#trans flambae

[r4ttycl0wn]

spreading trans flambae propaganda because of his stupid name

[dapperdoodlenoodle]

T4T FtM Mechabae my beloved (Full on Bluesky).

[teethbomb]

go my yuri and other bs

[honeymilkbubbletea]

Be who you are for your prideeeee 🌈🗣🔥

Happy Pride month everybody!!! 🌈😘

Sorry I haven't been posting for a while I just have some stuff going on right now and I haven't been feeling too good lately (health wise) sorry again!

[birdsandbeetlesandmoths]

Was having some T4T Flambert thoughts and something is blossoming out of this

Robert having really shitty self-care, often cutting corners for cost and efficiency, not wanting to hinder Mecha Man in any way.

That extending to his binding habits. He used to bind them with plain bandages and cheap tape when he was younger, exchanging the flat silhouette it offered for the ache in his ribs that he’d push through the next day.

He’d also get really cheap wearable binders online and they’d usually hurt him more than help anything, so he rarely used those, sticking to constricting bandages and tape.

Robert checks all of the boxes for bad chest binding.

He passes out after long days without undoing his bindings. He leaves the same bindings on for multiple days on end.

Usually because the pain became normal to him, almost welcome. Also because he forgets.

And some days he doesn’t have the motivation to deal with unwrapping and rewrapping for every shower, so he just lets the water soak the dressings until they tightened when they dried.

He wakes up more sore than he should be because of his oversights.

He doesn’t exactly get any more caring even when he starts buying binding tape instead, since he keeps using too many bandages for his actual wounds to waste them on his chest.

It gets no better when his savings run dry and he hasn’t been able to afford a new role of binding tape. He uses the third of the role he has left sparingly, leaving the same strips on for sometimes as long as a week or more.

He doesn’t fall out of the habit even as more of a steady income fills his pockets.

And he still fails to shake them when his smoking hot boyfriend with an egotistical image of himself enters his life.

One day, when Chad is staying over, their banter turns to flirting which turns to thinly veiled innuendos which turns to a heated makeout session which eventually turns to the bedroom where Chad is crowding Robert against the bed and pushing up onto his back.

Chad tugs Robert’s shirt up over his head, nosing at his stomach and the patchy hair growing from the periodic testosterone use that he’s only recently started again. He doesn’t look up to see the state that Robert’s chest tape is in until his fingertips brush the residually sticky edge and he recoils immediately.

“Bitch, what the fuck is that.”

“Uhhhhhhh tape? It’s safe.”

“I know what it fucking is. Why it’s still on after it looks like you rolled under a cabinet in the Rec Room and left it spotless.”

Robert doesn’t think that the slight gathering of lint at the edges of the tape is anything near what that description might look like. Additionally, he was not expecting Chad to get so outraged at it.

“When was the last time you changed them?” Chad asks, narrowing his eyes.

When Robert genuinely has to pause to think, Chad is yanking him up and into the bathroom, launching into a long-winded lecture on proper binding and chest care.

All the while, he’s rifling through Robert’s drawers and warming a damp towel to loosen the adhesive a bit more. Robert can’t help the wobbly smile that rises up.

And Chad just— starts changing his dressings for him. Robert can’t form a coherent sentence, verbally or mentally.

Chad busies himself disposing of the old strips carefully and with the least amount of pain.

Cleaning Robert’s chest with a reverence and gentleness so contracting to the way he’s snapping and almost yelling at Robert at the same time.

Robert finds he doesn’t quite mind. He’s gotten a little bit lost at the first touch to his chest that he hasn’t immediately felt like hurling from.

Chad’s hands are wide, softer than he expected. He forgets how much he adore them, how they smooth over him with an affection and appreciation that he hasn’t felt from someone ever.

A feeling that he has never felt such a strong desire to reciprocate until him. Until Chad.

He procures new strips of tape, and Robert stretches his arms above his head as his boyfriend instructs so he can smooth the tape down with his certain, warm hands.

Somehow, he makes the bindings feel more comfortable and unnoticeable than Robert has ever managed to make them in over a decade.

