sensitive topics a thousand years — losing kits / birth

[YUKIO]

don't rush something you want to last forever .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

/ tw : mentions of death and semi-difficult birth !

Yukio’s birth had been strenuous, leaving him raw and weak, head lulling to stare at the ceiling succinctly, owlish optics blinking. Turning his helm to stare at the two bundles nestled against his side, gnawing on perked, rosy buds hidden beneath the mesh of cream-colored fur. He laughed, the sound faint, tired as he curled inward, relishing in the heavy scent of sweet honey and milk to the sound of suckling brought a happy purr from within his throat.

Oh, my sweet angels. He cooed. You’re finally home. His compact frame lay, curled around the two bundles of joy, because finally finally they were here. Cruor remained, clustered around his hind legs, dual-toned optics staring questioningly at the crimson, odd-hued ichor. I need to—Yukio whined. He was so so tired.

He hummed, shifting languidly, staring at the cream-hued bundles, wanting to burn it into his mind for as long as he drew breath. They were his. So tiny. Filled with life. He did that. He brought them into the world without Kyungmin’s help. Will I be a good dam? He had wondered that, watching Orange and Bobbie with worrisome hues. Would he be good like them? He wanted to be good. Yukio wanted to give them the stars that hung, illuminating the blackest of nights, lighting their way through the depths of the unknown. He wanted to give them the world. His most precious treasures were far greater than any flower could give him.

Home. He was finally home, wasn’t he? A giggle erupted from his maw, shoulders quivering as he gazed down at the precious bundles tucked against him. I’m finally home. Even if he lost some along the way. The thought of his ex brought tears to his eyes, blinking hurriedly, happiness diminishing. He didn’t want to worry anyone. He worried them enough, didn’t he? His contractions had started well into the night, the moon’s wispy rays being the only guide as he shivered, curled up within his nest wondering what he ate. He wasn’t sure who alerted who, but Duskpool’s familiar scent tinged with the smell of ichor and herbal remedies wafted through, breaking him from pain’s grasp, dual-toned optics staring watery up at the large brute.

He mewled, neck arching to burrow into his father’s chest, cheek squished against the edge of his nest, listening to the heavy, soothing rumbles reminding him to breathe, to take deep, even breaths.

A whine had ripped out from his throat, paw grappling at Duskpool’s injured self when he pulled away, replaced by unfamiliar scents. Ones that made Yukio whine, withering in his nest.

It wasn’t long until he gave birth to two precious beings, staring at them, tired by content. Welcome home, my darlings. My precious bundles. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to show them the world and all its beauty. Pheasentkit and Downkit. You’re finally home.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

Days passed. Joyous days that warmed Yukio’s heart. He would giggle, ignorant of the world around him, nestled in the back of the nursery, paws gliding down fuzzy spines with soothing coos and happy trills. He was so so happy. He couldn’t be happier, but then … then—things changed. He didn’t—Yukio whimpered, staring at the cream-hued bundles, eyes not quite opened, nuzzling into their gradually cooling bodies. Please wake up. He begged, pawing at their prone forms wondering what he did wrong.

No! They were sleeping. Yes. They were just sleeping. That’s all. He shouldn’t disturb them. They needed sleep. But … But why …? Yukio whined, a sorrowful pleading sound that tore at his throat leaving him raw and bleeding.

His compact frame curled around them. They were cold. He needed to … He needed to warm them up. That’s it. They were just cold. He could do that. He was a good dam. He was a good dam. He wouldn’t leave them. He needed to stay here. To … To guard them.

Unbeknownst to him, crystalline drops welled, wetting his cheeks and darkening the nest, shoulders quivering as he sobbed, inaudible to anyone but himself. Please wake up.

