Knights Kissing (bonking Helmets Awkwardly) Do U Agree

can i kill myself for a second

So I love that we now have canon gay couples but the fact that they weren't allowed to say this was gay means they were next level over the the top with how many ways can we show gay without a sex scene

cuddle s ,kisses, soulmates ,rescued from death , Sappho s poem ,who's the daddy , domestic bickering,naked bathing .

I've probably missed some

From Reddit

I get to visit home in two weeks and it cannot come fast enough.

Can any of y’all tumblrinas identify this bird? It is very loud and sounds slightly like a car alarm. Location: Eastern Virginia.

It’s driving me insane.

Greenfinch, Green Witch

"You think you're a darkness, Astele. Only a shadow; a ghost in my life—but can't you see you're really the moon? The light that brings me out of that blackness and guides me home?"

I just stared at you after you'd said it, mouth agape, and chose to focus on the gold flecks in your hazelnut eyes instead of saying anything. Because how the fuck was I supposed to answer that, Harper? What the fuck was I supposed to say? You waltzed into my fucking Guildhall, noticebly unholed, then talked to me like I was the love of your fucking life? How the fuck should I have responded, Harper?

Should I have told you that you're the only brightness in my supposedly cold, dead heart? That you're the sun to my moon and the dawn that greets me every morning? What the fuck should I've said to you?

Probably all of those things. But you changed the subject before I could snap my mouth back shut. I don't even remember what you said afterwards - your words were too busy gnawing away at me, hollowing out a hole for them to take root in like you'd just cast a vine spell directly into my chest.

But… none of that matters now. Now I'm trodding along the dusty brown dirt path that leads up to your little cottage in the forest, bag of holding thrown over my shoulder. It's a charming little place, deep within the woods, small and cozy. The walls are covered in thick green vines that twist and twine wild around the cottage, climbing up to the thatched roof to reach towards the rays of sun that barely break through the dense tree canopy. White smoke rises in thick clouds out of the chimney, lush green and purple herb beds line the walk and front of the cottage, and patches of pink, white, and yellow wildflowers sprout here and there.

Grandmother, my sweet Jaheira, my green witch. All green things grow for you and all animals call you friend. I call you my love.

As my feet carry me ever closer and my eyes dart around to take in every ivy covered tree and moss coated rock, I realize I'm quietly singing and wonder how long I've been at it with a shake of my head. It's a tune I'd written for you after the first time we'd kissed:

Amidst the forest green

I seeketh me a rose

Within the sunny brambles

Where the elder oak tree grows—

I meet within the wood

A maiden bright and fair

With eyes of golden honey

And silver gray of hair—

I sayeth to the maiden

You're the most beautiful rose

And I hold her to my breast

Where the elder oak tree grows—

Stupid, I know. Such a silly little thing to have warbled at you. I didn't even sing it to you until a month later, and when I did, you kissed me even sweeter and called me your greenfinch.

I stop to watch a black and gold bumblebee awkwardly dance around one of the pink pops of blooms that lines the path. It buzzes and sways in the air before almost crashing in the middle of a blossom to load its legs up with bright yellow pollen. There weren't bumblebees in the Guildhall. Beer, gnats, liars, and thieves. There was the occasional flower there though - you.

The admission, although mental, makes me chuckle because when the fuck did I start talking like that? Nine-Fingers Keene, ruthless Guildmaster and famous rogue.

Retired.

Retired and moving into the forest to live with her ancient Druid and retired High Harper girlfriend. I can hear the echoes of laughter that would have filled the Guildhall if anyone other than my Ladies Court would have ever found out. I tried not to love you, I did. But you - you made me fall for you with your smile as soft as light and your skin smelling of moss and fresh rain. How could I not fall head over heels?

Mol, the tiefling that once sought shelter in the Guildhall as a girl has replaced me. She's even smarter and more cunning than me if anyone can believe it. She'll do more than well there. None of that matters to me anymore. Nothing but your enchanting smile matters to me anymore.

Suddenly, I find myself surrounded by a little army of bunnies you've created for yourself. A spy network, I tell myself, as a brown and white spotted one with long, floppy ears rears up on its hind legs to sniff my trousers. I let it take a good, long whiff, and then it's off, racing towards the cottage like I'm here to set you on fire. Maybe I am. I watch the little rabbit run right up to your wooden front door. It turns to face me and looks me right in the eyes while it lifts its little brown back leg and thumps on the door in rapid succession. Tattletale.

But then the door opens and there you are. Your halo of gray hair, left down to be wild and free like your spirit, spills over your shoulders like a waterfall of silver stars.

"Astele," you gasp as if you didn't think I'd come. Of course I'd come for you, Harper. You've got some green witch enchantment on me. That's what I'd told myself all those years, after all, before I finally admitted that your face was the last one I imagine every night before I fall asleep.

My arms are swiftly full of my Jaheira; full of the warmth and brightness of the sun in all its splendor, and when your pillowy lips meet mine there's an eclipse. The yellow moon that is encased in my heart thrums and pounds in my chest, tight against the bones that cage them that ache and shiver only for you.

"You're finally here, my little greenfinch," you ghost against my lips.

How could I resist?

For @ixievee - thank you for the inspiration!

The moon is shy (revised), 2025- mixed media (watercolour and colour pencil) on hand made cold pressed paper.

This painting was inspired by a beautiful photo by @raethanbhanneth.

