#1899 one shots

[eykismyfav]

Fuck it you know what I’ll write Clémence x reader and Olek x reader send me requests

[rumpled]

Eyk Larsen & Maura Franklin in 1899

[spectraling]

Has anyone made this comparison yet

[housefreak]

the hospital in this was also the hospital in 1899. find another hospital in germany to film in im begging you

[jaegerbroshoe]

Oh this was such an interesting read.

I totally see what they mean about how they plan out their seasons. Season 2 of Dark definitely had the most mind-boggling twists so this makes me so excited for the next one!

@ Netflix, PLEASE just renew it already.

P.S. Also, we got confirmation that Ciaran will have a big role next season 👀. And if 1899 is following the general blueprint of their storytelling, then there might not be any true villains in this show either. Like, in Dark, we go into season 2 believing Noah is the bad guy (Ciaran is the one set up for this role in 1899) but the rest of the show humanizes him. The character motivations in Dark were all morally grey.

[blustainedfingertips]

HOLY FUCK HE SPOKE

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Back to Life

human!alastor x human!gnreader

Part 1 of 5+

summary for part: you had just been for a walk in the woods, and now suddenly you’re standing over a historical looking guy with a chipper attitude and… a gun? thankfully he’s here to help you in your bloodied and confused state, but as things play out you can’t help but notice nothing is like it was before your fall, and all you have to trust is the odd grinning man

summary for series: One day when waltzing through the woods a peculiar looking buck led you deeper in, while following, you fell hitting your head and woke to a stranger standing over you. You don’t know where you are, how you got here, or who this guy is, but he’s all you’ve got and he’s utterly insane.

warnings for part: short first chap, lowercase intended; i’m feeling quirkyyy, multiple parts-i put other things aside because my brain is STUCK on human alastor sorry lads ;-;, blood, descriptions of injury, kinda strange stylized writing, i’ve got like a whole story thing planned compared to the other ones-this one’s got a whole plot line. no descriptions of reader- of any kind, no pronouns, i looked up a shit ton of 1920s outfits & speech just for a couple lines lmao, OOC alastor my reasoning behind that is he’s not in hell yet so he hasn’t had that kind of demonic development yet, he’s still a psycho tho and we love him for that, also mommas boy <3, he uses 1920s slang a lot lads, throughout the whole series

warnings for series: homicide, morally grey reader, eventual smut, cannibalism, reader will eat a guy, unknowingly, alastor be doing witchcraft magical madness but it’s never in depth explanations, alastor is a mommas boy and it will be hounded on, annoying 1920s slang, alastor is more accumulated to the era he’s in so he may be OOC 100 years in hell would change a guy, varying descriptions of injuries and blood in detail, takes place in 1927, alastor is 27 oop born in 1899 tho, nothing here is canon, just loosely follows, reader is in their 20s at least; no younger, alastors mom is nameless mostly, maybe later on she’ll have a name; she’s 48, alastor has daddy issues bc same, mimzy may be added later depending,

you remembered seeing a deer while wandering through the woods, you were taking pictures of the scenery when you saw this curious looking deer.

it stood tall with large antlers, a beautiful reddish brown coat, you’d never seen a deer so close. brining your camera up slow you went to snap a picture when your phone crashed, you weren’t even able to get the buck in frame before your phone fizzled out.

the deer started to walk away, but you so badly wanted these pictures. slowly you followed behind, cautious of the leaves and sticks below your feet. you followed it over a fallen tree, through bush and branch. finally you entered an area filled with more foliage, closer trees that blocked off sunlight, more bushes and fallen trees, wild flowers, moss and random mushrooms.

you watched as the buck disappeared behind thick bush, and that’s the last conscious moment you remembered. you woke at the bottom of the hill, when you opened your eyes you didn’t know a thing.

it was like you were a blank slate, everything was as it was; there was no confusion, you were simply in the woods with no worry or question as to why. you laid there, your head lulling from side to side observing the tree covered sky above, the sunlight that shot through the trees highlighting the particles floating through the air.

there wasn’t a sound at all; the animals feared something near. inhaling deeply, you willed your head up, wincing and groaning in pain. suddenly life as you knew it came back to you, you weren’t just a mindless being in the woods, you were you, and you were out here taking pictures and then, fell?

you still weren’t sure what had happened just that you followed a deer and then… fell asleep and woke here. your body ached badly, specifically your forehead, your back, neck and shoulders. it seemed the brunt of the fall was your head, lifting your hand you touched your forehead feeling a flap of skin that wasn’t there before.

looking down at your hand you weren’t surprised to see some blood, in fact the top you had worn had been covered in it. “hello dear, funny place to snooze if ya ask me.” a voice joked, startling you. however your body was too tired to startle, so despite your heart rate increasing, and the jump you felt in your bones, your body remained eerily still, your head slowly turning toward the sound.

standing above you was a man with a soft smile, he wore circluar glasses and the strangest outfit. he wore a coat chestnut brown- a lumberjack coat; strange looking pants that puffed out at the hips, with boots that the pants cinched into them. his hands were covered by gloves, and tiny brown coloured coiled curls popped out from his hunting cap, and on his shoulder a leather strap that allowed a large shotgun to sit on his back.

you were taken aback by his looks, his outfit looked vintage, historical too, and he was, well, gorgeous. “you’re bleeding quite a bit dear, how’s about we getcha up and outta here, hm?” lending his hand to you, the man gave you a charming smile with lidded eyes. you felt something was off about the man, a lingering feeling that something beyond your understanding was telling you to run, get away.

instead you whimpered, pathetically so, and placed your hand into his, letting him hoist you up. he wrapped your arm around him, while he looped his own arm under you, helping you walk. it was hard to do so, your ribs hurt with every breath you took, your head felt like it was floating above your shoulders, your cheeks watered making you swallow constantly, and though you were shivering your body felt ablaze on the inside, like hot coals were lit under your skin.

the man looked down at you, you could see from your peripheral vision he was inspecting you, but you were too pained to care. “how’d you find yourself at the bottom of the hill my dear, someone try to bump you off?” his voice was way too chipper for your current mood, and all you did was mutter a confused ‘huh’ at him, thankfully he laughed that off.

“listen, i’ll take you to my joint my mothers over so we can getcha all patched up, but you’ve gotta spill whatever happened to you if that’s quite alright.” despite the sturdiness in his voice, asserting what was going to happen with expectations, he tone was somewhat kind. dryly you mutter out ‘name?’, your voice raspy and unlike your own. the man chuckled before he responded in a smooth tone. “alastor dear, pleasure to meet you.”

[velvetydream]

✎ ☕️ . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hazbin Hotel Masterlistˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🥀 ꒱

❝ Recent works ᵕ̈

Alastor

⁀➷ Let me show you

Fluff - 1191 Words

⁀➷ War is over

Angst , Comfort - 2962 Words

❝ Series ᵕ̈

Lucifer

⁀➷ How to love again

Fluff, Romance , Slow burn

❝ One Shots ᵕ̈

Alastor

⁀➷ Hells greatest demon

Fluff - 1305 Words

⁀➷ Till death do us part

Fluff , Drama , Angst - 1899 Words

⁀➷ The radio star lost < Prequel >

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⁀➷ May I have this dance?

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⁀➷ Deer in headlight

Fluff , slighty Suggestive - 3025 Words

⁀➷ Like a deer in headlight < 2nd Part >

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⁀➷ War is over

Angst , Comfort - 2962 Words

Angel Dust

⁀➷ Just for a minute

Comfort , Soft , Ansgt - 1549 Words

Please read my RULES before requesting!

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Important! I will not be writing for Valentino, because he makes me personally very uncomfortable.

[anonomouswriter-blr]

Ushijima x Reader: What Do You Say? [a haikyuu one-shot]

Ok y'all, so my friends and I had an all-nighter where we write one-shots. The twist is, we each wrote down on different sticky notes a character, a plotline, and I think the third is a trope. We did this a year ago and I forgot all about this, but I recently found it so I'm posting it here lol

Trope: Childhood friends to lovers

1899 words

Story under cut.

Finally. Fifth grade. It was Y/n’s last year of elementary school and she was determined for it to be different. She wasn’t the most extroverted; she liked people but was too scared to approach them, and they never approached her. But this year, she was going to make a friend.

Kimi seemed to be sweet, everyone adored her, but when Y/n tried to befriend her, she was nothing but rude. In fact, after Y/n had the “audacity” to try to “be on her level”, Kimi tried to make her year awful. But Y/n wasn’t going to give up so easily. She would have a good year and she would make a friend. No mean girl was going to stop her.

After a while, Kimi and her “posse” started to get physical with Y/n and pushed her to the ground during recess. That’s when she met Ushijima Wakatoshi. He was in more advanced classes, so she hadn’t ever seen him before, not really, but they had recess together. When he saw her get pushed to the ground, he felt compelled to intervene. He stood over Y/n on the ground, his shadow covering her. Though in most cases it may be a sign of intimidation, his shadow symbolized a blanket of comfort. He looked at Kimi and the two other girls and spoke to them directly.

“To treat your fellow classmate in such a way is despicable. She should be your friend, not your adversary. Don’t choose violence as a mode of communication, but talk out your differences. If this is something you cannot do, I’m afraid I’ll be obligated to notify your teacher,” the girls snarled in repulse and walked away. When they were far enough away, Ushijima knelt down to Y/n’s height on the ground, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

“Yes! I’m okay! Thank you for helping me,”

“My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. I am in advanced studies. What is your name?’

“My name, my name is L/n F/n. I’m in general studies,”

“Your knee. It’s scraped and bleeding slightly. Here, use this band-aid,” he told her and handed her a latex patch from his pocket. She finally realized: this could be her new friend!

“Ah! Thank you! Um… do you like advanced studies?” He was a little thrown by the question but answered nonetheless.

“It’s fine. The work is manageable and if it will help me get ahead I have no problem with extra work,” he said while gently pressing the band-aid to her wound. He was quiet as he worked. Then, something told him to engage in conversation with her. “Do you like general studies?”

“Yes! It’s nice and easy, though I still struggle with maths. Do you struggle with maths?”

“No. I find it to be quite easy,” he stated.

“Maybe you could give me some tips on how to do better?”

“It’s pretty simplistic. The more practice, the easier it gets,”

Even after the band-aid was properly secured, the two children continued to talk. Y/n tried her hardest to keep the conversation alive. Even if the question was simple or off-topic she would ask it, and he would reply. Then recess ended, and they had to depart.

