#oh and ofc

[forgottenarthur]

aria/arthur "i did this for you. no one else."

ooc: so, as you know, ive been saying for awhile that amira'll poison arthur after the tournament to punish him for showing up edmund (will she tell edmund she did this? did it ~for him? nope!). this is the result i spun for the poison generator (note: amira didn't have to purchase said plant from the black market bc she def grew it herself oops amira: 'i ~am the black market' jk jk):

(don't ask me why it looks like that -- idk either)

also looked up hypothermia symptoms and we get a fun lil cocktail of the following:

Mild Hypothermia (32-35°C / 90-95°F): 

Shivering (unless energy stores are depleted)

Confusion, impaired judgment, and slurred speech

Increased heart rate, blood pressure, and respiration

Shortness of breath

Fatigue

Pale and dry skin

Nausea

Possible memory loss

Loss of fine motor skills

Dizzyness

Moderate Hypothermia (28-32°C / 82-90°F): 

Cognitive decline

Lethargy

CNS depression (reduced reflexes, dilated pupils)

Hyporeflexia (reduced reflexes)

Hypotension (low blood pressure)

Bradycardia (slow heart rate)

Bradypnea (slow breathing)

Shivering may stop

Paradoxical undressing (removing clothes due to confusion)

Susceptibility to dysrhythmias (irregular heartbeats)

Severe Hypothermia (Below 28°C / 82°F): 

Unresponsiveness or coma

Difficulty breathing

Abnormal heart rhythms

Very cold skin

Slow, weak pulse

Low blood pressure

Possible cessation of shivering

Loss of consciousness

In infants, bright red, cold skin and low energy

Other Symptoms: 

Clumsiness or lack of coordination

Sleepiness or drowsiness

Fumbling hands

Slowed or shallow breathing

Weak pulse

Behavioral changes (confusion, unusual aggression)

Apathy

Hallucinations or euphoria (in some cases)

sounds like a great time for arthur thanks amira! #bestmomaward lkadsjfjsd

------

He didn't know how he had come to be here. Or where he was. The corridor was dark here; raging blurry-bright every so often, and he put his hand to his face, groaned. Stumbled. Hissed as his shoulder hit the wall. Cold. So cold, it burned. He recoiled. Stumbled again. He was shaking, sluggish. Nausea rose like a veil over his senses, dizzying and sharp.

"Blah-" he frowned. Stumbled. He hadn't quite meant to say that. Blast. He'd meant to say that. He shook his head. Stopped. Where was he going? God, it was cold, it was so cold. He didn't know when he'd last felt so cold. Had he ever felt so cold?

Aine was screaming. Her fires licked the rafters, her shrieks reverberated there. Kil-kennar was burning. Everywhere they rose in riot, their spears and swords and cries all stabbing at him. Everything burned. "Help us!" they shrieked from the flames, piteous horror-garbled sounds. The air stank with fire and blood. They were all burning. "Help us!"

He staggered forward. He tripped. His hand hit the wall; his knees the stone floor. Burning ice. He recoiled. God, they were everywhere screaming. He struggled to his feet. He had to climb. Their shrieks were in the rafters. He had to make it to the stop of the tower. He had to save them.

Moans and flames and screams wreathed the air, shrieked at his ears. Everywhere they pled with him. Everywhere they scrambled and fought. Riot and fire. Everywhere, they were burning. But the heat was cold, horrifically cold. He hardly had the strength to go on. He couldn't stop. "Help us! Help us!" they sobbed. "Don't do this to us! Don't let us die this way! Don't do this to us!"

But his father bellowed, too. "You're no son of mine!"

His voice tore and tangled with theirs and he was there, too, heedless of the flames, even as they engulfed him, women and children at his feet holding one another as the flames crept closer.

Arthur couldn't get there. He could stop it. They shrieked in his ears. They burned.

"STOP!" Arthur screamed. "Please--please, stop!" He was weeping, gasping, trembling almost too hard to stand but he couldn't stop. He had to get to them. He had to save them.

Aine was screaming, screaming, endlessly screaming. "My fath--" he shook his head sharply. "Put her to the tor--" he stumbled again, overcorrected, stumbled back, rocked forward again. "Nah my son. I--Couldn't--I--God," he begged. "Why? Why this?"

"What's going on? What're you doing here?"

Arthur jumped at the voice. He turned, no, tried to turn. Sluggish feet hardly moved. He shivered violently. He could hardly move for trembling.

"Are--" the voice hesitated. "Are you all right?"

