught up in his work. The other paratroopers often commented on how he generally focused on the wound instead of the patient, of course, he offered words of comfort when required but he felt the attachment unnecessary. Eugene had never intended to be a medic, it was thrust upon him during training and so he had embraced his calling. He would hold the lives of his fellow paratroopers in his hands, thus denying him the ability to become attached, because if he became attached, became their friends, their brothers, well it would make it all the harder when he lost them.

A muffled voice behind him caused Eugene to turn, seeing the familiar figure in the doorway. He dismissed the private, instructing him to rest as much as possible. He whipped his hands in the spare cloth he carried, “How’s da leg?”

“It is okay. I try to rest it when I can,” she smiled at him and Eugene found his heart beating a little faster.

“Good. That’s good. How’s da hand?”

“It is good too,” she laughed, limping across the barn towards him with a basket tucked under her arm. “I was looking for you. I wanted to thank you for the other day, for your kindness.”

“Please, there ain’t no need. It’s ma job,” Eugene protested but the girl silenced him, placing her fingers to his lips.

“No, your job is to look after the soldiers, looking after me was an act of kindness.”

Eugene blushed, his eyes going cross-eyed as he watched the placement of her finger on his lips.

“Thank you,” she quickly removed his finger and pecked his lips. It was barely a kiss, his mind barely registering the action before it was over. The blush covering their cheeks and the smile on both their lips meant everything.

“I also bought you some food, it’s not a lot but you can share it with your friends if you wish,” she passed the basket towards him and Eugene gratefully accepted.

“Your kindness is too much Ma’am, how will I ever repay ya?”

“You saved my life, it is I who should be in your debt,” she replied, a delighted smile playing at her lips, as Eugene thought of a reply.

“Well, what about if I write to ya and umm… you can write to me too if you’d like,” Eugene watched nervously as the girl thought over his proposition.

“Oui. I would like this very much,” she grinned at him, before throwing her arms around his neck. “And maybe after the war is over you will come back, back here to see me again?”

“Of course, if you’ll wait for me.”

“I will wait for you,” she replied adamantly, nodding her head and Eugene felt himself smiling again. He’d never felt this way before about anyone but this girl he’d stumbled upon seemed to change that and he didn’t want her to leave.

“Wait! Ma’am, I don’t even know ya name. Will ya at least tell me that?”

She smiled at him mischievously before replying, “Write to me first American Boy, then I know you are true to your word. Then you may have my name.”

Tags: @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @ronald-speirs @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike @malarkgirlypop @hanniewinnix @inglourious-imagines @l13bg0tt

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers #easy company

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