“I really enjoy talking to you Ushiwaka! Will you be at recess tomorrow?”

“I always attend recess. It’s important to spend time outside,”

“Okay! I’ll see you tomorrow then!” Y/n said and ran off to her teacher.

“Y/n dear, what happened to your knee?” the teacher asked her.

“It got scrapped. But It’s okay because my new friend Ushiwaka helped me! I can’t wait to see him again tomorrow!” Y/n told her and ran inside. What a wonderful friendship they had that year.

***

Y/n closed her notebook at the sound of the bell ringing. Another draining class.

I should have stuck to general studies. She thought to herself. Her friend Taeko put her hands on the front of her desk.

“That was so boring. How long are we going to be on tectonic plates?” she wined.

“I don’t know, but if it will help me get ahead I have no problem with extra work,” Y/n reasoned.

“Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

“I got a date today,”

“Really? With who?”

“That hot stud from the volleyball team. Reon Ōhira,”

“Do I get to meet him?”

“Uh, doy! I’m going to watch his practice after school. You don’t have horseback riding today, do you? You should come watch with me. Then you can meet him,”

“I’m finished riding horses for the week. I’m happy to meet him today.”

“Awesome! Then you can ogle his teammates. Oh my gosh. I’m a volleyball girlfriend!”

*

School had finally ended and Taeko and Y/n were headed to the gym Reon was practicing in. Taeko slid open the door and as soon as they saw each other they smiled. Reon jogged over to her and nodded his head at Y/n.

“Hey, Reon. This is my bestie, Y/n,”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Reon,”

“So I’ve heard. Nice to meet you, too,” “Reon,” Y/n heard a direct, commanding voice call out, somehow familiar. “we’re having a team discussion before we start practice,”

Y/n looked to the student who spoke, the captain, the one she remembered from fifth grade.

“Ushiwaka?” When Reon jogged over to a spot in the circle, for a moment, Ushijima and Y/n made eye contact. Ushijima peered at her, trying to piece together how he knew her face. Then his eyes widened.

“Do you know him?” Taeko asked Y/n. She broke eye contact and looked at her friend.

“Yeah. We went to elementary together. Ushiwaka, right?”

“Psh, don’t ask me. I can’t remember anyone's name. Let's sit here. I don’t want to be hit by a volleyball,”

* 

Practice ended. It didn’t seem as long as Y/n would have thought it would be. She busied herself with homework, but she kept looking up and making eye contact with Ushijima. Did he recognize her? He must have. Based on his expression alone she knew he at least remembered her face. Taeko stood up, pulling her bag onto her shoulder. “We’re gonna head out. Are you okay walking home?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Have fun on your date,” Y/n winked at them playfully. Taeko smiled before turning on her heel and walking off with her soon-to-be boyfriend. Y/n turned to pack away her things when…

“Excuse me,” the same commanding voice came suddenly from directly behind Y/n, causing her shoulders to jump. She turned around to face Ushijima. “I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you. I have something to ask you. By any chance, might your name be L/n F/n?”

“Yeah, it is,” she replied.

“My name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. We went to the same elementary school. I met you when you got pushed over by some girls and you scraped your knee. I bandaged your wound and we became friends. You called me Ushiwaka. Do you remember me?”

“Yes, I remember you. You were my first friend in elementary,” It was silent for a while. Awkward. Neither of them knew what to say.

“What classes are you taking? Are you still in general studies?”

“No, not anymore. I started taking advanced classes. What about you?”

“I’m still taking advanced classes. I still excel in math. Have your math skills improved?”

“Yes, but of course, as I improve the material gets harder,”

“You are correct. I say if it will help us get ahead there is no problem with extra work,” Y/n nodded. That sounded like him. “Your friend has left with my teammate. Are you walking with someone?”

“No. I usually walk with her but they have a date today so I’m loning it,”

“Then may I accompany you?” Y/n thought for a moment but in the end, accepted.

“I would love your company,”

*

After Ushijima had walked Y/n home that day, he asked her for her contact information so they could talk outside of school. Y/n learned he was a very formal texter, but he had a charm to it. It was kind of like their friendship was picking up where it left off. It ended up being really, really nice. Y/n started going to his practices with Taeko more, and they studied together outside of school ever so often. One day Y/n caught herself smiling while texting him. Truth be told, she had a bit of a crush on him in their elementary days, but she would never admit that to him.

“Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh, Y/N! Prom is like, right now, what are we wearing?” Taeko asked Y/n as she grabbed her shoulders.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t even thinking about that. Should we go shopping today?”

“Uh, yeah! We have to get on this pronto! I’m texting Reon. I have to make sure our ‘fits don’t clash. Should I get his opinion or surprise him?”

“Get his opinion. Leave the surprise dress for the wedding,”

“Good idea. Oh my gosh! Do you have a date in mind? If so we need to bring him too. We’re obvs gonna do a group picture and I can’t have his suit wash any of us out,”

“No, Taeko, I don’t have anyone in mind,”

“Well, the time is still early. You never know, Reon’s team captain might ask you. You guys are close now, right?” Y/n didn’t even think of that. What if he did? Would she say yes? Would she want to? No. He wouldn’t ask her.

“He doesn’t seem like the type to ‘prompose’. Let’s look for dresses. What do you think about blue?”

“For you? Absolutely! A royal blue in satin fabric – long. Oh my gosh this is gonna be so fun!” Taeko practically skipped out the school doors, bringing Y/n with her. Even if Ushijima didn’t ask her to prom, she was so ready for prom.

*

Taeko found a beautiful green princess gown and the most flattering suit for Reon, but Y/n hadn’t found the right fit. After a long time of looking, the three ended the day and walked Y/n home. It was about 2 hours later Y/n heard her doorbell ring. She went downstairs, opened the door, and there she saw Ushijima with a long banner, asking her to be his prom date.

“L/n F/n. Will you go to prom with me?” he asked. Her face was still for a moment, trying to comprehend. Ushijima, upon seeing her face, started to worry he made a mistake. “I asked Reon what I should do to ask you since he was seeing your best friend. He told me to keep it simple. I also got you flowers. I couldn't hold both them and the sign so I put it on your step,”

Y/n looked down to see the large bouquet. It was magnificent. “So, L/n, what do you day? Will you be my date to the prom?”

She lifted up the massive vase and held it to her face. Who knew he’d ask the same day Taeko suggested he might? Probably Taeko. Y/n couldn’t contain the smile on her face. “Yes, Ushiwaka. I would love nothing more than to be your date!”

______________________________________________________

Posted. 17.Sunday.March.2024 at 19.37 (7:37pm)

[eykismyfav]

1899 Masterlist

❤️‍🩹- Angst, 💕-Fluff

Eyk Larsen

One Shot

The North Star Eyk x reader ❤️‍🩹💕

The Bird with the Broken Wing Eyk x Daughter!reader❤️‍🩹💕❤️‍🩹

Clémence

Olek

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve been talking about Molly and Abigail a lot but I love them and people are way too mean to them, and when I see people blaming them for things such as the failure of the bank robbery all I can think is this. Do you really think that the game wants you to dislike Molly and Abigail? These two are portrayed incredibly sympathetically throughout the game, and it could not be made more clear that they are victims.

Abigail was a sex worker at seventeen years old, and she had a baby at eighteen. Her son’s father abandoned her in a gang with an infant to take care of while she was still a teenager, and he has been absent in his son’s life and refusing to accept Jack is even his son for four years. All she wants is for her son to have a better life than she had as an orphan growing up in bars and brothels, she wants John to be responsible for Jack and everybody else does as well, even Dutch of all people tries to tell John he shouldn’t abandon his own son. Literally all she wants if for her family to be safe, and that is not the unreasonable ask that people seem to make it out to be. She is a young woman with a traumatic past who loves her family, and who, in the epilogue, just wants a life with her son and her husband where they won’t be in danger anymore. Abigail is one of the biggest reasons why John ends up changing into a better man, why he goes from the deadbeat he starts the game as to who we later see him become for the better. Do you think that’s how the narrative would portray a traitor? How it would show Abigail to you if she were anything other than a desperate young mother trying to care for the people she loves?

Molly is a young woman in an abusive relationship. She is alone in America with nowhere to go and presumably no means to support or defend herself if she ever did leave Dutch, which is a hard enough thing to do in a relationship like theirs even when you are not an isolated Irish woman in 1899. She is completely alone in the gang, she has no friends and no one will properly listen to her no matter how hard she tries. She is in love and she’s worried about Dutch, she never asks him for more than the bare minimum of, as she says, “respect and affection”. She is not asking to be the only focus of his attention, she is not asking him to focus entirely on her instead of the gang, she just wants to be looked at, to be called by her first name, to not be ignored by a man who supposedly loves her. Molly is driven into depression and paranoia by her isolation from any support in the gang and Dutch’s abuse, and she ends up so desperate for somebody to pay her any attention that she says something she knows will get her shot. She is revealed to be innocent in one of the most important cutscenes in the game, the final plot twist that Micah ratted on the gang, and after this, but there is doubt before. Karen doesn’t believe her, Mary-Beth doesn’t believe her, Arthur himself is what keeps Dutch from shooting her and he doesn’t believe her. In the money ending, Arthur will plead with Dutch, telling him it wasn’t Molly and to kill Micah instead. Do you think that’s how the narrative would portray a traitor? Is that how it would show you a victim of severe abuse who wanted nothing more than to be loved?

Each have their own flaws in addition to this, but that’s because they, like the men that are so highly praised within the fan base for their brilliant writing, are complex characters. They are three dimensional characters with personalities and wants and needs, who make decisions or react in ways we might not understand because they are their own people in their own impossibly difficult situations. Just think about the actual storytelling of the game, because nothing is done accidentally. There is a reason for every narrative choice made because it was all written down and performed with the intention of telling the story properly. There is a reason why no one questions that Molly was innocent after it is revealed and why her arc ends with that cutscene, and it is because she was innocent. There is a reason why John changing his ways for the sake of his family, both because of Jack and because of Abigail, and finally listening to his wife for once is shown as a good thing, and that’s because it is. Have whatever opinions you like about a character, but don’t pretend the game is telling you they are something that they’re not

[verdemoun]

Dutch Motherfucking Van Der Linde in timewarp au.

@themodernpr0metheus because this is your fault be warned it's 1400+ words

so much to process. every single damned character in timewarp is affected by the very idea what became of Dutch Van Der Linde again let alone how they're meant to handle it when Dutch comes back. also gentle reminder that in the report the bureau wrote that John shot and killed Dutch so that's a whole other conflict they're going to have to deal with

also for the 1899 gang it's been 12 years. honestly for most of them it's been 12 years the only person who really interacted with dutch after 1899 was Micah and Dutch fucking shot him. Micah is still salty about it. look at that rat man you know he can hold a grudge.