Kyungmin was right. He couldn’t even take care of the very things he birthed into the world. He was useless. He was so so useless. Would Blaze kick him out? For failing? Would he have to say goodbye to his kits? Duskpool? The very things that gave him life. His two precious bundles. His sun to his wilting flowers. Oh, no. Oh, no.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

please wait for @bobbie to respond ! ​

​

thought speech​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

So many births lately, Bobbie had mused when Yukio began to kit. First Orangeblossom, then herself, and now her pale-furred denmate. The lilac queen had ushered her kits away when it happened, handed them carefully over to another queen, limped into the new nursery. She'd lingered there when she'd been wanted, checked up on her own bouncing trio when she wasn't—her own kitting had faded into a vague memory of a long and difficult time unremembered, but she'd offered her help as best she was able. If Bobbie's birthing had been difficult, which she had an inkling it'd been—whispers of the dog attack in early pregnancy had wreathed her tired mind—Yukio's had been near impossible, strenuous, but at the end two more kits had joined the small multicolored flock within the nursery. The lilac cat had breathed a silent sigh of relief and left Yukio to greet his children, safe in the knowledge they had been okay.

That had been what she'd thought, in the sun-splashed days of watching Yukio giggling over the fuzzy bundles with kind sage eyes dancing over his cream form at the back of the nursery until one of her own kits dragged her attention away. That they were safe. Her trio of pawfuls are out of the nursery, under the watchful eye and reassuring mew of another queen, when Bobbie ventures towards him with quiet steps still checked by bruises. She's noticed how that corner of the nursery has darkened, how the cheerful, somehow not annoying, trills of happiness have dwindled and then silenced, replaced by whimpers and whines.

Her mouth is just opening to ask a gentle question when the words die in her throat, her wide green eyes focused on the pair of cream-splashed bundles curled at the other queen's belly. She'd worried over her kits constantly in the raw days after their birth, one ear listening for the tiny whistles and cries of easy breath. That's what makes it so easy for her to see now—Yukio's curled around them, but they're terribly still against his pale stomach; their tiny sides don't swell with breath, they don't cry or sneeze or breathe those tiny, precious breaths. Bobbie stops in her tracks, eyes stretched wide with horror—her mind doesn't want to say the word but one glance at Yukio's insistent nuzzling at the prone forms tells her he's not going to, and she forces herself to think it. They're .... they're not safe. They're dead.

The lilac queen moves cautiously forward, lowering herself into a hesitant half-laying position next to the cream tom. She can see the crystals of tears shining on his cheeks and her already-bruised heart grows sore and aching—to lose his kits so soon .... and after what she's heard of their sire being like .... Bobbie's heart breaks for him. She can't imagine what it would be like, to finally meet the kits you'd so long waited for after the sadness that had begun them, only to have them pulled away from you. For a moment she can envision the bleak future of her life if she'd lost her own—what would she have to fight for, when the dog lunged at their patrol? What would she have to fill the lonely days and nights, to proudly watch grow into warriors? What would she have to keep her going? She can't imagine it.

"Y-Yukio," Bobbie's mew is soft, low, stuttering and choked with the emotions welling up in her throat and behind her eyelids. She can tell from the way he's curled around them, pawing at their limp forms, that he's in no position to confront this reality, much less get help. She tries, still, weak as it is, "Yukio, they're .... they're g-g-gone." The queen casts her eyes away, her own gaze shiny with unspilt tears as she's torn between two paths. She doesn't want to leave him to face this alone, she can't—but he needs help, his kits .... she has to tell someone. Bobbie presses her nose to his cheek if he'll allow it, trying to comfort the other queen as best she can, and turns desperate sage eyes towards the nursery inhabitants—of all the times kits are in here and harassing her, none of them are immediately close. Perhaps that's for the best, but the queen's eyes strain towards the shadows of the den, looking for other cats.

She calls out as loudly as she can while still being sensitive to Yukio, hoping someone else in the nursery will hear her, "S-Someone! We need help! Yukio ... his kits ..." Her mew trails off and she calls again from a throat thick with unshed tears, "Please!" She doesn't want to leave him. She can't leave him right now, and so she calls for someone for the second time in as many moons, hoping desperately her mew is heard. Because she can't leave Yukio here to face it alone, even if it's only for a moment, while she finds someone. So Bobbie waits, and if Yukio will permit it, she'll try to press herself against his side in some form of comfort, however small it may be.

