Really liked @barmaideneevee idea: Rob has two cars - one from his dad (settled on a Chevrolet Camaro) and his own ..still canât decide what
Keni
Today's Document

Kaledo Art

PR's Tumblrdome
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

tannertan36
taylor price
One Nice Bug Per Day
Acquired Stardust

JBB: An Artblog!

Product Placement
$LAYYYTER
đȘŒ
Claire Keane

ellievsbear

blake kathryn
h

â
YOU ARE THE REASON

seen from Switzerland

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Germany

seen from France

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Ireland

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Russia

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Russia
seen from United States
@pinkdisc
Really liked @barmaideneevee idea: Rob has two cars - one from his dad (settled on a Chevrolet Camaro) and his own ..still canât decide what
"âburyâyourâheart, Aah, PasiĂłn!"
A Robert for fun and me time. I might turn him into a keychain or something.
clingy...
Wanted to get this out of my system.. they make me so sick, you have no ideađ
tw: suggestive under cut
"Mecha stuff?"
Flambae doesn't think he can be blamed for how long it took the words to sink in. He was tired, he was sore, he was fucking sick of wrapping these fucking plates in bubble wrap. He barely looks up from his task as Robert walks into the kitchen holding a years-old moving box.Â
"Thought that stuff was already in the new garage?" Flambae asks absentmindedly, watching appreciatively as his boyfriend balances the box in one arm and wipes the sweat off his brow with another. One of Flambae's t-shirts hangs off Robert's shoulders, loose and well-worn after years of thievery.Â
Robert shrugs, dropping the box on the kitchen table with a loud clatter. Flambae pauses, eyes narrowing slightly at the specific, familiar clinking and shuffling. His hands still from where he had been moving to cut more bubble wrap as Robert spins the box in a circle, head tilting to the side as he tries to gauge the contents veiled by cardboard.Â
"Well, it's not one of my boxes. I always got mine from liquor stores."Â
I know, Flambae thinks miserably, I was the one who actually unpacked all the shit you shoved into a closet. Robert spins the box this way and that, head tilting to the side as Flambae watches on from behind the kitchen counter. It's relatively nondescript, just a plain beige box, taped together with clear moving tape and a hasty label scrawled in black sharpie.Â
Robert shrugs, nail scraping the edge of the tape in a bid to remove it. "Guess we gotta open it and see. It's weird, I found it way in the back of your closet. Almost missed it."Â
He's got the tape halfway off by the time Flambae realizes what exactly his boyfriend is about to unearth. The plate Flambae had been wrapping hits the counter with a worrying clank! as he whips around the corner in a scramble to make it to the table in time.Â
He's too late. Robert tosses the tape to the side and lifts the flaps, nose wrinkling at the plume of dust that shoots up. "The fuck�"
It was easy enough to run away to Canada, right? Flambae could fly, he wouldn't even have to bother with the passport stuff. His parole officer would understand. Actually, he wouldn't, the guy was such a bitch-
"Chad."
"Yes, beloved?"
"Mhm. Mind telling me why you have a box of Mecha Man merch you never told me about?" A rifling of items, vinyl figures clinking against enamel pins shuffling against cardstock. "Specifically of Blue?"
"âŠI'm supportive of the arts."Â
"âŠright." A shuffling of items once more. The crinkle of protective plastic over paper. "Woah, they were really generous with my dick size-"
"ALRIGHT-"Â
Do we see the vision or is this poop from butt?
⥠Kiss the Match Ch.3 out now âĄ
âWhat felt urgent enough that you called for an extra session?â
Chad drags a hand down his face.
A lot of things, apparently.
The words donât come right away. He keeps looking everywhere except at herâat the bookshelves lined up too neatly against the wall, at the ceramic lamp in the corner with its ugly beige shade, at the rain slipping down the window in thin, crooked lines. Anything but Dr. Rosen, who sits across from him with her notebook balanced on one knee and the kind of calm expression that makes it impossible to tell whether sheâs worried or just waiting.
A year ago, he wouldnât have called for an extra session. A year ago, he wouldâve laughed in somebodyâs face if they suggested it. Mandated therapy was one thing. Showing up because he knew he was getting bad again and didnât trust himself to just wait it out was another.
And yet here he is.
Finally, he mutters, âI saw a guy get dropped off a building on live TV.â
That gets her full attention, even if her face barely changes.
âTell me what happened.â
âHe was some hero getting exposed for taking bribes or whatever. Didnât even matter.â Chad rubs his thumb over the seam of his jeans hard enough to feel the fabric drag against skin. âThe point is, this fucking villain, Red Veil, had him by the leg, cameras everywhere, half the city watching, and then he justââ
He cuts himself off and flicks one hand downward.
âDropped him,â he says. âLike it was nothing.â
The room goes quiet again.
Outside, tires hiss over rain-slick asphalt. Somewhere down the hall, a door shuts.
Dr. Rosen asks, âHe died?â
Chad gives her a look. âWhat do you think?â
She lets that pass.
âAnd since then?â
âSince then, I canât sleep for shit.â He lets out a laugh with no humor in it and scrubs a hand over the back of his neck. âOr I sleep, and then I get punished for it.â
âWhat happens when you do sleep?â
He swallows.
