Sex and the Single Ghoul

One of the issues readers might have about my writing is whether or not my stories have any sexual content. The short answer is no. The long answer is that I am not writing literotica, therefore readers need not worry about being subjected to awkward turns of phrase such as “unsheathed his sword” or “meaty cudgel.” We’ll be having none of that ridiculousness here, thank you.

This isn’t to say that sex doesn’t exist in the world in which I write. Obviously all of those goblins have to come from somewhere. But nobody wants to read about that. Too much of what passes for entertainment these days is little more that gratuitous debauchery, neatly packaged and marketed to a desensitized populace. That is not what Slothjemia is, nor has it ever been. I am sure that somewhere on the internet you can find detailed and explicit illithid naughtiness, but this isn’t it.

In terms of shenanigans, there is little to be said outright in my stories. Implications exist, and I can’t stop you from inferring, but that speaks more to your twisted imagination than it does mine. Enthusiasts of fantasy gaming will probably question why relationships function the way that they do in my writing, and muse over why I depart from standard stereotypes. It just makes for a better story, and that’s all there is to it. Young readers might enjoy the wanton violence of orcs in battle, and I’d hate to ruin it with immorality. As they say in the Coreland, “make war, not love.”

They don’t say that. Nobody does.

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