#arthur Conan Doyle ikemen

[haruhar-u]

Hear me out

[haaymah]

cute

[etheries1015]

As long as you don't mind, maybe Theo, Arthur, Charles and Shakespeare comforting a fem! S/O going through a emotional flashback?(where you feel the old emotions, but it doesn't feel like you're there there; I know for me I get really dissociated during/after and stim nonstop while blasting music to help ground). Only if you're up for it of course and it's something you'd feel comfy writing ❤️ Thank you so much lovely!

Oh my gosh slay my first ikevamp request thank you this is such a good idea!! I hope you don't mind I implemented a scenario I feel would be a relatable emotional experience: somebody brings up your family, friends, or past loved ones, and you can't help but think back at your life before and begin to spiral and question your choices.

Ikemen Vampire x reader - How they comfort you

Featuring: Theo, Arthur, Shakespeare, Charles

TW: Descriptions of disassociation and (very mild) panic attacks.

General warnings: Fem pronouns, not too in-depth but I hope it's still okay!

Theo:

Theo I would say is not particularly the best at comforting, and does it in more of a round about way. However he can't help but need to do something....you're far too distracted while on the job. He had you come along with a few business deals with artists and nobles, and one specific thing a noble had said to you made you begin to think.

"Ah! Theo, and the lovely lady (y/n)! I've heard you have been established as a couple now, correct? Great for you! I'm sure your family must be happy you're with someone as stand up as good old theodorus here, huh?" One of the artists you had the pleasure of meeting blurted out. He hadnt meant anything by it and you knew this, however this was the start of you spiraling. The remaining amount of time you spent out and about with theo involved your eyes wandering to the ground, barely blinking while he led you by holding your hand. Your strides were slow and sluggish, and you had barely spoken a word ever since that incident. Finally you returned back to the mansion after he had finally called it a day, theo practically dragging you to his bedroom.

"What's going on with you hondje?" His eyebrows furrowed, "you've been weird ever since-" he stopped short of his sentence when he noticed tears filling your eyes which were colorless, your body slumping on the bed while you tried to distract yourself from the tears by picking at your nails. You simply shook your head, the words unable to form into coherent sentences thus silence was the best option for you. Theo didnt hesitate to wrap his strong arms around you and immediately begin to rub circles on your back, not pushing you any further to share what was going on.

He was content in the silence with you, he was a patient enough man to allow you to return to yourself in your own terms. Although he was gruff and often seen as outwardly brash and rough, however he knows when to hold back his often difficult attitude. Thus the next hour was him simply holding you in his arms, your light sobs soon evening out as you drifted into a slumber within his strong grasp. After laying you gently upon the bed, Theo made sure to take the following day off, for he knew he must dedicate that time to you.

Arthur:

You had began to make preparations for your wedding with Arthur, one of those things of course being a wedding dress. There were so many to choose from, and on top of being stressed about the whole ordeal and your anxiety creeping in, one of the tailors who were measuring you had nonchalantly said, "Oh dear, your parents must be ecstatic! Now tell me, where are they now? Shouldn't your mother at least be here for you while finding a dress for her precious daughters wedding?" You hesitated before gently responding to her that your mother lived abroad and you communicated by letter, and the woman quickly dropped the topic with a quick apology. The room suddenly felt thick and heavy, your chest tightened as you forced the tears that brimmed your eyes back. It wasn't until you stepped into the mansion after your dress endeavors, quickly rushing past any of the residents without so much as a "Hello." Its not as if you really noticed anyone anyways, your peripheral vision blurred and you felt numb. Any voices you heard drowened out, your mind wandering elsewhere. You wanted to be alone, you wanted to burry your face into your knees and try to cry, to forget the world exists, and fade away. you didnt feel real right now, you didnt feel like...you.

"Love!" You heard a familiar voice break you out or your trance, and panic began to set in.

Oh no.

