Vakaria



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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?

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    09 Jan 2026

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    Flambae is fully aware he has become infatuated by Robert Robertson, but he has no idea what he's supposed to do about it.

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    04 Jan 2026

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    Lifting himself just enough to be heard, Robby shook his head. “It’s not like that, Jack. No evidence needed.”

    “It sure as hell looks like it’s like that,” Jack said, his anger bleeding through despite his best effort to keep himself in check.

    Robby looked directly at Jack for the first time since Jack had arrived. His eyes held a mix of shame and pain, and Jack was furious at the thought that somehow Robby thought he had to excuse the person who’d done this to him. But before Jack could say as much, Robby rocked him to his core by saying, “I asked for this.”

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    16 Oct 2025

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    Robby sagged a little, another tiny rush of air out. Jack pretended not to notice any of it even as it slid through him, his hypothesis gaining evidence, firming in his mind.

    No, Jack didn't think anyone ever touched Robby.

    He was going to change that.

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    15 Oct 2025

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    When his phone rang loud in the stillness, waking Jack from the sleep of the dead he'd perfected in war zones half a world away, he sat straight up in bed and knew: something was wrong.

    His phone announced it was Dana—and it was 0721—which shot a little thrum of worry through him as he answered. "What happened?" he asked, no preamble. She wouldn't wake him if shit hadn't gone sideways.

    "Robby hasn't come in yet and he's not answering his phone," she said, voice grim. "He's never missed a shift without calling." She spoke quietly, probably standing in the middle of the ED, trying to keep up a brave face for everyone else. As much as she could, anyway. People tended to notice when the fucking chief attending didn't show up to work.

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    15 Oct 2025