âI keep seeing him fall.â
âThe hero?â
Chad shakes his head.
âNo,â he says more quietly.
He leans back, then forward again almost immediately, restless in his own body. Heat keeps gathering under his skin in little waves. Not enough to spike the temperature of the room. Just enough that he can feel it crawling over his arms and chest, asking to be let out.
âItâs not really about Kingfisher,â he says. âI mean, yeah, itâs fucked. Obviously. But Iâve seen murder before. I was a villain. Iâve seen people die.â
His thumb keeps working over the seam in his jeans. He only notices because itâs starting to hurt.
âItâs just...â His voice roughens. âEvery time I think about it, every time I close my eyes, it stops being him.â
Dr. Rosen doesnât interrupt.
âItâs Robert.â
Chad exhales sharply through his nose and leans back like moving will help. It doesnât. His chest still feels too tight, like there isnât enough room inside it for lungs and heat all at once.
She gives him a second before asking, âAnd when you picture Robert there, whatâs the thought that comes with it?â
âThat heâs already dead,â Chad says, too fast. Then he drags a hand over his mouth and adds, âOr that heâs alive and thatâs somehow worse.â
âYouâre afraid he might still be alive but suffering.â
His mouth goes tight.
âYeah.â
âAnd not knowing feels unbearable.â
Chad huffs a breath and drops his head back for a second, staring at the ceiling. âFor the first few months after he went missing, I kept thinking weâd find him. It was just a matter of time. Weâd get a lead, kick down the right door, have some dramatic reunion, fix the problem, move on. Because Robertâs...â He catches himself before the wrong name slips out. âBecause heâs a hero. Heâs supposed to come back from shit like this.â
Dr. Rosen watches him carefully. âAnd now?â
His throat feels dry.
âNow it feels like I was being delusional.â
âHave you started to believe you wonât find him alive?â
Chad stares at the floor.
Belief sounds too deliberate. Itâs felt more like his confidence has been wearing down a little at a time without him admitting it. Every bad lead, every dead end, every day without Robert has chipped away at the part of him that used to be sure theyâd find him alive.
âI think,â he says slowly, âI think Iâm getting used to the idea that there might not be an ending to this I can live with.â
The room stays quiet.
He can hear the faint hum of the vent. Rain tapping the window harder now. His own pulse making itself obnoxious in his ears.
Dr. Rosen asks, âDo you think it would be easier to know what happened to him? Even if the answer is terrible?â
Chad shuts his eyes for a second.
âI donât know,â he says.
The words come out rougher than he means them to.
âI genuinely donât fucking know. Because if heâs dead, then at least itâs over, and even thinking that makes me feel like a monster. But if heâs alive and I canât get to him, or heâsââ His jaw locks hard enough to hurt. âAlive, and every day we donât find him is another day somethingâs being done to him. Maybe Iâm sitting here hoping for the version where heâs alive because it makes me feel better, not because itâs actually better for him.â
The heat jumps inside him with that one.
He has to force his hands flat against the chair arms and breathe slowly through his nose before it gets away from him. The fire in him is restless. He keeps it down by habit now, but it takes effort. More than it used to.
Dr. Rosen lets him get his breathing under control before she speaks.
âThat kind of uncertainty can be especially painful,â she says. âWhen thereâs no confirmation, people often get stuck between hope and grief. They canât fully mourn, but they also canât rest in hope. The mind keeps trying to solve it, and the body stays on alert because, as far as it knows, the emergency is still happening.â
âGreat,â Chad mutters. âSo what do I do about that?â
Her answer comes without hesitation, which annoys him a little.
âYou stop asking yourself to solve the uncertainty emotionally before thereâs an answer.â
He frowns. âWhat?â
âYou donât have to decide right now whether hope is helping you or hurting you, or whether grief would be safer, or whether one outcome would be easier to survive than another. Those are impossible questions when you donât have the information. Trying to answer them over and over is just grinding you down.â
Chad looks at her for a second. âThat just sounds like a really nice way of telling me to stop thinking about it.â
âItâs actually the opposite.â
She sets the notebook on the arm of her chair.
âIâm saying you may need different questions. Not âWhich answer would hurt less?â but âWhat do I need when I donât know?â Not âWhat ending can I live with?â but âHow do I survive the waiting without destroying myself?â Those are things we can work with.â
He looks away first.
He hasnât been handling the waiting well. Itâs been fucking up everything. Sleep. Work. Eating. Every part of his life keeps circling back to Robert until sometimes it feels like he canât think about anything else for more than five minutes.
Chad wets his lips. âThereâs something else.â
Dr. Rosen doesnât move. âOkay.â
He almost changes his mind.
Then he remembers the diner, the cold booth, the smell of burnt coffee, and the way one offhand comment from Chase had made his whole body go haywire.
