Sanaith



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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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    06 Dec 2025

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    Robert slumps into his chair, headset half-on, the SDN bullpen still humming with the last dregs of the night shift. The coffee tastes like battery acid, but it’s the only thing keeping his eyes open.

    Then the comm crackles.

    “Hello, Robert.”

    Phenomaman’s voice, flat as a gravestone.

    “I would like to learn about intercourse from a human person.”

    Robert chokes on his coffee. Why is this his life?

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    Language:
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    12/?
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    26 Nov 2025