You began to walk faster, 'don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry,' you kept telling yourself, 'If I see him, I will definitely cry.' And just as you had suspected, Arthur quickly caught up to you and grabbed your arm gently, a look of concern in his deep blue eyes. Your walls had cracked and the floodgates poured. He immediately pulled you into a tight embrace, swaying with you in his arms from side to side as you sobbed into his chest. Before long he was pulling you into his bedroom, instructing you to lay on his bed. He covered you gently with blankets and had gotten you water (and himself some coffee, of course.) He tried to get you to tell him what was wrong but knows better than to force you to talk. So, instead, he will lie down next to you caressing your hair. Your breathing began to even out, the repeated feeling of his gentle touch had calmed you down. You then spend the next few hours talking out your issues while Arthur peppered your face and jawline with kisses and continued to give you as much support as he possibly could.

Shakespeare:

"Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I'll no longer be a Capulet!"

The familiar line rang in your ears as the play went on, yet another rendition of your boyfriends ever so popular "Romeo and Juliet." However, this time, the words drowned out and you found yourself staring blankly at the stage. You could see blurred lines moving around in act, and words that were being called out as the play continued forward. Yet you were not listening to any of it. Memories of the past had bubbled up into your mind instead, memories of reading Romeo and Juliet for the first time, perhaps studying Shakespeare with your classmates in school, plays that would take place in your world, and faces of people you were once familar with playing those roles. You began to feel numb, devoid of emotions, living in the past without noticing Shakespeare had lay his hand upon your own in obvious concern.

"(Y/n)," he whispered into your ear, "what ails you, my love? Be not afraid to confide in me, let free that in which plagues thy mind," he coaxed. You let out a trembling sigh and simply shook your head in an indication that you had no intention to explain it right now, it wasn't the time or place, nor were you in the right headspace. He let out a slight sigh and rubbed his thumb loving over your knuckles whilst resuming his gaze on the stage, your mind wandering off once again in those memories now turned sour.

Once you had returned home to the villa, Shakespeare attempting to speak to you in the carriage left him feeling uneasy. You seemed far off, looking out of the window while responding in small one-word increments that left him mildly frustrated. Finally unable to contain the annoyance of being brushed off and failing to get you to speak to him, he had decided to grab your wrists and pin you to the bed, his eyes staring into your own with a hint of annoyance along with the overwhelming concern in his furrowed brows. he was about to demand you tell him what was possibly going on, however sudden movement caused you to finally break down, the tears that had been building up poured over and you began to sob. Any sign of annoyance was quickly replaced by pure panic and love, he removed his hands from your wrists immediately and pressed you into his chest. While smoothing your hair down he spoke poems into your ears, trying his best to distract you from whatever was bothering you. An hour went by and he had recited many of the lines from his plays, not even noticing you had ended up falling asleep within his arms... When you awoke you would find yourself comfortably tucked into bed, a cup of tea and little desserts awaiting you with your lover sitting and reading over a script. He wasn't particularly a patient one...however for you, he was willing to do anything to make it all better.

Charles:

You weren't into it this time, the kisses he places along your jawline and hands lovingly caressing your sides didn't leave you shivering in pleasure per usual. You were staring up at the ceiling, eyes void and staring out into space, laying still while your boyfriend halted his sensual advances. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern and lifted his head to reach your gaze as he hovered over you.

"(Y/n)?" Charles asked with a tremble in his voice, "are you...okay? Am I not doing a good job? I'm sorry I-" you interrupted him with a sigh and a shaking hand pressing up against his chest, pushing him gently enough for him to understand to remove himself from on top of you. You sat up with your shoulders slumped over and your hair obscuring your peripheral vision and staring down at your hands.

"I just..." You choked out, "just...remembering some stuff," you said, "don't wanna talk about it..." Your voice was barely above a whisper, yet the lack of animation in your movements and tone had strongly caused Charles to worry. He planted a kiss on the top of your head before removing himself from the bed, putting his shirt back on and buttoning it up.