âI...â He drops his gaze to his hands. âI think my feelings for him are maybe not normal.â
âWhat makes you say that?â
Chad laughs once, under his breath. âBecause theyâre insane?â
âThatâs not an explanation.â
âWe knew each other for what, a little over half a year before he went missing? We flirted. Kind of. We bitched at each other a lot. He got under my skin. I got under his.â Chad presses his thumb against his knuckle until it hurts. âThatâs not enough to be this fucked up over somebody.â
Dr. Rosen studies him. âYou think the intensity of your feelings means something is wrong with you.â
âYeah.â
âBecause?â
Because Robert would look at him like heâd lost his mind if Chad ever actually said any of it out loud. Because even now, the word love makes him want to crawl out of his own skin. Because heâs never wanted somebody like this before, not in a way that made his whole life rearrange itself around them.
He stares at the lamp instead of at her. âBecause itâs too much. And because if I ever did say something, and he looked at me like I was a fucking weirdo, Iâd have to move away and change my name.â
Dr. Rosen lets that settle before asking, âWhat makes it feel like too much?â
He blinks at her.
âWhat?â
âYouâre not just saying the feelings are strong,â she says. âYouâre saying thereâs something wrong with you for having them. Iâm asking what part feels wrong.â
Chad looks away again. âThe intensity of it, I guess.â
Dr. Rosen nods once. âOkay. That makes more sense. And I think there are a few different things getting stacked together for you.â
She shifts slightly in her chair, her voice reaches him a little more directly.
âThereâs the fact that heâs missing. Thereâs fear. Thereâs uncertainty. Thereâs grief. Thereâs guilt. And then thereâs whatever was already there before he disappeared. Those things can build on each other without all meaning the same thing.â
Chad rubs at his forehead. âThatâs fucking annoying.â
âI know.â
He lets out a breath. âIt feels like my entire life is revolving around Robert, and I canât make it stop.â
âWhat does that look like day to day?â
âI still go through every new Red Ring case with Chase after hours. Even when Iâm exhausted. Especially then. He keeps assigning me to anything that might get us closer to Red Veil, and I keep taking it because...â
He trails off.
âBecause?â
âBecause if I stop, it feels like giving up.â
He thinks of the office on the third floor. Of Visi sneaking in more and more often and pretending she isnât. Mal quietly asking around among her supernatural contactsâbecause if Robert is dead, then talking to the dead is one more lead to chase. Phenomaman looking as wrecked as he did when Blonde Blazer dumped him, which annoys Chad in a way he knows is irrational. CoupĂ©âs perfume lingering there sometimes too, which nobody comments on.
And Chase.
Chase, who used to get angry at everything and now barely gets angry at all, like somebody scooped all the life out of him.
That part scares Chad more than he likes to admit.
âI donât know how to face Chase some days,â he says. âHeâs still going through all of it. Every robbery, every theft, every case that might tie back to Red Veil. And Iâm there too, but if Iâm being honest...â
He looks down.
âIâm not even sure I still believe itâll bring us to Robert alive. I think Iâm there because Chase is there. Or because I donât know what the fuck else to do with myself.â
Dr. Rosen nods. âThat makes sense.â
âDoes it?â
âYes.â Her voice stays maddeningly calm. âStructure can keep people functioning when hope is inconsistent. So can loyalty. So can not wanting to be alone.â
That last one drags his attention back to her.
Not wanting to be alone.
Which is exactly why he ended up at his motherâs house after the bar.
Home.
Rain on the windshield. His phone buzzing unanswered in his pocket. The front door opening before he even finished knocking. His madar taking one look at him and not asking stupid questions. Just stepping aside and saying his name the way only she does.
Chadjan.
The kitchen light had been on. His sister was still awake at the table, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other going still when she saw him. His niece had been asleep on the couch under a blanket covered in cartoon fish, hair all over her face, one little sock half off her heel. The whole house smelled like tea and onions and detergent and wet shoes by the radiator. Familiar enough to hurt.
He hadnât even realized he was shaking until his mother put both hands on either side of his face and told him to sit down.
No questions at first. Just food pushed at him until he took it. Tea poured whether he wanted it or not. His sister talking around him instead of at him, like she knew if she came at him directly, heâd bolt. His niece waking up halfway through and climbing into his lap without asking, pressing her warm little face into his neck.
He can still hear his motherâs voice, low and worried and trying not to sound it.
Chadjan. Bokhor. Eat.
His throat tightens unexpectedly.
âI went to my momâs house after,â he says.
Dr. Rosen is quiet for a second. âAfter the broadcast.â
âYeah.â
âWhat made you go there?â
He laughs under his breath. âProbably the same reason Alice has been sleeping on my couch for a week.â
âYou didnât want to be alone.â
He nods once.
âBeing in my apartment by myself is...â He shakes his head. âNo. I canât do it right now.â
Thereâs no point pretending otherwise. Alice showed up with some bullshit excuse about her shower being broken and then stayed for a week. He didnât call her out because the last thing he wants these days is to be alone in that place with nothing but the fridge hum and his own head for company.
Dr. Rosen asks, âHave you been having thoughts of not wanting to be here?â
The question is gentle and direct in a way that makes his whole body go still.
He knows what sheâs asking.
He thinks of the mall. Of flames. Of not leaving. Of how easy it had been, back then, to tell himself that if the whole thing came down with him in it, that would finally be the end. He thinks of the last few weeks, of chasing Red Ring across rooftops with the part of his brain that still knows the difference between reckless and suicidal running quieter than it should.
