#Orcs & Goblins

[newblvotg]

[avinnypencilman]

Been thinking on a fantasy concept where Orcs and Goblins are actually from the same species from different genders. Kind of inspired on the large female sexual dimorphism found in spiders and anglerfish.

[monster-disaster]

[monsters] Neighbors

Thoughts about living with monsters- You live in an apartment with monsters all around.

An orc family lives above you, and they’re the sweetest neighbors you’ve ever had. The wife loves inviting you over for coffee and a bit of gossip. Her stories fill the air with warmth as she pours your cup and chats about the neighborhood or shares a delicious new pastry she’s baked. Her husband? He’s a gentle giant, always ready to roll up his sleeves and help out around your small flat. Whether it’s fixing a leaky faucet or carrying heavy groceries up the stairs, he’s there before you even ask.

And then, there are the babies; two adorably chubby little ones with soft, green cheeks and big, curious eyes. You’ve become their go-to babysitter, which means plenty of afternoons filled with giggles and messy faces.

But when night falls, it’s a different story.

The ceiling might as well be paper-thin, with their gravelly voices and laughter rolling through the floorboards. Sometimes, those conversations turn into... well, more intimate moments and the babies aren’t just cute, they’ve got lungs that could rival any set of bagpipes. Their cries often jolt you awake in the middle of the night, heart racing.

Even with the sleepless nights, you never find it in yourself to complain, though. There’s a warmth to their noise, a liveliness that fills your small flat with a sense of family, even if it comes with a few sleep-deprived mornings.

Beneath you on the first floor lives a goblin who’s practically made it his life’s mission to comment on every noise you make. You do your best to avoid him, but it’s only a matter of time before you bump into him, leaning against his doorframe with arms crossed and an unimpressed scowl etched on his face.

He never misses an opportunity to complain.

“Your steps are like thunder up there. Ever heard of walking lightly?” he grumbles, or “How many times do I have to tell you? Lift the chairs, don’t drag them! Sounds like a damn avalanche down here!” And that’s not even the worst of it. The day he leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing as he muttered, “And for god’s sake, put a pillow over your face next time you play with your vibrating friend,” your face burned hotter than a forge. You were sure the ground might split open beneath you right then and there.

Since that conversation, you’ve found yourself tiptoeing around your flat, trying to keep your footsteps as light as possible, but even with your efforts, you know the next run-in with him is just around the corner, along with another list of grievances he’s been stewing over.

To your right lives a wolf-shifter, and for the most part, things between you are easygoing. He’s a quiet neighbor, the type who nods at you in the hallway and even offers a polite smile now and then. But his love life? That’s where the peace ends. His one-night stands, in particular, are the worst. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve had to comfort his partners the morning after, wiping away their tears when they realize that "just one night" really means just that. They always seem to hope for more, for something lasting, and it’s always you who ends up playing the sympathetic neighbor, nodding along as they pour out their hearts. Of course, it's your fault too. You should learn how to mind your own business instead of feeling sorry for crying women. And men.

And then there’s his rut. The first time you realized what was going on, you nearly dropped your coffee cup. The howls, the desperate growls, and the unmistakable... fervor of it all carried straight through the walls. After those nights, it’s impossible to even think about making eye contact with him. Weeks go by before you feel like you can look at him without your mind immediately replaying all the sounds you heard. And he, of course, acts like nothing happened.

To your left lives a succubus, and teasing you seems to be her favorite pastime. She’s always around when you come or go, somehow knowing exactly when to time her appearances. She leans casually against her doorframe, dressed in barely-there lingerie or a robe that hangs loose enough to leave little to the imagination, her lips curling into a knowing smile as she catches your eye. It’s impossible not to feel your cheeks heat up under her gaze, especially when she purrs a playful remark. Her eyes linger just a moment too long. And those paper-thin walls? They do nothing to block the sultry sounds she makes late into the night, sounds you’re sure are meant just for you.

You tell yourself you are holding your ground, that you won’t give in, but every sly comment she throws your way and every time she catches you with a flustered look makes you worry that it’s only a matter of time before you find yourself at her door, falling right into her trap.

