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radama-zard · 2 years ago

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I posted 845 times in 2022

That's 845 more posts than 2021!

23 posts created (3%)

822 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@gorgynei

@thewarnerbrothers

@gracefireheart

@aussieamie

@ashtonslaymoore

I tagged 42 of my posts in 2022

#critical role - 31 posts

#dungeons & drabbles - 30 posts

#drabblewrimo - 30 posts

#fcg - 30 posts

#dungeons & drabbles 2022 - 23 posts

#ashton - 9 posts

#ashton greymoore - 9 posts

#radama's fics - 7 posts

#bells hells - 7 posts

#human au - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 73 characters

#i especially love how the last one has one thing from each of bells hells

My Top Posts in 2022:

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 16 - Unreliable

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Fresh Cut Grass Angst

“Was it… Blue? It was definitely blue, right?”

Fresh Cut Grass drummed their fingers against his chest plate, glancing nervously down at the little leather notebook before him. The last thing they wished to do was consult it’s pages, but with how unreliable his memory could be it had become sadly necessary.

“Blue like Dorian. Dorian was blue, I know that! And they were blue too… weren't they?”

They loathed to think their memory was failing them so terribly that they couldn't even remember the hair color of the man they’d interrogated just yesterday. But they’d already misremembered his race (Fresh Cut Grass could have sworn the man was a dwarf, but no. Imogen had gently informed him that the guy was, in fact, a goblin. That had been both embarrassing and distressing.) so he couldn't really trust his memory all that well.

But he ABSOLUTELY had blue hair, Fresh Cut Grass was sure of it!

Still, their hands shook something fierce as they flipped open their notebook, finding their neat, print-like writing on the latest page.

Goblin. Male. He/Him. Ratty clothing. Leather armor. A twisting auburn ivy tattoo down his left arm. Golden eyes and…

Oh.

Although he lacked one, emotionally he still felt the equivalent of their heart dropping as they saw, clear as day, the answer they’d been dreading.

Brown hair.

“... Unreliable again,” Fresh Cut Grass whispered, heartbreak evident in his voice. A tone that didn't go unnoticed, as they felt a solid hand upon their shoulder.

“Don't be so harsh on yourself, Grass.”

Ashton's words came softer than usual, as did his touch. While both were usually comforting, for some reason tonight they simply made Fresh Cut Grass feel like sobbing. If only they COULD cry, then maybe they wouldn't be feeling so poorly.

“I can't even remember simple details, Ash! I've already lost so much of my past, and now I'm screwing up things that happened recently. I… How much more am I going to forget? I don't want to forget anything more… I don't…” their voice wavered, so raw and fragile one might fear that a breath too loud would shatter them.

“... I don't want to forget you all. Especially you, Ashton…”

Jade arms swirled with golden fissures pulled him in, holding them with a grip so tight. As though their embrace alone could hold together Fresh Cut Grass’s shattered memories.

“You won't. I won't let you forget a damn fucking thing about me, okay? Or the rest of the Hells. You're stuck with us for life, and we’ll make sure you remember every last stupid ass, obnoxious, annoying thing about us until you regret ever worrying about this shit!”

It wasn't something Fresh Cut Grass could entirely trust. This conversation could be gone from their memory by the morning’s first light. Still, they wanted to believe it… and they believed in Ashton above all else.

So they clung on tight, burying their face against Ashton’s leather vest.

“I don't think I could ever regret anything to do with you.”

At least his feelings for Ashton could be relied upon to stay true.

For now, in this moment, that was enough.

6 notes - Posted November 16, 2022

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 26 - Impulse

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Ashton & FCG (Modern Human AU)

Fresh Cut Grass sighed, pulling out the mini first aid kit he kept on his chair. Once upon a time, maybe back in their teenage years, they would have been horribly distressed to see a bruised and bleeding Ashton. These days though? It barely elicited more than a tired sigh.

After all, one eventually got used to Ashton’s impulsive nature and his seemingly unending desire to scrap.

“Come on, let's get you down on the ground…”

Ashton grunted, sliding down the wall and effectively blocking their front door. Not that they were expecting anyone to use it anytime soon. Milo and Anni were two hours away at the latter’s violin recital (she'd only been allowed one guest, Ashton loathed to sit still and be quiet for so long and the venue wasn't really wheelchair accessible, so Milo it was), and no one else really visited them.