Chad kisses between the two strips, like it’s a given, before he stands to his full height, thumbing at the edges.

Robert can’t say anything except a sincere, exhaled thank you before Chad’s searing mouth is on his again.

He mutters out a threat against Robert’s lips.

“If I see that shit again, I am locking you in here for fucking ever.”

Robert snickers and chuckles out a “Yes, sir.” before he’s pulling Chad as close as he possibly can.

Hoping to convey the fact that Chad’s almost mindless, obvious care leaves Robert shaking, close to crying, feeling more seen and loved than he ever has by anyone in his life.

[s3ntientv0idmoth]

Nobody look at me

Pt 2

[confused-owlll]

Okay, I came up with this idea while half asleep so if it’s OOC, forgive me.

Transmasc Flambae, right? I was randomly thinking after reading some fics about how he’d take testosterone— gel, injection? Then it hit me how funny it’d be if Flambae was afraid of needles.

He can’t use the gel because it burns off his skin whenever he uses his power, but he’s fucking terrified of needles. Gets physically ill just watching someone else get a shot, even if it’s on TV. Of course he’d never tell anyone. God knows how he was transitioning before but as soon as he gets close with Prism, she’s the one doing his shots for him.

So anyway, fic idea where Prism is somehow unavailable and Robert has to give Flambae his shot. Flambae trying to act put together but he’s being really quiet and fidgety, can’t even look at Robert holding the needle or he’s sure he’ll bolt. Robert rubbing circles on Flambae’s knee with his thumb, gentle tone as he praises him. Flambae blushing and threatening to kill Robert if he tells anyone his secret (the needles thing, not the trans thing). Bonus points if Robert is also transmasc, but much less open about it then Flambae (Chad wears a suit that purposefully shoes off his top surgery scars vs Robert binding/taping for unhealthy amounts of hours, etc.).

This idea could also be cute if you replace Robert with Waterboy (it’d be a funny juxtaposition for someone like Herm to be super comfortable with needles, maybe his grandma has diabetes or smth).

[sweet-little-star-juno]

Mama’s Boy

Little!Robert & CG!Flambae

description: Robert gets sick and regresses; Flambae saves the day

TW: sickness (throwing up, sore throat, body aches, mentions of headaches, etc), swearing, misgendering (Robert calls Flambae “mama” because he’s feverish and that’s literally it) (This was supposed to be specifically an agere fic but the agere isn’t super noticeable to me unless you like squint in a couple parts but it’s there!!!) AO3

Robert hates being sick.

This is one of the basic facts of the universe: the earth is round, the year is 365 days long, and Robert Robertson III would rather lose a fistfight than catch any sort of sickness.

Here he was though, curled up on his couch with a migraine, sore throat, and slightly more body pain than usual.

Robert groaned as he attempted to roll over, shivering slightly as his arm left the blanket to reach for his phone. Beef was asleep somewhere nearby, and Robert concluded that he was probably on his pillow on the floor.

As he opened his phone, Robert considered calling in sick today before quickly shutting down the idea. He needed to be there to wrangle the Z-teamers, because none of the other dispatchers could handle their brash personalities and daily defiance (believe him, Blazer had tried).

So painfully, Robert managed to push himself off of the couch and into a sitting position, where things took a turn for the worse; as he sat up, his vision blurred with dizziness. He persisted though, opting for a hoodie instead of his usual button-down because the ache in his fingers was almost too much.

Robert barely made it to the building, collapsing on a couch in the lobby and fighting tooth and nail to keep whatever junk food crumbs he has eaten in the past few days safely lodged in his stomach. Beef sat nearby, as if trying to guard him from passersby. It worked for the time being, and Robert even managed to stand up and get in the elevator.

What Robert wasn’t managing, however, was the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him as the elevator lurched to a stop once he reached his floor. He did his best to make it to his desk and sit down with Beef, but the more he walked, the worse he felt. His body was freezing, and his mind felt distant and soft; not quite dissociation, but something similar…

Robert made it through two calls before hobbling to the bathroom and puking. His stomach churned as he felt his mind shift more and more, leaving him feeling anxious and even more nauseated than before. Everything was rapidly becoming too much as his nausea settled slightly, leaving his throat clicking as his body tried to keep whatever food he had left in his stomach.

