#lilroller

[butyoudidntbreakme]

Biting down on a screwdriver between his teeth, Christophe examined Timmy’s wheelchair, giving everything a second look-over to be sure he’d fixed what had caused one of his wheels to jam up. Dusting off his hands on the knees of his jeans, he got up from the ground, ignoring the looks they were getting for being right in the middle of a pretty busy sidewalk.

“You want an au-” swallowing the rest of his threat, he balled his hands into fists and took a deep breath: he didn’t need to waste his energy getting mad at an old lady who gave him a second look. “I don’t think she was looking for our autographs,” he said with a crooked smirk, turning his attention back to Timmy. “Give it a go, it should be good as new,” he motioned a hand toward the wheel.

@lil-roller

[notfrenchpip-blog]

@lil-roller liked this post for a starter

"Wait... Timothy wants one? Are you quite sure, Leopold?" Pip asked with a slight furrow of confusion in his eyebrow. If Timmy was a paying customer as Butters said he was, then that was all well and good. Just how Timmy managed to convey what he wanted was what lost Pip.

Nevertheless, here he was, and had evidently given three dollars.

Pip then moved up on his tip toes, puckering his lips out to lightly peck Timmy on the lips in a small kiss. This job was far too easy for his own good.

[notfrenchpip-blog]

"Oh, Timmy~" Huh. He hadn't seen him in a while. The guys had told him he was dead, but he didn't believe it: they were so little affected that they had to be lying. Well, he was glad he found him. He needed a little help. The elevator was not working and he needed to go upstairs, but none of the school staff understood a word he said. Could he help? (from @lil-roller)

@lil-roller

A small yelp of surprise left Pip’s throat as he heard the exclamation from his disabled classmate, relief washing over him as soon as he saw who it was calling out.

“Ah, good afternoon Timothy! It has been a while since we-.. Oh.”

His situation was then clear. The wheels of the wheelchair were pressed against the bottom step and the ‘out of order’ sign was present on the lift. Didn’t they ever think of these things?

“Worry not Timothy! Becoming the top archer of Staffordshire takes quite a bit of upper arm muscle! Hold on tight!” he assured him, then stepping in front of the wheelchair, bending his knees down and wrapping his arms around Timmy as he prepared to lift him up.

“Ready?”