12 years, no Dutch. Hosea's nearing his 70s, he has his wife and a house. Lenny, Jenny, Karen and Sean aren't kids anymore they're well into adulthood with legitimate jobs. Arthur and Charles are the new curious couple with Isaac their unruly son. Kieran doesn't jump or flinch anymore when people try to talk to him. Hosea really got everything he wanted - they're out of the gang, they're safe and happy.

Also Dutch isn't the only one coming back in a relatively short time period. They have to go all the way to Mexico to get Javier and Bill. They have to get John!! John, who was shot at the house Charles and Uncle helped him build for Abigail, who stared down a firing squad because it gave Abigail and Jack time to escape. They absolutely have to be there for John.

Hosea thinks long and hard. Dutch: who left Lenny to bleed out alone, who was willing to leave John to be executed in prison, and left Arthur to die alone, and abandoned Javier and Bill. Dutch: who formed another gang and killed innocents, used Muriel Scranton as a human shield before shooting her IT WOULD HAVE BEEN MORE OF A DISTRACTION TO LET HER GO ALIVE DUTCH. Is it everything he feared would happen to Dutch? Is it the Dutch he started to see glimpses of after Blackwater or did he know, deep down, this is what Dutch was always capable of?

What's the pettiest, bitchest thing he can do? Absolutely nothing. Hosea Matthews sits down with the gang trying to prepare for the 1911 returns and says that he is not going to get Dutch Van Der Linde. He is not going to see Dutch, talk to Dutch or help Dutch. Dutch is not welcome in his home or near his family and he doesn't expect nor want any of them to afford him the luxury of coming into their lives.

Annabelle is the one who goes to collect Dutch from the base of a cliff. The last time Annabelle saw Dutch, he was young and idealistic, and she had to read about Blackwater and everything that came after it right up to his death. She needs to see him so she can understand how someone she did genuinely love became something so evil that the people who did love him had to sit down and seriously ask themselves if he could be redeemed.

And Dutch Van Der Linde hits her with the 'you're as beautiful as the day I lost you'

She so nearly, nearly faulters. God as much as she hates him she wants to believe there is a reason, a sound, logical reason how Dutch abandoned so much of the ideals that made him Dutch. It's a tremendous burden only people who have loved Dutch know but deep down there's always a part of you that will love Dutch, as much as you try to kill it. She desperately wanted to believe she as the oldest, the most separated from Dutch, she was over it - but it's there. That awful demon is clawing its way back into her mind as she wonders if she can fix him, if she can save him and make him something recognizable again.

She knows damn well this is why Hosea knew he couldn't be the one to get Dutch.

Remembering why she has to be the one to get Dutch, to protect the gang she is now part of again and cares so much about from falling into the very real, intoxicating charm of Dutch, she holds her ground. Pulls away and tells him to get in the back seat of the car.

She takes him to a very nice, private, well-researched, pre-booked and thoroughly inspected in-patient mental health ward. the gang themselves have argued whether or not Dutch did the things he did because he was mentally ill or hit his head too many times or if he would've become a monster regardless but they do agree something is not right with Dutch and frankly 24 hour medical supervision is probably something he needs regardless because no one wants to just… bring him into the homes and lives they've tried to hard to build in modern era.

i promise, dutch is thriving. the d in dsm-5 might stand for dutch once the doctors are through with him but he's getting diagnosed with A lot.

they're paid to listen to him so he's going on so many rants and giving speeches and they're sitting there listening and nodding and asking questions (as they frantically write notes) and he's just basking in the attention. -> this. this is dutch's life

also dutch getting to finally admit to and work through his grief over what happened to the gang. he saw the old guard die. he lost so many people he cared about. he lost john. john left. john would've moved on completely after micah's death if not for the bureau. and the gang did lose faith in him, even before then. he felt it, he knew it. they did betray him (in his warped sense of betrayal)

also just dutch getting into intense philosophical and ethical debates with both his doctors and other patients. his doctors knowing they are absolutely not meant to engage when dutch is on a rant but it's just so fun debating with him

medication does help get Dutch back to something closer to 'old Dutch' he's still very grandiose but he's calmed down to the point he isn't reckless he can recognize when his behavior is crossing into outlandish

it's inevitable the gang do reach out to him and find it personally terrifying how close they can get to forgiving him before they remember all the shit they went through as a direct result of Dutch's actions

occasionally take him out on day trips but he is not getting to the point where he can be left to roam freely. Dutch always was and always will be a dangerous person when he can morally justify it to himself.

Dutch reuniting with Hosea hits so hard. hosea can only avoid him so long and dutch is old and tired and pulls hosea into a hug on the verge of tears and hosea cannot stop himself from hugging dutch back he still loves him god damnit he loves his wife but he will always love dutch and seeing dutch get help and try to become his old self again would hurt so much in such a positive way

his doctors (who have searched dutch van der linde and now think Dutch has delusional disorder and only thinks he is the Dutch Van Der Linde) do not think he has actually committed murder but the gang know he is very, very capable of murder

dutch is an avid triple mango vape enthusiast. no one knows how he keeps getting them.

he still thinks everything would be fine if they just went to tahiti

he is the #1 evelyn miller fan and thinks evelyn miller's death is further proof of his brilliance. during supervised computer time he will be on the evelyn miller subreddit and sometimes needs to be forcibly removed from the computer because he becomes so enraged at bad takes

the gang are all very protective of their kids being around dutch when he is there (including micah who does not want his stupid annoying pain in the ass grand-nephew kai to become Dutch-ified) but somehow they managed to raise well-rounded young people who just shrug and go 'lmao dutch is talking again'

dutch goes on volunteering excursions for habitat for humanity (under annabelle's supervision) and thoroughly enjoys it. he gradually becomes less 'fight the system for the good of all man' and more 'focus on the good i can do in one (second-chance) lifetime'. all i want is aged dutch in the modern version of his 1911 outfit kneeling in muck and smiling because he's Actually helping people again and he didn't know how much he missed it

[azures-bazar]

Oi there ! I love your RDR2 one shots (mostly the ones where Arthur's being soft af) !!

Could you make one of Arthur being sick and being taken care of by female!reader ??

Thanks in advance, love your work !

High Fever

Hello there anon, thank you for your request !

First of, I'm sorry it took me more than two weeks :') My job is taking most of my free-time as I kinda overwork (yep). Keeping the job I've got at the moment is a real battle, so writing takes much more time than I expected.

Anyway, I hope you'll still like this one-shot. I'm sorry for the mistakes, it's badly written due to the lack of free time I've got :')

Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader 

Word count : 3.8k 

Short summary : Arthur came back to camp overwhelmingly sick, and you are not leaving him alone !

A/Note : Arthur’s tent has flaps and he’s sharing it with reader ! 

Tags : Arthur is sick, some fluff (as always), soft, taking care of someone ill, chapter 3, summer breeze, small whump aftercare (somehow), flu, vastly inspired by IRL

The sun was shining brightly, the morning weather was already quite warm. It was not a surprise, you had been warned about Lemoyne’s overall hot summer weather, but the climate was very different from the one you used to enjoy while the gang was hiding in the Heartlands. You still loved this weather, especially when you had some time to look at the scenery which was surrounding you. Beautiful tall trees, a lake which appeared to be endless, some islands ahead of you… something about Clemens Point felt magical, if not even a little safe. Who would have guessed the Van der Linde gang was hiding here ? 

What made you feel even more safe was the tent you were sharing with Arthur, for a variety of reasons. You had been brought in the gang by Dutch after escaping the law following a minor bank robbery you had performed alone, somewhere back in 1893. Since the very first day you had spent with the rest of the gang, Arthur had displayed a lot of interest in being around you, from helping you to use a bow to spending time drawing by your side. Your rather friendly relationship slowly turned into a very awkward romance when Arthur gifted you with a large bouquet of wild flowers, dropping a kiss on your lips while watching the sunset from a hill. 

"I… I think I really like you." this single sentence he had told you made you go on an incredible journey of two outlaws being in love 

As of 1899, you and Arthur had been sharing his tent for about a year. You could easily remember him holding your hand while asking Dutch to move your cot to his quarters. Indeed, you had slept in Arthur’s tent on a variety of occasions : on rainy nights, when the weather was too cold, when someone of you was drunk, and, of course, when you wanted to have some fun. It had taken two days for Dutch to finally accept Arthur’s request, knowing that some of your nights would obviously not be as quiet as his… and god knows how right he was !  

You rarely slept on your cot, mostly resting into Arthur’s embrace, getting up with the morning light and birds chirping around you. However, that day, instead of peacefully waking up with the light from the outside passing between your tent’s flaps, Arthur’s continuous sneezes and soft coughs had dragged you out of your well-deserved rest. Being on guard duty all day long doing mostly nothing was boring… and somewhat tiring. You had chosen to sleep on your cot that night as you went to rest earlier than the rest of the gang. 

"Ugh…" you sighed, shifting from your cot 

You stretched and made your way to Arthur’s bed, triggered by the sound of his sneezes. You could remember him coming back one day ago from a journey to Ambarino which had lasted for two days. Since Arthur came back, you could easily hear him cough quite often, at any time of the day. The sneezing had started to occur last night, much to your biggest dismay as you just wished to get some sleep. 

"Arthur ?" you whispered 

Arthur’s eyes cracked open as he noticed you were standing nearby. He greeted you with a sweet smile, which caused you to put your frustration aside, melting from the inside as you placed your hand on his forehead. Thankfully enough, Morgan was not feverish. At least… not yet. 

"Did I wake you up ?" Arthur asked, a little confused 

"You’re sick." you sighed 

"No, I ain’t." 

You shook your head, asking Arthur to stand up to prove he was in good shape. He even proceeded putting his clothes on for you not to worry about him, causing you to smirk a little. Whenever you were sick, Arthur was always the one taking care of you. And, right at this moment, as he was getting sick himself, he proudly hid his illness behind his usual smile and rough voice. 

"See ? I’m fine." he said, leaving the tent

Arthur quickly headed out to chop some wood while you looked at him with a rather concerned expression. As far as you could recall, whenever Arthur was sick, there were at least two phases. The ‘No I’m fine’ phase, which was the one he usually displayed whenever he was starting to feel a little sick. He would still keep doing chores, going hunting and not even care about his health, overworking himself to please Dutch anytime he needed. 

