pafp sunshine of my lifetime [birth]

[SCORCHSTREAK]

Her back has ached for two days now, and the dull waves of pain in her abdomen hasn’t let up. She has been picking meticulously at her nest, arranging and then rearranging and then arranging again. It’s become borderline obsessive in the past few days, the way that she needs everything to be perfect and neat. She’s never felt the need to keep her own pelt clean, either, but today she finds herself repeatedly attempting to lick at the swell of her stomach, trying to keep every bit of her fur groomed. She is due to give birth any day now, and she cannot wait to meet her kits. To introduce them to each of her clanmates, to spend her remaining days in the nursery with warm, fuzzy balls of fur pressed into her side.

She feels it truly begin in the early morning, sharp pain winding down her spine. It’s nigh unbearable, and the tunneler hisses as she rolls over in her nest. This is not her first pregnancy, and not her first time going into labor. Scorchstreak has done this all before. She knows what contractions feel like, knows that it will be time to start pushing soon. "Shit…"

She feels the need to call for help, if only so she won’t be alone during this time. Birthing is dangerous, the calico is well aware, and if she’s to die… she wants someone to know, to give her kits a fighting chance. The first cat she thinks to call out for is Tigerfrost, though—a fresh wave of icy-cold grief washes over the queen. Her dearest friend won’t be here to lend his gruff support. She then considers calling for Bluepool, but she would hate to disturb the silvery she-cat for such a thing. Curlewnose, perhaps, could help her.

She staggers to her feet, stiffly waddling to the entrance of the nursery. Glancing around, golden eyes lock onto the first cat she sees. To her surprise, it is Badgermoon, but she sheds her stinging remark to instead flick an ear at the tom. "Get me a stick," she calls, teeth gritted. She’ll need something to get through this without losing her mind. And for the love of all that the stars see, do not get Vulturemask. She couldn’t care less whether the deputy chooses to stay with her after fetching a stick, but she does not want the inky black healer anywhere near her or her unborn kits.


// pls wait for @Badgermoon!!
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[Badgermoon]

It was a good thing that Scorchstreak had been through this before, because Badgermoon certainly hadn't. The black-and-white tom had been excruciatingly uneasy over the last few days, and particularly the last day or so. He had been loitering outside the nursery more and more obviously, refusing to answer questions about his presence there beyond a muttered "guard duty" or "keeping watch", and jumping to his feet every time Scorchstreak's head popped out of the entrance. Thus when the rounded tortoiseshell emerged from the nursery he leapt to his feet, his yellow eyes fixing onto hers.

"Is it time?" he was unable to keep himself from asking: all pretenses dropped, anxiety and apology and excitement and uncertainty shining from his face like a beacon. "A stick? Right, got it, stick - " he turned around and darted to the edge of camp and its protective gorse-lining; within a few heartbeats he'd latched onto a sturdy stick bereft of thorns and hastened it back to Scorchstreak. He placed it delicately at the queen's paws and shifted, unable to meet her gaze. "May I stay?" asked the broad-shouldered tom in a low voice. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he missed this, no matter how frightened and unsure he felt.​

 

[Spiderbloom]

Spiderbloom liked Scorchstreak. They were room mates. Fellow rogues who joined the clan. Cool ladies who were kick ass moms. It was only right that Spiderbloom be there to help her during the agonizing process of childbirth.

She could tell today was the day wether it be from instinct or Scorchstreaks behavior. She was excited and nervous, knowing full well the dangers of birthing kits. What bothered her most was there was little she could do if anything DID happen, and she prayed to the stars everything would be fine.

She tells badgermoon to get a stick, and the stick meets her approval. That is a a good stick, right there. Perfect for its purpose.

"As long as you don't get in the way, I suppose..." She said to the deputy in a teasing tone.

She situated herself by Scorchstreak. Vulturemask would probably faint again, so she didn't call for him.

"Okay Scorchstreak. Let's get these babies BORN!" She said with confidence. Boss bitches gotta look out for each other!!​

 

[curlewnose]

"the wolf comes in the night when your mind is trying to sleep"​

Shooting a glare at Badgermoon, Curlewnose quickly made his way to Scorchstreak. He’d seen her at the mouth of the gorse bush and knew that it was time, and after their conversation the other day he knew Scorchstreak needed support from some cat other than the dumb-as-rocks deputy.

Reaching the nursery, Curlew padded right up to his friend, standing by her side and twining his tail with hers. ”If you don’t want him here, I’ll make sure he stays away,” he murmured in her ear, pinning Badgermoon with another glare. Then, softer, he looked the queen in the eye. ”You’ll be amazing, and they’ll be amazing, and you’ll never have to do it alone.” Curlew looked up to the hidden stars. ”They’re all watching, up there in Starclan, cheering you on. I bet Tigerfrost is here right now by your side.”

With the arrival of Spiderbloom, Curlew stepped back a fraction. A small laugh bubbled out at her confident words, and he smiled at Scorch. ”Well, you heard her! It’s time for them to meet the world.”