Is this my fault? She wonders faintly. Why do I bring tragedy to everyone I meet?
​

​

 

[DIZZYMOTH]

"Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh." Dizzy is shaking more than usual, her tremors wracking her body like a woman possessed. Her nervousness is palpable, but she sets her jaw and sits a little straighter. She's been through this before, she knows what this looks like, what it feels like to look forward to a lifetime and only get a moment. She knows it so intimately that she wants to lay down and wail with her fellow queen, share in his grief, but she can't. She has to stay strong, not for herself but for Yukio and the other kits in the nursery.

"I'll get @DAWNGLARE or @Fireflypaw ." Is her quiet murmur to Bobbie. "He needs to sleep. We'll discuss what to do when he's gotten some rest, y-y-y-yeah?" She feels heartless just saying it, a tugging, napping sense of guilt washing over her, but it's only advice she has heard before - heeded before... Rest will help. Rest. Rest and cry until your heart and brain have settled on getting up and taking the next tiny step.​

- devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes​

 

[✧ Mottledove.]

MY LITTLE DOVE WHY DO YOU CRY
mottledove | 17 months | female | she/her | physically extremely easy | mentally very hard | attack in bold #74a2a5

---

When mottledove wakes to the sound of crying in the night, she truly has no idea what to do. Blue gaze shutters as she takes in a sharp breath, no at all prepared for the scene that meets her eyes. "Oh... yukio..." what can she even do, what can she say? No matter what she tries to think of, it all feels like to little, not enough. The tortie can only let her own tears fall in silence, hesitantly moving to try and comfort yukio by pressing her tail against his. Is this the fate that will await her, too? Is it just a misfortune accident, or something more - a warning from the star-cats perhaps? The queen doesn't know, cannot even begin to guess. Can only lay there trembling and afraid, no better than when she'd first woken up within cold metal walls at the shelter. Helpless.

​

​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

When Yukio had first kitted, Blazestar had come to congratulate him and see the newest SkyClanners. Despite his exhaustion, the queen had glowed, his eyes full of love as they’d rested on the tiny cream-colored shapes nuzzled into his flank. After all that had happened to Yukio, Blazestar had felt confident the arrival of his kits would change things. He could finally find that unconditional love—not in a cruel mate, but in his children.

It's a terrible day today. The wind has picked up, although it’s nowhere near the catastrophic strength it’d had when Snowpath had died. Clouds dark and thick have blown in, blanketing their blue sky and shrouding their camp in darkness. Blazestar feels a chill in the air—just briefly—but humidity chokes it out and his face is sprayed with rain.

He thinks of it as a warning, an omen, but he could not have guessed what for. Blazestar hears the commotion from the nursery from where he sits just outside, receiving a report from a cat returning from patrol. Worry dances through his blue eyes as Bobbie’s cry. “S-someone! We need help! Yukio… his kits…” The Ragdoll abandons his conversation, padding swiftly to the makeshift nursery formed from the crushed remains of the holly bush and the splintered pine tree.

Bobbie is pressed against Yukio in an attempt at comfort; Mottledove attempts the same, her touch on his opposite side. Dizzymoth pushes past Blazestar, hurried, clearly padding toward Dawnglare’s den.

Blazestar begins to feel faintly nauseous. The scraps that had nursed at Yukio’s flank only days prior are stiff and unmoving. “Stars…” Despair pits in his stomach, and he has to move his gaze away. “I’m so sorry.” His daughter had been an apprentice when she’d been taken from him—but he’d gotten to know the chirp of her laughter, the way her head tilted to one side when she asked a question. Yukio had known his kits for so little, and all he will have of them is the memory of his hope for their futures.
​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[YUKIO]

don't rush something you want to last forever .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

He shook his head persistently, droplets dripping down stained cheeks, gazing meekly as he stared at the bundles limp against his flank, chest constricting with each breath. Yukio knew. He knew, but they were … they were just sleeping. That’s all. His tongue felt heavy, dry as the great dunes. Please … Please be quiet. He wanted to mumble, whining softly as Bobbie pressed her nose to his cheek, relishing in the brief contact with a choked sob. I’m sorry! I’m sorry—He wanted to cry out, but would not permit it against the quiet sobs that wracked his tiny frame.