He curled in on himself, the cool porcelain of the toilet causing him to shudder. God, he was so cold-

Robert found himself thinking back to when would get sick as a child, before his mom left; he thought about how she would rub his back as he vomited, or fed him soup on the couch as she promised him he would be okay…

He wiped tears from his eyes as he pushed the memories away. I’m a grown ass man, he thought, I can handle being sick-

The stall door opened, blinding Robert momentarily as his eyes adjusted and tried to process who was standing in front of him.

The figure was taller than him, with long hair that had been tied back in a ponytail. Robert still couldn’t see it clearly, but it reached a hand down and turned his face toward it.

“Mama? Is that…is it you?”

************

Flambae didn’t know what he was expecting when he went searching for the dispatcher, but this definitely wasn’t it.

He could tell something was wrong when he heard Chase in his ear as he muttered something about Robert’s “stupid fuckin ass coming to work sick”. He hadn’t been dispatched yet (slow morning) so he figured he’d check it out; purely out of curiosity of course.

He searched the break room and the lobby before making his way to the bathroom and hearing a pitiful gag, knowing almost immediately it could only really be Robert. Flambae made his way over to the stall, preparing only his best insults and comebacks for the man as he pried open the stall door.

Flambae could safely say he didn’t expect what he saw: Robert, sweaty and very sick, sitting on the ground wearing a hoodie while shivering and crying quietly. He was too shocked to speak, honestly; he was expecting a cold, not whatever the hell was wrong with his boss now.

Robert squinted and looked up at Flambae, eyes teary as he tried to process who he was looking at.

“Mama? Is that…is it you?”

Flambae didn’t speak for a moment, too stunned to say anything. Did Robert think…

Oh he must really be sick.

Flambae knelt down, putting his hand on Robert’s forehead. The man was burning up with fever, just as he suspected.

“Why the fuck are you not at home? You’re supposed to stay home when you’re sick, you stupid bitch” He questioned. Robert whined and shuffled further into the stall, quickly realizing that the man before him was not his mama.

“Go away…” he murmured weakly, shielding his face weakly from Flambae. Flambae sighed and sat down fully in front of the stall. Robert’s face still had a bit of vomit on it, and Flambae couldn’t help but feel a prick of sadness at the thought of this feverish little jerk throwing up in a bathroom stall this early in the morning and being so out of it he thought his mother had come to get him.

Flambae stood up and tried his best to quickly wet a paper towel and sit back down in front of Robert. This piqued his interest slightly, watching Flambae’s every move before uncurling himself slightly.

“Bob-Bob, that cannot be a comfy place to sit after puking up your fucking guts. C’mere so I can wipe your face off, you’ve still got shit on it.”

Robert shook his head vehemently, using the back of his hand to wipe his mouth. It didn’t work (obviously), and when the gross feeling remained, he uncurled slightly and scooted closer to Flambae.

Flambae sighed and gently began to wipe Robert’s mouth with the paper towel, and Robert slowly began to relax into the touch. When he was done, he crumpled the paper towel and threw it in the vague direction of the garbage can. He went to stand, but Robert whined and put out a weak hand.

“Don’t go, please…”

It was barely more than a whisper, yet Flambae almost slipped and fell at the sheer speed in which he found himself back on the floor. Robert pushed himself away from the toilet and closer to Flambae, almost ending up in the other man’s lap. Flambae felt himself turn red before pushing whatever thoughts caused him to feel that way out of his mind.

“You need to go home, you know that right? There’s no way in fucking hell Chase is gonna let you keep working like this.”

Robert whined again and Flambae sighed. He felt the man push further onto his lap and looked down to find him curled up into a ball, with his head resting on Flambae’s exposed chest.

“I don’t wanna go home.”

“Why the fuck not? You too worried one of us is gonna burn down the fucking building?”