"Well...then you just rest for now, and I will be back with some food! Food always makes things better," He said with attempted enthusiasm. You had not replied. With a sad smile, Charles kissed your forehead once more before leaving you to your own devices, understanding that you may need some space in order to collect your thoughts and feelings. When he had returned, you had covered yourself with blankets. He tried to resist the urge to set down anything and everything and bombard you with a tight squeeze, instead, he gently lay the food upon the tablet in the room, taking a seat next to you as your light sobs were not gone unnoticed by his ears. Charles removed the blanket from the top of your head, cooing in your ear, "I have food here for you, and tea made fresh by yours truly...would you try it, please?" He asked, puppy eyes to try and lure you out. You simply shook your head. With a defeated sigh Charles resorted to humming a tune and drawing circles on your back, he felt your trembling begin to come to a halt and your breathing evening out.

He knew when you were ready and able to confide in him, he was going to smother you with as much of his love as he possibly could. Perhaps together you could learn to forget both of your worries of the past for a little while...

Bonus: Imagine Mozart just playing piano for you. you're crying softly but he doesn't mind, he just continues to play until it eventually lulls you into a gentle sleep. He isn't good at comforting, but his music can convey how he feels about you.

[chevlvrs]

[arthurs-puppygirl]

Arthur was pretty based for this, ngl

[namine-somebodies-nobody]

MC: The floor is lava!

Vincent: *helps MC onto the counter*

Theo: *kicks Arthur off the sofa*

Arthur: *lays on the floor*

MC: ...Are you okay?

Arthur: No.

[ikevamp-twitter]

[valkyyriia]

A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

Notes: This is I think the third time I've ever written smut, so please bear with me. I also thought the title was rather cliche, but I liked it, so... I also think I got a little carried away. Whoops. And Mo, if you read this - I remembered that comment I left you on your fic about the Paris Green and MC freaking out and it immediately came to mind when I rolled this prompt with my dice.

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, eyeing the abandoned building with suspicion. It appeared to have been an older, late-eighteenth century mansion. Ivy crept up the crumbling mortar like grasping tendrils, giving it a foreboding look. 

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face. “A little urban exploration never hurt anyone.” 

“I would like to see the evidence to back up that stateme-” You were cut off by Arthur tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

“Come now. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?” He tapped your nose with a gloved finger. “That includes the dangers of uninhabited, derelict places and all the things that go bump in the dark. You have absolutely nothing to fear as long as I am here with you, okay?” 

You exhaled shakily and offered a weak smile. “Okay.” 

“Besides,” Arthur added. “You do make a rather adorable damsel in distress.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, taking your hand and leading you inside. 

One thing you had never quite gotten used to in this era was the sticky heat and lack of air conditioning. Even though the climate wasn’t too different from what you were used to, the fashion of the day was much more stifling. The summer sun was currently high in the air, beating oppressive rays down on the building. Fortunately, the mansion was still in reasonably good repair; the roof was intact everywhere except the far left wing, where the walls had collapsed in on themselves. It offered some protection from the heat, paltry though it was.

Arthur had, true to his word, faithfully stuck by your side. The vampire hardly even let go of your hand, giving you something to anchor yourself to. You were grateful for his considerate nature. 

The sunlight shining through the cracked stained glass windows cast glittering constellations on the dusty wood of the parlor floor. Furniture draped in age-stained cream cloth was positioned in key places around the room. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and the obvious smell of decaying wood, you would almost think the owners were just out on vacation. 

Arthur had done some amount of research on the building before bringing you here, aided by le Comte and his connections. As it turns out, the owners of this mansion had fled to America twenty or so odd years ago due to some sort of legal trouble. The Crown had seized the mansion to repay the family’s debts and it had remained uninhabited since. According to Comte, the left wing collapse happened a few months after the Crown took over the property, and they hadn’t tried to renovate or rebuild the structure. Ultimately, other than the left side, the mansion should have been perfectly safe - within reason for an abandoned building - for a first-time urban explorer. 