Across the hall lives an elderly minotaur who, bless her heart, has made it her personal mission to match you up with one of her grandkids. No matter how busy you are, she has a sixth sense for catching you at the worst possible times. If you are running late for an appointment, she is suddenly in the hallway, eager to chat about her "really successful and recently divorced" grandson. Or maybe you’re lugging bags of groceries, arms aching under their weight, and just as you are almost to your door, she appears, excited to tell you that another one of her grandsons, who just came back from abroad, is finally ready to settle down. You try to smile and listen, nodding along as she goes on about their good jobs, kind hearts, and how they need someone like you in their lives. And of course, you don’t have the heart to cut her off, even when you’re in a rush or your arms feel like they might fall off from holding the bags. So, more often than not, you find yourself standing there, smiling politely and listening for far longer than you’d planned, as she talks on and on about her grandkids’ achievements while her eyes twinkle with hope.

“Y/N!” The goblin’s voice rings out just as you step into the elevator. Your name rolling off his tongue is already dripping with complaints. "I'm sorry!" You almost shout when you catch a glimpse of his frown while frantically jabbing the button for your floor. "Y/N!" As the elevator finally slips shut, cutting off his grumbling, the tension drains from your shoulders, but your relief is short-lived when you hear the familiar ding and the doors open. "Hey," the wolf-shifter greets you casually before taking your place in the metal box. You manage a stiff nod and a quiet "hey" while drifting your gaze to the floor, unable to hold his gaze for more than a second. When he disappears behind the thick doors, you let out a sigh and shift the bags in your arms as you fumble for your keys. Just as you manage to find them, the door in front of you swings open, and you force a smile as the elderly minotaur across the hall greets you warmly. “Hello, dear!” she beams. “Would you like to come in? My grandson, you know, the one I told you about, is visiting, and I thought you two should finally meet!” Your mouth opens, and your brain scrambles for a polite excuse, but before you can get a word out, her grandson appears behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Maybe next time, Nan,” he says with a smile, steering her back into the apartment. You share a moment of mutual understanding before the door clicks shut. Just as you breathe a sigh of relief, again, another door swings open, again, and you freeze, momentarily forgetting how to breathe. The succubus leans against her door, draped in dark purple lingerie that hugs her curves like a second skin. The bralette barely manages to contain her generous figure, and her sultry smile only deepens as she takes in your flustered expression. “Hello, Y/N,” she purrs. Your cheeks flare up, and you barely stammer out a weak “Not today!” as you nearly stumble into your apartment. You can hear her laughter echoing behind you, but your attention is quickly snatched by the buzzing of your phone. Your bags hit the floor with a heavy thud, and you cringe, fully aware the goblin will have a field day with this. You glance at your screen, catching a new message from your friend upstairs: The kids are with their dad. Fancy a coffee? How about you come down? you quickly reply, no way willing to risk leaving your apartment again today. Sure, comes the reply almost instantly. Did you hear about the party that harpy threw on the fourth floor? She drives me mad! No, you think, but leave the message unanswered. Of course, you didn’t hear about the party. How could you, with the orc babies wailing through most of the night?

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to give the creature power. Like to befriend them.

[gilgalahad]

Alexey Gorboot

[momolady]

The Orc & the Goblin

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𝐹𝑒𝓂𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒪𝓇𝒸 𝓍 𝑀𝒶𝓁𝑒 𝒢𝑜𝒷𝓁𝒾𝓃

𝒫𝑜𝓁𝓎𝒶𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝓍 𝑀𝓊𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁 𝒫𝒾𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓍 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓇𝒾𝒶𝑔𝑒 𝒫𝓇𝑜𝓅𝑜𝓈𝒶𝓁 𝓍 𝒞𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶𝑔𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓇𝑒

“You’d think we’d joke about this?” Morg laughed. 

“Well, yes?” Estelle’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Given their past interactions it made the most sense to her.

He playfully rubbed his hand up and down the back of Estelle’s thigh. “We’ve been planning this for months now.”

“And you had no idea,” Niet laughed as he looked up at Estelle from behind.

Estelle narrowed her eyes upon the goblin. She noticed the two of them had been coming to her shop more over the last couple of months, but had figured their adventures were keeping them close to Obresh. The orc, Morg, and goblin, Niet, had been frequent and beloved customers. Ever since Estelle’s sister and her husband Clain had gotten pregnant, Estelle had taken over the brunt of the blacksmith shop.

Estelle huffed, resting her elbows on his thick back, her arms crossed. “If you wanted a date or some sort of fling you could have just asked…” her gaze wandered to the side, avoiding Niet’s catlike grin.

“This isn’t about a fling,” Morg replied coolly. “We’re doing the reaping as intended. Or have you inhaled too much smoke to get our drift?”