âA little,â he admits.
Dr. Rosen doesnât react visibly, but her attention sharpens.
âA little as in passive thoughts? Wishing you could disappear, not wake up, stop doing this?â
âNot a plan,â Chad says quickly. âIâm not making a plan.â
âI hear that. I still need the full answer.â
He drags a hand over his face again.
âSometimes it just feels like Iâm fucking tired,â he says. âLike really, really tired. And the idea of having to keep doing this indefinitely makes something in me go blank.â He swallows. âI donât want to die. I just... sometimes I donât know how long Iâm supposed to keep carrying all of it.â
Dr. Rosen nods slowly. He hates how relieved part of him feels to have it out loud.
âWe need to make sure youâre not carrying it alone,â she says. âThat means being specific when the thoughts shift from numbness to wanting out. It means using the people you already went toâyour mother, your sister, Alice. It may also mean making the âwar roomâ and late-night case review off-limits on the nights when youâre most depleted, because those seem to be amplifying everything.â
Chad lets out a dry laugh. âYou say that like Chase is going to love hearing Iâm cutting back.â
âThis isnât about what Chase loves hearing.â
That shuts him up.
She continues, âIf the waiting is destroying your sleep, your appetite, your concentration, and your sense of safety, then you need limits that protect you while the situation is unresolved. Not because youâre giving up on Robert. Because youâre trying to stay alive enough to keep going.â
He goes still at that.
Stay alive enough.
The sentence makes something in his chest twist.
Dr. Rosen watches him carefully. âWhat are you noticing right now?â
He looks down at his hands.
Theyâre too hot again. His chest is tight, his skin prickling. He can feel the fire pressing against the inside of his wrists, looking for a way out.
âToo much heat,â he mutters.
âCan you lower it?â
He closes his eyes for a second and tries. In for four, hold, out slow. The fire doesnât leave. It settles a little. Stops crowding his throat. When he opens his eyes again, Dr. Rosen is still there, waiting him out.
âThereâs one more thing,â he says.
âOkay.â
He stares at the floor.
âSince that hero died, it feels like everyoneâs been getting quieter. The whole team. Theyâre still doing the work, still kicking the shit out of criminals, still chasing Red Ring all over the city. But itâs like...â He searches for the least stupid way to say it. âLike weâre all behaving too well. Like nobody wants to be the one who says out loud what weâre all starting to think.â
âThat Robert may already be dead.â
âYeah.â
The word tastes acrid.
Dr. Rosen rests her notebook on the arm of the chair. âSounds like youâre not the only one afraid.â
He knows that. He does. But knowing the others are hurting too doesnât actually make any of it easier. It just means nobody says the worst part out loud anymore.
The silence stretches.
Then Dr. Rosen asks, âCan you tell me what you need today, before you leave here?â
The question catches him off guard.
He expected homework. A breathing exercise. Maybe a very polite threat about calling someone if he kept minimizing the not wanting to be here thing. Instead, she wants to know what he needs.
He sits with that for a second.
âSomething that isnât vague bullshit,â he says finally.
One corner of her mouth twitches.
âFair enough. Then hereâs something specific. You cannot force yourself to stop loving him, stop hoping, or stop grieving before you have an answer. What you can do is stop treating the uncertainty like a problem you have to solve every minute of the day.â
He looks at her.
She goes on. âThis week, I want three things. First: continue to sleep with someone in the apartment or stay with family if the nightmares are bad. No white-knuckling it alone. Second: no âwar roomâ after midnight. Third: when the image of him falling shows up, I want you to name what is actually happening in the present before your mind runs with it. âI am in my room. I am seeing an image. I do not have new information right now.â It wonât fix the fear. It will keep the fear from turning into certainty.â
Itâs practical enough that he doesnât immediately want to argue with it, which is probably the best a therapy assignment is going to get from him.
âOkay,â he says.
Dr. Rosen studies him for another moment. âAnd if the exhaustion tips further? If âa littleâ starts becoming more specific?â
âI call someone.â
âYes.â
He looks back at the rain streaking the glass.
âI really did think weâd find him,â he says quietly. âAt first.â
âI know.â
Chad swallows.
âAnd now I donât know what the fuck I believe.â
Dr. Rosenâs voice stays soft. âThen maybe today isnât about belief. Maybe today is about telling the truth about how scared you are.â
The words land hard enough that he has to look away.
Because the truth is, heâs terrified.
Terrified Robert is dead.
Terrified he isnât.
Terrified that if Robert comes back, Chad wonât survive the relief of it.
Terrified that if he doesnât, Chad will still keep revolving around him anyway, like his whole life got hooked there and never learned how to pull free.
He leans back slowly in the chair, feeling the heat shift under his skin, controlled for now but nowhere near gone.
âThereâs something else I keep coming back to,â Chad says, staring past Dr. Rosen at the rain on the window. âI keep replaying the memory and wondering if I missed something.â
Dr. Rosen doesnât interrupt.
âThe fight against Shroud,â he says.
The rain keeps falling.
And before he can stop himself, heâs back there again.
continue reading on ao3 !!