He grinned. “Look at this,” Arthur said, using your joined hands to point at the desk in the corner of the room. It was neatly organized, a couple of books stacked on the side. A half-written letter lay on the workspace. A quill pen sat in a long-since-dried inkwell, the bottom of it stained black with India ink. “They really were in a hurry,” Arthur commented, pulling his tortoiseshell glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose. “Let’s see…”

He blew gently on the surface, scattering the dust. Your eyes watered and you cough into your elbow. “Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing your back lightly as he looked at the letter. 

“To my love,

“I hope the day comes when I can see you again. Father says we must leave in order to stay out of prison, and I dread leaving you behind. I had desperately dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, but I fear we must place those plans on hold for now. Wait for me, my love. I will return for you.

“Forever yours,”

And then nothing. There was no signature. You frowned. “The poor dears.. I hope he was able to stay in contact. Or at least let her know what happened.” 

Arthur studied the paper intensely for a moment, before looking at the books next to it. “I can’t imagine she wouldn’t know what happened. These kinds of things are rather big gossip in the upper echelons of society.” The hand on your back moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Her family likely refused any further contact with him or his family after they left. Even if he continued to write to her, she probably never saw any of those letters.” 

“That’s so sad,” you said, leaning into him. “It sounds like he really loved her.” 

“If he loved her half as much as I love you, he must have loved her a lot,” Arthur replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you would like, luv, we can maybe try to deliver this letter to its intended recipient. There’s probably some other correspondence between the two stashed somewhere here, if we look for it.”

You looked up at him in surprise. He had a kind smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious. If it were something you wished to do, he would make it happen somehow. “I would, but,” you started to say. “What if it opens up old wounds? What if she’s moved on and this just brings it back up?” You sighed and laid your head against Arthur’s shoulder once more. He ran his thumb up and down your waist in soothing motions. “I don’t want to make things worse.” 

“Even if she has moved on, it could give her closure,” Arthur pointed out. “But you are right; it could cause more trouble for them. Maybe we should leave it here?”

You mulled it over for a moment. “If I were in her shoes.. And you had moved away for some reason against your will, I don’t think I could really move on. Even if I was forced to marry someone else. I love you too much to ever forget you.” 

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Then we should do everything we can to make sure it’s delivered. Even if it is twenty-something years late,” he said, voice quiet and somewhat choked. You went to move away and look up at him, but Arthur’s hand kept your head against his neck. His free arm wrapped around you and he held you firmly to his body. You gave up fighting him, and just locked your arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Arthur finally let go and stepped away from you, looking around the room once more. “Let’s see if we can find out who the lucky lady is, yeah? The game, my dear, is on!” 

The two of you went looking around the parlor for any other correspondence between the pair. Coming up empty handed there, you moved to other rooms. Normally Arthur would have been able to make an educated deduction on which room likely belonged to the author, but with the state of disrepair the house was in it was much more difficult. Or at least, that’s what Arthur said - but you suspected he just wanted an excuse to lead you around the house by the hand for a little longer. Not that you’d complain about that.

The two of you looked inside a bedroom suite on the second floor. The door creaked open, revealing a lavish room, covered in linens matching those in the parlor. A thick layer of dust coated the room as it did everywhere else in the house. You carefully stepped over to another desk, this one facing the window that overlooked the long-overgrown lawn. Spread across it were several letters in varying states of completion. Some were well-worn, clearly having been read over multiple times. Those ones appeared to have a different author than the one found downstairs. 

“Alyssa Bloodwell,” Arthur murmured. “That name doesn’t ring any bells for me, but Daddy Dearest knows just about everyone worth knowing among Europe’s elite. We can ask him when we get back. For now, though…” Arthur turned to you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Arthur,” you warned him to no avail. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed you by the hips. Your arms snaked around his neck automatically. 

He grinned. “What is it, oh darling love of mine?” He gave you an innocent peck on the lips. 

