Don't Go By The River || Butterflytuft

[Chickbloom]

The baby bird had begun spending more time around the nursery as of late, eternally wide amber eyes constantly downcast as the Scottish Fold worried about squishing one of its tiny residents. He hadn't known much about kits, not too long ago believing that looking after them was a rather boring affair, but now he wondered how the queens had any energy left to stay awake.

speaking of queens, Chickbloom believed he owed a visit to one in particular. Butterflytuft was the reason he'd started to play babysitter, pillow-soft demeanor putting a racing heart at ease while assuring the whelp that very little was out of reach. She was like Twitchbolt in that way, he supposed. While Skyclan's nervous deputy acted as life saving fuel to the coward's continuously-smoldering campfire, keeping ambition alive for greater physical prowess in the face of his fears, Butterflytuft was like a warm vision of what the future could be. she was soft-hearted and shy, but that didn't stop her from living a peaceful life surrounded by loved ones, living proof that parenthood was still in the cards.

Truthfully Chickbloom hadn't given much thought to a mate and kits, but Silversmoke and Johnnyflame, Twitchbolt and Quillstrike, now Fireflyglow and Greeneyes, it served as an uncomfortable reminder of the stage in his life that had yet to come. Everyone needed a mate, right? some preferred toms, she-cats, or something in-between, but that connection was a fact of life nevertheless. the warrior felt the worm in his stomach begin to grow, the churning feeling creating a sense of urgency he wanted to squish.

taking care to pick a particularly juicy mouse from the prey pile, ambling amber paws sought out the permanent queen, feeling the weight in his stomach lift as the she-cat caught his eye. settling across from her, Chickbloom pushed the prey forwards with a paw. "F-For you" he said simply, trying to thank Butterflytuft for helping him (at least until his own stomach growled)
"O-Or we can share - if - if you want..."

as the two cats broke bread, bathed in the dawn glow of Skyclan's camp, nervous features finally shaped thoughts into words. "S-So, how...how do you get a c-cat to - y'know - l-like you..?" It was completely out of left field, but the Boy was never good at broaching subjects like this. In some ways it was the wrong question entirely, as Chickbloom didn't even have a crush. But he had to, right? there must be a cat in Skyclan he fancied, because if there wasn't...

// @butterflytuft I'm so sorry for this man​

 

[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft's ears perk up at the sound of Chickbloom's hesitant voice. She looks up from where she's watching Budkit play, a warm smile spreading across her face as he approaches with a mouse. "Oh, Chickbloom! Thank you," She replies, blinking gratefully at his thoughtful gesture. She nudges the mouse back towards him. "Yes, let’s share! You've brought such a nice meal."

As they begin to nibble on the prey, the tortoiseshell can't help but notice the way his nervousness melts away, much like the tension he'd had the first time he spent time in the nursery. His amber eyes flicker around as if gathering the courage to say something, and her heart goes out to him. She remains quiet, wanting to give him the space to speak if he wants to. He must have something heavy to say!

Butterflytuft pauses mid-bite, surprised by his sudden question. How do you get a cat to like you? It's an innocent enough inquiry, but it strikes a chord deep within her. She thinks back to Dandelionwish and how their connection grew from friendship into something much deeper. "Well," She begins softly, choosing her words carefully, "I think the most important thing is to be yourself. Find common ground, something you both enjoy, and let the friendship develop naturally." She tilts her head, her whiskers twitching in encouragement. "Sometimes, the best relationships grow from friendship first. Just being there for someone, listening, and sharing little moments can create a bond." The queen’s eyes glimmer with understanding. "Don't rush it, either. The right cat will appreciate you for who you are. Just look at how you've taken to caring for the kits! You're kind and gentle, and those qualities are so valuable. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life." She offers him a reassuring smile, hoping to bolster his confidence. "So, tell me, is there someone you've been thinking about?"
​

 

[Chickbloom]

an eternal pessimist, Chickbloom half-expected his question to be met with a bark of laughter. An egg-battered form had already begun shrinking inwards, tensing like a spring just in case he had to sprint away from a scathing reply. Instead of mockery, though, the milksop was given advice.

Chickbloom was not a smooth cat. He wasn’t suave, subtle, or sophisticated. It was one of the whelp’s (many) weaknesses, but Butterflytuft made it easier. No matter the silly, stuttered words that came shakily out of the Scottish Fold, the she-cat met them with calm consideration. It made him feel…better.

“I - I like hunting, is t-that good?” Chickbloom answered a bit too energetically, like the boy was trying to convince himself that he had qualities someone could find common ground in. But was that enough? It seemed a bit..basic. The warrior didn’t think he knew any cat that that disliked hunting. Did it make him come off as boring? The coward panicked just a bit, quickly searching for another activity he enjoyed. “And p-playing with the kits, I guess - t-thanks again for that…” That presented its own problem, though. Chickbloom wasn’t well-acquainted with any cat who liked caring for kits. Well, besides Butterflytuft.

A soft smile crossed cowardly features as she continued her advice. Friendships weren’t a common commodity in Chickbloom’s life, and he’d already wondered if he ‘liked’ any of his current friends. He knew what love was supposed to feel like - at least, he’d heard about it. Someone who makes you feel safe and wanted, someone who looks after your well-being while you do the same, someone you can trust. He knew he didn’t ‘like’ Silversmoke and the rest, even though he felt that way with all of them, so there must be something more.

It was all so confusing, but the queen made it make a bit more sense. Amber eyes narrowed for a half-moment, scrutinizing the cat at the end of his gaze. A relationship blossoming from a friendship, with a caring cat who appreciated him, faults and all. Someone like…Butterflytuft.

Oh, no.

