ArtPosting 2! (but also WritePosting!)

I got a 3 day suspension from Reddit a few days ago. This isn't important to what I'm talking about here, but it is related, and I am very pissed off about it! But in like a caviler sort of way? I dunno. This blog will discuss some honry things, but the pictures will still fall within site rules.

Anyway, what I want to talk about today is sort of core to most of what I've been doing, creatively, post-Pony. I have been making art, obviously, but I've also been writing. It kind of comes and goes in spurts: a little here and there, then a huge load followed by a dry spell, then the process starts all over again. And yesterday was an aforementioned yuge load. I spat out near as makes no difference to 3,000 words, all centered on a bit of Original Fiction I've been working on now for close to the last 2 years.

For context, after I fell off the fanfiction wagon, counting prep for the two Dungeons & Dragons campaigns I run, my MONTHLY output in words been around 4K. But my current word count into this project is...47,000 words, give or take. Plus another 10K or so over on WorldAnvil. So I am halfway into a professional length novel. Which is awesome! But at the same time, compared to my writing production heights during my Pony era, kinda pathetic!

Whatever!

The heart of what I want to get at here is this story I want to tell about some characters I have created. It's all OCs doing jack all in a fantasy setting culled from 30+ years of various inspirations. It's got all the usual fantasy stuff, plus comedy and straight up erotica (these OCs F U C K) in the mix. So, you know...kinda the sort of stuff that we've all seen here on the pony site for the last several years, just with less hooves. And other than writing, because I can, I've drawn these characters A LOT.

The OCs in question here are:

Oda Button, a halfling woman blessed by a god that isn't sure if it would be more metal to be the god of storms or heroes. She can throw lightning, she's super strong for her size, she swings an electrically charged sledgehammer at kneecap level, and she's too horny for her own good.

Oda is in her 30s, and among other halflings is effectively an amazon. She's thick, built like a brick shithouse and other halflings have to look up to see her face. She can also deadlift a picknick table covered in a whole ass clan of halfling folk but can't run, jump, or accomplish anything acrobatic that a normal halfling can do blindfolded without tumbling down like an avalanche. This has caused her no end of issues in a society where she doesn't fit, literally and figuratively, into any of the prescribed roles for halfling women. She's been in need of special made clothing and can accidentally break just about anything without trying. And this was before the whole god blessing thing that added lightning to her fingertips.

That's why she chose to live with humans. At least around them, she can pretend to be a halfling.

This is Thomas, a human acolyte to Kord (the previously mentioned god of not-sure-if-storms-or-heroics-is-cooler) that's freshly graduated to the level of a junior priest. He has spent most of his life living in an abbey of Kord, with his days revolving around learning everything about the religion and the organization he is a part of, intense physical conditioning to better follow Kord's divine example, and then being directed to work in the archives transcribing and copying the abbey's vast library of knowledge scroll by scroll.

Tommy is just entering his 20s, and his promotion has opened the doors to the outside world for him. Despite his sometimes encyclopedic knowledge on obscure religious topics, basic maths and the ability to read and write, he is usually left holding a very short stick when it comes to the ways normal folk go about their lives. Further, as a priest, he is now in a position of assumed authority to the common people around him and he is very aware of how unfit he is currently for that role. Further further, he's also very aware of how he is the non-powered newbie in an adventuring party made up of himself, Oda, and the warlock, Buer.

tl;dr: Thomas is a well read himbo that's out of his depth and surrounded by beautiful magical girls and I'm trying my damnedest to subvert all the tropes in that statement.

Next up:

Buer rounds out this crew of characters with more looks than sense. Buer is a tiefling bound to some nameless eldritch abomination from beyond reality, but really, cooking is their true passion. Out of the three of them, Buer has the most direct experience with the adventurer lifestyle, and it hasn't exactly treated them well. Being a walking WMD is fine line to thread, but so far Buer's managed, if barely, by retiring early and starting a taco stand.

Retirement, unfortunately, is boring. So when Buer meets Oda and Tommy, the option arises to come out of retirement and throw themselves back into the chaos while also trying to show Tommy the ropes along with Oda. Feeling swept up in the romance between these squeaky clean dorks wasn't what Buer was expecting, either, but now they're here and the voice of that eldritch thing is whispering spicy nothings in the back of Buer's mind.

Now the real question is how to break that to the rest of the party without getting rejected, tearing them apart, or starting some sort of divine turf war.