“Both of you?” Estelle looked down at Niet who had a blushing smile on his face.

“You got it.” The handsome goblin laughed and flexed his arms. “I’d carry you myself, but I don’t want your knees to get scraped.”

Estelle had been fighting off the thought that this was a real reaping since the two appeared in her shop. She had been trying to work even while the reaping was going on just outside her door. A stubborn act to catch up on work, while also secretly hoping some tall, powerful orc would come inside, sweep her off her anvil, and carry her away. But that was silly, and she forced down the fantastical fairy tale of feet sweeping and such as she set on catching up on the work that needed to be done. 

She had always liked Morg and Niet, hell, she looked forward to their flirting sessions with her. The adventurers became a regular of the shop a long time ago. They’d bring in their various weapons, armors, etc, most of which they had gotten on their journeys. Because of them, Estelle had become quite proficient in fixing many new items. She looked forward to seeing the spoils of their conquests. While she would never admit it openly, their flirting and suave banter always had her swooning. 

Estelle’s heart began pounding. “Ya’ll are serious?” She wriggled a bit in Morg’s grip. “All that flirting and shit? I thought it was about getting discounts!”

Morg laughed and bounced Estelle upon his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her tighter, giving her a secure squeeze to let her know this was more than what her mind was making her think. “Oh sure, make us sound cheap. No, darling, ever since we both laid eyes on you, we knew exactly what we were doing with our words.”

Niet’s eyes were scanning Estelle’s face as she blushed more. “It’s not everyday you come across a girl you want to arm wrestle and make her moan into her pillow.”

Estelle had always fancied them. Beyond their stories and prizes, they were both quite handsome. Niet with his seductive smile and lovely hands, Morg with his strong arms and beautiful eyes. She was glad for the soot and heat that hid her blush every time they paid her a compliment. She always did a little happy dance when they came to her for a blacksmithing job. Her mind was racing and close to overflowing.

Estelle snapped out of it, pushing against Morg in one final attempt to get to the bottom of things. “Listen, I ain’t no wife!” 

Morg and Niet both laughed. “As if we want a wife,” Morg guffawed.

Niet  waved his hand for her to look at him. “We want you as a partner, Etselle. We don’t expect some cute little wife in our cute little house everyday. That’s not why we fell for you in the first place. If you ain’t noticed, we're not exactly the traditional type.”

Fell? Estelle’s heart pounded at the word. But she had to give it one last weak effort before she fully caved in. “Do you even have a home?” She huffed. “I thought ya’ll lived freely from campsite to campsite, rented bed to rented bed?”

“What do you think we’ve been doing in Obresh all this time? Flirting with you?” Morg’s hand gently swatted her rear then held it. “We’ve been building us a proper home.”

Estelle’s eyes nearly bugged from her head. Why did his hand have to feel so nice and perfect there? “You told me you’d rather be taken prisoner than settle somewhere!”

Niet snickered, the sexy smile appearing on his face. “We can change our minds. Besides, our other option besides incarceration was always affection.”

Estelle bit on her bottom lip, still trying to think her way out of this one. Why was she even trying to think her way out? Nerves? Worries? She had always wanted to be reaped, and this was the perfect situation too! She daydreamed about the two of them constantly. Lying in bed, exhausted from a long day, relaxed by a hot bath, they were always her first thought. Their strong bodies, callused hands, warm mouths. Oh! Any girl could get lost in the thought of what those two could do to her!

“Don’t be nervous, darling.” Morg’s voice was sweet and soft. “Niet and I are going to take great care of you. We may still adventure from time to time, but our lives are here now. We’re taking this very seriously.”

“Easy for you to say, you’ve had time to think about this. This is all new for me,” Estelle grumbled, pouting slightly. 

Niet smiled up at her. “And that is why the next few days are all about you.”

“They better be,” she huffed. “This is a lot for anyone to take in.”

Soon, the trail they were on ended, and Morg eventually sat Estelle down on the ground. The tall orc placed his hand around her eyes as she turned around. 

“We got some help building this place, but Niet and I pretty much did everything,” he whispered into her ear. He brushed her hair back, breathing onto her neck, which made her body prickle in excitement.

“Yeah, well, let's see it then,” Estelle said, trying to play off her nervousness.

Morg moved his hand away and Estelle blinked a few times against the light. She raised her hand over her eyes, watching as Niet and Morg stood before the door with its stone stairs and river stone archway.