"Wheere--" He put his hand to his brow, again, as if he could steady himself. "Um--"

"Arthur?" Another voice, more familiar. Quick steps and someone was at his side. He knew her voice but he couldn't remember from where. Perhaps the sky was speaking to him, he thought.

Something hot took his arm. Surprised, he stumbled away, hit the wall again. Burning cold. He jerked away with a cry.

"You're scaring me. What's going on?"

"Fir--mm--fires, Kil-ka--fire--" he said the last part very carefully. "I--saw..."

"All right," the voice whispered to herself. "You're not well, Arthur. Please. Please come with me."

He shook his head. "I haff--I haff to--"

"You have to come with me." The voice was authoritative, and the voice was close. He could see her now, moss-dark eyes finding his.

"Can't--"

"I know how to deal with the fire. I know how to save Kil-kennar. But you have to come with me."

He relented. "I feel--"

"Terrible?" She nodded, gently twined her arms around his. He gasped. The heat of her arms was a balm. "I can tell. You're shaking like a reed." She was warm, so blessedly warm. He leaned closer. She put her arm around him. She gasped. "You're so cold!"

"You're--so warm..." He pulled her closer.

He was lying down. He was blinking at the skies, stars wheeling sickeningly overhead. He tugged at his blankets. Pushed them away.

"Arthur, drink this." His mother's voice. A chalice floated before his eyes, silver and shining as if a fire burned within it.

"The stars--" he muttered, and tried to pull the covers over his head. He couldn't look at them. They were laughing at him. Aria was always laughing at him, really. Laughing just behind her eyes. Somehow, though, somehow he didn't really mind when she laughed. He didn't mind...

"That's just the ceiling, Arthur."

"Tell the--tell them--"

"Arthur. Drink this."

The chalice floated again and he reached, missed, his hand shot off towards the heavens. He thought perhaps he could grasp one of the stars, blazing in their fury. He could pull them down and he could place them amongst Aria's ebony locks. Perhaps she'd smile, then, smile at him with stars caught amongst her hair, skin aglow with silver starlight...

Something touched his lips. A warm hand tipped his head back. "Drink." Another voice, this time, demanding.

He smiled, lay back, and closed his eyes. Aria was annoyed with him. Of course she was. He drank.

"Get some rest, Your Majesty. You've been up so long. I'll sit with him."

Quiet. Then his mother's voice: "All right. But you'll let me know if anything changes. Anything at all--"

"I will, Your Majesty. Get some sleep."

He was near a fire, warm and bright. Shivering, he groped towards it.

"Arthur?" Aria's voice, again.

He opened his eyes, turned towards the voice.

"Arthur, what's happening?"

"Were walk--walking in the stars."

She leaned forward, touched his brow. Her hand was warm. He groaned.

"You told me once -- implied -- Arthur, has this, or something like it, happened to you before?"

She floated amongst the stars, a nimbus of silver light radiating from her every edge. She'd never really belonged down here amongst the creatures of earth and mud, had she? She'd always been of the heavens, shining and warm. How had he not seen it before? He reached for her, far away amongst the wind and sky. But he touched her. He blinked with confusion. He thought she'd burn him, but her cheek was soft and gently, gently, he brushed his fingers across her face.

"You have to go. But come back," he whispered, very, very slowly. He had to get the words right, though his voice was thin and reedy even in his own ears. It was his only chance. "Come back to me someday. You belong out there, I know, but..." he pressed his eyes shut, his exhausted arm falling back to his side. "I--I'll miss you here."

He was tired. So tired. He just wanted to sleep.

"You really don't know what's going on, do you?" Her voice was sad, far away. She was silent for a moment, yet something in her tone turned decided when she spoke again. "I can help you."

He wondered if Aria would ever come back, now that she was at home amongst the stars. He wondered if she would ever laugh with him again, or roll her eyes at him, or if he would ever see her smiles again, feel their heat, again, even if just while tilting his head towards the skies, would he ever see the gleam of the morning star shining down upon him, feel its warmth brushing his skin, and know she was looking down on him, again...He felt hollow, now, thinking this way, hollow and heart-weary. He hadn't thought, before, what it might be like with her gone. Hadn't considered how, now that she was close...she might never be, again. Was that why he felt so cold? Was it because she was gone, lost to him amongst the stars?

"I think I love her," whispered Arthur.