He tried. He wanted to be good. He wanted to prove that he wasn’t always someone with their head filled with cobwebs, to show that he wasn’t someone with their head in the clouds. He could do this. He tried!

His mind begged, pleading to bring them back. He wanted them back! Why…? Why him? Did he … Did he deserve this? Then why! Why were his kits punished? Why couldn’t they punish him? He was at fault! Not them! They were … they meant everything to him. They were his pride and joy. The very things that he loved with all his heart. He wanted to show them just how amazing SkyClan was. Just how proud he was to be here and watch as his clan mates grew and grew. Then too would his kits join them, becoming apprentices and then warriors as his body grew old and tired. There was so so much to show them. And yet… Everything was gone. All his dreams and promises meant nothing.

Nothing … A strangled cry broke free, hiccuping as he stared at Bobbie, lips wobbling in tandem with his palpitating heart. Why? He wanted to ask her. Why did they have to go? Why did he have to stay? A needy whine slipped out, relishing in the heat the other radiated, wondering if that would chase off the chill of the night, paw idly rubbing his kits sides, whispering soft pleas. “T, They’re cold—“ He’d whisper, sniffling. “I, I need to … need to keep them warm.” He mumbled, delirious.

Surely, they couldn’t be gone, right? He could make it better. Yes. He just needed to keep them warm, right? Maybe some medicine would help. His dual-toned optics glistening like crystals would peer up at Dizzymoth form. “M, Medicine … T, They need medicine.” He mumbled, hoping his quiet plea would reach the queen’s ears as she vanished to fetch them.

Mottledove came into view, blurry from the ushering tears staining his cream pelt, darkened to a brownish hue. He whimpered, sinking into her warmth as her tail touched his own. His paws crossed, claws digging into the moss-coated test, brain muddled, refusing to cooperate. “A, Am I b, bad?” He mumbled idly, breathless. Was he? He had to be. Kyungmin was right. He always was right about these things it seems when he told Yukio that he had no business raising kits of his own. That he’d fail just like he fails at everything else the ticked tabby attempted. “‘M s, sorry.” He glanced up at the gathered queens, heavy gaze landing on Blazestar.

His heart just about stopped, losing his breath, choking back tears. Oh. Oh. Oh. This was when he would be left behind, kicked out for failing at the only thing he could do. “P, Please don’t k, kick me out.” He all but begged the leader, Kyungmin’s words ringing loudly in his ears. “I, I don’t—” He hiccuped. “I, I d, don’t want to l, leave!” He sobbed, mind a mess. Please let me stay. I’ll be good! I swear! Don’t make me leave my kits behind. I-I don’t—Yukio couldn’t help the shivers ransacked through his small frame, turning to burrow his head against Bobbie’s side, refusing to look at anyone with eyes squeezed shut, paws cupping around his kits, tugging them closer with a whine. ​

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thought speech​

 

[DOEBLAZE]

What happens after her first call is a blur; two other queens stir from the rebuilt nursery's shadows, Mottledove rushing to soothe Yukio as she has and Dizzymoth hurries to fetch the Clan's medics. Not that they can do anything, not now, except perhaps give these kits the last dignity of sweet herbs for their graves. Yukio sobs at her side, his tiny frame wracked with shuddering cries; his mew is mumbling and thick with tears. She had correctly surmised that he was not ready to face the reality of these kits' death, something only confirmed by his sad cries that they are cold and sick, not dead—the tabby does not fault him for these things. Stars, she would never; his cries only grow in pitch as Blazestar stands in the makeshift nursery, a despairing apology spilling from his jaws.