Estelle stiffened, realizing the details and brickwork that went into the place. She had always talked about having such a house, she never realized anyone was listening.

“Should I carry you over the threshold?” Morg asked.

Estelle was still stunned by seeing her dream home right before her. “I was…you didn’t-” Morg swept her off her feet, carrying her inside as Niet held the door. 

Inside was a wide open room with various pelts, banners, and trophies on the wall. There were broken weapons, stolen weapons, and many items from Morg and Niet’s adventures. 

“Of course we expect you to add your own touch.” Niet flicked his fingers about the room. “But we did what we could with what we had.”

Estelle stepped down from Morg’s arms and looked around. Her breathing began to pick up, the tears were welling up. This had been just a dream for so long, an idea that she never fully expected to become reality. But also, Estelle realized how much she had been hoping for this.  She ducked her head so they wouldn’t see.

“What’s the matter?” Niet was first to her side, taking her hand.

“Darling, it’s okay.” Morg’s large hand rested upon her back.

It was a shock to Estelle that her reaction was crying at all. She let out a few sobs before trying to force them back. “I’m fine! It’s fine-” She raised her hand, cupping her hand over her mouth. “It’s a beautiful house.” She sniffled and raised her eyes. “I love it. Really.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Niet said gently, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Why don’t you come sit down.” He led her down to the sofa where he sat beside her, stroking her hair and gently wiping her cheek while Morg went to fetch some water.

Estelle let out a sob tinged laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

“No worries.” Niet dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. “You’re pretty when you cry.”

Estelle scoffed. “Am not!”

“I’ve seen many a beauty weep before, and trust me, I’ve seen the most stunning of people turn into hideous creatures when they cry. You, my love, look like nymphs when spring arrives. Fresh, new, pink, and dewy.” He kissed your hand, moving from your fingers towards your wrist.

You sniffled again. “Pink?”

He laughed again, turning your hand to kiss the center of your palm. “As a peony.” He kissed Estelle’s palm again, making her tingle from tip to toe.

Morg returned, carting a bucket of water. “I’ll fix you a cup.”

“Start some tea while you're at it. That spicy stuff we got in the market at the palace,” Niet instructed. “The little wooden box-”

“I know which one!” Morg snapped.

Estelle giggled, holding it back as Niet glanced her way. “We bicker like an old married couple. But that’s only because we are.” He leaned in closer to Estelle. “Don’t you want to be part of that?”

Blush was now replacing the redness caused by tears. “I always liked the way you two got along.” She rubbed at her cheek, checking her knuckles for what tears came away. “It was like everything was so easy between the two of you, light, gentle. Even when you both did bicker.”

Niet reached out, taking a lock of her hair and curling it around his long finger. “You should see us when we’re alone.” His tone sounded extremely suggestive.

Estelle’s eyes shifted away just enough for Niet to catch that her curiosity was piqued. Of course it was! As much as she daydreamed about them, of course she had imagined what the two did to one another.

“Have you thought about that?”

Fuck! He caught me! She thought, quickly averting her eyes.  

He was even closer now, a knowing smile painted across his face. “You can tell me.” He released her hair then took his hand and began petting her thigh.

Estelle was embarrassed, but only because she felt like a lech. This was a reaping though, right? These were to be her mates, right? Maybe being a lech would be a boon in this situation? Right?

“I have thought about it.” She responded as strongly as she could, leaning more towards Niet to assert her dominance. “ Maybe I’ve even thought about me…also…with it…” She became a little unsure towards the end, flicking her eyes away. She cleared her throat. “A girl does get ideas, you know? You don’t make it hard or anything.”

A chuckle escaped Niet’s lips, as did his tongue as it darted along his teeth. “Oh, I make it hard.” His lips were on her neck, kissing, breathing. “You’re going to have to tell us all about it. I’m certainly all ears.” His long, pointed ears twitched.

“Oh please, like you had no idea,” Estelle tried to play it off again, but her insides were melting and her loins were becoming dewey because of it. She was holding back a moan as his lips continued to tease. “You uhm…you always insinuated-” She was drifting.

“It’s fun to see who likes it and who doesn’t.” Niet nibbled on her earlobe and Estelle let out a squeal that turned her beet red instantly.

“What was that?” Morg laughed from the kitchen.

“All good, no need to worry,” Niet said teasingly. He tilted Estelle’s head up towards him, seeing her face was red and eyes glistening from old tears. “Right, Estelle?”