It's called chronic traumatic encephalopathy.Â
Well, it's actually traumatic encephalopathy syndrome. The only way you can diagnose CTE is after death, the doctor says, laptop balanced on his knee from where he sits before Robert with a sympathetic smile and clinical detachment.Â
Robert's sitting in a plastic chair in an SDN clinic room, mind blank for the first time in a while. It's not a good blank. It's the empty, ringing silence of a man who's just been ushered to an execution chamber. This- no, this can't be right. Right?Â
Except it can, and it probably is. It makes sense given his historyâ Robert can't even begin to guess how many concussions he sustained during his tenure in the mech. At the time it was one of the easiest injuries to walk off, just a little headache and maybe some nausea or light sensitivity before he was hurling himself back into the game.Â
"But it causes a lot of complications, especially the more you age. Unfortunately the research on CTE is still pretty new. Most of the treatment now will be symptom management and making sure you have a stable support network."Â
Yesterday was their fifth anniversary, Robert thinks, nausea climbing the back of his throat as he twists the ring on his left finger and thinks about the fact that Chad will outlive him. Probably by a lot.Â
He thinks about last week, sitting at their breakfast table and sipping coffee before they get ready for work together. He thinks about the way Chad set a plate of eggs and toast in front of him, taking his position at Robert's side (they always sat next to each other at the table, always) before clearing his throat.Â
"Rob. We need to talk about this."Â
Robert spears a piece of scrambled egg, chewing as his eyes drift to where they leave the news running every morning. There's an adoption event going on at the shelter later today. "Talk about what?"
"Don't play dumb, bitch, you know what I'm talking about. You haven't been⊠all there, lately."
"You calling me stupid?"
Chad narrows his eyes, pointing at Robert with his fork in between bites. "Stop deflecting."Â
After a moment he sighs, turning to face Robert a little better, tugging a curl with something close to apprehension. "You've been different. You constantly lose things, you keep forgetting things, you keep having these mood swings and- and that's just not like you. I'm worried about you, asshole."Â
Robert agreed to get checked out just to put his mind at ease. They had great health insurance and he would get a couple hours off work to be poked and proddedâ he wasn't even that worried when they asked him to see a shrink. That placidity faltered a little bit when they ordered MRI and CT scans, ushering him out the door with discussions of a follow up appointment to go over results.Â
He'd been trying so hard too, going on walks and stretching and drinking these godawful green smoothies because he thought it would give him a little more time with the man he loved.Â
Green smoothies can't save you from a neurodegenerative disease, Robert thinks, head a million miles away as the doctors and nurses around him talk about next steps. He thinks about his dog and his husband and his beautiful little house.Â
Robert Robertson looks down at the tiled floor and begins to mourn himself.Â
this is so peak holy shit
celebratory flambert backshots because my laptop is fixed yayy
Professional HR violators
chapter 2 of Kiss the Match is up <3
excerpt:
His lungs forgot how to work. Air went thin, then thinner. His heart was beating too hard, too fast, every hit of it rattling through him while the room seemed to tilt wrong around the edges. Every other sound in the bar dropped away until all he could hear was the television, the reporterâs voice, the crowd noise, all of it blaring straight into his skull. He shouldnât have come. He shouldâve stayed at SDN. Shouldâve been with Chase. Shouldâve been going through security cams. Shouldâve been working.
read here: âȘâȘ -`âĄÂŽ-
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hello Flambert Nation ive come to deliver my villain!robert :p
Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Dispatch (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Flambae | Chad/Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man & Z-Team, Chase | Track Star & Robert Robertson | Mecha Man Characters: Flambae | Chad (Dispatch), Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Chase | Track Star (Dispatch), Blonde Blazer | Mandy (Dispatch), Invisigal | Courtney (Dispatch), Coupé | Janelle (Dispatch), Punch Up | Colm (Dispatch), Z-Team (Dispatch), Sonar | Victor (Dispatch), Malevola Gibb, Shroud | Elliot Connors, Golem | Bruno (Dispatch), Waterboy | Herman (Dispatch), Flambae | Chad's Niece (Dispatch), Flambae | Chad's Family (Dispatch), Flambae | Chad's Sibling (Dispatch) Additional Tags: Villain Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, enemies to its complicated to enemies to lovers, Bisexual Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man Has Issues, Switch Robert Robertson | Mecha Man, Switch Flambae | Chad (Dispatch), Sub Top Flambae, Dom Bottom Robert, My First AO3 Post, Obsessive Behavior, Flambae | Chad is so Whipped (Dispatch), and he hasn't even hit that, Safe Sane and Consensual, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Tagging as I go, ive never written smut before please bare with me, Robert Robertson | Mecha Man Has Augments, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brainwashing, Shroud | Elliot Connors Being an Asshole, Getting Together, I'm Bad At Summaries
***Â Â
Robert Robertson disappears right before the final fight with Shroud, leaving the Z-Team to win without himâand celebrate without really meaning it. Shroud still ends up behind bars, but it doesnât feel like a win.
While they search for Robert, a new villain is on the rise stealing components, baiting heroes into bad calls, disappearing before anyone can pin him down. With every hit, SDN looks slower, messier and easier to break.
