Just one Line.

This put me in a predictable but perhaps foolish state of nostalgia.




I'm currently working on a story that takes place literally 40 years after the last story featuring these characters... it was the first story I ever put up on Lit, a little over 20 years ago.
 
From an untitled work in progress that takes a look at what a mother/son relationship would look like beyond the sex.

“I can’t believe this. You’d hold back sex?”

“That’s what you do when you punish a child,” she gently tapped his cheek with her palm and walked away from him. “You take away his favorite toy.”
 
My organ stirred as I heard her mention 'orthography' then 'blind stamped calfskin'.
@StillStunned pulled out the stops for Blockflöte, Baryton and Gravissimo. "Ready!" he shouted.

@Jackie.Hikaru turned on the switch. Electric motors whined, the bellows wheezed, and @yowser 's mighty organ began to creak at the seams as the pressure built.

Wanda cackled as @StillStunned launched into the opening bars of the Toccata and Fugue in D minor.

"That'll teach the fucker to use homographs," she said with glee.
 
She glared at me like I was some rabid beast shitting in her flower garden while giving her bad Yelp reviews.
Almost entirely plausible except for the use of Yelp. Nobody uses Yelp any more; all the cool kids do their trolling on TripAdvisor these days.
 
While she had few moral qualms about lying to get what she needed, she knew from painful experience that deception should be wielded like a stiletto: rarely and to devastating effect.
 
“So... next, you're going to tell me your most embarrassing undergarment,” she said.

“Oh, that's easy, it's totally the Leopard-print night dress.”

“Oh no.”

“I'm afraid so,” I admitted. “It's exactly as bad as it sounds.”
 
So now, through the disgust and anger and confusion, this guilt was a new feeling. She felt like she’d betrayed Sligh, broken a promise to him that she’d never made. It was as if she’d taken a wrong path, one she never meant to take, but now the right path was lost to her forever.
 
From my upcoming February release...

“Just look!” Haley pushed me in front of the mirror. “You are fighting the wrong fight. Look.” She insisted again, pointing at the two faces in the mirror. “Take a breath and tell me what you see.”

“You and me in the girl’s restroom. Are you trying to get me arrested?”
 
"Is it pathetic to bring my school uniform to a New Year's party?"

Opening line from entry #14 of a challenge that i'm currently going through: write about the same subject for a year. It's a Struthless advice for drawing, and I actually wrote this on New Year's Eve. It was the last piece I wrote on 2024.
 
(Searching an abandoned home for her abducted lover, Avilia stumbles across a pair of old servants.)

They’d been hiding in the pantry since the day before, when the strangers had appeared. “A lady, a fine lady” – not as fine as the Old Mistress had been in her day, of course, but fine by today’s standards – “and a fat man, with a pale face and a head like an egg.”
 
Submitted, pending ....



"George, what the hell is going on here? Am I really hearing this?"


Also, (different character):


You can have that whenever you want. You’ve earned that. And I don’t even always let my dates or boyfriends have that. They have to earn it every time. But as long as you give me what I need, that’s yours for the asking.”
 
A slight scuffing sound made Xunaxa spin around, her heart thumping. She relaxed when she saw that it was Arivor, crawling up the rocks to join her.

“Goblins?” he breathed.

She hesitated, suddenly embarrassed that she’d been caught. “I–” A thought struck her. “I can’t see. There’s too much steam.”

He peered over the edge. Below them, Theayala and Lurrock were clearly visible, the elf’s throat working as she sucked at the dwarf’s cock. Arivor glanced at her, his eyebrows raised.

“Well, they’re clear now,” she whispered. “They weren’t before.”

“If you say so.” His eyes slipped down, and she realised that her hand was pressed between her legs.
 
He wore a jacket and tight leather breeches that clung to his legs in a way that made Xunaxa jealous of them.
 
Blackness surrounded her like a silk blanket. Comfortable, familiar. Almost like coming home.

It was in the dark that her demon blood sang to her. It whispered to her of power, lust, greed. Selfishness and survival. Treachery and betrayal.

Here, by herself in the black, Xunaxa was filled with the certainty that she didn’t need the others. She didn’t need anyone. If she just let the demon inside her take control, she could slaughter the goblins, feast on their flesh. Fill these dark tunnels with fear. Fear of her and the deeper darkness that she brought.
 
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