---

So think low-ish magic, DnD-esque, fantasy setting with wildly anachronistic dialogue and situations with a party of good looking and well meaning idiots that all suffer some sort anxiety and blammo. So far I've taken a lot of notes on my worldbuilding and magic systems and stuff. I've got a base outline done and broken out into sections. I've got my framing devices and lists of additional characters, etc, etc.

Otherwise, I've been sort of discovery writing as inspiration takes me/I have time/I'm feeling well enough to work. Which is probably why I haven't quite topped the 50K words milestone YET. But I do like most of what I've written. And the parts I like less have merit, they just need revision and edits. I've got a document with a bunch of disjointed scenes in a vague sort of chronological order. I've found it's really helped with solidifying aspects of my worldbuilding and helped me define character voice and motivations.

So last part of this, is going to be some of what I've written, so you can see I'm at least keeping the rust off of my chops. Featuring such hits as:

Baby's First Monster Slaying

Thomas stood up straighter, his eyes widening, smile returning.  “Wait!  You two know Sister Button?  Oda?  She’s who I’m out here looking for!  Is she with you?”

Herschel looked back at Thomas, nodding.  “Yeah, halfling lady ‘bout knee-high with a head full of dreadlocks?  Know her well.”

Richard shot Thomas a thumbs up.  “She’s right behind us, keeping the undead at bay while we climbed up and broke through to the surface.  Wei...Wei Wu...he’s the monk that accompanies us sometimes, is with her.”

As if summoned by speaking their names, the hole in the ground coughed up another man in light, grime-stained, clothing.  He came out like a geyser, shooting into the air well over even Herschel's head with a forward flip and coming to land perfectly on his feet.  A second later there was a muffled, echoing boom that Thomas knew all too well as the thunder that happened when a blessed cleric of Kord called on an internal well of power to cast a spell.  A tornado of wind exploded out of the hole, stirring up dirt and leaves into a dust devil and the armored form of a halfling woman came out riding on a round shield emblazoned with the Mark of Kord.  With a whoop, Sister Oda Button came to a rest, flat on her back in the middle of the clearing, her heavy chainmail caked with dirt and mud and more than a little dark red muck that Thomas could only guess the source of.  She was breathing hard, but grinning ear to oversized ear, her dark blonde dreadlocked hair spilling around her like a halo as the sudden windstorm settled.

“Oh hey, look!  It’s Brother Tommy!”

Thomas’ brows knit and he waved his hand vaguely in greeting.  This wasn’t how he’d pictured picking up Oda when he was asked to come out to this haunted forest.  He knew she adventured with a small party, but this group seemed as unlikely a mix as could be achieved.  A trio of human and human adjacent guys wasn’t the image he’d had in his head not an hour earlier.  He opened his mouth to greet the Sister properly, when he heard a low moan coming from behind him.

Everyone froze where they were.  Thomas turned with glacial slowness to see he’d stumbled over the threshold of the cave entrance.  Rock slabs that weighed more than he wanted to imagine surrounded him, yawning, hungry, darkness at his heels.  Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted movement.  A grizzly, rotting, hand reaching for him, the nails black and jagged.  Flesh in a putrid state of decay led back up an arm to a horror show of a once human face.  Reacting on instinct and what little training he’d received since getting his certifications as a full fledged priest, time suddenly sped up.  Thomas spun, dropping his shoulder to dodge the clumsy grab, grabbing his mace in the same motion.  He unsheathed it for the first time ever and the forged mass of steel swung true, transfering all the force he could muster into the heavy, pointed, head at the end.  Metal met rotting face in a split second, throwing the walking corpse completely off balance as its head was pulverized and splattered all over the close stone slab.  It bounced off the cave wall and dropped to its knees before toppling completely.

Thomas stood there, mace out, staring at the place where the horror had been.  “Oh fuck.”
 
The wind was suddenly all he could hear, his pounding heartbeat was drowned out by the darkness clawing at his senses from inside the cave.  Face to face with it, the term ‘maw’ was more apt than ever.  Thomas took a shaky breath, filling his lungs with clarity while he floundered around for a shred of Kord’s bravery.  Kord was curiously quiet on the matter, but filling in for the deity was ragged applause from behind him.  Glancing back over his shoulder, it was still mid-day, the world full of light and a trio of seasoned professional loonies clapping wildly.