Like a hypochondriac looking up an illness online, the other symptoms began to appear. An anxious heart began beating faster, and egg-splashed paws fidgeted on the ground as Chickbloom wondered if he really cared about the queen in that way. On one hand he was relieved, thankful his heart wasn’t defective, thankful he could finally join the club, so to speak. On the other, he was terrified in a whole new way.

The boy was brought out of himself by Butterflytuft’s question, A question which only just now gained an answer. The baby bird flew to his feet, fur fluffing up in panic. “Uh - um - n-no! I’m j-just - y’know - m-making conversation - I g-guess - it’s - yeah - it’s fine, f-forget about it, Y’know? Ha-hahaha!” Nestled amongst all the other weaknesses residing in Chickbloom like maggots in a dead mouse, the tomcat was a terrible liar. It was sheer luck that the identity of a crush was one of those things expected to be kept secret, or else he’d come off suspicious. Instead, he just came off as a love-struck idiot.

The Scottish Fold forced a deep breath, sitting down and trying to flatten an omelette-like pelt. “There’s - t-this stuff is really c-confusing, so t-thanks, I g-guess. You’re -“ Amber eyes angled away from the object of his imagined affections for a moment, watching Budkit immersed in yet another game. “-A-Any cat would be l-lucky to have you, t-too. You’re - You’re a - a g-great mom.” Though still tinged with his usual stutter, Chickbloom’s compliment was strangely the most serene he’d sounded for the entire conversation.​

 

[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft watches Chickbloom closely as he stumbles through his response, her smile growing a bit more nervous with each fumbled word. Her heart goes out to him - he's trying so hard to say something, though it's clear he's flustered. She can see the gears turning in his mind, the anxiety in his fidgeting paws and his fluffed fur when he stands suddenly. Was it something she said? When he blurts out his denial, she chuckles softly, though not in a mocking way - more in a manner that tries her best to come across understanding and comforting. "It's okay, Chickbloom," She reassures him gently. "We don’t have to talk about it.”

As he compliments her, calling her a great mom, her eyes soften. She even feels a flicker of surprise, but mostly gratitude. Not many cats say such things directly, and it touches her heart. "Thank you," She says sincerely, her tone quiet. "That means a lot to me." She tilts her head, watching him for a moment, as if considering her next words.

"You know," She adds warmly, "I think you'd make a great father someday. You're so kind and patient with the kits, and you have such a good heart." She hopes the words will reassure him, help him see the good in himself that sometimes gets buried under his insecurities. "And when the time comes, the right cat will see that, too,” She finishes with a soft smile, letting her words settle between them as she watches Budkit playing nearby.
​

 

[Chickbloom]

In the few moments since his idiotic realization, the boy's breathing had gotten faster, his heartbeat fluttering like the queen's namesake. in some ways it was intentional, self-fulfilling. This is what cats with crushes are supposed to feel like, so I should have those same feelings. But no matter how artificial these feelings were, the fact remained they were still there.

Chickbloom let out a small sigh of relief as Butterflytuft pulled back from pressing the question, thankful that he wouldn't have to confess his feelings right then and there. however, her next words do nothing to slow his heartbeat. it's involuntary, but the boy let out a quick bark of nervous laughter at the implication, egg-battered cheeks turning a shade of crimson at the same time. "S-Sorry - I didn't mean - that's not -" The hatched egg was scrambling now, trying to do damage control with trying to correct the kind cat's belief at the same time . "I c-couldn't. heh, I really couldn't. I wouldn't be any - any good at that." Eternally underselling himself, the milksop could't comprehend raising a child. However, the one upside to such low self-esteem was that is was quite easy to convince the coward he was in the wrong. The baby bird's chirp dropped to a whisper, wondering if the smarter she-cat had a point. "D-Do you...do you r-really think so?"

Chickbloom had never payed much mind to fathering kits, only knowing it was something he should do eventually. all cats settled down at some point, right? so maybe Butterflytuft was just trying to boost his confidence when that bridge came. An anxious mind began to whir, though, adding more layers to the simple compliment. And when the time comes, the right cat will see that, too. Did she mean...

It was practically preposterous, but an overactive and anxious imagination had a tendency to make mountains out of molehills. maybe that was why she put the idea of visiting the nursery into his head? maybe that was why she was going through such lengths to get him comfortable with parenthood? maybe, when he was ready, she'd want...him?

Chickbloom didn't know why, but he suddenly felt very, very nauseous. standing up slowly so he wouldn't vomit, clearly rattled by the compliment (and his own overthinking), the warrior began to turn away, amber eyes angling towards a hunting patrol about to leave camp. "T-Thank you. I'm - I've gotta go, so - it - it was g-good talking to you! You're really - very -" The whelp couldn't even finish his sentence before bounding away.

//out!​

 

[butterflytuft]

Butterflytuft can't help but chuckle softly, though it's a gentle, reassuring sound rather than one of amusement at his expense. She didn't mean to make him uncomfortable, and she can tell he's spiraling a little, his self-doubt and uncertainty bubbling to the surface again.

She listens as he stammers through his response, trying to deny that he could ever be a good father, and her heart aches for him. His lack of confidence is so palpable that it almost makes her want to comfort him like she would one of her own kits. When he asks if she really thinks he could be a good father, she leans in just a little, her expression sincere and soft. "I really do," She replies. "You've already shown how much you care. And that's one of the most important things about being a parent - caring enough to be there for them. You're patient and gentle, even when you're nervous. Those are qualities that any kit would be lucky to have in their father."

She hesitates for a moment, seeing the tension in his posture, and before she can say anything else he pushes a response quickly through his teeth. He doesn’t even bother to finish his sentence before he’s off, scampering away like he’s got everywhere else to be. She stares after him with round eyes and pricked ears, stunned. “O-oh! Okay! See you later!” She calls lightly after him. What an odd tom.

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