11 Works by phorever
Listing Works
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dispatching (emergency services, not metahumans) by phorever
Fandoms: Dispatch (Video Game), The Pitt (TV)
26 Aug 2026
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Summary
Robert looks at them one by one as he says with a small lick of pride, "Welcome to the Pitt. I'm Doctor Robert Robertson—"
"Robert Robertson?" Alice wonders aloud, disbelieving.
"—but everyone just calls me Robert."
Or: Dispatch, but throw 'em in the Pitt.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 4,177
- Chapters:
- 1/?
- Hits:
- 20
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Summary
"Mecha Man, you arrested Flambae only a few years ago. You two went from years-long enemies to working together side-by-side with the SDN to battle crime and, notably, defeat Shroud. What do you have to say about that progression?"
Robert's face turns, and his eyes meet Flambae's, standing beside him in front of his respect podium.
Mecha Man and Flambae are secretly in a relationship. How does the public react when they begin to suspect it?
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"We both know we don't have time to stand around and listen to you stutter out half a thought, so get on with it. What about her?" she asks again.
Whitaker takes a single, steadying breath. "She …" He wets his lips, eyes scattering across the room before they return no more confidently to meet hers, "She took a scalpel out of one of the suture carts in the hallway."
Or: What if Whitaker had seen Santos take the scalpel and told Garcia?
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to mourn a loss that has yet to happen by phorever
Fandoms: Gachiakuta (Manga), Gachiakuta (Anime)
01 Jul 2026
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Summary
Her smile falls further. "It hurts," she whispers.
"I know," Zanka mumbles, continuing to count her breaths.
"It hurts," she repeats, and this time her voice breaks on a sob, making her frame convulse.
His train of thought is interrupted, and he starts from zero again. "I know," he repeats, his composure shattering, his features scrunching into a devastated expression as he frowns so hard his face aches.
Zanka is directly faced with the possibility of losing Riyo.
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a tapestry of stories (woven with scarred skin) by phorever
Fandoms: Dispatch (Video Game)
06 May 2026
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Summary
“Just let me take over this time. You promised me I could ask about your …” he trails, rather reluctant in finishing the thought aloud.
“Scars,” Robert finishes, the word surprisingly not awkward, nor stilted. He had believed it would catch on the pricks of his painful memories as it left his mouth. “And yes, I did.”
Flambae learns about Robert's scars.
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and when i burn, my sinful thoughts will die last by phorever
Fandoms: Dispatch (Video Game)
09 Apr 2026
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Summary
“I think—you’ve, uh,” he rasps awkwardly through pants, “got the wrong … guy.”
Flambae’s brows furrow, and his familiar angered expression flits over his face quick as the spread of wildfire in dry season. “Oh, trust me, I wish I could forget what your stupid face looks like.” His expression maintains its intensity as he asks with complete seriousness, “What the actual fuck are you doing?”
Robert self-harms. Flambae finds him in the aftermath.
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“Chase!” Robert calls with the vigor of a person seeking shelter amidst a battlefield in a waging war. “Chase, hey, hey—” the palm cradling his cheek draws back and meets it again with a tap that grows persistent as he demands, “heyheyhey look at me—look at me!”
Or: an extended version of the ending of episode 6.
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The family legacy was to die in that suit. His legacy was to live, knowing death would follow him out of the crevices of those metal corners and into the lives of those around him. Those foolish enough to interact, to reach out, to care.
In which Robert reflects on the events leading up to the death of Elliot Connors and faces difficulties in accepting himself as both Mecha Man and Robert Robertson. He trips, stumbles, and struggles to find his footing. His loved ones are there to steady him.
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Curly laughs, encompassing and cordial, and the mood tangibly lightens. The ambience of Swansea’s loud chewing is audible beneath his placation, “I’m kidding, Jim. Just didn’t want anyone leaving the table without having a good laugh, but I guess the joke didn’t fly as good as the Tulpar does, huh?” He pats his shoulder good-naturedly, before giving it a quick grip and shake as his laugh peters out into an amiable chuckle. Jimmy scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind his clouded eyes.
In which Daisuke has the wheel of the dinner conversation, but steers in the wrong direction.
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Kai’s saffron eyes are glazed with unshed tears, threatening to spill under dark, wavering lashes. “Damon?” he tries again, louder, embarrassingly young and boyish in the way it sounds like he’s starved of assurance and validation.
Who are you without your fans, who don’t exist here?
Damon grunts, hard and unbidden where it releases from his chest. His hands tingle, his exhale a beat too sharp so that he feels the urge to cough the bile that rises in his throat out. Out.
He needs to get out.
The snake doesn't bite when the butterfly draws near.
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Summary
That’s not who she is. She is not Focalors, she is Furina, and she is sickened by the thought that there will never be anyone who will see her as anything other than the cruel title she bears, will not accept so much as her comfort because they think that she simply cannot give.
"Lady Furina!" Clorinde calls, several paces behind her.
"Just Furina will do," and Furina laughs with all the freedom of a caged bird, clenching at her sleeves and overcome by the cold that breaks through the warmth of her lost comfort. She steadies herself, determined to move forward, forward, forward until all she knows is the ache of her feet and the wind.
Furina finds who sees her.