The second one was the ‘I’m dying’ phase, which, as its name suggested, was triggered whenever Arthur felt horribly sick. During this phase, Arthur usually behaved like a man on his deathbed, begging for the mercy of whatever was above, crying like a child until the symptoms would slowly fade away. Indeed, you did not want Arthur to get to this phase because not only it was a pitiful sight for such man, but also because you already had some hard time acting serious when he was behaving like a young boy. 

For a few hours, you watched Arthur take care of some chores while minding your own business, up until Morgan stopped walking around and started coughing heavily. You watched him cough, nearly falling on his knees as you quickly carried a sack of grain to Pearson’s wagon. You quickly walked towards Arthur, who was slowly trying to breathe normally. 

"You okay ?" you asked

"I’m fine." Arthur answered in a rather weak way

"No you ain’t."

You moved closer to Arthur, raising your hand to touch his forehead, causing him to chuckle. Of course, Morgan was a tough man who did not need anyone’s help, and seeing you wanting to take care of him made him feel very amused by the situation. Yes, he was sick… and there was no need to hide it from you. 

"My god, your forehead is burning !" you gasped. "Get back to your tent !"

"Y/N, m’fine…-"

"To your tent, right now !" 

Arthur noticed how persuasive you were, causing him to chuckle, raising his hands in the air as you pushed him towards his tent, quickly informing both Dutch and Hosea, who were having a talk nearby, that their boy was sick was would not do anything today. They both knew Arthur was doing most of the work around camp, he definitely deserved some rest ! Especially being this sick ! 

"Oh, I’ll go make a Ginseng tonic !" Hosea said, quickly heading to his tent

"Are you sure you can handle this grumpy giant cowboy alone, dear Y/N ?" Dutch asked you, glancing at Arthur who was sitting on his cot grumbling something while crossing his arms and legs

"Don’t worry, Dutch." you smiled. "I’ll take care of your son !"

Dutch chuckled, watching you get to your tent before closing its flaps. The single view of Arthur, nearly pouting on his cot, his arms crossed on his chest and his feet drawing circles on the ground made you smile. What a funny sight it was to witness such a brawny man and well known cowboy with a bounty on his head behaving like a grumpy child who was refusing to get some rest ! 

"Take ‘em boots off, Morgan." you said 

"Y/N, I ain’t gonna stay in my tent all day long, the others need me." 

"You’re staying here. The others can take care of some chores for a day, you’re staying in this tent." 

"But I…-"

"I said you’re staying in this tent. Now take your boots and pants off." 

Arthur grumbled and obliged, calmly removing his boots. He loved taking care of you, he absolutely enjoyed having you rest into his embrace, comfort you after some nightmares you had, watch over you whenever you were feeling sick… but was not used being taken care of. He was a grown man who did not even need anyone’s help. Having such a beautiful lady like you watching over him made him feel both awkward and incredibly good, even if he was to proud to say it. He proceeded removing his gun belt and satchel while staring at you with a defiant smile. 

"Wanna see me naked, sweetheart ?" he smirked

"No, just take your pants off." 

You helped Arthur removing his suspenders and pants, leaving him in his union suit. You carefully passing your hands on his shoulders, wiping away some dirt while pushing him on his cot. He did not even dare showing any signs of resistance, laying down his bed with a sigh as his head rested on a pillow which was once yours. 

"M’fine, Y/N, I swear." he sighed 

"You ain’t a good liar with me. I’ll go get some blankets." 

"This is humiliatin’…" 

Arthur’s words made you shiver, causing you to sit beside him. How could he believe being sick was humiliating when probably every single human being could catch a cold ? You placed your hand on his burning head, letting out a soft sigh before looking into his green orbs. 

"It ain’t. You’re sick, and it happens. You’re spending so much time trying to do chores, doing hunting, doing bounties, robbing places… just for us to survive. Now, allow yourself to rest for a bit. You deserve it." 

"But the others…-" 

"The others will be just fine. Close your eyes and get some rest. I’ll come back to check on you." 

Despite not agreeing with you, Arthur closed his eyes as you gently covered him with one of his blankets. You looked at his grumpy face with a little smirk, listening to him grumbling a few words in his three-days beard before leaving the tent to do some chores around camp. What a literal child Arthur was to act like this ! You often wondered how Hosea, Dutch and Ms. Grimshaw had managed to take care of him back when he was a young boy, especially knowing that Arthur’s behaviour once used to be similar to Sean’s. 

You came back to check on Arthur after taking care of some chores, being given Hosea’s tonic. His eyes cracked open as soon as you walked back inside the tent. He rose on his elbows, getting you with one of his absolutely amazing smiles. You would have killed for this smile, definitely. They were so genuine and worth it… and Arthur was the most handsome man you knew ! 

"Did you get some sleep ?" you smiled 

"No." Arthur shook his head. "I ain’t gonna sleep in the middle of the day like that. I ain’t lil' Jack to take naps. "

"Arthur… You take care of me when I’m sick, lemme do the same for you. I brought you Hosea’s tonic." 

You walked closer to Arthur’s cot and sat next to him, pouring a very strange coloured liquid into his tint cup. Hosea had told you about its ingredients, but you did not expect such a yellowish tone… and awful smell. At first sight, it really looked like some snake oil, and the terrible scent coming from it did not help at all. 

"I ain’t drinkin’ that." Arthur chuckled. "It smells like cat piss."

"Arthur, please." you smiled back 

"Ugh… fine." 

Arthur swallowed the tonic in one go, coughing as he quite disliked its taste, nearly throwing up as he felt this strange liquid go down his throat. He knew that taste and that smell, it wasn’t the first time Hosea was making him a tonic. He had spent a vast majority of his teenage years drinking a variety of them, getting sick quite often. He could remember most of them, but the Ginseng tonic was probably the one he had drank the most throughout his time in the gang. 

"My god, it tastes terrible !" Arthur gagged 

"Yep, but Hosea says it’s the best for you !" 

According to Hosea, this tonic would put Arthur back on his feet in no time. You trusted Matthews’ expertise, having watched him carefully mix the Ginseng’s petals with some water and some gold berries you had brought him a day earlier. Just like Arthur, you also had the opportunity to drink some of these tonics throughout your life with the gang… enough for you to feel a vast amount of compassion as you watched Arthur struggle with his drink. 

"Now get some rest, Arthur." you smiled. "I’ll be back in a few hours, I just need to help Pearson cook the stew and finishing sewing my dress." 

Arthur did not respond, only watching you going out of the tent, sighing as he closed his eyes once more. He could not escape ! Arthur started dozing off after a few seconds, listening to Dutch and Molly arguing nearby his tent, to Sean’s terrible jokes by the crate of whiskey, and to an attempt of Bill to bond with Kieran over a bottle of beer. Something made him feel relaxed, the way you took care of him made him feel relaxed. He secretly adored it, despite not mentioning it. 

You came back a few hours later, as promised, having sent Dutch, Hosea and Tilly to look for Arthur every thirty minutes or so to make sure he was still fine. As you came back inside the tent, you found Arthur groaning, sweating so heavily that your heart nearly stopped at the sight of this poor man in such pain. 

"Oh my god, Arthur… how do you feel ? What hurts ?" 

You helped Arthur up, softly taking off his sweat-soaked union suit. You wanted to make it quick, and Arthur’s wobbly arms did not help at all. He groaned a little when you tried taking his arms out of his shirt, feeling an intense pain coming from the back of his head. You managed to take out some old cloth and plunged it into a bucket of cold water to wipe away some of Arthur’s sweat. 

"Head hurts…" he groaned 

"I know, sweetheart. I’ll just clean you up a little and you’ll lie down." 

"Sweetheart". You called him sweetheart, a word you never used to qualify him… Arthur was quick to give you some nicknames, from variations of your own name to pet names you adored. Your heart stopped beating for a second as you awaited Arthur’s response, being greeted with his sweet smile and painful sight, slowly passing the cloth on his shoulders.

"Lemme do this m’self, dove…" 

"Arthur, it’s not…-"

Arthur tried getting the wet cloth from your hands but ended up loosing balance. You quickly caught him before he would hit the ground, sighing as he whined, burying his head in the crook of your neck while his arms remained wobbly. How humiliating it was for him to be at your whole mercy ! Such a tough outlaw, skilled gunslinger… barely able to move his arms without whining like a sick child ! He was not fully himself, but somewhat happy to be taken care of.

"M’sorry…" he whispered. "I hate being like that…"

"It’s okay. Stay still for me, alright ?" 

"Sure…"

You were worried about Arthur’s health, but somewhat amused by what you were seeing at the moment. What a child… you knew that all men from the gang, no matter how tough they were, often behaved as if they were on their deathbeds whenever they were sick. A simple headache had led Bill to pretend he was dying, Dutch had once remained in his bed for three days because of a nasal congestion. You knew that Arthur was just a little sick at this moment, believing he was about to die too. 

"There you go." you said, passing the wet cloth over Arthur’s torso. "Let’s put on a new union suit." 

"I’m dying…" 

"No, you ain’t." 

Arthur used the last bits of energy he had to shrug. You quickly lifted his heavy legs up to get the bottom of his union suit off, not even bothering about him being naked. You had seen him undressed quite often, this wasn’t much of a discovery ! You wanted him dressed into something, that poor man was sick ! You carefully slipped a red union suit on him, buttoning it while Arthur looked at you. His eyes were half-closed, a soft smile was blooming on his face. You could easily tell he was not fully himself, just by the look he was giving you. 

"Are you hungry ?" you asked him, taking his face between your hands 

"I’d eat you raw, honeybee…" Arthur responded, his eyes twitching. "Maybe with some cranberry sauce, along with potatoes…" 

"Well… seems like you ain’t. Lay down." 

Arthur’s words made you blush, but his health was far too much important at the moment. He laid down, moaning as soon as his head touched his pillow. As you were on your way out of his tent to get him some stew, Arthur whined, causing you to shiver and turn back. He was looking at you, giving you a sick puppy glance, summoning enough energy to spread his arms wide for you to embrace him. 

"Don’ go…" he whimpered 

"Oh, Arthur…" 

You slowly walked back to his cot, your heart was fluttering as you could not even resist these puppy eyes. Arthur, even being so sick and probably a little needy, was still the charming man you adored. The most handsome man you had ever met, the sweetest gentleman gifting you with flowers, gems, antique alcohol bottles… who would have thought such an angelic-looking man was an outlaw and had blood on his hands ?