Some lore: in my sapphic, tumblr ridden soul, the sun and moon are lovers. They get to see each other for only a few hours each day in the quiet hours of dawn and dusk. And when they part, the sun leaves golden kisses on her lovers skin, a tender reminder etched in the freckles on her cheeks. ❤️

My first ever Tav - Raethan! I’ve not gotten far in photo mode, but I got this shot of my very first!!

Where do the items in the British Museum come from?

The British Museum houses a vast collection of artifacts from countries like Iraq, Italy, and Egypt, many of which were acquired during the height of the British Empire. Through colonization, wars, and expeditions, the British often took historical treasures from around the world, leading to ongoing debates about cultural heritage and calls for the return of these items to their countries of origin. Source: Aljazeera

by nazar.data/instagram

Pipe Smoke - Chapter 2

Dawn broke over the city's trees, casting pinks and reds and oranges over their misty green leaves. But no sunlight dare shine through to the dim sewer office where Jaheira hung tightly to Astele's skin, curled against her like a cat seeking shelter from the rain. Eventually, Jaheira exhausted herself of dreams and stirred ever so slightly. The corners of her lips turned up in a grin as she remembered the previous night's events.

It had all started when Astele stole her a yellow orchid from someone's jacket pocket at the Elfsong Tavern. She did it to make Jaheira laugh - to steal something right in front of the High Harper, then present it to her as a gift she couldn't refuse. Astele had said, "Petty theft for a pretty girl," then gently tucked the flower behind Jaheira's ear. She remembered forgetting, if only for a moment, that she was over a century and a half years old and had a house full of children waiting for her down the street. Instead, she had smiled bashfully at the Guildmaster's comment and fluttered her eyelashes like she was twenty-something all over again.

But it wasn't really the flower or even the comment that had brought on the sudden bashfulness. It was knowing that, in a room full of patrons who had flowers stuck in their suit jackets, Astele knew her well enough to steal the yellow orchid. And that was what made Jaheira's heart skip a beat.

Astele stirred underneath her, grunting lightly as she did. She squeezed Jaheira lightly to let her know she was awake, then pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of her gray braids of hair. "You talk in your sleep, Harper," Astele teased, her voice gruff and low.

Jaheira hummed then replied, "And you steal flowers to stick in women's hair so you can get them into your bed."

Astele chuckled, lightly shaking Jaheira as she did. "Worked, didn't it?"

Jaheira softly smacked Astele's side under the blanket, silently chiding her for trying to rile Jaheira up too early in the morning. "What other kinds of trinkets does the Guildmaster give women to lure them back to her lair?" Jaheira shot back with her own brand of teasing.

Astele opened one eye, catching the playful spark in Jaheira's hazelnut eyes. She smirked. “You really want to know?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Jaheira replied, her voice was softer than it was before. A part of her still hadn’t fully recovered from the tenderness from the tavern and from the entire night.

Astele exhaled, not ready, but figuring it was better now than never. She turned fully onto her side to face Jaheira, hummed thoughtfully, and began counting on her fingers - the hand with all five of them. “Cinnamon. I’d bring you freshly cured sticks to burn in the evenings, because you said once it reminds you of the groves near Athkatla in late spring.”

Jaheira raised an eyebrow. She had said that—years ago. Once. In passing on a night that she'd lost to Lady Lockjaw at cards. She hadn’t even remembered it until now.

Astele continued, her voice lazy and soft. “Honeyed figs from a stall near the Temple of Ilmater. You always buy them for the little ones, but you take one for yourself thinking no one notices."

She furrowed her brow and she thought of even more. "Lemon tea. Strong, sweet. A steaming mug with a touch of honey. The kind no one else in your house drinks except you.”

Jaheira stared, unable to process the list Astele was rattling off. All the things she loved that she didn't think anyone ever noticed.

“Green ink,” Astele went on, ticking yet another finger. “You only ever write in green ink and you hoard those little glass jars like they're made of gold.”

A laugh choked out of Jaheira before she could help it, sharp and surprised. “I do not hoard them," she exclaimed.

“Ten in your desk. Three hidden behind the books in your study. Don’t lie to a professional thief, Jaheira.” Astele laughed herself and added, "There's probably more down in your sanctuary, too. If I had to guess, I'd say… six more little bottles all hidden in crates."

It wasnt a guess at all and Jaheira knew it. The High Harper covered her face with one hand, feeling a rush of warmth washing up her throat and over her cheeks. “Gods, you are insufferable!”

“I know.” Astele caught and held her gaze, sky blue meeting earthy hazel. “You also like rainy days when you don’t have to be out in the wet mess. You fall asleep to the patter of raindrops and gentle rush of wind. Thunder scares you if it's too loud, but you love to watch lightening crackle against the black sky of night. You hate it when people eat while standing, and Rion does it just to annoy you. You keep your boots polished even if you're going out into the wilds or a grove out of respect for nature. You double-knot Fig's cloaks because you don’t trust her to do it right.” Her voice then dropped to a whisper. “You mourn in silence. And when you love something, you never say it out loud. You just… guard it. With everything you have and everything you are.”

The silence after that was long, heavy with all the things Jaheira could not admit, but felt deep in her heart. “You just happen to know all of that?” Jaheira asked, her voice hoarse.

“I watched over the years,” Astele said simply. “Listened. You don’t talk much about yourself, so I learned by paying attention.”

Jaheira propped herself up a bit to face her fully, brushing silver hair behind her ear. “But… why?

Astele hesitated, her eyes flicking away for the barest moment before coming right back. “Because I didn’t know how to tell you I loved you,” she said in a voice barely audible. “So I memorized you instead.”