Sister Oda was still on her back in the leaves, clapping and laughing at the same time.  Herschel looked proud as he slapped gloved hands together.  Wei and Richard both looked surprised and suitably impressed with his lucky swing, their clapping a touch more reserved.

and

Explaining Your Giant Boyfriend to You Parents

Heatha laughed, once, her shoulders bobbing with the effort.  “Time away didn’t break you of being a blanket hog.”

Oda smiled around her mug.  True, she still woke up at the abbey just like she had here for most her life, wrapped haphazardly in her sheets or blanket, hair a mess and groggy.  Kord didn’t ask for prayers to be done at specific times like some deities.  Kord was happier if you went out and did them where others could see you and be inspired.  Speaking of which, she made mental note to fetch her workout pants from her backpack.  She was going to do some stretches as soon as breakfast performed its own miracle.  “I don’t remember that eith—”

Oda stopped mid word as her brain caught up.  Her mother had opened her bedroom door.  Tommy hadn’t gone back to the guess room.  Her mother had seen Tommy in her room.  Her mother had seen Tommy asleep on her floor. 

“How?”  Heatha laughed again, a light titter sort of thing.  The sort of laugh some make when they’re surprised, or horrified, by something and are desperately trying to hide it.  “How, Oda?”

“I can explain.”

“I don’t want to hear that!”  Again with the high pitched horrified laugh.  “I don’t need to know that!  Not about you!”

“Mah…” Oda licked her lips, “...please don’t tell me you’re going to be one of these folks that can’t see how someone can love someone else that isn’t the same race?”  

“What?”  Her mother whirled around, facing Oda with a look of hurt shock.  “What are you talking about?  I’d be some sort of hypocrite if I ever spouted some nonsense like that.  You have dwarven cousins, young lady, and I’ve always been fond of that branch of the family.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

Heatha opened her mouth, pointing a finger at Oda, but she suddenly couldn’t find her voice.  She clicked her teeth together and huffed, staring up at the ceiling hard enough to bore a hole through the wood with sheer willpower.  She growled and padded over to the table, dropping onto a stool opposite Oda and reaching across to grip her daughter’s fingers in her own.  “I don’t want to know the details...not really...but how?”

Oda squeezed her mother’s hands back in her own, leaning forward and searching her mother’s face.  Heatha was flushed, obviously confused and concerned for her eldest child, but she also looked embarrassed.  Oda lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper like they’d done  for years when tiptoeing around her brothers to talk about other boys.  “Mah, what are you talking about?”

“I didn’t know human men did the same thing halflings do in the morning, I swear!”  Heatha grew more red in the face with each word.  “It looked big enough to punch through a log!  All human men aren’t like that,” Heatha swallowed hard around a lump growing in her throat, “are they?”

Oda stared at her mother, wide eyed and slack jawed.  How had she seen that?  There wasn’t anyway for her to have even accidentally seen Thomas nude from the waist down unless…

Then it hit her.  The comment about still being a blanket hog.  Oda hadn’t woken up in bed, she’d been asleep on Tommy.  Unconsciously, she’d tossed and turned, winding the covers off of him until her hapless mother came along and stumbled in on the man exposed in some state of morning stiffness.  Her mother had seen Tommy’s dick and was concerned for her daughter’s health from the sheer size of it.

“Oh merciful Kord, take me now…”

and

And More Awkward Conversations in a Bathroom Than You Can Shake a Stick At

Once he reached the door a moment later, he could make out part of a sentence.  “...Gods Above, you think you can get away with this?”  The voice was harsh, deep throated and the words crackled at the ends.  There was a gurgle, then the sound of the back of someone’s hand meeting flesh.

Thomas continued forward, his own hand flying out to shove the door open barely ahead of his shoulder, his stride lengthening to carry him into the bathing room like a gale.  Two more lamps set on high beams provided slightly better lighting, throwing wide shadows across the tilework.  In the middle of the room a tall, burly, man dressed like any common farmer in Highfield, stood with his knees partially buckled and leaning as far back as he could from the nude tiefling that held the collar of his shirt in one hand.  The man’s face was a mix of fear and fury locked on the tiefling’s other hand which was raised back and poised to swing.

“B-Buer?” Thomas coughed, slamming to a halt a half-step away.  “What?”