Flambae chases him like itâs the only thing holding him together, even when he canât tell if itâs hope⊠or the need to prove he didnât fail Robert.
A Villain Robert AU where Shroud gets his successorâand Chad refuses to let Robert stay lost.
I finally finished this short comic!! I'm going to try and churn out more art while I have time đ«Ą
Close ups:
mask stays on
Been thinking about a cliché college AU Flambert with a side of betting: Chad, frat boy and football player, makes a bet with his friends that he can sleep with Robert Robertson, an engineering (or robotics) major and the one person on campus who genuinely cannot stand him.
The bet happens at a frat party after Victor and the others start giving Chad shit about âlosing his edge,â which is an insane accusation to make just because heâs been bored lately. Nobody interesting crossing his path for a couple of weeks is not the same thing as him going soft, and he isnât about to let them act like it is. One stupid challenge later, there is a hundred dollars on the line, a month to pull it off, and Chad, being Chad, shakes on it without hesitation because at that point it still sounds like easy money.
Then the front door opens, and in walks Robert Robertson with his friends.
Victor laughs so hard he nearly falls off the couch. Chad, meanwhile, is left wondering whether homicide counts as forfeiting, because Robert is the one person on campus he never would have picked for this. Heâs too smart, too sharp, too self-contained in that maddening way that makes everyone else feel flimsy by comparison. Heâs the kind of engineering and robotics major that professors know by name and other students talk about in the library like heâs some kind of academic cryptid. Terrifyingly competent, annoyingly unreadable, and, more personally, the reason Chad lost a tooth freshman year.
Or fine, technically Chad had been the one who tried to swing at him and missed. But Robert threw the water first, and Chad still feels like that should count for something.
So no, this is not ideal.
Still, thereâs no way heâs backing out now, especially not with Victor already wheezing himself half to death on the couch. He spends the rest of the night trying to get Robert alone and failing spectacularly. Robert is never by himself for long. Mandy's with him half the time, and when she isnât, somebody else always isâa classmate, a friend, a lab partner, some random honors kid who probably color-codes his notes. Every time Chad thinks he has an opening, Robert is already turning away, already leaving, already looking at him like whatever Chad is trying to do is too obvious to be worth acknowledging.
And that look, more than anything else, is what gets under Chadâs skin.
At some point Robert disappears upstairs, and Chad waits just long enough to avoid looking desperate before following him to one of the spare bedrooms with a narrow balcony off the back. Robert is standing outside with a cigarette between his fingers and, as it turns out, no lighter. Chad lights it for him, tries to make the gesture look casual, and gets called on it almost immediately. Somehow, in what becomes one of the more humiliating moments of his life, he then hears himself asking Robert if he would tutor him in Quantitative Decision Modeling, a real class he is absolutely bombing (and an excuse he made up on the spot to continue talking to him).
Robert lifts an eyebrow and says the price of any help at all is an apology for freshman year.
Chad gives him a terrible one first, obviously. It is defensive and half-assed and packed with enough sarcasm to ruin the whole effort, and Robert just stands there, unimpressed. So Chad tries again, this time admitting plainly that he was an asshole, that trying to punch him had been a stupid move, and that being drunk and pissed off did not make it right.
Robert studies him for a moment, exhales smoke into the dark, and says, âAlright. Thatâs probably as good as it gets from you.â
âSo,â Chad says. âYouâll tutor me?â
Robert blinks. âI never said that.â
Chad stares.
âI donât know what your angle is, but I wasnât the only one who took that class. Iâm sure you can find another tutor in no time,â Robert says, stepping back toward the doorway, and then, with a shit-eating grin, adds, âThanks for the apology, though.â
Chad ends up standing there on the balcony, irritated, embarrassed, and strangely exhilarated, because for the first time in weeks he isn't bored anymore.
So he keeps at it.
He starts showing up at Robertâs job to order coffee. He appears in the library with increasingly flimsy excuses. He lingers outside classrooms he has no business being near, complains loudly about QDM in places where Robert can absolutely overhear him, and generally makes himself impossible to ignore. Robert tells him to get lost every single time. Chad keeps coming back every single time.
At first it's mostly persistence and irritation, with Chad treating the whole thing like a challenge and Robert refusing to give him an inch. Then Robert makes the mistake of glancing at one of Chadâs assignments, and maybe âmistakeâ is not the right word because inevitability feels more accurate. Chad has come armed with a half-finished paper so catastrophically bad it looks like it was written by a toddler, and Robert reacts to it like Chad had personally insulted him.
Eventually pity, money, and Chadâs utter refusal to disappear wear Robert down enough that he agrees.
And that's when things really start going wrong.
Because the tutoring is awfulâgenuinely, spectacularly awfulâbut not in any way that makes Chad want to stop. Robert is ruthless from the start, taking one look at Chadâs notes and informing him that they read like they were written by someone with a concussion. Chad, unwilling to let that stand, fires back. From there it only escalates. Robert says Chad has the attention span of a badly socialized puppy; Chad calls him an elitist snob with a superiority complex and a dangerous caffeine dependency. They spend entire sessions fighting over concepts Chad should have learned weeks ago, and somehow Chad ends up having more fun than he's had in months.
