Starting The Day [221B-Arthur]
Rating: Teen/Just on the edge of Mature
Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle x Reader
Summary: Arthur starts his day with you.
Warnings: Suggestive language and actions. It's Arthur, and as we all know: Arthur=just a slight notch above PG-13
Notes: Various times when ao3commentofday posts about different names for varying lengths of fic (drabble, ficlet, etc), on the list, there was a format used by the Sherlock fandom called 221B where you write a piece that's exactly 221 words, the last word starting with the letter B (in reference to Holmes's address, 221B Baker Street). While I have not participated in any Sherlock series fandom, adaptation, or whatever of that respective collective fandom, I thought it would be fun to try the writing format on Ikevamp's Mr. Doyle himself. Because I think it'd be funny and fun
Link to Masterlist
Also on Ao3!
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"Luv, I might just kiss you."
"You say that every time you see me."
"And have I ever not delivered on that promise?" Arthur stood up after you set his breakfast tray down, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your nose. “I never seem to be able to start my day without seeing your lovely face.”
“I’m sure the coffee helps out more though.” You reach for his wrinkled shirt, little blue dots sprinkling the cuffs. A sure sign of his late-night escapades, now that he was dating you.
“Oh? This certainly wakes a man more than your delicious coffee.” He smirked, reaching for your collar, his fingers gingerly brushing your jaw, the ink long dried enough to not mark your face.
“Laundry day, Arthur,” you reminded him with a small smack on his wrist, pointedly ignoring his little pout. “it’s going to take forever to get that ink out.”
Arthur sighed. “Pity. Sebas has you on the short rope today, does he?”
You smiled.
"I have the advantage of knowing your habits, my dear Arthur. I let you have your way, and nothing would ever get done.”
His frown deepened in spite of your fingers making quick work of his remaining buttons, the cotton fabric sliding off his arms.
He starts, however, feeling your brazen hand on his belt.
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the worst part about being an adult is thay its no longer socially acceptable to just roll down a really big hill and then run back up it and roll back down again. "oh is this a syphilis metaphor" passerby would ask. "is this for a tick tock". no i just wanna come home covered in dirt and scratches and bask in the the solace of childlike mirth
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Yall wanna hear a kinda funny, kinda sad story about my grandmother and hetero-normativity?
Ok, so... when my grandmother was in her 50s (I was an infant), she met a woman at the Unitarian Church. And, as can happen when you meet your soul mate, this event made it impossible for her to deny parts of herself that she had fiercely hidden her whole life.
All the drama- their affair being found out, the divorce with my grandfather, the court battle over who got the house, happened while I was a baby. Even in my earliest memories, it's just Mama Jo and Oma, and my grandfather lived elsewhere (first his own apartment, then a nursing home, then with us.)
But here's the thing- no one ever explained any of this to me. No one ever sat down and was like "hey, Rosie, so do you know what a lesbian is?" It was the 90s. It was Texas. I think my mom was still kinda processing all this, and just assumed that like... I was gonna figure it out. Don't mention it, let it just be normal. Like I think my mom thought that if she explained the situation, she would be making it weird? I dunno.
But like. In the 90s, in all the movies I had seen and books I had read, do you know how many same sex couples I had seen? Like. 0. Do you know how many "platonic best friend/roommates" I had seen? A lot. I had no context, is what I'm saying.
I literally thought this was a Golden Girls, roommates, besties situation until I was like...I dunno, 11? 12?
It was actually their parrot, an African Grey named Spike, imitating my grandmothers voice saying "Johanna, honey, it's getting late", that triggered the MIND BLOWN moment as I realized that *there's only one master bedroom and it only has 1 waterbed* when all the pieces finally clicked.
Anyway. I think it's a real important thing for kids to know queer people exist, for a lot of reasons, but also because kids can be clueless and it's embarrassing to have your grandmother be outted by a parrot because everyone just thought you'd figure it out on your own.
Anyway, here is my grandma and her wife, my Oma, after they moved to Albuquerque to be artsy gay cowboys and live their best life. They helped run a "Lesbian Dude Ranch" out there (basically just with funding and financial support. As Oma has explained "traditionally, most lesbians don't have a lot of money" so they wrote the checks and let the younger ladies actually run the ranch.)
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the funniest part of any Robin meeting the JL is that every Robin is so distinctly different from the previous one in terms of personality and vibes that the league literally gets backlash. and like, I don't blame them. not to mention that they are non-meta children that dress as a traffic light and fight crime alongside batman in gotham on a nightly basis. i'd also be a bit concerned.
Batman, literally The Night of Gotham personified in the League's eyes, coming into a JL meeting: This is Robin, my crime-fighting partner.
11-year-old Dick Grayson, dressed in the brightest primary colours possible, vaguely hidden murder behind those eyes, never stops moving even for a moment: Hi!
Superman: That's a child. That's-- Bats that is a child. You let a child--?
Batman, deadpan: You try to stop him. Would you rather he try and murder a grown man with a wire?
Batman: This is Robin.
12-year-old Jason Todd, with the biggest grin on his face, about 3 books in his hand, stars in his eyes and a distinct street-kid drawl: Hey!!!
Green Lantern: That's ... that's a different child. What??
Jason: I stole his tires :)
Batman: Tried to.
Jason, stage whispering to the League: basically did.
Green Lantern: that is a different kid, right?? I'm not seeing shit??
Batman: This is Robin.
14-year-old Tim Drake, bo staff clutched in his hand, a wary and tired expression on his face, more on the quiet side, the literal walking definition of don't judge a book by it's cover: hello
Flash: Where do you even find these--
Tim: I found myself.
Batman: This is Robin.
17-year-old Stephanie Brown, literally blonde, with a shit-eating grin, eyes full of nothing but mischief and the most explosive personality you've ever seen: hiya!!
Superman: I give up.
Stephanie: I know, I have that amazing effect on people.
Batman: This is Robin.
13-year-old Damian Wayne, a literal wet cat that will hiss at you, has a sword, the most judgemental stare you'll get from a teenager, ready to jump anyone there:
Green Lantern: WHY DOES HE HAVE A SWORD?!
Batman: ... he came with the sword.
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lead balloon (the tumblr post that saved me)
if this comic resonated with you, it would mean the world to me if you donated to this palestinian family's escape fund.
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no creative notes because this isn't that kind of comic.
I know I don’t owe any of you anything but I still felt compelled to write about my long term absence. And I feel far enough away from the dangerous spot I was in to be able to make this comic. I have a therapist now, and she agreed that making this could be a very cathartic gesture, and the start of properly leaving these thoughts behind me. I am still, at seemingly random times, blindsided by fleeting desires to kill myself. They’re always passing urges, but it’s disarming, and uncomfortable. I worry sometimes that my brain’s spent so long thinking only about suicide that it’s forgotten how to think about anything else. Like, now that I've opened that door for myself, I'll never be able to fully shut it again. But I’m trying my best to encourage my mind in other directions. We'll see how that goes.
I am still donating all proceeds from my store to Palestinian causes. So far, I've donated over $15K, not including donations coming from my own pocket or the fundraising streams which jointly raised around $10K. In the time since I made my initial post about where this money would be going, the focus has shifted from aid organisations to directly donating to escape funds.
If you'd like to do the same, you can look at Operation Olive Branch, which hosts hundreds of Palestinian escape funds or donate to Safebow, which has helped facilitate the safe crossing and securing of important medical procedures for over 150 at-risk palestinians since the beginning of the genocide.
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