"Feeling needy, huh ?" you smiled, passing your hand through his sweaty hair 

"I’m gonna die…" Arthur whined. "Don’ leave me… I’m so sick…"

"I’ll be right back, sweetheart. I’ll come back with another tonic, wait for me." 

Arthur whined as he nuzzled his head into his pillow, allowing you to grab one of his blankets and cover him up to the shoulders. You passed your hand through his dirty blonde hair, causing him to smile a little before watching you leaving the tent. You nearly felt bad for leaving him ! You grabbed a bowl of stew and quickly ate it as Hosea gave you another of his tonics. 

"He must drink it before midnight, it will help him rest." Matthews told you as he gave you the bottle

"Alright. I’ll make sure of it." 

Hosea smiled and patted your shoulder before heading towards his bed made of a variety of different blankets, kissing the picture he had of his wife, laying down while keeping his eyes open for a moment. He watched you walk towards your tent, absolutely delighted to know his boy was having you around him. What a treasure you were for the gang, indeed ! So sweet, adorable and caring ! You headed back to your tent with Hosea’s tonic and were met with a rather pleasant sight.

"Oh." you smiled 

Arthur was asleep laying on his left side, facing the sunset. You slowly walked in to get a better glimpse of him, not even wanting to wake him up. He looked so peaceful, so sweet ! Who would have thought this good-looking man, having beautiful green orbs hidden under his eyelids and long eyelashes which could trigger anyone’s jealousy, had blood on his hands ? At first sight, nobody could have guessed Arthur was an outlaw rather than being just a really handsome man. What a shame that the only one not accepting his beauty was himself… 

While you were away from your tent, Arthur had battled to keep himself awake. He had pushed his pillow on the ground, not finding it comfortable enough, dragging the blanket over his body, then kicking it away, then dragging it back again. He was sleeping so peacefully that you did not even want to move the blanket a little over him. You smiled as you calmly sat by him, checking his temperature by kissing his forehead. 

"The fever’s gone…" you whispered

"Y/N ?…" Arthur mumbled

"No, no, sweetheart… go back to sleep…"

The soft sound of Arthur’s whine could be heard as his eyes cracked open. You expected to be met with a rather grumpy sight for interrupting his sleep but, as soon as his vision got clear enough to see what was around, Morgan smiled to you. Your sole presence had triggered a sudden happiness as he calmly took your hand and held it close to his chest. He liked it, he liked the way you took care of him. It felt good to have such an angel like you around, stitching up his wounds, giving him medicine, watching over him as he slept… he felt safe. 

You were melting, you felt butterflies fly in your belly as you kept analysing Arthur’s beautiful features and lovely smile. His usually green eyes had turned blue to the tears of pain he might have shed earlier, and due to this flu he had caught. What a handsome man he was ! Even with his high fever, dark rings under his eyes, sweaty hair… you could have given anything to prove him how handsome he was. Anything. Taking care of him while he was sick was giving you the perfect opportunity to enjoy his presence a little more, to admire this talented gunslinger and very skilled artist, whose large hands always came up with amazing and refined drawings. 

"Was dreamin’ of you…" he whispered 

"Oh ?" you smiled, gently caressing his hair. "What was I doing ?" 

"You’re wearin’ a white dress and a flower crown… and you’re singin’… that you loved me and all…" 

"Oh, did you like it ?" 

"Of course, ‘cause I love you…" 

This vast amount of butterflies could not stop flying in your belly, just this single sentence made your heart flutter. Arthur never truly voiced all his love for you, but being so tired and ill… his ‘introvert-filter’ was quick to disappear, as well as his overall grumpy behaviour. Arthur slowly rolled aside, patting his cot for you to lay down next to him. And, with such an adorable puppy glance, how could you refuse ? 

"Wait up, Arthur." you smiled. "Lemme just get my clothes off." 

It took you just a few seconds to take your shirt and skirt off, quickly laying next to Arthur who nuzzled his head in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist while letting out a long and very relaxed moan. You chuckled as you felt his beard tickle you clavicles, his heavy breath getting slower and slower as he slowly dozed off in your embrace. 

"I love you too, silly man." you smiled, kissing his forehead  

Arthur moaned in return, making you smile as his grip on your waist tightened, passing your hands in his hair, caressing his skin, dropping a few subtle kisses on his forehead. What a man you had here, what a peculiar feller ! A literal bear whenever he was doing fine, but a young child whenever he was sick. You did not mind, you loved him for what he was, you loved him entirely. And you would nurse him back to health, whatever the price was. You did not care about getting sick yourself, Arthur’s recovery mattered the most at the moment. 

Nothing else mattered. 

[rosemary-morgan]

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 2)

(Pictures found on pinterest/google. That one with Javier is mine. Collage made by me 🌺)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

The second chapter is online 🥰 thanks to all who read and like my story 🐝🌺 I hope you will enjoy the second chapter too!

@rose-of-black-blood @livingdeadgirly

If anyone of you want to be tagged to not miss the newest chapter, please let me know 🙏

👉Read Part 1 /Part 3 / Part 4

Warning: a little angsty, broken hearts and their effects, hints of depression!

Summary: Javier is trying to escape his past, while you still have the hope of seeing him again one day. But the loneliness and pain of a broken heart keeps pulling you back to reality. This never-ending pain just doesn't seem to go away, and you try to suppress it as much as you can…

Javier Escuella X F.Reader - It's never to late to repent (Part 2)

Javier sighed softly while sitting by the fire and sharpening the blade of his knife. The pleasant tranquility of nature surrounded him. The soft croaking of the crickets was like a chorus in unison.

Many things were going through Javier's mind, he thought about the turn his life had taken since Dutch's downfall, the downfall of his family. After Javier lost all his trust in Dutch, he lost himself. He had traveled a lot, trying to cope with the pain and the loss of his family, but he had fallen into one shit situation into another. But at some point Javier had realized that real life was different. He had realized that it had been time to come to rest, to earn his money with decent work. It was not a life of luxury that Javier lived. He lived in a small hut, a bit away from the city center. This was the best he could get in the area, yet it was possible for him to sleep in a bed, something that had been impossible for him for decades. His job was making furniture, engraving it. He had a talent for that kind of thing and his boss liked what he saw. In the last few months, Javier had made great progress. There was a customer in Saint Denis who wanted to see his skills and so Javier was asked to visit that customer. Well… then you came into the picture. Suddenly you were there, in Saint Denis. Javier had avoided this cursed city for years, for he had not come to terms with the bank robbery that had gone wrong in 1899. It had been the beginning of the end.

Javier would never be able to forget how young Lenny had been lying in his own blood. Shot by Pinkertons. Or Hosea who had been a father figure to all of them. A man who had taught him so many things. Guarma was also a dark chapter in his life. He had been tortured there and that had left its mark on his psyche.

Seeing you was the happiest moment for him in years. Knowing that you were alive was an incredible relief for Javier. Yet you seem so far away from him. How could he ever come face to face with you? After he had sent you to hell because, unlike him, you had realized the truth. God, he wanted you so much. Javier suffered like a dog without you. All these years he had been as miserable as you. Living apart from you was a torture for him!

Javier put his knife aside to pull out a piece of jewelry from his vest pocket. It was a necklace, with a medallion. He opened it and looked at your photograph. After all these years, he still had it with him. It was the only thing he had left of you. How many sleepless nights had he had? He couldn't even count them. Nights in which he had looked at your beautiful picture and guilt had eaten him up.

"Y/N… Mi rosa…"

He clasped the medallion with his hand, closing his eyes as he did so, trying to suppress the pain in his heart, but he had never been able to do that before either.

“Mi amor… nunca he dejado de amarte” (I’ve never stopped loving you)

Maybe you were married? Had children? Javier didn't know. Did he even want to know? See you with another man by your side? Probably not!

But this uncertainty would kill him! Making him extremely restless with these thoughts! He sighed in annoyance, started to wriggle his leg, his whole body moving as he did so. He hated the thought of seeing you with another man! At some point it became so unbearable for him that he got on his horse and went for a night ride. He needed a clear head now, he needed to sort out his thoughts…

♦♦♦♦

You looked at yourself in the mirror, really liking how the new dress looked on you. It's been a long time since you last treated yourself. You were actually only working to earn your salary, and had often forgotten to do something good for you. Therefore, it came in handy that the train connection had broken down and had forced you to stay in Saint Denis yesterday. With a smile you pulled the fabric over your shoulders, looking at your skin and how the dress flatters your figure. It was a dark green dress, or emerald green as the seller had called it. Actually, you had no idea what occasion you would wear this dress to, but you had liked it so much that you wanted it. Of course, you could have sewn one for yourself, but you still had orders waiting and you couldn't just let them wait.

"I could wear it… wear it tonight?"

You looked thoughtfully in the mirror as you adjusted your dress. You knew about a performance at the theater. It would be the perfect opportunity to wear this dress. So why not? What was wrong with a young woman going to the theater alone? You had done everything alone for the last five years, so you were used to it, along with the stares from the people, since it was rather unusual for a young woman to sit down alone in a restaurant, or to go into a theater. You still had to admit that it often hurt to see couples. Couples walking through the park holding hands. People looking at each other in love while sitting in a restaurant and letting their food get cold because they didn't care about what was going on around them. You had once felt that feeling too. That feeling of love and happiness. Oh, how you wanted to experience that again…

Your gaze wandered to the ground as your thoughts searched for Javier. You couldn't help it, but sometimes this man just crept into your mind. There was nothing you could do about those memories, even though it hurt so much that very moment. Loneliness has become a bitter companion in your life. And the more you thought about it, the more you fell into sadness. Now, in those moments when you were not among people, those were the most difficult moments for you because you had the feeling that no one would see your tears. You sighed heavily as the first tears shimmered in your eyes. Until a few seconds ago, you had been happy about your dress, until Javier had come back to your mind. You had asked yourself the absurd question of whether he would like you in this dress. But it didn't matter at all, because there would be no answer.

Why had Javier hurt you so much ? You couldn't forget his words until today. And yet you had forgiven him. But you didn't know if he was still alive. There was not even an address where you could send him a letter. There were hundreds of letters in your home. Letters that you had written, but never sent. Some you had burned in the fire, others you had torn up. And that's what you did in the beginning to banish Javier. But it was of no use…

You shook your head, undid the bows on your dress to loosen the corset and finally pulled it off your body. What was that all about? Why this torture? You decide to go back home right away. Work was calling and that had always been the best distraction for you. When you had taken off your dress, you put back on the one you had come here in. Your mood had dropped rapidly and that you were sad could be seen clearly in your face, but you didn't care. A bit gruffly, you packed the new dress into the box, which you had received with the purchase, in order to be able to transport the dress safely home. Within a few minutes you were out of the hotel and headed straight for the train station. You hoped very much that you would be able to travel home.

