dcvilmurdocks
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Robby frowned and looked at Jack. "Is it me or are you now off Monday through Thursday?"
"Yeah, I figure we can drive out Tuesday morning and come back in time for my shift Friday night."
Robby's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Did someone invite you to the cabin I rented?" Jack tilted his head and just looked at Robby, silent and expectant. After a long moment, Robby huffed a resigned laugh, like he wondered why he even bothered protesting. "Jack, would you like to come hiking with me?"
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Bookmarked by dcvilmurdocks
22 Jun 2026
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All of John Carter's broken parts and Michael Robinavitch's attempts to put them to good use.
Or, hard discussions. Forgiveness, regret, and facing the past.
Bookmarked by dcvilmurdocks
17 Jun 2026
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Michael Robby Robinavitch doesn’t do well with anniversaries.
Some especially, are even worse than others.
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It’s been almost fifteen years since John Truman Carter III has disappeared from the lives of his former colleagues and friends, asking for them not to try and contact him, and, for almost a decade and a half, Peter Benton and the others have painfully honoured his wishes.
But when the old County General crew sees him on the news, working at the PTMC during the Pittfest shooting, they can clearly see the man is not fine.
And then, Valentine’s Day arrives.
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Or, Peter Benton finally goes to get his pupil back just at the right time.
Bookmarked by dcvilmurdocks
17 Jun 2026
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“Say you got married,” Robby found himself asking. “Would you wear your dress blues? Or civilian clothes?”
It had only been an idle thought, no different than any number of easy, directionless musings of the sort that often came over the two of them on mornings like this one, when no one had a shift to go to for at least thirty-six hours. Robby didn’t mean anything by it. But he regretted the words the instant they left his mouth, even before he saw the incredulous grin slide over Jack’s face.
“Say I got married?”
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Bookmarked by dcvilmurdocks
17 Jun 2026
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The thumping bass line buzzes in Carter's ears, the smile on his face wide and uninhibited. He's drunk, giddily drunk, and the feeling of stray hands on his chest, his back, his arms as he wanders through the strobe-lit club is electric.
Carter is alive tonight.
Bookmarked by dcvilmurdocks
14 Jun 2026