#Chittering {Dash Commentary}

[mxthbladed]

How did she put up with that for nearly a century?

[vulpinefrost]

"Shit..." Amane lets his head drop against the table in front of him with a thud, tail drooping and going still. "That was too creepy to say wasn't it..."

[siixkiing]

“Awwww, that’s precious.”

[mongccse]

Establishing tags.

Extra Clever • Headcanons.

Turn and Fight! • Rikki.

And I'll Split the Atom! • Gef.

We shan't tell you • Asks.

The obscured faces • Anonymous.

Nicer Homes • Threads.

The Other Freak • OOC.

The 5th Dimension • Promotionals.

Verse I • Merriment of Mongooses.

Verse II • The Chase Begins.

Chittering and Chattering • Interaction Call.

Words of the Wise Bring a Pen and Sword • Drabbles.

PISS WEASEL? • Crack.

Watching the crowds • Dash Commentary.

Send a Letter • Inbox.

A Word from Our Sponsors • Promotional Cards.

[jacksteyvattales]

I. This rolling system is too mean....

I feel like you should be able to get a five star character and weapon for every pity round. Forcing you to take one or the other and then resetting your pity after a Five is WTF??

[pxppinmolly-archived]

Chitters with the dash.

[essence-devourer]

Ahri pausing wherever she has wandered. “Somewhere a top wants to get railed and their bottom just doesn’t know what that is. Tragic.” 

[redshcdes-archived]

Chitters on the dash as well.

[copias-thrall]

Hello there, your stories are great!! Can I ask this? A feverish Pappa III confess his love to his s/o ? Thank you

Thanks for this wholesome ask, nonny! 😊🥰

He’d sniffled his way through yesterday’s sermon.

He’d sneezed his way through dinner.

And while you’d thought the way he sounded all stuffed up was adorable, you hadn’t adored the way he’d coughed through half the night.

“Ai! I am fine!” he’d insisted right before bed. “Nothing a good rest won’t cure, hm?”

But when you’d woken up this morning, he was sweaty and moaning. HIs eyes were glazed, and he’d shivered despite the blankets.

“Papa?” you’d murmured as you’d brushed the damp locks from his hot forehead.

“I’m dying,” he’d groaned as he’d curled into a ball. “Tell The Rat he can’t have my quarters.”

You’d twisted your lips to prevent a smile.

“It’s a cold. Probably from pulling those all nighters last week. You’re not in your 20s anymore, you know…”

He’d cracked a gummy eyelid at you. “I am the picture of youth.”

“Yes, yes…you’re very sprightly. …Except for the whole ‘dying’ thing.”

He’d made a noise at you and had pulled the covers over his head.

“You are not nice to Papa. Go away.”

And then he’d kicked weakly at you as you’d tried not to laugh.

Though you’d wanted nothing more to stay and take care of him, you still had your duties to attend to. Just because you were having a fling with one of the Emeritus brothers didn't mean you were exempt from pulling your weight. (Sister Imperator had made that abundantly clear when she’d cornered you late one night in one of the corridors.)

You’d placed a kiss on the lump you were reasonably sure was his head.

“I’ll call the infirmary and have one of your Ghouls attend to your breakfast.”

The lump had merely nodded.

***

Though your relationship with Terzo wasn’t necessarily established, it wasn’t brand new, either. Of course anyone would have been flattered by his attentions—and you’d never been immune to the smolder in his eyes and his cheeky commentary at sermons—so when he’d propositioned you one morning after mass, you were quick to take him up on the offer.

And the sex had been…wow.

A little of what you had expected, some that you hadn’t, and a lot of “That should be illegal!”

But it was the time with him after that you had come to enjoy the most. That time had been fun. Comfortable. He’d laughed at your jokes, and you’d found him much deeper than his public persona. “Everybody loves a clown, eh?” he’d said as he’d winked at you. The two of you could just exist together quietly, but still have a rowdy good time when he started taking you out on actual dates. Obviously, you weren’t even close to being considered for Prime Mover, but you were no longer a casual liaison.

All of which meant: you still had to show up for your yardworking rotation as Primo micromanaged, but Terzo’s Ghouls gave you the courtesy of updating you on his status.

When you’d been updated midday that what Terzo has was definitely just a bad head-cold and not the flu, you’d still intended to check-in on your lunch break—but a snafu with the Venus Flytraps cut into it so severely that you’d barely had time to scarf down the sandwich and soda you’d selected.

Finally, with the sun hanging low in the sky, you’re cut for the day, and you can dash back to your room to shower off the sweat and dirt from the day.

Now, you can go care for your Papa.

***

The first stop is the kitchen for Terzo’s evening meal, which you find is a hearty steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and buttered spinach paired with a Chablis.

You eye the offering with disapproval; while delicious, this is not a meal for a sick man. When you direct the Kitchen Ghoul to instead make a simple chicken soup and buttered toast paired with coconut water, he chitters at you in annoyance, but in the end, follows your direction.

You’re Papa’s partner, after all.