Thatâs the problem, really. Nobody ever keeps up with him like this. Most people either laugh, flirt, get flustered, or let him win eventually. Robert does none of those things. He meets Chad point for point, insult for insult, with dry, vicious little comments delivered in the flattest tone imaginable, and the meaner he gets when heâs tired, the more Chad likes him for it. Their tutoring sessions start to feel less like academic help and more like foreplay by combat.
Somewhere along the way, tutoring stops being just tutoring. It turns into coffee after the library, then diner food because they stay so late studying they get kicked out of the cafĂ©. Chad starts walking Robert home after late-night sessions. Robert starts visiting him at practice. Chad begins showing up at Robertâs apartment with assignments in one hand and takeout in the other, and Robert complains every single time before stepping aside and letting him in.
The line blurs so gradually Chad barely notices it happening.
They still bicker constantly, still snipe at each other on instinct, but now Robert nudges his foot against Chadâs under the table when Chad gets too smug, and Chad knows what kind of coffee Robert buys after a terrible lab day. Robert learns that when Chad gets unusually quiet, it means he's actually trying and not just zoning out, and Chadâwithout ever meaning toâstarts collecting details about him. What music he studies to. How he rubs at the bridge of his nose when heâs tired. How different he looks when he lets himself relax.
Chad starts finding excuses to touch him. A hand on his lower back. Fingers brushing when he steals Robertâs pen. His arm slung around Robertâs shoulders on the walk home, late enough at night that either of them can pretend it means less than it does. Their tutoring sessions turn into hangouts so naturally that by the time they're obviously dates, neither of them ever bothers saying the word.
One night Chad shows up at Robertâs apartment with food because Robert had mentioned, almost absentmindedly, that he hadn't eaten since lunch. Robert opens the door in an old sweatshirt, looks at the takeout bag, looks at Chad, and steps aside without a word. His apartment is cramped, cluttered, and overflowing with textbooks, wires, coffee cups, loose papers, mechanical parts, and half-finished projects. The kitchen table is buried under enough engineering debris that they end up eating on the floor instead. Chad makes a joke about getting tetanus just from looking at the place, and Robert tells him to shut up and hand over the chopsticks.
So they sit there shoulder to shoulder while the city outside the window slowly darkens, and the conversation drifts from classes to football to robotics to professors to all the tiny, useless details that make up a person. Somewhere in the middle of Robert explaining a project with his hands moving fast and animated through the air, Chad realizes he could listen to him talk for hours. Robert, for his part, watches Chad with that same sharp, assessing look of his, but there's something different in it now, something more curious than dismissive.
When they finally hook up, it feels less like a surprise and more like inevitability. Chad is leaning over Robertâs shoulder to look at a problem set, Robert turns to say something, and suddenly theyâre too close. Robertâs mouth is right there, and then one of them kisses the otherâChad can't even remember who moved first, only that suddenly Robertâs mouth was there and then everywhere, and then Chad had him backed against the counter with his hands in Chadâs shirt and his teeth at Chadâs lower lip.
âYou are so annoying,â Robert says into his mouth.
âYou like me.â
âI tolerate you.â
âLiar.â
âDick.â
It's messy and hot and a little mean in the way they both like best, all the tension of weeks collapsing at once. Chad had expected it to feel like winning.
Instead it feels like relief.
After that, everything blurs.
Chad finds himself wanting him with a kind of intensity that starts to feel genuinely humiliating.
Not just physically, although physically too, obviously. He wants the bickering, the texts, the tutoring, the late-night food runs, the way Robert looks at him when he says something especially stupid. He wants to keep sliding into Robertâs life until thereâs no point anymore where one ends and the other begins. He wants it all in a way that should really alarm him.
After that, tutoring becomes the excuse instead of the reason. Chad ends up in Robertâs bed often enough that leaving a toothbrush just feels right. Robert falls asleep against him on the couch. Chad, who has never thought of himself as someone built for anything remotely domestic, discovers that he wants it with a sincerity that feels actively dangerous. He wants the sex, sure, and the banter and the thrill of matching Robert blow for blow, but he also wants the stupid small things: shared takeout, cranky mornings, Robert fitting himself into the shape of Chadâs life so neatly it starts to seem like he was always meant to be there.
Which is how Chad, against all odds and common sense, catches real feelings.
Naturally, thatâs when things go to shit.
It happens during a hangout with Chadâs friends; itâs the first time Robert is meeting everyone officially. Victor, being Victor, says something offhand about how he still cannot believe any of this started because of the bet, and the room goes dead still. Robert looks from Victor to Chad and asks, âWhat bet?â
Chad feels every muscle in his body lock up. Victorâs face goes blank with horror a second too late, and Robertâs expression changes in such small increments most people probably would have missed it. Chad does not. He sees the warmth drain out first, then the amusement, then everything else, until what is left is cold enough to make him feel sick.
âRobert,â Chad says immediately. âFuck wait, let me explainââ
âFuck you,â Robert says, and leaves.
Of course Chad goes after him. Robert won't let him get close enough to touch, and after that nothing works. Chad texts, calls, shows up, tries apology after apology, and gets nowhere. At first he convinces himself he can fix it if he just finds the right words, but after a week passes he is forced to accept that this is not the kind of damage you can smooth over with words alone. He tries to do the mature thing and give Robert space, which lasts maybe two days before he completely loses his mind.