"Shh, shh...." Her mew is cracked with unshed tears but an attempt at soothing the other queen. Yukio buries his damp and working face against her thick-furred side and of course she lets him, one foreleg stretching over his small shoulders in an attempt at an embrace. They have shared many things in these short moons—two dens, sunny afternoons of flowers and voiced hopes for their kits to come, but most of all tragedies. That seems to be the common denominator with all who she knows—Blazestar's sad eyes and lost family, Yukio's unexplained scratches and quiet tears, her own sore heart. The accusatory spring eyes that glance about the den are turned not on Blazestar but on the world; she wants to cry out why? Why take Yukio's kits so young? Why promise his heart to a cat who hurts him? She glances down after a moment, nose pressed to the slightly-smaller queen's shaking forehead. It's pointless to search with angry eyes, to push more hate out into a world overflowing with it; these breathless inquiries will not be answered. The world is cruel, and the world is silent.​

 

[BLAZESTAR]

Yukio’s reaction to his presence is not what he’d expected—his already tearful eyes blow wide with fear and grief and he cries that he doesn’t want to be driven out. Driven out? Blazestar’s ears angle backward, wondering what he’s done to make the young cat feel this way. “You do not have to leave. This is your home now. I swear it.” He sighs. “Dawnglare and Fireflypaw will come tend to you, but…”

He looks to Bobbie, then Mottledove, struggling to find the right words to make Yukio understand what had happened to his kits. “…But it’s too late for medicine, I’m afraid,” he murmurs. “It’s… they’re with StarClan now.”
​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[Fireflyglow]

Dizzymoth's panicked voice fills the medicine den as she arrives, Fireflypaw's head lifting from his nest as ghostly blue eyes stare past them. Yukio's kits, they.. Their voice is drowned out by the pumping of blood in his ears, the roaring of it echoing in his brain. His tail curls up against his side as he rises from the mossy nest of feathers and fluffy shedding, head held low as he trots over to the gathering of cats surrounding one particular Queen. Yukio, leaned up against Bobbie- his father, head lowered in reassurance. He cannot see them, but he can feel the sorrow in the air. It's heavy, weighing him down as he walks over.

It’s… they’re with StarClan now.

His heart hammers in his chest as he arrives, head leaning down to sniff at the still bodies of the kits. He tries to lick against their fur, to warm them up enough to gasp air of life, but nothing happens. It's eerily silent, and Fireflypaw feels his stomach roll as he realizes the reality of what is going on. These kits won't be breathing any time soon, but Yukio cries for them still- mourns the loss of life. Tears well up in his eyes as he peers over to where his father's voice sounds from, the agonizing ache in his chest never ending.

"He's.. He's right, Yu." Fireflypaw announces softly, gently- in order not to make the mourning Queen hurt more. (If that was even possible at this point). "The kits.. They're gone, Yukio." He sniffles back his tears which poured freely, the grief he felt unfathomable.. He didn't realize some kits could just.. Die before they could even see or hear. How awful it must be to be in Yukio's position, after all he's already been through. "I'm so sorry for your loss.." ​

SKYCLAN MEDICINE CAT APPRENTICE ✦ 11 MOONS ✦ CHUNKY, BIG-FOOTED SEAL POINT ✦ TAGS​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

He had overseen the kits' birth. Sweet mercy by StarClan; by Her, that they had come in warm and breathing, if not the slightest bit frail. SkyClanners had come and went, murmuring their congratulations. The queen himself, had been far happier than Dawnglare had ever forseen. Contradictory, this one, but in the moment, Dawnglare had said nothing. He had been content to slip from the crowd as the other queens surged forward; as pale fur met a dark, wounded frame.

He does not expect to be called again so soon, for the same face. The molly that meets him is stuttering, wanting help. Dawnglare would regard her with tired eyes and paws knocking together as he stands, feathery tail whipping up stray herb litter when he does. He does not know what to expect, and so, reaches for simply pain potion. Poppy Seeds are nearly plucked between his teeth until a voice reminds him– Not for nursing queens.

He had never asked why, and now he would never get to. The memory of Honeybee makes him blink.

Juniper berries are brought instead, held together by a fragile stem. His eyes are soft with apathy, as pale paws drag to the nursery. Blazestar's brutish form stands at the dens maw, other queens crowd around one of their own. Blinking, Dawnglare sees that the kits are not moving.