“Thank the Gods!  A priest!”  The farmer yanked himself away from the smaller tiefling, stumbling as his shirt tore and frayed a little.  “This bastard blood...thing...was laying hands on me!  It’s stronger than it looks too.”  He backpedaled over to Thomas.  “Don’t be fooled.”

Buer remained motionless save for a jitter twitch from the tip of their tail in the center of the room, one arm still raised and face and tone carefully neutral.  “You grabbed me.”

“I thought I was helping.”  The man sneered.  “Looked like a pretty lady was about to slip and fall, so I stepped in to catch you.  Then you turn out to be this?!”  He waved his hands at Buer, looking back over at Thomas.  “I swear it was just a mistake on my part.  Then this thing starts looking at me all funny and next thing I know, I feel weak.  It’s some sort of witch on top of being some fiendspawned thing!”

“Warlock,” Buer interjected, “actually.”

“Point being it’s a good thing a holy man showed up when he did.  The Gods Above smile on me tonight!”

Thomas looked back and forth between the two, brows knit in confusion.  The farmer looked old enough to be his father, bulky and built by a life of labor, tough as the soil he tilled.  And to see someone like that come to him for aid against an unknown just because of his position was as jarring as Oda told him it was for her.  He cleared his throat and dropped a hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Leave.”

“What?”

Up close the man was a few inches taller than Thomas.  He squeezed hard on the shoulder.  “I said to leave.”  The farmer blinked at Thomas, his lips going from sneer to slack when Thomas looked past him to Buer.  “Are you alright?”

“I don’t need your help, Tommy.”

“I know, but that doesn’t make me any less angry seeing someone act like an ass and think they have an ally in me while they do it.”  The man might be as tough as the soil, but Thomas’ eyes and hands were the plow and the farmer shrank back from him.  “Now get out of here.  You don’t belong in the presence of my friend.”

“You’re with...that?”  The farmer’s teeth grit hard enough Thomas could hear it.  “What kind of freak does that make you then?”

“One with friends.”  Thomas pushed the man back toward the door and the rest of the tavern.  He set his shoulders, ready to move if the guy tried anything, but the point must have gotten across, because they were alone a moment later after another withering look.

“Physically, I’m fine.”

Thomas startled, his eyes still on the door as it swung shut.  “Excuse me?”

Buer sighed.  “You asked if I was alright.  Physically, I am.”

Thomas’s shoulders sagged, all the air in him escaping in a weeze.  “Good.”  He glanced back toward Buer and then away again, seeing them still standing there naked.  “Um...what about other ways?”

“This plus that gods damned bird, Hells Below, Tommy!  I’m doing just peachy!”  Buer spun on their heels, long hair sweeping out behind them like a fan as they stalked over to the bench by the wall and sat hard enough to make it groan.  Buer hissed some sound, like a word in a tongue Thomas was unfamiliar with, and a pair of ghostly see-through hands materialized in front of them.  One went over to the water pump and started working the lever while the other swooped behind Buer, scooping together their long hair and drew it out from between Buer and the wall.

“Do you know that guy?”  Thomas folded his arms, head back while he looked at the ceiling timbers.

“Fuck no.”  Buer shivered, slumping back while the hands went to work gathering the water that gushed from the spout into a pail.  “He followed me down here.  I was too caught up in getting undressed that he got close without me noticing.  Next thing I know his arms are around me and I’m falling backwards into him.  I’m sure he thought it all very romantic.”  Buer’s voice dripped with sarcasm.  Then softly, Buer added, “Thank you for saving him, Tommy.”

“Did I?”

“You saw what I did to that pigeon earlier.”

Thomas nodded awkwardly.  Hardly more than an hour ago he’d been in close proximity to a display of the mystical forces Buer could summon at whim.  Close enough to be in the feathery splash zone.  Seeing what that could do to a human skull was not something he was in any rush to experience.

“Actually,” Buer’s tone perked up, “why are you here?”

Thomas scoffed at the ceiling.  “I was looking for you, honestly.  Oda is done with the charter paperwork, but it needs our signatures.  I didn’t see you upstairs, so I thought I’d come take a quick wash up and get any left over pigeon out of my hair before dinner.”

“Ah.”  Buer was quiet for a moment.  “So are you going to continue to talk at the ceiling or come sit down like a normal person?”

“I...uh...don’t want to impose.”