Flambae knew this would usually earn him an eye roll and a “get back to work”, but this wasn’t the case as Robert closed his eyes and ever so slowly relaxed the tense muscles in his shoulders.

“Just don’t like bein’ by myself anymore…” he trailed off.

Flambae was slightly taken aback by this, but it did slowly start to make sense; Robert would get to the office incredibly early and seemingly not do anything except talk to Royd, or Chase, or whoever was in the building really, and wouldn’t leave until the entire team was gone.

He sighed and put a hand on Robert’s forehead again. Still burning up.

“Alright Bob-Bob,” Flambae whispered, “I’m going to make you a deal; you let me take you the fuck home, and I’ll stop by the store and get you some soup and whatever the fuck else you want. Sound good?”

Robert stirred slightly at this before settling back to his place and nodding into Flambae’s chest. Good, it’s about time this dumb fuck took a day off, Flambae thought to himself.

He very quickly promised Robert that he would be right back before explaining the situation to Chase and clocking out. The store trip went relatively quickly, with Flambae leading Robert through the store and Robert resting his head on Flambae’s shoulder on occasion. Flambae picked up some soup cans, nasuea and stomach medicine, and some other snacks for Robert. When asked what he wanted, Robert would simply hum or shake his head.

When the two men got to the checkout counter, Robert spotted something, tapping Flambae’s shoulder and pointing to it.

The toy was a small blue dog, with light blue spots and black plastic eyes. It wore a green felt collar, and Robert seemed infatuated by it. Flambae sighed and smiled slightly.

“If you want it so bad, go fucking get it Bobert.”

Robert looked up at Flambae with wide eyes before shaking his head.

“It’s stupid, you don’t have to….”

Before Robert could finish the thought, Flambae was back at the checkout counter with the little blue dog, and to Robert’s surprise, another toy; this one looked like a raccoon, but was red in some places instead of grey and black.

Flambae paid for the items quickly, handing them to Robert before scooping him up into his arms. Robert yelped, but quickly settled into the bridal carry as Flambae flew him back to his apartment. Once there, Flambae gently placed the items he bought on the counter and Robert on the couch before returning to the kitchen and digging around for a pot.

“Why are you bein’ so nice?”

The question took Flambae by surprise. Why was he being so nice to Robert right now?

“…because I can be nice sometimes, bitch.” Flambae quipped, emptying a can of soup into the pot before turning on the stove. He opened the bag with the two toys in it before going to the living room and depositing them in Robert’s arms.

“Thought your dog could use a friend, so you got a red panda too.”

Robert looked at the two toys in his lap, the soup on the stove, and the man standing before him before quietly bursting into tears.

Flambae swore quietly and began to shush the man, wiping away tears as they fell and doing his best to soothe him. Why the fuck does Robert cry so much when he’s sick?! he thought as the tears slowed to hiccups.

He quickly made his way over to the stove and emptied the soup into the only bowl in the cabinet, grabbing a spoon and reminding himself to make Robert buy himself more things before going back to the couch and sitting down next to him. He offered the bowl to Robert, who shook his head and tried to push the soup away.

“I’m gonna make a mess…” he said quietly, voice trailing off. Flambae took a deep breath and sighed, pulling Robert into his lap and feeding him the soup himself. At first Robert was surprised, but quickly began to eat small bites as Flambae spooned them out.

Since Beef was still at the office with Chase, Flambae wasn’t worried about him eating whatever was left in the bowl, so he sat it on the floor next to the couch. He shuffled sideways and leaned back against the couch’s armrest, with Robert holding both toys and sighing as he began to relax and fall asleep. Flambae was making a note on his phone to remind himself to give Robert some medicine when we woke up when Robert murmured something quietly to himself.

“What was that, Bob? Didn’t hear you.”

Robert sighed and his eyes fluttered one last time before he drifted of, quietly holding his plush dog before whispering a little louder to Flambae.

“Thanks for being my mama…”

Flambae’s heart swelled in his chest as he ran a hand down Robert’s back.

“Of course Bobert, of fucking course.”