“Oh, don’t even start, Arthur,” you protested, but made no motion to step out of his embrace. His lips moved to the side of your face and you reflexively tilted your head to give him access. “We can’t - not here.” 

“Says who?” Arthur murmured seductively, nibbling at the shell of your ear. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop us.” He walked you backwards to a sturdy chest of draws against the far wall, and easily lifted you up onto it. “You’ve been looking positively delectable all day. I can’t help myself from wanting a taste.” He leaned in and kissed you more insistently, his fingers dancing around the ribbon at the collar of your blouse. 

“You are incorrigible,” You responded weakly, already returning his kiss. 

“But you like it, don’t you?” Arthur replied, grazing your earlobe with his fangs. “You dirty little thing.” He ghosted his lips down the side of your neck, pressing a kiss right over your pulse point, before mouthing the spot and sucking hard. You cried out at the sharp pain of it. 

Arthur ran his thumb over the red blooming there. “Beautiful,” he said. “I would bite you, but then I’d have to carry you back to grab a carriage.” He ran his tongue down the column of your throat, his fingers gently setting the ribbon to the side and dragging the top of your blouse down. His other hand slid up your skirt, the thumb running back and forth over the flesh of your inner thigh. “And I really don’t want to have to explain that one to the constable,” Arthur whispered, his breath coming out in puffs against your collarbone.

The drag of his sharp fangs against the skin of your chest combined with Arthur’s fingers moving higher underneath your skirt caused your breath to hitch. His gloved hand pressed gently against your clothed sex, applying a small bit of pressure through your underwear. You let out a soft whine at the contact. He rubbed his fingers back and forth between your thighs while leaving love bites all over your exposed chest. 

His lips kissed back up your throat, and he pulled away to look at you. Smirking, he pulled his hand from between your thighs and took the glove in between his teeth. Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulled it off of his hand, the now bare appendage returning to its former place between your legs.

“Arthur,” you whimpered as he slid the material of your panties aside. He dragged his fingers back and forth through the wetness gathering there, circling the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. 

You threw your head back, a low keening sound escaping your lips as he continued to swirl his fingers between your legs. Arthur shot out his other hand to catch the back of your head.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You bit your lip but did as he asked, and he smiled. “Good girl.” 

Arthur’s thumb brushed against your lips and then he leaned in for a deep kiss. “You’re so cute when you come undone under my fingers like this,” he purred. “You’re normally so put together.” You probably were a sight to behold right now - skirt hiked up to your hips, blouse untied and loosely draped under your cleavage, chest heaving  - you were the very image of debauchery. 

Arthur leaned back in for another kiss, his tongue moving against yours in time with his fingers as they pushed inside of you. 

Your gaze drifted up, suddenly settling on the walls of the room. Your eyes widened and you broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you breathed, voice scratchy. “Is it just me or is that wallpaper green?” 

Arthur groaned and he pulled away with a discontent sigh, his lips forming a frown. “It is, and quite a lovely shade of it. But I don’t see how the color of the wallpaper is more important than my hand.” His fingers deftly continued their work, and you bit back a groan. “Unless you are unsatisfied, and want something more?”

“Because,” you breathed, trying to ignore Arthur’s actions and failing miserably. “Green pigments from around this time period are made of arsenic. It’s poison.” Your thighs trembled as he pleasured you. You were so close-

-and then Arthur suddenly stopped and looked at you, bewildered. You whined at the loss of stimulation. “Really?” He looked away from you, his gaze flitting all around the room that was blanketed in peeling green wallpaper. Arthur’s cobalt gaze met yours again, a light panic to his eyes. “And they didn’t know this?” 

“No! The paint was invented sometime in the early nineteenth century and fell out of use during the mid nineteenth century because people were getting sick,” you sighed, the ache in your belly slowly subsiding, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and wanting for more. “It was later used as a pesticide, until they realized that was dangerous, too.” You were somewhat regretting your choice to stop Arthur at this moment. Curse your brain for being safety-conscious even with an incredibly attractive man between your legs, who wanted nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

Arthur sighed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We should probably continue this elsewhere, then,” he conceded, removing his hands from your thighs. You shuddered at the loss of contact and watched as he lifted his slick-covered hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers. The lewd sight sent another flare of smoldering heat right to your belly. “When we get back home, you’re going to have to make up for leaving me hanging like this. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of your actions.”

