Dispatch
(Closed, Moderated, Unrevealed, Anonymous)
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“If you’re not interested, you can just say that. I probably came on too strong with the whole… ‘fucking you until you cry’ speech.”
“You also called me an annoying bitch. Real mixed signals. I don’t know what to think.”
“You’re hilarious. How about we start with the home cooked meal and see where that goes? Come over tomorrow. I’m an excellent cook.”
“And humble, too.”
“Fuck you, Robert.”
“Not on the first date.”
“I think I changed my mind. You’re too annoying.” There was a pause. “No but really, come over tomorrow.”
aka Flambae and Robert get drunk and hook up. Robert definitely doesn't regret anything and the team is very normal about it. Surprisingly, that's not where it ends.
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One of the main characters - the only surviving witness to a murder - has just woken from a coma. Not only is she entirely cognizant, but the first thing that the subtitles say she asks for is a lawyer.
“What are you fucking giggling about?”
The other person that’s been paying attention is Flambae. He’s right next to Robert on the couch, his arm slung over the top behind his head. One foot is propped up on the other knee, also pointing towards Robert, which has him caged in the corner by the arm rest. It’s probably some fucked-up power move. Robert has been ignoring it just to spite him.
“It’s just not how comas work,” Robert shrugs.
“Right, and you know because you’re a fucking doctor,” Flambae quips back.
“I know because I was in one, asshole.”
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During a quiet night in, Robert realizes that his coma and injuries aren't common knowledge among Z-Team.
Most of them take the information in stride with jokes aplenty.
Flambae does not.
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"Just one hint," Malevola pleaded. Prism leaned against her chair, eyeing Robert expectantly.
Robert stared at them briefly, deliberating over his response. He settled on honesty. They wouldn't believe him, and they wouldn't be able to link it to his identity as Mecha Man anyway.
"Sure. I can't die."
Prism sighed in frustration. "Oh come on! Don't be like that."
_______________________________________Robert Robertson III was eight when he realized he had a super power. It was also the first time he died.
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The only girl I ever loved was Robert in "drag" by Arcturus_Ish
Fandoms: Dispatch (Video Game)
13 Dec 2025
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It was supposed to be funny.
A bribe to get Prism to go on a call she would rather die than do. It was barely memorable, but whatever it was had been enough to earn her stubborn refutes.
A joking, “I'll let you do my makeup after shift if you do this without insulting anyone there.” Like a peace offering, only coated in sarcasm. An olive branch promising his own humiliation.
Everyone had laughed, it got Prism to concede.
It had still been funny when Prism had the others over, had pulled out her entire makeup collection. Flambae had laughed, knowing for sure that Robert - normal, boring, probably straight Robert wouldn't be caught dead actually letting this happen.
Funnier still when Robert actually showed up himself, immediately being pulled into a circle consisting of only Prism and Malevola as Coupè had sequestered herself onto one of Prism's many plush couches to read more of her book.
It had stopped being funny after that.
Or:
The fic where Robert gets his makeup done and Flambae is very normal about it. -
My hands are not clean (they can still carry you home) by Arcturus_Ish
Fandoms: Dispatch (Video Game)
30 Nov 2025
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The thing about plastic chairs is that they weren't a great substitute for an actual bed; the other thing is, Robert can't exactly afford to be picky and even if he 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 the internal debate is still ongoing as to whether or not he deserves a mattress at this current point in his life.
So, the plastic chair stays and is staying for the foreseeable future. Besides, it's charming - in a depressing, minimalism-that-is-totally-not-a-reflection-of-his-inner-sense-of-worth way.
Or:The fic where Robert has chronic pain and Flambae has warm hands. The two of them will figure out what to do about that eventually, right?