With a quiet sigh, you headed to the cashier's desk to buy a ticket. While waiting, you let your eyes wander around the area. And suddenly, there it was again. The scent of spicy lavender. Just like the day before. Instantly you were reminded of Javier, because he had smelled the same! But you shook your head, about to banish that man from your mind again, when something caught your attention. When you looked out onto the platform, there was a young man… a cigarette in his hand. His raven black hair tied back in a pigtail. A red scarf he wore over a blue jacket. You frowned and stopped in place, watching the man and wondering if you had now completely lost your mind. You thought you saw Javier, but you couldn't swear to it, as he had his back to you. The supposed stranger threw his cigarette to the ground, blew out the smoke, and in the next moment looked slowly in your direction.

As if in a trance, you looked at him, not even hearing what the train conductor said to you, as he handed you the ticket. Javier really was standing in front of you. Only a few meters away, but he hadn't noticed you yet. But he felt all the more that he was being watched. This feeling grew stronger until Javier looked directly in your direction and when he saw you, his heart almost stopped. He stared at you, his throat went dry. How many times had he wished to see you again? How often had he imagined scenarios in which you would find each other again? Saying everything that had remained unspoken? And now that time had come. But for what he had done to you, he could not be ashamed enough. Not just what he had done to you. But John and Arthur as well. You'd probably send him to hell anyway.

"Miss? Miss, the train leaves in five minutes! Miss?"

But you didn't listen at all to the friendly man behind the counter and he gave up, served the other passengers. You were busy processing in your mind what just happened.

Only a few moments passed, but time seemed to stop. And that magic, that moment, dissolved when Javier shamefully averted his gaze from you and walked in the other direction.

"No…"

You wouldn't let him go! Not this time. It hurt you immensely to see him running from you after all these years. Did he have any idea how miserable you'd been without him? You immediately ran after Javier, calling his name.

"Javier!"

Instantly he stopped, looked down at the ground, and swallowed nervously. His Adam's apple trembled, he tried to suppress his tears that were just rising inside him. His heart was pounding up to his throat! His stomach contracted painfully. He heard your footsteps, but he still had his back turned to you. He perceived your scent and for a moment he closed his eyes to recall what you once were. A couple that had loved each other dearly. A young couple who believed that nothing could tear them apart. How wrong he had been. The most painful thing was that he had allowed you to be torn apart.

You stopped at his side, looked at his back, wondered if he still loathed you, because he didn't even look at you. But at least he had stopped.

"Javier?"

Carefully you put your hand on his shoulder, making him turn towards you, but still his eyes were not on you. You could make out a guilty look on his face, which gave you a glimmer of hope that he might feel something positive for you.

"What's wrong with you, Javier? Can't you look me in the eye?"

And after you said this, his gaze slowly moved up to your pretty face. Yet he remained silent, for his words stuck firmly in his throat. You looked at him closely. He had not aged in the last five years. You were still young, just in your early thirties, and yet it seems as if decades had passed.

"Do you think you broke my heart?"

It needed to be said. You've been carrying this with you all these years now. Javier had hurt you deeply, but you had forgiven him. You were ready to make peace, and now that he was standing in front of you, all you wanted to do was lie in his arms. But at the moment it felt like you two were complete strangers.

"Yes, Javier… You did. You hurt me a lot when you stood by Dutch and Micah…"

"It's better if I go, Y/N. I'm sorry…"

Javier had only wanted the best for his family at the time, but had been taken advantage of like a puppet. Dutch had blinded him and that he had listened to it, well, he just had to live with the consequences now.

But you didn't even think about letting him go! What was that about? He was just going to leave? Just like that?! Didn't he have anything else to say? Immediately you grabbed his arm, whereupon Javier also stopped. It didn't look like you had to make an effort to keep him with you. A good sign. At least, that's what you hoped.

"It won't help you if you run away, Javier. You won't undo anything by doing that!"

Besides, you had just found him again.

Javier saw your tears and at that moment his eyes softened. It hurt so much to see you. He had no words to say! It seemed easier for him to leave and go on living his life as he was used to.

"Y/N, I've made a terrible mistake…"

That was what you were hoping to hear. Not because you wanted to claim your right, but because you had hoped he had made his peace with you.

"There is no hope for me. No forgiveness, Y/N."

"Oh, Javier… don't say that. We all made mistakes…"

His skin tingled pleasantly as you placed your delicate hand against his cheek. Lovingly, you stroked your thumb over his skin as you sought the look in his eyes. The scent of spicy lavender rose to your nose, mixed with tobacco and you had to smile, because you associate this scent with many, beautiful memories; but also bittersweet moments…

"Please… Javier, look at me…"

And he looked at you, his eyes reflecting the restlessness and guilt in his soul.

"I don't know where your paths have led you, Javier. But I can see that you have regretted the decision you made back then."

Javier sighed softly, unable to answer anything, but his eyes held your gaze and by God he was glad you didn't loathe him.

"I live in Strawberry, Javier. When…when you're ready for it one day, come and see me. I'll be waiting for you there."

His eyes immediately moved to your hand to see if you were wearing a wedding ring. His relief was great, because he couldn't see anything.

You tell him exactly where you live and to what address he should send letters to contact you. Hoping that he would do so.

When the signal sounded for the train's departure, you were jolted out of your trance.

"This is my train, Javier. I have to go now…"

"Okay…"

That was all he said in response. He held back a lot, because he would have loved to pull you tightly into his arms, not to let you go again. But he didn't. And part of you hoped he wouldn't let you go. Still, maybe that was too much to ask of you.

"Will you walk me to the train, Javi?"

Javi… that's what you had always called him, and this was the first time in years that you saw him smile. It was a small, dainty smile, but it was there. Javier led you to the platform, his hand was on your lower back and your body was tingling like crazy. This little touch, this little gesture, excited you deeply. It was still the man you desired, the man you loved.

"You should… get in. It's about to leave…"

"I know, Javi…"

But you would have preferred to stay with him. Your hope now was that he would seek you out…

[homomenhommes]

THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … February 20

1775 – In Frisia, the Netherlands, two teenage servants are banished for three years for "toleration of sodomy."

1872 – William Lygon, Seventh Earl Beauchamp, (d.1938), was a British Liberal politician. He was Governor of New South Wales between 1899 and 1901, a member of the Liberal administrations of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman and H. H. Asquith between 1905 and 1915 and leader of the Liberal Party in the House of Lords between 1924 and 1931. When political enemies threatened to make public his homosexuality he resigned from office to go into exile. Lord Beauchamp is generally supposed to have been the model for Lord Marchmain in Evelyn Waugh's novel, Brideshead Revisited.

In 1931, Lord Beauchamp was "outed" as homosexual. Although Beauchamp's homosexuality was an open secret in parts of high society, and one that his political opponents had refrained from using against him despite its illegality, Lady Beauchamp was oblivious to it, and professed a confusion as to what homosexuality was when her husband's was revealed. He had numerous affairs at his homes at Madresfield and Walmer Castle, with his partners ranging from servants to socialites, and including local men.

To those in the know Beachamp was notorious for his weakness for footmen, and his children would warn their male friends to lock their doors at night if they stayed at Madresfield, the family estate. His second son, Hugh Lygon, was a close friend, probably a lover, of Evelyn Waugh, and is generally accepted to be one of the main inspirations for Sebastian Flyte in Waugh's novel Brideshead Revisited.

In 1930, while on a trip to Australia, it became common knowledge in London society that one of the men escorting him, Robert Bernays, a member of the Liberal Party, was a lover of his. It was reported to King George and Queen Mary by his Tory brother-in-law, the Duke of Westminster, who hoped to ruin the Liberal Party through Beauchamp, as well as Beauchamp personally due a private dislike he had taken. Homosexuality was a criminal offence at the time, and the King was horrified, rumoured to have said that "I thought men like that shot themselves". The King had a personal interest in the case, as his sons Henry and George (who was bisexual) had visited Madresfield in the past. George was then in a relationship with Beauchamp's daughter Mary, and this was cut off by her father's outing.

After sufficient evidence had been gathered by the Duke, Beauchamp was made an offer to separate from his wife Lettice (without a divorce), retire on a pretence, and then leave the country. Beauchamp refused and, shortly afterwards, the Countess Beauchamp obtained a divorce. There was no public scandal, but Lord Beauchamp resigned all his offices except that of Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports and went into exile on the continent (fearing his arrest if he did not), briefly threatening suicide before going.

Lord Beauchamp died of cancer in New York City, aged 66. He was succeeded in the earldom by his eldest son, William.

1880 – On this date the Swedish aristocrat Count D'Adelswärd-Fersen was born (d.1923). Baron Fersen, a Swedish Count, living in Paris, was a novelist and poet .

D'Adelswärd-Fersen's grandfather had founded a steel empire, which was profitable enough that it made d'Adelswärd-Fersen exceedingly wealthy when he inherited at age 22. Consequently, he was much sought-after in the higher circles, as families hoped to marry him to one of their daughters.

Apart from joining the military, the young d'Adelswärd-Fersen travelled extensively and published some poems. At around this time, his homosexual leanings became apparent to him, which are also relatively clearly addressed in his poetry. Unfortunately for him, he was not sexually interested in adult men (which at the time in France would not have brought him into legal trouble) but in teenage boys between about 15 and 17 years old. This inclination eventually caused his undoing in French society.

In 1903, accusations surfaced that the Baron had held Black Masses in his house at 18 Avenue de Friedland. Supposedly these orgiastic feasts were attended by local Parisian schoolboys and involved sexual misconduct between the Baron and the boys. He was charged with indecent behavior with minors and served a six-month prison sentence, was fined 50 francs and lost his civil rights for five years.The scandal involving the schoolboys made him a persona non grata in the salons and dashed his marriage plans. He took up residence in Capri, where he lived with his longtime boyfriend, Nino Cesarini, until his death in 1923.

The Count in all his glory

Lord Lyllian, published in 1905, is one of d'Adelswärd-Fersen's novels and perhaps his most important work, satirizing the scandal around himself in Paris, with touches of the Oscar Wilde affair thrown in for good measure.