Silence. A long silence. Then heat. Up it washed, up and up, a warm blanket that shimmered and shone over him, a blanket of starlight glistening with quicksilver heat, like her hands passing over him. He hissed sweet relief, as if every fibre of him were thawing, waking, the pinprick heat of slumbering limbs coming back to life. He was golden, again, warm and glowing. Strength and health flowed, mingling sunlight and starlight brightened every corner of the room as if dawn, itself, burst through his whole being: joy and color and wholeness mesmerizing every cell. He breathed out, a surprised breath, almost a laugh. He'd never felt so well.

He opened his eyes, found himself staring at the familiar star-painted ceiling of his bedroom. He didn't remember going to bed, but here he was. He sat up, put his head in his hands, laughing. "What a strange dream..."

He heard a sound at his side and turned. He started. Someone sat there. A lady. "Aria?!" He coughed, pulled up his covers, suddenly all-too aware of how much he was or wasn't wearing (he realized he couldn't remember what he'd put on last night, but he could hardly check now). He cleared his throat. "That is...Lady Aria...what are you doing here? This is unseemly, I--"

"How do you feel?"

"I--" he frowned. He felt splendid, really, spectacular. He felt ready to, to fight a lion or run a race or ride into battle or leap a river or--

"Do you feel well?"

"I feel brilliant," he shook his head. "I can't think the last time I felt so grand. I--Listen, my lady, just what is going on?"

Aria smiled, eyes twinkling, and Arthur narrowed his eyes at her. Her smile widened and he knew that she was laughing at him from just behind her eyes.

"Endlessly entertaining as doubtless this is--"

"I'll send for your mother on my way out. She'll want to see you for herself."

"What? Why?"

"It seems that draught we gave you has been most effective."

"What draught?"

"You really don't remember?"

"I--" He remembered starlight. He remembered Aria's face aglow, with stars caught in her shining hair.

"I should go," said Aria. "Will you tell her? Will you tell her how effective that draught was? She'll be pleased."

Arthur smiled, a touch confusedly. "Well...good. Of course I'll tell her. If it'll please her. I like to see her pleased."

Aria stood from where she'd sat at the edge of his bed. She crossed to the door.

"Lady Aria--"

She stopped. She didn't turn around.

"I--I don't know exactly what's going on, I admit, but...I feel I should...thank you."

"It was nothing."

Arthur swallowed. "Was it?"

She turned to face him. Paused. "You talk in your sleep."

"I--what?" he frowned deeply, fists going to his hips, momentarily forgetting the covers.

And there it was, again. That laughing smile.

Arthur felt the corners of his own lips twitch upwards. She was laughing at him, again, and he was glad. He liked to see her pleased, too.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." She paused, looked down. "Tell Lady Eithne I hope she is well when you see her next. Good evening."

"What? Aria--"

Surprise colored her face at his familiarity, and he felt a flush heat his own face.

Sighing, he glanced up. "Look, I--" He shook his head. "I gather I was ill and you--you helped me. I know Her Majesty the Queen and-and, of course, His Majesty the Emperor will be very pleased. It was good of you to do this for them." He swallowed. "For us. It was kind, especially after...everything."

Her eyes did not laugh, now. She simply looked at him. "I did this for you. No one else."

Arthur heaved a deep breath, moved forward to his feet, tugging the covers with him. But the door was already closing. Aria was gone.

Words, strange words, floated through his mind, in his own voice: "You have to go. But come back, come back to me someday. You belong out there, I know, but...I--I'll miss you here." Arthur glanced away. He always missed her when she was gone.

[hexcii]

trans/non-binary reminder: you owe nobody androgyny or to look "non-binary" dress however you're comfy 🫶

HELL YEAAAHHHHH !1!1!1!1!1!!!!!!

Anytime I see NB representation in the media, and even with my irl friends, (whom I love mwah mwah) it’s always portrayed as either fully androgynous or slightly masculine and it’s always made me feel a little bit isolated cause I went in the complete opposite direction and just became a femboy instead 💅💅

Anyway have some of my outfits that I like and might draw my sona in sometime in the future

Ignore my octopus plushie staring at the camera fjkdkkfkkdd

I love being feminine, always felt uncomfortable in it before I knew I was trans but now I LOVE IT SO MUCH!! Plus I hate the feeling of pants so skirts, dresses and shorts galore!! Only problem with it that I find is that I get misgendered a lot more often than my more masculine or androgynous peers which I assume is because of the portrayal reason I stated above, hell the only example of a feminine non-binary person in media I can think of is G3 Frankie sjkdkskfd- This also applies to my sona too 😞😞😞 but I don’t got the energy to correct people online whenever they misgender me so oh well