Well, besides Gramps Eshteross, but the old man had been dragged a city away by his eccentric friend Bertrand and wasn't expected to be back for at least a week.

So… just the two of them it was.

“What was the fight over this time?”

Not that Ashton usually needed much of a reason to tussle. His partner would throw fists over a bad anime opinion if people were open to it. As rough and tumble as Ashton was they hardly ever threw the first punch.

“Some dick at th’ bar was bein’ a transphobic assfuck… So I showed him just what a ‘gender confused little child’ could fuckin’ do!”

Well, at least today's fight was fairly justified then. One couldn't usually speak kindness into a transphobe, as Fresh Cut Grass had sadly learned themself.

Carefully, they pulled themself from his wheelchair, wincing a little as they did. Sadly the pain in their legs never truly went away, and improper transfers out of his chair always tended to hurt.

Still, Ashton was worth the pain and proper medical care couldn't really be done from their chair. At least not while Ashton was drunk and slumped on the floor.

“... You okay, Grass?”

Silly how Ashton was the one looking so concerned when THEY were the one bleeding.

“Thank you for the concern, but I'm fine! You know getting down here hurts a bit, but it's nothing I can't handle! Now, can you show me your arm please?”

Fresh Cut Grass watched as their purple haired compatriot held out his arm, the nasty gash now much easier for their bespectacled gaze to see. It certainly LOOKED bad, but everything looked bad caked in blood. A few wet wipes and a dash of detol later and the wound looked… manageable. Any deeper and they imagined it would need stitches. Luckily for them, it didn't and Fresh Cut Grass was instead able to dress the wound easily enough.

Each little scrape and cut was tended to, cleaned and dressed where needed with colorful, smiley face bandaids.

“There! All cleaned up! You're definitely going to hurt in the morning though… more than usual, I mean. I'll get your electric blanket going to help detense your muscles. And please take the painkillers I bring you? I know you think you don't need them after the adrenaline of a fight but Morning Ashton will thank you and it'll help me sleep a lot better!”

Honestly they’d sleep best if their beloved partner didn't wander off at least once a week to go get smashed… along with getting their face smashed in. But by now they knew better than to fight Ashton on it. It was better to be ready at home, to patch them up afterwards and hold him if everything got to be too much.

Still, that impulse to grab them by the hand, to beg him to stay home and away from all that was almost too much for Fresh Cut Grass to bear some nights. They loathed seeing Ashton so beat up, the scent of blood and booze that clung to them was enough to turn his stomach.

None of that was voiced though.

Instead, Fresh Cut Grass forced himself up, gritting their teeth to keep themself from crying out as they took a few terribly painful, shaky and uneven steps back to their chair.

“... You're too good for me, Grass… You all fuckin’ are…” Ashton slurred.

“You know that's not true, Ash,” Fresh Cut Grass whispered in turn, already wheeling away from the one he loved so. “Just try and stay awake for now, okay? I'll be back in a few minutes!”

They wheeled themself away, heart heavy as they did. And perhaps, this time, it was more than a bit obvious as Ashton watched them go with a heavy frown… and a glimmer of resolve in their eye.

A silent promise to do better. To be better. For themself and the people they loved.

6 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 11 - Bounty

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FCG & Chetney

“You just have to listen to the wood, Letters! Close all your other senses off and become one with nature's bounty…”

Fresh Cut Grass wasn't really sure what Chetney meant by all of that. Wood didn’t really talk- well no, that was a lie, Hadn't Fearne spoken to the sun tree? Maybe only the fey could, that DID seem like a fey kinda thing to do! He himself wasn't of fey nature though, and they didn't believe that Chetney was either. So talking to the wood seemed impossible.

And becoming one with it? They didn't mean to be rude, but that sounded like pure bullshit. Or at the very least impractical. Wood burned and snapped and all in all didn't sound like something they'd want as part of their body. If they couldn't have flesh then he'd rather stick with metal.