The hero, Lord Lyllian, departs on a wild odyssey of sexual debauchery, is seduced by a character that seems awfully similar to Oscar Wilde, falls in love with girls and boys, and is finally killed by a boy. The public outcry about the supposed Black Masses is also caricatured. The work is an audacious mix of fact and fiction, including four characters that are alter egos of d'Adelswärd-Fersen himself.

Akademos: Revue Mensuelle d'Art Libre et de Critique (1909) was d'Adelswärd-Fersen's short-lived attempt at publishing a monthly literary journal. It was magazine of a very luxurious kind, each issue printed on several sorts of deluxe paper, with contributions by many famous authors, like Colette, Henry Gauthier-Villars, Laurent Tailhade, Josephin Peladan, Marcel Boulestin, Maxim Gorky, Georges Eekhoud, Achille Essebac, Claude Farrère, Anatole France, Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, Henri Barbusse, Jean Moréas and Arthur Symons.

In each issue, very carefully, as is clear from Fersen's letters to Georges Eekhoud, a homosexual element was introduced: a poem, an article, or a hint in the magazine's serial Les Fréquentations de Maurice by Boulestin. As a magazine with a homosexual agenda, it was the first publication of its kind in the French language. However, only an estimated 10% of Akademos may be counted as homosexual. Thematically, as for the gay part, it trod somewhat similar ground as the German journal Der Eigene, published between 1896 and 1931 by Adolf Brand. This is not a coincidence, as d'Adelswärd-Fersen studied the German publications that tried to push for the social acceptance of homosexuality before launching Akademos. Also, he corresponded with both Brand and Magnus Hirschfeld. Unfortunately, it was published for only one year.

D'Adelswärd-Fersen frequently organised parties in his splendid villa, to which all the intellectuals and 'eccentric' travellers staying on the island of Capri were invited. The Baron lived for twenty years on the island; his death there, possibly through suicide, is thought to have been caused by an overdose of cocaine. His ashes are kept in Capri's non-catholic cemetery.

Cooper with his "son" Billy McCarty

1911 – Art historian, critic and collector, principally of Cubism, (Arthur William) Douglas Cooper (d.1984) – who also published as Douglas Lord was born to a wealthy family who had made their fortune in Australia generations before.

In 1933, he became a partner in the Mayor Gallery in London and planned to show works of Picasso, Léger, Miró and Klee in collaboration with Paris-based art dealers like Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler and Pierre Loeb; however, this collaboration ended fast and unfavourably. Cooper was paid out in works of art.

At the outbreak of the Second World War 1939, he acquired 137 cubist works, partly with the help of collector and dealer Dr. Gottlieb Friedrich Reber, some of them masterpieces, using a third of his inheritance.

Cooper chose to join a medical unit in Paris when World War II started. His account of the transfer of wounded soldiers to Bordeaux to be shipped to Plymouth achieved some fame when published in 1941 by him and his co-driver C. Denis Freeman (The Road to Bordeaux). For this action, he received a French Médaille militaire.

Back in Liverpool Cooper was arrested as a spy because of his French uniform, missing papers and improper behaviour, a treatment for which he never forgave his fellow countrymen. Subsequently, he joined the Royal Air Force Intelligence unit and was sent to Cairo as an interrogator, a job at which he was enormously successful in squeezing out secrets from even hard-boiled prisoners, not least due to his "'evil queen' ferocity, penetrating intelligence, and refusal to take no for an answer, as well as his ability to storm, rant, and browbeat in Hochdeutsch, dialect, or argot, [which] were just the qualifications that his new job required.".

He was assigned to a unit trying to investigate into Nazi looted art. He was very successful, his most eminent discovery being the Schenker Papers which made it possible to prove that Paris dealers, Swiss collectors, German experts and museums, in particular the Museum Folkwang in Essen were deeply engaged in looting Jewish property and art as well as building collections for Hitler and Hermann Göring.

By 1948, Cooper, a homosexual, had established an abode in London living with Basil Mackenzie, Lord Amulree (1900-1983), a noted physician (Lord). While with Amulree, he met John Richardson, an art historian, and the two paired to become life partners for fifteen years.

Cooper and Richardson moved to southern France, where in 1950 Cooper bought the Château de Castille near Avignon, a suitable place to show his impressive art collection, which he continued to expand with newer artists like Klee and Miró. During the following years, art historians, collectors, dealers and artists flocked to his home which had become something like an epicenter of Cubism, very much to his pride.

Léger and Picasso were regular guests; the latter even became a substantial part of its life. He regarded Picasso as the only genius of the 20th century and he became a substantial promoter of the artist.

At that time Richardson developed an interest in Picasso's portraits and contemplated creating a publication; more than 20 years later, these plans expanded into Richardson's four-part Picasso biography A Life of Picasso. In 1960, Richardson left Cooper and moved to New York City.

In 1961, Cooper was found on a road outside Nîmes, heavily injured by stab wounds in the stomach; on his way to the post office in Nîmes to send an article about Picasso's birthday to a London newspaper, he had stopped at a notorious quarter and picked up a young Algerian Fellagha (resistance fighter against the French occupation forces) who had been interned in an open camp nearby. They drove to a lonely area, where the boy drew a knife and demanded Cooper's money or his life.

Like most people in France in those days, Cooper carried two purses, one with change and one with large bills. He handed over the first, infuriating the robber, who demanded more money and stabbed him several times. Cooper pushed back his intestines and dragged himself towards the city, his training as a medic proving very useful; against all odds, his cries for help in that lonely area were finally heard, so he could be saved, although he had lost much blood and his intestines were heavily damaged. The culprit was arrested and claimed to have been resisting a sexual assault.

In 1972, he adopted his male companion, the 35-year-old William "Billy" McCarty as his son.

In 1974, about 20 small paintings by Picasso, Braque and Gris were stolen from his house; and then Cooper foolishly dismissed his old housekeeper and in consequence lost all respect from the neighbours. Afterwards, he relocated to Monte Carlo, mainly for safety reasons, where he led a rather secluded life. Both incidents were reported by major English and French newspapers.

Cooper died in London in 1984. He left his art collection to his adopted "son" Billy McCarty Cooper (having adopted him according to French law, in order that nobody else would inherit anything, in particular not his family).

1927 – Roy Cohn, American lawyer and self-loathing homosexual, born on this date (d.1986), became famous during Senator Joseph McCarthy's investigations into Communist activity in the United States during the Second Red Scare. Cohn gained special prominence during the Army-McCarthy Hearings. He was also an important member of the U.S. Department of Justice's prosecution team at the espionage trials of Soviet spies Julius and Ethel Rosenberg.

The Rosenberg trial brought the 24-year-old Cohn to the attention of Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) director J. Edgar Hoover, who recommended him to Joseph McCarthy. McCarthy hired Cohn as his chief counsel, choosing him over Robert Kennedy, reportedly in part to avoid accusations of an anti-Semitic motivation for the investigations.

Roy Cohn spent several decades living a discreet life as a closeted gay man, but when he brought on G. David Schine as chief consultant to Macarthy's staff, speculation arose that Schine and Cohn had a sexual relationship, although some historians have more recently concluded the friendship was platonic. Tall, rich, and suave, the Harvard-educated (and heterosexual) Schine contrasted starkly with the short, physically undistinguished, and caustic Cohn. During the Army-McCarthy hearings, Cohn denied having any "special interest" in Schine or being bound to him "closer than to the ordinary friend." Joseph Welch, the Army's attorney in the hearings, made an apparent reference to Cohn's homosexuality. During the inquiry into Communism and homosexuality in the military, Cohn used a doctored photo of Schine and an Army general to demonstrate the Army's approval of Cohn's bullying attempts to get Schine permanently assigned to McCarthy's committee. Welch insinuated McCarthy's homosexuality by suggesting that a "pixie"—"a close relative of a fairy"—was responsible for altering the photo, implying Cohn himself. Fairy was, and is, a derogatory term for a gay man, The people at the hearing recognized the allusion and found it amusing; Cohn later called the remark "malicious," "wicked," and "indecent."

In 1971, businessman Donald Trump moved to Manhattan, where he became involved in large construction projects. Trump came to public attention in 1973 when the Justice Department accused him of violating the Fair Housing Act in his operation of 39 buildings. The government alleged that Trump's corporation quoted different rental terms and conditions to blacks and made false "no vacancy" statements to blacks for apartments they managed in Brooklyn, Queens, and Staten Island.

Representing Trump, Cohn filed a countersuit against the government for $100 million, asserting that the charges were irresponsible and baseless. The countersuit was unsuccessful.

Trump settled the charges out of court in 1975 without admitting guilt, saying he was satisfied that the agreement did not "compel the Trump organization to accept persons on welfare as tenants unless as qualified as any other tenant.” The corporation was required to send a bi-weekly list of vacancies to the New York Urban League, a civil rights group, and give them priority for certain locations. Several years later (in 1978) the Trump Organization was again in court for violating terms of the 1975 settlement; Cohn called the new charges "nothing more than a rehash of complaints by a couple of planted malcontents." Trump denied the charges.

Two of a kind: Trump and Cohn

During his checkered legal career, he was several times reprimanded for unethical conduct and sued by disgruntled clients. On three occasions he was tried on various charges, including fraud, but was acquitted. He was ultimately disbarred for financial and ethical improprieties.

Cohn never acknowledged his homosexuality, even as he openly frequented gay bars in the 1970s. In 1984, Cohn was diagnosed with AIDS and attempted to keep his condition secret while receiving experimental drug treatment. He participated in clinical trials of AZT, a drug initially synthesized to treat cancer, but later developed as the first anti-HIV agent for AIDS patients. He insisted to his dying day that his disease was liver cancer.

Although he had led an extravagantly gay lifestyle during the 1970s, replete with an entourage of handsome "assistants," he continued to deny his homosexuality even as he lay dying of AIDS.

He died on August 2, 1986 in Bethesda, Maryland, of complications from AIDS at the age of 59. According to Republican political consultant Roger Stone, for whom Cohn was a role model, Cohn's "absolute goal was to die completely broke and owing millions to the IRS. He succeeded in that." He is buried in Union Field Cemetery in Queens, New York.

A dramatic, controversial man in life, Cohn inspired many dramatic fictional portrayals after his death. Probably the most famous is his role in Tony Kushner's Angels In America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes, in which Cohn is portrayed as a power-hungry hypocrite who is haunted by the ghost of Ethel Rosenberg as he lies dying of AIDS. In the initial Brodway production, the role was created by Ron Liebman; in the 2003 HBO version of Kushner's play, Cohn was played by Al Pacino. Cohn is also a character in Kushner's one-act play, G. David Schine in Hell.

