eyeless_bigshot
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The mech was more of a home than his own apartment. In a lot of ways it was. More decorated, customized, cared for, lived in. Even when he's ok, Robert still finds more comfort in the mech than he does in the people and places around him. Maybe Flambae can change that?
Or: the events of Dispatch told through the lens of Robert having a safe space inside the Mecha Man suit!
Title from Smoke Screen by Sweet Pill
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Something goes wrong. The crown is split during Narinder's defeat, splitting the power between him and the Lamb.
Narinder keeps a portion of his godhood, and the Lamb finds that abilities they had access to before are no longer possible: Healing is cut short. Powers are halved. And there is a very real chance of permadeath, as the ability to resurrect is not possible without full power, and the God of Death is not cooperative.
Afterlife and Purgatory are not options either. Dying means erasure. Gone.Lambert knows Narinder grows stronger by the day, crown or not, and yet keeps him spared as they try to figure out how to complete their own goals. Narinder vows vengeance on the lamb for usurping him. After a few unsuccessful murder attempts, he's in for the long haul. It is only a matter of time before the Lamb's guard is down before he can strike, and The One Who Waits is very patient. When a mystic being demands they save the bishops from purgatory, an alliance is in order.
Except...the lamb's actions and their presence begin to unlock abilities within the God of Death he didn't know he had prior to his imprisonment, among other fickle things, like emotions. The prophecy didn't warn him of that part.
Series
- Part 1 of The Rehabilitation Of Death
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 379,688
- Chapters:
- 25/?
- Comments:
- 4,287
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- 17,556
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Bookmarked by eyeless_bigshot
18 Jul 2026
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Several terrible things were at hand here. Flambae liked Robert. No, he didn't just like him. He was paradoxically obsessed with him. Of course, that wasn't Robert's fault, but Flambae still had to make him pay for plaguing his brain. And that meant taking that new haughty version of the dispatcher down a peg.
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Flambae wants to put Robert in his place. It does not go as planned.
Bookmarked by eyeless_bigshot
17 Jul 2026
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The lovely folks in 3artho's server requested I make this based upon a tumblr post that can be found here: https://www.tumblr.com/flamgayagenda/822130308278321152/i-fucking-love-this-community?source=share
Basically, cock warming Robert for his muscle aches!
Y00BI IS SO SWEET AND MADE FANART FOR IT THAT YOU CAN FIND HERE!!!
https://bsky.app/profile/1127nsfw.bsky.social/post/3mqv4tpsxqk2s
https://x.com/1127_NSFW/status/2078292749825323250?s=20
Terms of cunt and pussy for Robert's bits!
Bookmarked by eyeless_bigshot
16 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA <- live reaction seeing my research, I’m gonna need to reread this 5 more times minimum
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“It just… makes things fucking interesting, you know?”
“...Really. How so?” Robert said, drawing each of the syllables out slowly.
“It's like... a challenge," Flambae said, trying not to flounder. "I mean, sure, I pull whenever we go out but it’s like, not even hard, you get what I’m saying?” He gestured to their table: “not when the only other competition for those interested in dick is a furry, a stoner kid made of rocks, some 3ft loser who’s already fucking whipped, and fucking… I dunno. Connecticut Clark.”
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The one in which Flambae invents an intricate ritual rather than admit he finds Robert attractive.
Series
- Part 4 of fuck it! dispatch fic collection
Bookmarked by eyeless_bigshot
15 Jul 2026
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How To Maintain Your Mecha-Bitch: A Mechanic's Guide by ALCatLover
Fandoms: Dispatch (Video Game)
11 Jul 2026
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There's a glow of dim light coming from the otherwise dark apartment. In the center of the concrete floor, Robert is sitting criss-cross in his boxers and a tank top, the light of Alice's posable lamp centered on his arm, faint shadows of tools and containers and a roll of paper towels scattered around in reach.
Robert's arm doesn't look normal. It still has vague texture, an idea of what a human's skin should look like, but now it's rendered in silver from the elbow down. Metallic.
A seam has opened, at the hinge of the inner elbow held in his lap. It gleams wetly in iridescent black, drawing Chad's eye even from across the room and through glass, like the same wavering effect of those images of black holes, sucking in light so hard that it can't escape.
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Bookmarked by eyeless_bigshot
12 Jul 2026