Morg set down the tea at that moment. “She was just crying and already you’re trying to seduce her.”

“Just trying to make her feel better.” Niet scowled Morg’s way.

Morg sat down, offering Estelle a warm cup. “This isn’t a heist or some job. This is a woman.” His usually gruff, deep voice was soft and smooth. “You can’t just go straight in for the kill. You have to set the mood, tend to her, show her she’s wanted and safe.” His arm wrapped around Estelle’s shoulders and smiled at her. “Don’t mind him, he’s excited, that’s all. We’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“Apparently.” Estelle was breathless as she took in the house again. “You did a good job at keeping it a secret.”

Morg chuckled. “An old friend of ours helped us out. Purchasing the land was easy at the very least.” His hand on Estelle’s shoulder was comforting. The two had never given her the impression they were anything to worry about. She always knew they were the trustworthy sort. 

Estelle took a sip of the tea, finding there was a sweet spice that tickled her tongue. “Oh! This is good!”

“A favorite of the Queen in Rakshasa country,” Niet chuckled. “I took it from her private stash.”

Her eyes widened as she lowered the cup. “Really?”

Morg scoffed. “It’s sold everywhere.” His arm tightened around Estelle, slipping to her waist. “Don’t let him trick you.”

It then became apparent that the two were competing over her! They both wanted to steal her away first. Niet’s charm had been winning, but now Morg’s warmth and closeness was winning her over.

“Enjoy the tea,” Morg seemed to read her thoughts. “We have all the time in the world.”

Niet nodded, but the look in his eyes was an annoyed eagerness.

“Thank you,” Estelle breathed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I am very…” She sipped tea to distract herself. “It’s not like I am not interested.”

Morg’s brow raised. “And what interests you.”

Estelle would run out of tea soon that she could use to distract herself. “Well, everything I suppose.” 

“Everything she says,” Niet chuckled. “Why don’t you make a list and we’ll see what we can make happen. After all, we’re here to serve.”

Estelle bit upon the tip of her tongue as her thoughts crashed around like drunk birds in her skull. “A list you say?” She cleared her throat, trying to find the confidence she used to have before setting foot through that door. “Well-” It was building back up. Strength and resolve to see this through to the end. “You both want to reap me and provide for me. Well in all the basic terms that’s easy!”

There was a glimmer in both Morg and Niet’s eyes as her voice rose up and that same sharp, strong woman in the blacksmith shop stepped forward.

She slammed her hand to her chest. “If you want to be husbands to me in all senses of the word, then prove it. I know you have money and gain from your adventures. But what can I expect for my day to day life? Eh? Are you going to help me clean? Cook? Do you even know how to clean?”

There was a sudden worried expression from Niet but Morg had a bright smile.

“I’m not going to take on the brunt of you two’s labor on top of my own. And not only that! But what can I expect from our marital bed? I don’t want money there. I want to see what I can expect from the sheets. Both in their care and under them.” She said this with a stone cold resolve, but her heart was all flapping wings and spicy tea. 

“I tend to do most of the cooking,” Morg replied. “Neither of us are much for laundry, but we’re quick learners, I promise you that.”

Estelle nodded, confident again. “You better be. If we are to be partners as you say, we share the load.”

“And loads are made to be shared,” Niet said teasingly.

She cut her eyes at him, noticing a bulge had begun to become apparent in his pants. “Then if you do not cook or clean, Niet, what are you going to provide?”

His grin grew, showing his sharp teeth. “Do you want me to show you?”

Her head began spinning again, but she kept her posture strong and her arms crossed against her chest. “Of course!”

“You heard her,” Niet chuckled, standing up from the couch.

“I did. I did.” Morg rose as well. 

Estelle leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, maintaining an unimpressed expression. But inside she was unraveling, melting, creating a wet spot in her pants.

