Stomperpony
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“You gonna stop clucking over my wardrobe and ask the sixty thousand dollar question?”
“How you found me? You’re a private investigator. That ain’t worth sixty thousand dollars.”
“You know what you do?” Marty said. “You just suck all the fun out of my life.”
Bookmarked by Stomperpony
21 Dec 2025
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“So, strategically, I uh, don’t know where to fucking go from here.”
“Okay,” Stewy says, “Being totally honest, I don’t know what the fuck to say to that. My main suggestion would be to get high and forget about it, but I have a feeling you probably shouldn’t be doing that right now.”
Kendall’s laughing now, smiling properly, looking at Stewy with those big, wet eyes, his crooked teeth poking out of his upturned smile, and fuck- Stewy promised himself he’d never find himself here again, with a soft spot for an idiot who couldn’t give less of a fuck, but. But. It’s different when you have Kendall’s laugh in the same room as you and you’re thinking about being eight and fourteen and twenty-two and if you close your eyes maybe nothing bad has ever happened to either of you.
**
Kendall tries to kill himself. It doesn't work. He and Stewy go to Italy.
Bookmarked by Stomperpony
12 Dec 2025
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When he looks up again, Whitaker is watching him.
Robby’s breath hitches. Their eyes lock across the rows of bowed heads, and for a wild, terrifying moment, he feels utterly exposed—like Whitaker can see straight through his careful composure and into the messy, want-tinged truth beneath.Robby knows attending the funerals of the patients he's lost is a fruitless endeavor, but after the disaster that was Pittfest, he does it anyway.
He finds out he's not the only one who's a fan of fruitless endeavors.Bookmarked by Stomperpony
09 Nov 2025
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Dennis has watched Dr. Robby from afar. He knows that shadow follows Dr. Robby around, and Dennis Whitaker knows that it’s not something that any man can run from, it’s a friend to be made and a constant companion. He wants to be the one to guide Dr. Robby toward it, to sit with him like he did in that makeshift morgue, to take his hand.
Series
- Part 1 of How Long?
Bookmarked by Stomperpony
05 Nov 2025
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There’s a hand, fingers cold, on his elbow – someone trying to get his attention. Usually, usually, his staff would know that just calling his name is enough, that he’s fine-tuned to the sound of it like a dog waiting for a command. But as he looks down and then to the person the chilled digits belong to, he finds Whitaker staring up at him owlishly. A shudder goes through him, senses zeroing in on the point of contact.
“Can I help you?” It comes out bitchier than he intended, caught off-guard as he is. But he doesn’t take it back, not even when the kid bites at his lower lip as if he wants to apologize.
“I just wanted to ask if you liked the chicken parm.”
aka Robby doesn't know he's being wooed by home-cooked meals and big, honest eyes.
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Bookmarked by Stomperpony
02 Nov 2025