This got long I’m gonna go eat lunch now

[snonkerdoodlewritesstuff]

BREAKING NEWS!! YOUR BLORBO NEEDS A HUG! REBLOG AND TAG TO GIVE YOUR BLORBO A HUG

[tulipfemme]

do u guys like her big sweet eyes & her triangle ears

[applestruda]

Chemical overreaction / compound fracture

[gingerswagfreckles]

It's weird how in the past 5 or so years the left's understanding of decolonization devolved into some kind of weird Nazi era eugenicist thing about how people's "true places" are something encoded in their DNA and no one in the history of the world should have moved anywhere and anyone decendent from people who moved at some point should be shot.

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A five page black and white comic featuring Anya, Jimmy, and Curly from Mouthwashing. The only colors are in their speech bubbles and Curly's blue eyes. The comic opens with a shot of a space rest stop with billboards and advertisements of food, drinks, fuel, etc.

Anya steps out of a "Polle-Mart" carrying a pack of cigarettes, and walks past Jimmy leaning against the side of the building, half in shadow.

Jimmy, smirking: A nurse with a smoking habit, huh? What has the world come to? They stare at each other for a moment. Anya: Just means I can make a more informed choice.

She goes to light a cigarette as Jimmy flicks his hand at her, asking for one. Curly jogs up behind her.

Anya, grabbing another cigarette: Ugh. Curly: Hey, guys! Mind if I bum one? I'll buy you some snacks?

He gives her big shiny puppy eyes. Anya glances in Jimmy's direction as he stares at her before she smiles at Curly, a halo over her head.

Anya: Sure, Captain! That's so sweet of you to offer. Jimmy glares at Curly. He looks at him before turning to Anya again. Curly: Er, can I make that two for two? Anya: Deal.

She passes him the pack as she lights her cigarette before lighting his for him. Curly goes over to Jimmy, handing him one as Anya stands around the corner to smoke hers.

Jimmy: You hit my fucking cig. Curly, smiling: I started it for you!

The last panel shows all three of them smoking calmly, Jimmy and Curly both shadowing by the building.

end ID]

~~~~

a cigarette break between coworkers off the clock

[snekky-arts]

A Free Lothal

~~~

hiiii did i ever mention i LOVE star wars rebels?

[ruushes]

🗣️ pay ‼️🗣️ attention ‼️🗣️ to ‼️🗣️ him ‼️

[ryllen]

surely everything is fine and dandy , right ... [x] [x]

[suddenly-frankenstein]

uhmhmhmmm just occasional thoughts about Daniel's interaction with Marius

[teal0v3rr]

i never posted this have i?

[niinnyu]

Puppeteered puppet puppeteer

[phrysic]

dean smoking a fag

[adamsrcnan]

it's actually so important to me how jerejean are slowly getting used to each other's touch without it ever being a huge and dramatic thing. like the way jeremy is constantly tugging at jean's hands to stop him from hurting himself. or the way jean is always grabbing jeremy's chin to get him to listen/to make a point. the way jeremy hugs jean in tsc. the way jean effortlessly takes jeremy's weight to help him off the court after he injures himself and it's not a big deal to have him pressed so close that way. the way jeremy folds his hand over jean's fingers and squeezes when he hands him back the nickel in the car after picking him up from rhemann's house. the way jean immediately latches onto jeremy's wrist so he doesn't lose him in the crowd on 4th of july and then feels comfortable enough to tap out his list against jeremy's wrist. the way jean literally ghosts his mouth over jeremy's cheek leaning down to talk into his ear during the fireworks. the way jean feels comfortable enough to lean over jeremy on the bed in the hotel before the banquet. the way jean lends a hand to lift jeremy up off the floor after their first night sleeping in the new apartment. and the way jeremy did the same for jean when he asked to go for a run in tsc. i just feel like nora is beautifully setting them up in a way that when they do eventually cross that line into sexual intimacy it'll be not easier, but perhaps less daunting. because for jean especially if he starts to spiral or panic he could tell himself it's just jeremy. he knows his weight pressed into his side as he's held him up, he knows the feel of jeremy's hands in his or on his wrist, hell he even knows his scent. it doesn't have to be scary because it's just jeremy and jean knows him. he's familiar. he's gentle. he's safe.

[arcanegifs]

Here are some Season 2 Arcane GIF comparisons before and after I color and sharpen them! | Season 1 Comparison GIFs