But wood was Chetney’s passion, and FCG had promised he'd take at least a few lessons from his gnomish friend. All skills were good skills after all, and maybe wood carving could come in handy for more than just gifts! Likeeee… spell components! Or maybe a makeshift shelter!

“I don't think I can do that, Chet,” FCG admitted. “You're the MC here! Maybe you can show me how you do it? Help me get into the zone.”

Chetney huffed, mumbling something about ‘amateur hour’. For a moment there was some concern that the old man may have gotten fed up with them. Yet that worry melted away when FCG felt Chetney move to sit right beside them, and lay his weathered hands over their own metallic digits.

“I guess we all can't have the touch,” Chetney bemoaned. “Showing’s useless. You need to FEEL the wood beneath your fingertips… So I'll do you one better and guide you.”

For a guy that was usually so rough and brash, Chetney was surprisingly gentle with this. His guidance was gentle and supportive, almost nurturing in a way. It was like a rare glimpse into his softer side, one that FCG very much cherished getting to experience.

A mental note was made to ask for more lessons after this.

“I don't know if the wood’s speakin’ to me yet. But it sure is fun doing this with ya!”

Chetney grunted, and FCG couldn't help but note how grumpy he was attempting to look, and yet he utterly failed to keep a pleased smile at bay.

“Your craftsmanship is still garbage,” the gnome critiqued, eyes narrowing as his grip tightened just slightly, leading the chisel clutched awkwardly within their grasp to smooth over a chipped nic. “Buuuut maybe with a few more months of lessons you'd become at least a decent craftsman. A DC, if you will~”

“Are you offering me more lessons?”

“Fuck yeah I am! But only if you're willing to put in the hard work, I'm not going to waste Mother Nature's Bounty on lazy carvings! Good wood deserves effort!”

Fresh Cut Grass glanced down into their hands, Chetney’s still on top of his, warming their ancient metal. This was nice. Really nice. More than worth the effort of trying take this at least half as seriously as his friend did. Or maybe a quarter, it was honestly nearly impossible to be anywhere near as serious about wood as Chetney. The man practically bled wood.

“Fresh Cut Grass reporting for duty, sir! I promise to try and not make a wooden disaster! … Or accidentally make another penis.”

This time they both glanced down, staring at the spoon they’d been carving and taking in the rather, uh, phallus appearance of the handle.

“Dicks are never mistakes, Letters. That's wood carving lesson number 69! They're blessings, gifts from the earth!”

Well, these lessons were certainly going to be educational, weren't they?

6 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 8 - Truculent

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Ashton/FCG

Anger.

It wasn't like the emotion was entirely foreign to Fresh Cut Grass. He understood it well enough. When injustices happened, when one insulted you or something you liked, when you were hurt by others… anger was the result.

Well, at least it was for most people.

Ashton certainly seemed in tune with it!

The barbarian was basically fuelled by rage, breathed it as easy as most did air. It came easy to them, and FCG had to admit, they were a tad jealous.

To be so in tune with one’s inner aggression, it sounded delightfully freeing! He desperately wished to have his inner strength, the power to scream in the faces of those who wronged them. To wheel right up to Jiana Hexum and call her… her… well, as might say, a ‘dumb bitch’.

Not that THEY would ever say that! They couldn't even honestly think it.

Dear god was it frustrating.

“You right there, Letters?”

FCG’s head snapped up, finding Ashton mere inches away from him. Funny how someone so tall and heavy could sneak up on them like that! Or could be so sneaky in general. It was something they envied as well.

“Sorry Ashton! Seems I’m a little lost in my head today,” FCG replied with a weak laugh, earning a slight quirk of a frown in turn. Had he worried them?

“What's eating at you? There somebody I gotta punch? ‘Cause you know I’ll fuck anybody up REAL bad that's upset ya.”

There it was again, that truculent spirit of Ashton’s.

Always eager and quick to fight, a shining beacon of aggressive defiance.

He really ought to have their picture painted and placed in every dictionary right next to the word.