“You aren’t, Tommy.  Come wash up.  I’m pretty sure your girlfriend would appreciate it.”  Buer chuckled gently and inched over unnecessarily.  The magical disembodied hands hauling the water pail over and settling it at Buer’s slender feet.  A snap of their fingers and the hands vanished with a pop.  The tiefling snapped again and a bar of soap shot from their clothes, hung casually on a peg in the wall, and landed inside the pail.  “I’ll help you with your hair, if you’ll answer a question for me.  Answer honestly, I mean.”

Thomas lowered his head, careful to keep his eyes above Buer’s curving horns.  “Sure.”  He crossed the room, suddenly awkward and gangly again, and took a seat on the bench.  He sat there mutely for a long moment before he hastily pulled his vestment and shirt off.  “What do you want to know?”

Buer didn’t speak immediately.  They took the soap and water, leaning over the stir it around and built up a head of foam.  Then they held up a hand, tracing a circle in the air until Thomas took the hint and turned his back toward them.  “Tommy, I’ve had stuff like this happen to me before.  It broke up the last group I traveled with.  We’re just getting started and already I’m right back here where I am most uncomfortable.”

“I’m sor—”  A cold, wet, hand touched him on the nape of his neck, silencing Thomas.

“You don’t have to apologize, Tommy.”  Buer sighed again.  “But I need to know if this changes things between us?”

“What, getting harassed like that by some asshole?”  Thomas shrugged.  “Why would it?”

“Not that, Tommy.”  Buer stood and leaned forward, both hands braced on Thomas’s back, so they could look him in the face.  “You know what I’m talking about!  That guy came in here because he assumed, incorrectly, that he was big enough to get his way.  When he grabbed me, I could hear his thoughts so I’m crystal clear on his other incorrect assumptions about me too.  It wasn’t some spell that made him go weak and hesitate, it was the fact that he assumed I was fully the woman I appeared to be.”  Buer clicked their teeth together for emphasis.  “Which is the same assumption you and Oda have.”

Thomas grimaced, watching Buer slide back out of the corner of his eye, as the tiefling sat back down.  In the short time he’d known Buer, the powers the warlock possessed—or was cursed with, depending on your outlook—were strange and varied.  Not only was Buer completely capable of summoning blasts of mystical force, but they could also ‘hear’ the thoughts of others sometimes and ‘taste’ emotions.  He’d seen ample evidence of it.  Plus the accusation was true.  Had anyone asked him, he would have confidently confirmed Buer as female as Oda or any other woman in Highfield.  

“So is this going to change anything between us?”

Thomas took a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak, but paused and thought about it.  After a moment, he shook his head and looked back at Buer.  “No.  It doesn’t change anything.”  Buer’s expression was tired and reserved, but they nodded back.

“Turn around.  Let me get at that mess you call hair.”

No sooner did he look away then fingers started picking quickly through his short tuff of hair.  “Careful!  I got scratched up earlier.”

“Why do you think I blew that pigeon out of the air?”  Buer huffed, getting up on their knees behind Thomas to get a better look at his head.  Buer moved in neat, orderly rows, checking for tiny pieces of avian remains.  “Is Oda going to have a problem with this?”

“No.  I can guarantee—I can practically guarantee that she won’t have any issue with this.” he admended himself.  “I don’t see how she’d find out about it.”

Buer stopped cleaning Thomas’s hair and leaned forward again with a shocked look.  “You wouldn’t tell her?”

“Why would I?”

Buer cocked an eyebrow at Thomas.  “You sleep with this woman.”

“I mean,” Thomas shrugged, conflict pulling the corners of his mouth in different directions, “if she asked me directly.  Then I’d tell her, sure.  But when would it ever come up in conversation?  I can read the room well enough to know it’s not something you want spread around.  I can keep a secret, Buer.”

The tiefling snorted, eyebrow still raised, but leaned back and went back to task.  “Thank you.”

That's the long and long of it. What I've been working on and will continue to work on.

See you later.
-Fuzz

Comments

[FanOfMostEverything]

Oda Button, a halfling woman blessed by a god that isn't sure if it would be more metal to be the god of storms or heroes.

So she's a cleric of Rainbow Dash? (I've actually made stats for that in my own campaign.)

Ah, Kord. Same basic principles.

Okay, that first story is a fantastic example of how it feels to roll a natural 20 on your very first attack.

Good stuff throughout. Do keep us posted on it.