#dc comics#dc#dc fanart#batman#bruce wayne#tim drake#batfam#dick grayson#batfamily
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♋ -killmepeter
Send me '♋' for my character's reaction to yours pinning them and grinding against them.
"Tootles, if you don't get off of me right now, we're going to experience the French Incident again and it will not stop with an embarrassing hickey that wasn't from Tasmin."
"Hey, Pollux. Je vais vas te faire encule dans un riz au lait." - whatsstragedy
"The fuck?
[text]: Pouvez-vous venir à l'hôpital? Je ne veux pas être seul. -Curly
[text]: Je serai là dans cinq ans. Pourquoi êtes-vous à l'hôpital?
"Today is our birthday. I bet he doesn't even remember."
Castor had been sick for a few days, and originally Charlie had thought it was a simple cold though over time when the fever had started to developed the fairy realised his mistake and confined the boy to his bed and took it upon himself to be at Castor's beck and call despite Nanny Hubbard's insistance she take care of the boy for him. But Charlie would hear none of it, now sitting on the boy's bed with Castor' head in his lap singing to him, just to soothe the boy.
It was no secret Castor had problems trusting other people -- especially adults. When it came to being weakened and relying on an adult, he didn't feel quite at ease around anybody save for Jefferson or Charlie. His breaths were shaky, uneven. He was barely even conscious, the majority of his energy spent on fighting off whatever virus he'd gotten. He did his best to keep his eyes closed -- to ignore the images his mind had conjured up -- but fevers had a way of brushing non-corporeal fingers across his skin, to elicit shudders and jolts. His eyes would snap open from time to time and his hand would tense where it rested by Charlie's knee. A quiet noise of fear would escape him. One would imagine his hallucinations involved Peter, Neverland, and his brothers.
The Hatter had left the house for some business. He hadn't the time to chat so, when he saw the Lost One in passing he gave him a decent slap on the rear, arched an eyebrow at him and continued on his way.
Castor paused, turned on his heel and stared at Jefferson. "The next time you do that, I'm breaking both your hands..."
The Hatter put his coat on and promptly followed the bird-boy outside.
Castor took to the skies, making his way over the forest, eyes out for any sign of his tiger.
Jefferson seemed to loose his train of thought when Castor called him his best friend. He hadn't seen that coming. "Fine."
"Meet you outside." The boy shifted into that large white falcon, making his way to the window, finding a branch to light upon and wait for the hatter.
