#monster pub

[inksplit]

[marshvlovestv]

Video Games I Experienced 3/2/25-4/10/25

The Blackwell Legacy (watched: ZenBear): I’m sure there’s like no one out there who ships Rosa and Joey together but man I see myself so much in Rosa and Joey is sexy so uh. I gotta project!

Cassette Beasts (watched: GSDBoxer): My own attempt at playing this game was shameful. I’m so glad I can experience it this way.

Dicey Dungeons (watched: SummerDumber): I really like this girl, so it’s a shame this is the only game on her channel that interests me at all.

Fear & Hunger (watched: Graeme Games): I will never understand what compels people to spend their limited time on this Earth playing something so demoralizing… but I’m watching it so what do I know.

Golden Idol Investigations: The Sins of New Wells (played): I was actually really emotionally moved by the final case. Roy’s a hero, man.

Grunn (played): A cozy gardening sim with jumpscares. So many jumpscares. I did not finish it.

Hades II (played): If I ever manage to beat Typhon I will be so proud of myself

Hi-Fi Rush (watched: PlayFrame): I honestly don’t think I would have realized this game was a parody of the gaming industry if not for Dan’s singular insight.

Instants (played demo): I think this demo is partially to blame for my current sticker insanity.

Monkey Island 2: LeChuck's Revenge (watched: Quasimofo): I thought the monkey wrench puzzle was cute tbh

Monster Pub (played): Don’t know why it had to be in three separate downloads, but it was a nice cozy card game

Muffles' Life Sentence (played demo): The “each chapter released as a different game” model feels a little Garten of Banban but the demo was really good

Scarlet Hollow (played): The update is fantastic but I’m still not going back on the fucking Discord

Shipwrecked 64 (watched: Andrew Cunningham and mollystars): I’m Deltarune hyped so I went back to watch some Deltarune theorists play a weird ARG

Stardew Valley (played): Winter is the worst part of this game

Tower of Kalemonvo (watched: Graeme Games): I want to support Graeme… I believe in him I want to watch all his videos… but these Diablo-likes are always so boring to me

Until Then (played): Reminded me immediately of A Space for the Unbound, and it’s full of charming and interesting ways to interact with the world

Vampyr (watched: Laila Dyer): Don’t Nod are a really ambitious studio. Their games are never perfect but I really respect the variety in their library

We should talk. (played): The girlfriend in this game reminded me too much of me. Felt bad to break up with her.

Your House (played demo): It’s still on my wishlist, but the reviews have been mixed so I will probably not end up buying it

[soggyskinflaps]

Idea: Hunter turns into a Fatalis, but retains their memories and personality, so the comission just has a chill dragon pet

[shotmrmiller]

Just love when the men (Ghost especially) are self aware that they are awful, greedy, dirty men. Aware that you deserve hands that won't taint you. You're too good. Too nice. Too soft. Aware that normal people wouldn't have fallen for the tiniest scrap of courtesy.

You should absolutely be with someone else.

Too bad he craves that kind of normalcy.

Too bad he saw you first.

i like when they think like that and then once the got you in between their jaws they are not letting go keep fucking dreaming

who cares if they're dirty they'll just sully you too. nbd.

[mirandaviian]

This is my best ever it’s will makes you happy 😊

[clonerightsagenda]

Well! I guess I now have a third series to add to my 'ghosts/necromancy = fossil fuels/climate change' list. Mawmouths aren't ghosts, exactly, but they are very pointedly already dead, and they're created from organic remains crushed down into an oily residue. Even though Western nations have been using them to keep their people safe and comfortable for decades, they wag their fingers at developing nations trying to join in. We even get the bit near the end that when El tries to tell people the truth most of them deny it and brush her off as a fearmonger. The parallels are very intentional.

I suspect this trend will continue, but I'm interested to see what other people end up doing with it.

[astrallar]

I've been on a binge about folklore monsters and legends and my current obsession is the Dullahan from Ireland.

Amongst the many wild features this entity has to offer, it has a primal fear or gold which begs the question:

Does the Dullahan fear the Leprechaun?

[gothspell-blog]

Cafe in Salem

[oeuvrinarydurian]

I’ve been slammed at work. Happy Thursday Thursday! 

[orriculum]

The cover reveal is HERE! I loved making this one so much and I'm so happy with how it turned out after all the versions it went through.

This book is about a shape shifting siren with imposter syndrome, a wall street type gargoyle, and the never ending business trip they're stuck on together.

The ebook pre-order link is here: www.amzn.com//B0CGQCKSY7

[librarycards]

for manywor(l)ds submissions, does self publishing online count as 'previously published'?

it does!

[catboyrightsdefender]

Not me finding frankenstein's monster strangely alluring.....

[hemlockhunters]

A New Beginning

Hello! Look at this, a Tumblr! I guess you have some catching up to do...

Since I released The Redwater Legend back in August 2022, life has taken several turns. I have since become a full-time game developer running my studio creating dating sims. I know, that is insane, but life takes its own course.

Recently, I've found myself in a good rhythm with my work that, I have allowed myself time to return to prose writing! That means getting back to posting here and creating stories.

The first task is re-releasing The Redwater Legend! Now, I know, it's already out?

When I released the book, I was in a bad mental spiral. I thought "I don't want to edit this one book forever, I'll just release it." So that's what I did, and the three people who bothered to leave it a star rating seemed to like it. But I fumbled the release on two counts.

1. It was not professionally edited.

Now, I did my best to edit it, but it's my work. I will never be the best proofreader. So while the story reads fine, I have found many errors.

2. The marketing was almost nonexistent.

I had planned a whole marketing campaign that I... just didn't do. Again, bad mental state.

With that in mind, I did another draft of the book, adding here, trimming there, rewriting here. It is now much better! But I am also going to hire a proofreader to give it a final polish. I'll let everyone know how that goes.

This time I will do a better job at marketing. TikTok, YT shorts, Instagram reels, etc. I also plan on getting more art done and probably an audio book reading.

On the subject of art, Big Bann Studio, who drew the original Redwater cover back in 2018, has drawn a NEW cover! I am hoping to hire an artist to help me develop the characters and world of Hemlock Hunter and draw inserts. This will give the book character and more art for promos. I also just like having art of my characters. Working in games has spoiled me.

That is all for now! I have more, but I want to spread these out. Also, I was writing all day so I'm eepy.

So enjoy the new art, and I hope you all join me on this journey <3

[schizowitchic]

never leaving the house without makeup on actually because why did i get id'd for a FUCKING ENERGY DRINK today. like i am definitely over sixteen. i look over sixteen. do i only look over sixteen with makeup on? did that one tesco employee not like the look of me? every other employee is like "yeah let me just approve the age for you" and doesn't ask questions. this woman (who literally could not have been much older than me) apparently decides that today i do not look over sixteen. and the only difference is that i did not have foundation etc. on just eyeliner. so like. uh. what was going on there.

[dndsettingsinfo]

"The Pit" (Monster Bar & Grill) by Space Coffee Studios

[writersdrug]

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.  

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.