Usually, Terzo will meet you at the door to his quarters in his ridiculous floral robe if the two of you are staying in, but today, you let yourself in. His living area is dark except for a small lamp giving off a warm glow. When you push open the door to his bed chambers with your hip, you find much the same, and one side of the bed has a humidifier going that exudes the scent of lavender and rosemary. He's still cocooned in his bed, but—despite the relaxing atmosphere of his room—he’s breathing heavily and twitching about.

Poor Papa.

You set the tray down so you can refresh the basin of cool water on his night table, then you kneel at his side so you can gently caress his face with the cool cloth.

He twitches, and then his eyes blink owlishly open.

“Is it time for the Ritual? Are the Ghouls here?” His glazed eyes try to focus on you. “Where’s the other PA?”

“No, Papa,” you murmur as you dip and wring the cloth for a pass down his neck. “You’re at the Abbey. You’re sick in bed, remember?”

“The Abbey?” He blinks rapidly. “Oh. Sí.”

You try to swipe the cloth across his chest, but he jerks away from the cool touch on his fevered skin; he whimpers and grabs his head, curling away from you.

“I know, Papa. It’s no fun being sick.” You run your fingers through his sweaty hair. “Do you think you can get some food down, mm? Then I can give you some ibuprofen.”

He moans, but he shifts up just enough that you can feed him.

Perching on the edge of the bed, you press the spoon to his lips, and he slurps loudly as his wide, fever-bright eyes stare at you.

“My dolce.” 

You smile as you dab his chin and offer him a bite of toast.

“Yes, I am your dolce, Papa. And you are mine.”

“Mine,” he whines as he tries to wrap around you.

You chuckle and carefully unfurl him. “Food first, Papa.”

When you bring the glass to his mouth to wash down the toast, his moist palm wraps around your wrist.

“My dolce here to care for their Papa.”

He kisses the inside of your wrist, and you almost spill the contents of the glass all over him, so you gently extract yourself from his hold.

“Trying anyway.”

You bring the glass up again, and he takes a drink even as his eyes droop despite their lock on yours.

“You’re so good to Papa.”

His head weaves, and you realize you’re fighting a losing battle. But you’ve managed to get him to consume a third of the soup, a triangle of toast, and half the water, which is good enough!

“Because I care about you,” you say absently as you search for the ibuprofen bottle.

When you turn back around, his eyes are closed, and he breathes heavily through his mouth. You make a mental note to find his Irene Forte Pistachio lip balm—Terzo would be horrified if his lips were ever unkissable. 

Fever reducers in hand, you waffle between letting him rest and waking him up. On one hand, his body needs sleep to fight off the infection; on the other, he’ll sleep easier if his fever goes down…but when he lets out a soft moan, you decide that waking him will be brief enough.

You lean forward and gently thumb his hot, flushed cheek.

“Papa? My dolce?”

He twitches, and his eyes unstick. When they focus on you, he lights up and wraps you in an embrace that’s strong despite the fever.

“My dolce...my amore. Ah—I love you. I love you so much.” 

You freeze—you know he cares for you…but he’s never said he’s loved you before. And you’re not sure if the declaration is pure delirium, or if the fever has cleared his inhibitions…

But he pulls you close so he can nuzzle into you.

“My amore…you are the shining and the light. My perfect love, perfect for Papa…stay here. The best that’s happened to me. Stay by my side. Please, amore…”

He applies sloppy kisses to your face, and you give a wet laugh as you carefully extricate yourself from his affections. His words make you feel light and giddy now that you’re sure they’re genuine.

You’ve loved him for a while now.

As you help him lie back, you lean close to murmur in his ear, “I love too, Papa. Very much so.” His expression manages to be bright despite the fact that he’s pie-eyed. “And because I love you, I only want the best for you. So open up and take these pills, ok?”

He gives an exaggerated nod up and down. “And then you will stay?” 

You give him a soft smile. “Of course…love.”

A lazy grin spills across his face. “Okie dokie.” And then he’s opening his mouth wide.

True to your word, once you’re finished ministering to him, you crawl on top of the sheets next to him. He conked out before you had put the glass back down on his bedside table, but as you drape an arm cautiously across his middle, you think you can detect the hint of a smile on your lips.

[mxthbladed]

Really wants to touch Charlie's tail.

[vulpinefrost]

"What's all this about Clorinde's shirt?"

[anongirlquest]

(Tag dump to prepare for the beginning.)

[vulpinefrost]

} New URL finally decided, new tags alongside this

#Foxy {Amane} - #Frosted {Amane NSFW}

#Tribal {Valkyr} - #Bristling {Valkyr NSFW}

#Curious Kit {Ask Memes}

#Chittering {Dash Commentary} - #Gekkering {Random IC}

#Friendly Critter {Open Starter}

#Set in Ice and Stone {Headcanons}

#Ancestral Legends {Story Post} - #Ancestral Tale {Short Story Post}

[vulpinefrost]

“... What’s Halloween...?”

[vulpinefrost]

“...” He’s not... getting jealous of a dog, is he?

[vulpinefrost]

"... Is there even a male equivalent to that? Would I fit whatever that is?"