Flowers come first. Robert leaves them outside his apartment until somebody else takes them. Chad tries alcohol next, leaving an expensive bottle with a note attached. That at least disappears inside, though Robert still doesn't answer. Then Chad starts writing letters, because texting is too easy to ignore and because he needs Robert to see effort, to see proof that Chad is trying in a way he has probably never really had to try for anyone else. Some of the letters are apologies, some are explanations, and some are just Chad admitting in increasingly embarrassing detail that he misses him so badly he feels physically sick.
He even asks Robertâs friends for help, which is just as humiliating as it sounds. Courtney laughs in his face, curses him out, and says he deserves to suffer. Her girlfriend Mandy is gentler, though not by much.
âHeâs hurt,â she tells Chad. âAnd angry. Which he gets to be.â
âI know.â
âDo you?â Mandy asks. âBecause every solution you come up with still sounds like you think effort should get you instant forgiveness.â
Chad hates that she's right.
He keeps trying anyway, just less carelessly now. He waves at Robert on campus and gets ignored. He holds doors open and gets brushed right past. He tries apologizing in person and Robert walks away before he gets three words out. Every rejection leaves Chad more miserable, more frustrated, and somehow more gone for him than before.
Then, because his brain is deeply diseased, he manages to switch into one of Robertâs classes.
The first time he walks in and sees Robert already sitting there, he gets exactly the reaction he anticipated: one long, flat stare that says, This again? But at least itâs something. That same week, the professor assigns a group project. Robert gets paired with some random guy. The random guy, after one suspiciously persuasive conversation with Chad in the hallway, suddenly decides he would love to switch groups after all. Robert is less than thrilled, but at least now he has to talk to Chad.
Being Robertâs project partner is not forgiveness. It isnât even kindness. Robert works him like he's extracting payment from God himself, sending him for coffee, making him carry books, redo formatting, gather sources, print articles, and rewrite sections of the project until his eyes cross. Chad lets him. Half because he deserves it, half because being ordered around by Robert is still infinitely better than being ignored.
And slowly, very slowly, the ice starts to crack.
Not enough to call it fixed. Just enough to feel like maybe it could be.
Then Alice spots Robert in a coffee shop with another guy and reports back immediately, and Chad is there in under ten minutes. The guy is leaning in. Robert is listening. Chad sees red so fast he doesn't even have time to think before he's walking over, dropping into the empty seat beside Robert, and slinging an arm over the back of his chair like he has any right to do that.
Robert turns to look at him with terrifying calm. âWhat are you doing?â
âJoining you.â
âNo, go home.â
The other guy looks deeply uncomfortable. Chad smiles at him anyway and says, âDonât mind me.â
Robert closes his eyes for a second like he is praying for patience, then turns to the guy and says, âSorry, looks like weâll have to cut this short.â The guy leaves so fast it almost makes Chad feel bad. Almost.
The second he's gone, Robert rounds on him.
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â
âMe?â
âYes, you,â Robert snaps. âWhat was that caveman ass behavior? Territorial pissing? Should I be grateful you didnât beat your chest too?â
âI justââ
âYou do not get to ambush me, scare people off, and act possessive after what you did.â
The jealousy that got him there drains out of him all at once, replaced by the awful realization that maybe he really has gone too far this time. Robert keeps going, laying into him about boundaries, entitlement, and how embarrassing his behavior had just been, while Chad visibly deflates in real time.
Then, after a long beat, Robert sighs.
âI was tutoring him,â he says.
Chad blinks. âWhat?â
âI was just tutoring him,â Robert repeats, slower this time, like he is talking to a complete idiot.
The jealousy vanishes so fast it leaves Chad dizzy. What replaces it is such immediate, stupid relief that it must be written all over his face, because Robert looks at him and rolls his eyes.
âYou better make up for the money I lost not tutoring him,â he mutters.
âAs long as Iâm the only one you tutor, Iâll pay you triple.â
âPossessive dick.â But there is fondness in it nowâtired, reluctant, buried under exasperation, but real.
Chad grins before he can stop himself and asks, âDoes this mean I'm forgiven?â
âNo.â
His face must fall in a way that gives him away, because Robertâs gaze flicks over him and softens despite himself.
âYouâll be making this up to me for the rest of our lives,â he says, and pulls him in for a kiss.
Not for long, just enough to shut him up and wipe Chadâs brain pleasantly blank, just enough to leave him staring when they pull apart because Robert still has enough dignity left for both of them and is clearly unwilling to do more than that in public. Robert takes one look at Chadâs expression and pauses, because Chad's looking at him like he's just been handed the sun.
And what Robert sees there, with a mixture of horror and helpless affection, is love. Or something ruinously close to it.
Chad swallows once, still dazed, and says, âDoes this mean weâre getting married?â
Robert groans.
âââââââčâ±âŒâœâ°âčââââââ
the thought of robert walking chad like a dog was funny to me so thats how this came to be lmao
btw if you follow me for my villain!Robert don't worry im almost done heh
(NSFW under the cut) I got a little silly here.