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[sephiramy]

I thought I'd share some of the NPC headshots and environment artwork from the D&D game I'm currently running~

[atasticforreal]

Apple 🍎

VA - @Reece_Bridger

[c-rowlesdraws]

the sketch commissions I took last week split up well over three posts (there are 18 total), but instead of posting them in order drawn or something like that, I'm posting them according to the color the commissioner asked for! This post is GREEN. commission info | patreon | etc

(credits below the cut - to be edited as I collect more people's info)

2) @feelslikefirstday 3) @knaveofdoodles 4) @cloverandcutlass 6) @champion-masquerade

[myut0eve]

Wanted to cement how I draw fantasy/DnD ears My goal is to differentiate them the best I can so they dont look too alike qwq

[panelperday]

"We have barred the gates, we cannot get out. They have taken the bridge and the second hall... Drums, drums from the deep... They are coming"

[bacchuschucklefuck]

species medley ft. gorgug and riz

[monster-disaster]

How do you think certain monster boyfriends/husbands handle their girlfriends’/wives’ plushies? Especially if they’re on the bed with them? 🧸🧸🧸

It's a cute idea. 😊

_

Your orc doesn’t have a problem with your plush or plushies. Within reason. A stuffed animal or two? That’s fine. Cute, even. But if he rolls over in the middle of the night and gets jabbed in the eye by the ear of a plush bunny? That’s where he draws the line. Especially when he wants to hug you, and he has to fight himself through them to reach you. "Alright, sweetheart," he rumbles. "This ain't workin’."

Your werewolf is jealous. And he doesn't even try to hide it. Why would you need anything else when he is right there, soft, warm, and big enough to hold you in his arms as you drift off? He is your personal comfort, your real-life cuddle buddy, and yet, here you are, wrapping your arms around a fluffy monkey as it could compare to the heat of his body. He isn't about to throw your toys out, he is not cruel, but every so often, when he catches you with a plush nestled in your arms, he growls about it; "Don’t need that thing when you’ve got me, babe. I’ll keep you plenty cozy."

Your minotaur gets a little annoyed by the plush toys every now and again, especially when he wakes up to find one tangled around his horns. He’s not the type to make a big deal about it, but the soft, squishy feeling of a stuffed bear rubbing against his head in his sleep? Yeah, that’s not his idea of a good morning. The first time it happens, he just blinks at it, letting out a long, frustrated sigh before carefully untangling the toy from his horns, muttering something under his breath. "How the hell did this even happen?" It’s not that he minds the toys themselves, but the constant wrestling with them while he's trying to sleep is another matter.

Your goblin uses them as pillows. At first, you notice a few of them have started to migrate from their usual spots, ending up on the couch or in the bed. And then, one morning, you wake up only to find one of your favorite plushies squished right under his head as he snores away beside you. "What? It’s the perfect angle for my neck. Nice and soft, just the right support, you know, sweetheart?"

Your rakshasa boyfriend is all for the plushies. They are soft, warm, and perfectly comfortable for snuggling up with during the night. The real issue, though, is his mania for filling the bed with as many pillows and blankets as he can find. He doesn't care if it’s summer and the heat is unbearable. To him, the more softness around him, the better. You wake up in the middle of the night buried under a mountain of pillows, surrounded by enough blankets to make it feel like winter, and you sigh, wiping sweat from your brow. "Darling, you can never have too much comfort."

Your dragon boyfriend is totally fine with your plushies. After all, he can understand your hoarding tendencies. So, your plushies? He gets it, even if you have a few more than you might admit. He might find a certain charm in it. If they start taking up too much space, he just builds a bigger nest for the two of you and your plush army. "Don’t worry, love, we have enough room for your treasures."

Your naga doesn't like them. It’s not that he has anything against them per se, but the textures just don’t sit well with him. The soft, squishy feel of plush toys feels strange against his scales, and the last thing he wants in his sleep is the feeling of fluffy ears or stitched eyes brushing against his body. He tolerates them for you, but if you catch him side-eyeing the toys, you know why. Fortunately, the solution is simple. You just place your plushies on the other side of the bed so he can curl up around you without touching them. "So much better."

[nyaskitten]

savemyboycole . from THE GOBLIN 👹👹👹👹👹👹 The great dark GOBLIN 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹 the demonic practices of this hideous goblin yet corrupt Cole's noble heart- i-ignore that one of the main characters is like partially a demon or something along those lines. GEO IS FORCING DEMONIC EVILS UPON COLE!!! KILL THE GOBLIN 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹👹 !!!! THE GOBLIN 👹👹👹👹👹👹👹 IS A DARK CRUEL AND WICKED CORRUPTIVE FORCE. HE. MUST. DIE! GRAUHGHGHGH KILL THE GOBLIN 👹👹👹👹👹 GOBLIN DEEZ NUTS !!!!!!

[tench-art]

Lil grumpy french man, my beloved. (I miss playing Styx more than I'd expect)

[ydolem-art]

Inktober day 18 : A Peaceful Moment