To have even a fraction of that burning, that passionate spirit…

“I know you would, and I'm real grateful for your kindness. It means a whole lot to me that you're willing to fight for me. But, well, this… You can't fight this. Unless you want to punch me in the head?” FCG paused, cocking his head to the side. “Maybe don't though, please. You're real strong, and this body is pretty old. I think you’d do a lotta damage and I don't wanna make Milo have to fix me up agai-”

“Fuckin’ woah there,” Ashton leant down, now eye level with him. A jade hand dropped down on his shoulder, the simple weight of it relaxing in and of itself. With it being Ashton’s, that calming effect was doubled. His touch was always so gentle with FCG, like they were precious and soft and… and alive as any other flesh and blood person.

If they had a heart it may have skipped a beat.

“Sorry…"

“No sorries, Letters. Just don't want you working your ass into a panic. I got you, okay?”

“I don't have an ass.”

“Haha. Hilarious.”

Ashton rolled his eyes, yet even with that he was unable to keep the affection they felt for the little automaton from glimmering bright.

“I… I guess I was just thinking about anger, and how hard it is for me to really reach it. You know, when I'm all normal like. Maybe if I could express it as wonderfully as you do, I wouldn't snap anymore!”

“Huh.”

See the full post

8 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Dungeons & Drabbles - 2022

Day 12 - Marigold

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Orym/FCG

“What's that flower?”

Orym glanced up, breaking from his thoughts to meet Fresh Cut Grass’s curious gaze. Deft fingers held out the bloom he’d slowly been twirling, a rather sunny flower that matched with the usually chipper automaton rather well.

“It's a marigold. Pretty, isn't it?”

FCG hummed, drumming his fingertips against his chassis.

“It's a real bright one, that's for sure. Looks kinda fluffy and soft. Are flowers soft?”

Orym watched as the tap tap tapping of those metallic digits paused, and his friend’s head ever so slightly tilted to the side. It was strange, he thought, how expressive FCG could be even without the ability to move most of his face.

Stranger still how he'd never doubted for a second, after properly meeting them, that the bot was truly alive.

“Mostly. Some have thorns, others are poisonous to the touch. This one though? Totally safe and soft,” Orym informed him, before reaching out and clasping his hand around FCG’s. This seemed to surprise them, as he felt them jolt at his touch. Near instantly Orym went to apologise, guilt setting in as swiftly as the wind. Yet before he could even utter a word, cool fingers slipped into his own, and quite suddenly he found they were holding hands.

Oh.

“So they’re like you then, Orym! Soft and safe. Well, you keep us all safe, which I'm really grateful for, just so you know. I'm sure all of us are! But you're also just… safe. You're nice to be around. Like I don't have to worry about sayin’ something wrong or dumb. It's a mighty nice feeling!”

Orym felt his cheeks warm up, and he was sure if he were to find his reflection that it would be sporting a rather brilliant rosey red that wasn't normally there.

“I like your company too, Letters,” he replied softly. “I can't say I've ever seen myself as a marigold though. They represent inner power, strength and light, and they’re associated a lot with the sun.”

“That sounds a lot like you though. I mean, if you don't mind me pushing this, but I think, for you to keep goin’ on after everything you lost, and finding yourself a new purpose in life and all… well, that's pretty powerful and strong! Plus you're definitely the light of Bells Hells! You're our guiding light, all warm and comforting!”

Okay, now his cheeks were DEFINITELY a rich rosey red. No one had managed to get to him in such a way since… since Will.

Sweet, earnest, headstrong Will. The only man he'd ever loved, whom he'd dared to give himself so fully to. His big moon to his little moon.

His heart ached, so deeply disappointed in himself for daring to open his heart up to another like that, even for just a childish little- what was this? A fleeting crush, perhaps?

Yet he could hear Will now, could feel his warm smile upon him, urging him to allow himself that happiness, the grace to move on and find love once more. Will would never wish to see him alone, to live his life with his heart chained away.

Orym thought of the box Chetney had carved him, of the three moons that graced it’s lid.

‘Your big moon, your little moon and whatever comes next.’

Next, huh?

Orym twirled the flower in his free hand, before reaching up and oh so tenderly tucking it into Fresh Cut Grass’ wires. He smiled softly, offering FCG’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“I think it suits you better. Marigolds are the sun flower, and you're the sunshiniest person I know.”

In his heart, Orym knew he could never replace his moon.

But maybe, in his heart’s sky, there was room for a little sunshine too.

9 notes - Posted November 12, 2022

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