Bonus:

After speaking with Comte about what you discovered while exploring (trespassing), you and Arthur found yourselves standing outside of a beautiful, well-kept mansion in the Parisian countryside. As you approached the gate, a butler, who was trimming roses nearby, placed his garden shears down and stepped over.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” he greeted. “How can I help you?” 

“Is there an Alyssa Bloodwell at this residence?” You asked.

The butler frowned. “Madame Bloodwell does live here, yes, but we were not advised of any visitors today. Was she expecting you?”

“Not exactly,” you replied. Arthur then pulled a time-worn letter out of his pocket and showed it to the butler, explaining, “I shan’t go into the specifics on how, but we came across this letter and believe its intended recipient is your mistress. We simply wish it to go where it belongs.” 

The butler looked at the letter for a moment before nodding. “If you will, follow me,” he said and led you both into the mansion’s entryway, and from there to the parlor. “Please wait here, mademoiselle, monsieur. I will inform Madame Bloodwell of your visit and we shall proceed from there.” 

After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to see a woman in her late thirties descending the stairwell. “I am Madame Alyssa Bloodwell. I was informed you had correspondence intended for me?” she asked. 

You curtsied and Arthur handed over the letter. She took it, eyeing it, and her hand dropped to her chest. “Where did you get this?” she said, breathless. 

“We recently came into possession of it,” Arthur said, smoothly avoiding giving the details. “We did some detective work, and determined you were the recipient.” 

Lady Bloodwell walked over to an armchair on uncertain legs and sunk down into it. “Louis,” she murmured. “I haven’t heard from him in twenty four years.” Her fingers caressed the fraying edges of the paper. “His family had been found to be embezzling money from one of the royal artisans and was disgraced. They fled Paris in the middle of the night and caught a ship to America. My parents forbade mention of him and the betrothal was called off. I ended up marrying a local lord, but.. I never did stop wondering what happened to him.” 

You smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come bearing current news, but I’m glad we could at least bring you the letter. It’s obvious how much he loved you.” 

“Thank you, cherie,” she said. “Please, is there anything I can do to repay you for doing me this kindness?” 

You began to decline, but Arthur cut in. “If you don’t mind, could you answer a question for us as payment?“

She inclined her head. 

“Did you ever move on?” Arthur asked, a serious look on his face. 

Madame Bloodwell shook her head. “I love my husband,” she began. “But no. Louis was - is - special to me. I never stopped loving him, and I doubt I will stop until the last breath leaves my lungs.” She looked between you and Arthur, a content smile on her face. “I see such a resemblance between you two and myself and Louis. Monsieur, whatever you do, don’t ever lose her.”

Arthur looked straight at you and squeezed your hand. “I won’t.” 

Taglist: @natimiles

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Ikevamp Manga Preview

Ikemen Vampire Chapter 13 (Arthur)

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[dododrawsstuff]

Congrats on your milestone 🥳 your art is lovely btw (like the Clavis ones? 😍 ahhh)

If you’re feeling up for it, I’d like to request F2 for Arthur 🥹👉👈

Thank you so much!! I'm really happy you like my art! Especially my Clavis pieces, I love drawing him so much 😭

Yes, of course! Thank you for requesting this beautiful vampire hoe (affectionate). Hope you like him!!

Requests for expressions are closed

[lichtluv]

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

ɪғ ɪ'ᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ᴍ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ sɪᴄᴋ...

ᴀᴍ ɪ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ sɪᴄᴋ?

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

⟳𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝.