1927 – Count Hubert de Givenchy (d. 2018) was a French fashion designer who founded the house of Givenchy in 1952. He was famous for having designed much of the personal and professional wardrobe of Audrey Hepburn and clothing for Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy. He was named to the International Best Dressed List Hall of Fame in 1970. His life partner was Philippe Venet.

Hubert James Taffin de Givenchy was born in Beauvais, Oise into a Protestant family. He was the younger son of Lucien Taffin de Givenchy, Marquis of Givenchy, and his wife, the former Béatrice ("Sissi") Badin. The Taffin de Givenchy family, which traces its roots to Venice, Italy (the original surname was Taffini), was ennobled in 1713, at which time the head of the family became Marquis of Givenchy. He had an elder brother, Jean-Claude de Givenchy, who inherited the family's marquessate and eventually became the president of Parfums Givenchy.

After his father's death from influenza in 1930, he was raised by his mother and maternal grandmother, Marguerite Dieterle Badin, the widow of Jules Badin, an artist who was the owner and director of the historic Gobelins Manufactory and Beauvais tapestry factories. Artistic professions ran in the extended Badin family. Givenchy's maternal great-grandfather, Jules Dieterle, was a set designer who also created designs for the Beauvais factory, including a set of 13 designs for the Elysée Palace. One of his great-great-grandfathers also designed sets for the Paris Opera.

He moved to Paris at the age of 17, and he studied at the École des Beaux-Arts.

Givenchy's first designs were done for Jacques Fath in 1945. Later he did designs for Robert Piguet and Lucien Lelong – working alongside the still-unknown Pierre Balmain and Christian Dior. From 1947 to 1951 he worked for the avantgarde designer Elsa Schiaparelli.

In 1952, he opened his own design house at the Plaine Monceau in Paris. Later, he named his first collection "Bettina Graziani" for Paris's top model at the time. His style was marked by innovation, contrary to the more conservative designs by Dior. At 25, he was the youngest designer of the progressive Paris fashion scene. His first collections were characterized by the use of rather cheap fabrics for financial reasons, but they always piqued curiosity through their design.

Audrey Hepburn, later the most prominent proponent of Givenchy's fashion, and Givenchy first met in 1953 during the shoot of Sabrina. He went on to design the black dress she wore in Breakfast at Tiffany's. He also developed his first perfume collection for her (L'Interdit and Le de Givenchy). Audrey Hepburn was the face of that fragrance. This was the first time a star was the face of a fragrance's advertising campaign, and probably the last time that it was done for free, only by friendship.

Givenchy retired from fashion design in 1995. His longtime partner was fashion designer Philippe Venet. Hubert de Givenchy died in his sleep at the Renaissance chateau near Paris on Saturday 10 March 2018. He was 91 and was buried in Passy Cemetery in Paris.

1953 – Gérard Araud is a French diplomat, who since 2014 has served as Ambassador of France to the United States. He has also served as France's Permanent Representative to the United Nations as well as Director General for Political and Security Affairs of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs and International Development.

Gérard Araud was born in Marseille. He holds engineering degrees from the École polytechnique and the École nationale de la statistique et de l'administration économique. Araud graduated from the Institut d'études politiques de Paris and is also an alumnus of the École nationale d'administration (class of 1982).

Araud joined the French delegation to the North Atlantic Council (NATO) in Brussels in 1995 as Deputy Permanent Representative. He became Director for Strategic Affairs, Security and Disarmament at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in 2000. He was Ambassador of France to Israel from 2003 to 2006.

In September 2006, Araud was appointed Director General for Political Affairs and Security, Deputy Secretary General of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. On July 15, 2009, he was appointed Permanent Representative of France to the Security Council and Head of the Permanent Mission of France to the United Nations. He presented his credentials to Ban Ki-moon, United Nations Secretary-General, on 10 September 10, 2009. He served as the President of the Security Council in February 2010, May 2011, August 2012, and December 2013.

On July 23, 2014 Araud was appointed Ambassador of France to the United States by presidential decree.

On the night of the election of Donald Trump as President, Araud tweeted:

 "It is the end of an era, the era of neoliberalism. We don't yet know what will succeed it," followed by: "After Brexit and this election anything is possible. A world is collapsing before our eyes. Vertigo." 

Right-wing French political activists, reading this as an undiplomatic expression of dismay at the result, called for Araud's dismissal. On Pearl Harbor Day in 2017, Araud lodged a political insult against the United States by issuing a tweet that said, "In this Pearl Harbor day, we should remember that the US refused to side with France and the UK to confront the fascist powers in the 30s." After the tweet was met with criticism, Araud deleted it and attempted to clarify his remarks.Araud is openly gay and supports same-sex marriage. His long-time partner is photographer Pascal Blondeau.

1953 – Gaëtan Dugas (d.1984) was a Canadian and early AIDS patient who worked for Air Canada as a flight attendant. In March 1984, a Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) study tracking the sexual liaisons and practices of gay and bisexual men in California, New York, and some other states found Dugas to be the center of a network of sexual partners, which led to his being dubbed "patient zero", although suspicions that he initially brought HIV to North America were disproven. He is used as an example in epidemiology of an index case.

Dugas traveled the world and had myriad sexual liaisons with other men. At the time, gay culture was largely illegal, underground, and clandestine. Gay bars and gay bath houses were social settings for gay and closeted men to meet. The extent to which HIV/AIDS was known about in the early 1980s, how it was spread, or when Dugas was diagnosed are disputed.

Dugas is featured prominently in Randy Shilts's book And the Band Played On: Politics, People, and the AIDS Epidemic (1987), which documents the outbreak of the AIDS pandemic in the United States, and was portrayed by Jeffrey Nordling in the 1993 HBO film adaptation. Shilts portrays Dugas as having almost sociopathic behavior by allegedly intentionally infecting, or at least recklessly endangering, others with the virus. Dugas is described as being a charming, handsome sexual athlete who, according to his own estimation, averaged hundreds of sex partners a year. He claimed to have had over 2,500 sexual partners across North America since becoming sexually active in 1972.

Genetic analysis of HIV provides some support for the Patient Zero theory. Dugas is now believed to be part of a cluster of homosexual men who traveled frequently, were extremely sexually active, and died of AIDS at a very early stage in the epidemic.

Dugas died in Quebec City on March 30, 1984, as a result of kidney failure caused by AIDS-related infections.

1967 – Kurt Cobain (d.1994) was an American singer-songwriter and musician, best known as the guitarist, primary songwriter and frontman of the rock band Nirvana. Through his angst-fueled songwriting and anti-establishment persona, Cobain's compositions widened the thematic conventions of mainstream rock music. He was often heralded as a spokesman of Generation X and is considered to be one of the most influential musicians in the history of alternative rock.

Born in Aberdeen, Washington, Cobain formed the band Nirvana with Krist Novoselic and Aaron Burckhard in 1987 and established it as part of the Seattle music scene which later became known as grunge.

After signing with major label DGC Records, Nirvana found global success with "Smells Like Teen Spirit" from their critically acclaimed second album Nevermind (1991). Although Cobain was hailed as the voice of his generation following Nirvana's sudden success, he resented this, believing his message and artistic vision had been misinterpreted by the public.

In addition to "Smells Like Teen Spirit", Cobain wrote many notable songs for Nirvana, including "About a Girl", "In Bloom", "Come as You Are", "Lithium", "Polly", "Something in the Way", "All Apologies", and "Heart-Shaped Box".

During the last years of his life, Cobain struggled with heroin addiction and chronic health problems such as depression. He also struggled with the personal and professional pressures of fame, as well as his marriage to musician Courtney Love.

In March 1994, Cobain overdosed on a combination of champagne and Rohypnol, and subsequently entered an intervention and underwent a detox program. On April 8, 1994, Cobain was found dead at his home in Seattle at the age of 27; police concluded he had died on April 5 from a self-inflicted shotgun wound to the head.

In October 1992, when asked, "Well, are you gay?" by Monk Magazine, Cobain replied, "If I wasn't attracted to Courtney, I'd be a bisexual." In another interview, he described identifying with the gay community in The Advocate, stating, "I'm definitely gay in spirit and I probably could be bisexual" and "if I wouldn't have found Courtney, I probably would have carried on with a bisexual life-style".

He also said that he "thought [he] was gay" and "wanted to [...] find a chicken hawk and sell [his] ass". He described himself as being "feminine" in childhood, and often wore dresses and other stereotypically feminine clothing.

Some of his song lyrics, as well as phrases he would use to vandalize vehicles and a bank, included "God is gay", "Jesus is gay", "HOMOSEXUAL SEX RULES", and "Everyone is gay".

Cobain openly advocated for LGBTQ+ rights, including traveling to Oregon to perform at a benefit opposing the 1992 Oregon Ballot Measure 9, and supported local bands with LGBTQ+ members. He reported having felt "different" from the age of seven, and was a frequent target of homophobic bullying in his school due to him having a "gay friend". Cobain was interviewed by two gay magazines, OUT and The Advocate; the 1993 interview with The Advocate being described as "the only [interview] the band's lead singer says he plans to do for Incesticide", an album whose liner notes included a statement decrying homophobia, racism and misogyny:

"If any of you in any way hate homosexuals, people of different color, or women, please do this one favor for us—leave us the fuck alone! Don't come to our shows and don't buy our records."

2004 ��� Cambodia King Norodom Sihanouk, constitutional monarch of Cambodia, declares that he thought his country should legalize same-sex marriage. He said that he reached this conclusion after watching footage of same-sex couples marry in San Francisco. He also stated that transvestites should be well-treated in Cambodia.

[sjsmith56]

Help! I need some guidance.

I started a new one shot but I think it’s already getting away from me and will likely become a short fiction piece of several parts. Stop me if someone has already done this before.

Set in New York, 1899 at the Society of Heroic Individuals and Estimable Lofty Deeds (SHIELD), where a group of exceptional men and women, known commonly as the Avengers, act as a semi-private special operations force. Their new librarian arrives, to be in charge of research, and curator of their private collection of gifts and memorabilia, while most are away on a mission. When they back to their headquarters, the stoic Sergeant Barnes, a man with a past, takes an interest in the quiet librarian. He courts her (in the style of the times) and just when he is on the cusp of asking for her hand he gets word from an old enemy that they haven’t forgotten what he did. A threat against her life forces him to withdraw his attentions, leaving her broken hearted. When she is taken hostage by the old enemy to force Barnes into working for them he and the Avengers force take action.