Lips part in a silent oh, the sprig of berries nearly slipping free, but quickly recaptured in his jaws. Blue eyes are uncharacteristically soft. Too late for medicine, comes the mewl of their leader, and Dawnglare hums in agreement. He dips his head in something like condolances, though he was not truly sure of what it was. He would not cry like Fireflypaw did, but he does not look on in anger, even if a part of him wondered whose fault it was. Cruel and unusual, to have a chance to see them live and breathe, if only for a moment, before passing.

Dawnglare presents the juniper berries, plucking two from the sprig and pushing them as far as he was willing to, the grieving queen already crowded. " These will soothe you, if you so wish, " He tells him. And he hesitates, the territory... unfamiliar. " Bring water, " he eventually tells his apprentice. Crying could be tiring.

Later, they would need lavender, but that would not be now. He would part with them when he was ready.​

 

[YUKIO]

don't rush something you want to last forever .​

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶​

He whined pitifully, tucking himself further into her hold, shoulders quivering with each gasp of air. His head throbbed, nose stuffy, leaving him gasping for breath. Everything hurt. He didn’t want it! He wanted his kits to breathe. He wanted to watch them grow. He didn’t … please. He begged anyone who would hear his cries.

He … He could stay? Was he truly home? But home was supposed to be safe. He didn’t feel safe. He didn’t—A whimper tore through the haze of emotion. Home. He felt raw. Exposed. Yukio wanted to go home. He wanted to go home.

He hiccuped, shaking his helm. They weren’t gone. They couldn’t be! His teary gaze peered at the bundles, grief-stricken. Didn’t medicine fix everything? Why…? Why couldn’t it work on them? He wanted to plea, to question why, but his throat closed, and out tumbled another shaky sob, chest shuddering. “S, Starclan?” He mumbled, delirious. Did they take his kits? Then … Then he could get them back. Right? He could get them back.

He peered up at Firefly, gaze blurry, shaking his helm. “T, Then we can get them b, back.” He sounded so sure despite the wobbly in his voice, pleading, tapering off to a mere whisper, realization pooling into watery optics. They’re gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. Sobs tore through past soft bitten lips, biting back the wail that threatened to slip past, teeth clamping onto supple flesh, tearing into it with a quiet broken no. His bundles weren’t coming home, were they?

Why did love hurt so much? He wanted it gone. He didn’t want to love! If—If this is what it felt like as he stared at unmoving bundles, pulling away from Bobbie’s warm embrace to press his nose against their cooling pelts, whispering softly, pleading for them to forgive him. Then … Then he didn’t—Yukio sobbed.

Dual optics peered at the juniper berries presented to him, staring numbly up at Dawnglare. Would this get rid of it all? He didn’t want to feel. His gaze lingered on the motionless bundles, paw reaching out to soothe their ruffled fur, eerily quiet. I’m so sorry. He wondered if he’ll ever say that enough to make up for all the things they’ll never be able to accomplish.

With a quiet whimper, Yukio took the berries, slipping them on his tongue with a shiver, hunkering back into Bobbie’s hold with flattened ears, tears continuing to trek down darkened cheeks, watching his kits for what could be the last time, muzzle crinkling, teeth gritting as he burrowed himself into his paws, soft cries echoing. ​

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thought speech​

 

[DROWSYNOSE]

I'VE LEARNED TO LOVE YOU, HONEY!​

---

the rottingly sweet scent isn't something that can be missed. surely the scent of flowers will be used to try and cover it, but with a nose so sensitive, it was a wonder that it did anything for these cats at all. drowsykit had been awaken by the pleas, her eyes flicking over from the shared nest of her mother and brothers, blinking awake fully as she curled her tail closer to herself, almost as if she's trying to hug herself in comfort. she stood, head tilting to the side with confusion. the young kit didn't understand death, or why the smell of it become stuck in her airway so easily.

"mama... what's..."

she senses that maybe this isn't a good time. she moves to shuffle closer to her brothers, ears pinning back. she doesn't dare yawn, even though she can feel one rising within her. now seemed like a bit more of a somber time... so many cats were crying. she truly wondered why.

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