[stellari-s]

arthur conan doyle stim board

❝ let’s play a game — whoever makes the other the happiest wins. i think i’ve got this one in the bag. ❞

[ x , x , x / x , x , x / x , x , x ]

▸ 【 master list 】

[aquagirl1978]

Fact or Fable (also known as "How the Heck Isaac Ending Up Wearing *That* Dress)

Arthur: Hey Newt, come in here!

Dazai: Yeah, Ai-kun, come join us.

Isaac: *grumbling* What do you two want?

Arthur: We're playing a little game and thought you could join us?

Isaac: I don't like the way you're smiling.

Dazai: Don't you wanna play this game with us? It's fun, I promise.

Isaac: I don't like the sound of this.

Arthur: *pushing Isaac into a chair* It's really very simple...

Arthur: *ignoring Isaac's glare* Dazai will tell us a statement and we will take turns saying if it is a fact about Dazai or if it is from a Japanese fable.

Dazai: If you guess wrong, you drink a shot. If you guess right, the other drinks the shot. Sounds fun, right?

Isaac: Ehhh...

Dazai: Great, you're in! Let's start with Arthur so you can see how it's played. Arthur, fact or fable - when I was little, I wore a bowl on my head.

Arthur: Fact!

Dazai: Wrong - drink a shot. That was from the Tale of Hachikazuki, I should have a copy of it in my room if either of you would like to read it.

(Isaac shakes his head while Arthur drinks his shot)

Dazai: Very well. Ai-kun, this one is for you. Fact or fable - I was born in a peach.

Isaac: You have to be kidding me.

Dazai: I assure you, I am quite serious.

Isaac: Fable. No human can be born from a peach.

Dazai: And you would be correct, that is from the tale of Momotarō. Arthur, take another shot.

(This went on for a few rounds, each of which Arthur was made to drink a shot)

Isaac: *looks at Arthur* You're drunk.

Arthur: *smiles* So then you don't mind upping the ante on this next one?

Arthur: *pulls out bag he had hidden away* Answer this wrong, and you'll have to wear this outfit

Isaac: And if I answer correctly?

Arthur: I will wear it.

Isaac: *shakes hands with a drunk Arthur* You're on.

Dazai: Fact or fable - I have a koi pond here at the mansion.

Isaac: *spoken quite confidently* Fable!

Dazai: I'm sorry Ai-kun, but that answer is incorrect.

Isaac: *standing from his seat, voice getting louder* What do you mean, wrong? I dont see a koi pond anywhere in this mansion. Not outside. Not inside. Not a single pond.

Dazai Oh, but I do. I never said it was a pond with actual water. I have a painting in my room of a koi pond. Painted it myself, would you like to see it?

Isaac: No, I do not want to see it!

(A very sober Isaac fell back onto his seat, screaming silently knowing his fate)

Arthur: Just sit in the carriage.

Isaac: How 'bout no.

Arthur: C'mon Newt, you lost fair and square.

Isaac: There was no agreement to actually go somewhere dressed like this.

Arthur: Rules change. Now get in the carriage.

Isaac: No.

Arthur: Do you want me to start yelling and then everyone in the mansion will come out and see you?

(Isaac grumbles as he climbs into the carriage)

Arthur: *holds out a shiny red apple* Now take this.

Isaac: What? No, I don't want your stupid apple.

Arthur: You know you want the apple.

(Isaac took the apple and held it for a moment before tossing it at Arthur's head)

Arthur: Hey! That was a perfectly good apple there. You could have fed it to this horse.

Isaac: Are we done here? Have you had your fill of amusement?

Arthur: Yeah, yeah. You can go. I suggest you go in through the back. You don't want anyone else to see you dressed like this.

[ikemenscreenshotoftheday]

01/01 Happy New Year, everyone! I wish you guys all the best in the upcoming year! Let's make 2024 a good one!

Friendly reminder that Arthur is "very fond" of high fives (ain't he so cute)

[chevlvrs]

[arthurs-puppygirl]

Arthur is gonna scream when he finds out about BBC Sherlock 😬