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✦ ★ ✦​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

The black and white feline immediately asks if it’s time, as if on instinct, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes. Toms. She nods, though, and watches him rush off after her requested stick. In the meantime, Scorchstreak waddles back to her nest, settling down gingerly amongst moss and feathers and pale, soft wool. The stick is brought to her with haste, and she moves it nearby; she’ll need it here in a few minutes.

Spiderbloom joins Badgermoon at her side, and Curlewnose comes alone not long after, excitement practically radiating off her pelt. The black and white tom asks whether he can stay, and Curlewnose murmurs reassurance that she doesn’t have to allow it, while Spiderbloom responds with the requirement that he stay out of the way. "You can stay," she says, twining her tail easily with Curlewnose’s. Her fellow tunneler’s encouragement brings a smile to her face, and more than anything that gives her the resolve to keep going, to get this done—to get these babies born, as her nursery-mate says.

The thing is, he’s right. She’s certain that, given the chance, Tigerfrost would have been here to see the birth of her litter, to support her through it all. And as she grits her teeth against another wave of pain, she prays that star-laden paws truly do rest beside her.

---

When all is said and done, Scorchstreak lies panting on her side, glassy-eyed and exhausted. The entire process has taken over two hours, and she wants nothing more than to rest for an eternity. But she needs to name them. Besides, she hasn’t had the chance to look at her kits yet, and she is eager to see them.

The first kit she lays eyes upon looks nearly the spitting image of their father, and the calico’s mouth twitches at the thought. She knows the perfect name for this kit already, a name to honor a loyal and true warrior, a good friend gone too soon; the patterning of this kit’s pelt seems to make them well-suited for the name. "This one is… Frostkit." She bestows her kit with a name to honor Tigerfrost, but she finds Spiderbloom’s face and smiles at the other queen. She hadn’t known Juniperfrost well, but he was a loyal WindClanner as well. She hopes that this kit will grow to be half as dedicated as the two toms, and will not meet the same tragic fate they had.

The next kit she looks at has an odd coloration, looking nothing like either Scorchstreak or Badgermoon. How this one had come from the two of them, she has no idea. But she will love them anyway, even in their current state: a mewling, damp, defenseless creature, blind and deaf to the world. Left in the dark, like a tunneler traversing underground pathways. "This one will be Rumblekit." Named after her tunneling partner—she hopes this one will become a tunneler. She hopes that they will all manage to become tunnelers, but Badgermoon is a large tom, so there’s clearly no guarantee.

The third kit she sees is dappled in striking white, blue, and cream—looking much more like their parents than Rumblekit. This one, she decides, will not carry the name of a WindClanner before them. This tiny scrap of multicolored fur will carry the name that she nearly gave to her firstborn. But Dappledsun wasn’t deserving, in the end, of such a name at all, so she’s glad that she saved it. "Luckykit. For good luck through all your life." She’s lucky to have a friend like Curlewnose in her life, clanmates like Spiderbloom and Bluepool who care about her.

The final kit that she gazes at is close in color to herself, splashed in reds and blacks, and Scorchstreak smiles softly. Her kits are all perfect. But she’s tired, and thoughts are slipping through her mind like sand from her paws. She looks to Badgermoon and moves to rest her head back on her nest. "You should name the last one," she suggests to him, golden eyes alight with an exhausted sort of happiness.
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[Badgermoon]

Spiderbloom appeared in a flurry of enthusiasm, and Badgermoon felt a surge of relief at the sight of another queen. At least Scorchstreak will have someone other than me to keep her company through this. though this train of thought became charged with even more anxiety as the familiar, dearly beloved, and - currently - highly unwelcome figure of Curlewnose appeared. In some way it was bizarre to encounter the tiny, slender tom like this - they hadn't spoken, really, not since The Incident - and now he was to be present at the birth of Badgermoon's children. Scorchstreak is his friend, you insufferable fox-heart. he reminded himself, watching as the two tunnelers twined together. His gut lurched at the sight; how desperately he wanted to be in that position. How foolish, how pathetic, he had been to refuse his feelings and to break Curlew's heart.

It was neither the time nor the place for Badgermoon's erstwhile heart, though, and Scorchstreak's grimaces of pain made it clear as day. "Thank you." he murmured to Scorchstreak as he gave him permission to stay, before hunkering down next to his one-time mate, his gaze locked onto her as she endured the process of labor. Occasionally he attempted to place one paw on her shoulder, or rasp his tongue along her flank, but otherwise he remained silent and still, his pulse racing as each kit came into the world. Only when the ordeal seemed complete, and Scorchstreak began examining and naming their children, did he wriggle closer, his eyes huge as the moon he was named for. There was a feeling in his chest like nothing he'd ever known: it felt, almost, like the dark, violent hunger which overtook him in battle, if only because it was the only thing remotely close to the sheer power of the emotion now upon him.

After a long silence, Badgermoon spoke. "They're...perfect." he couldn't have imagined any sight more beautiful than the small bundles now at their mother's belly: all tiny toes, demanding mewls, and soft little coats. No sunrise or sunset upon the moor, no expanse of starry sky, no cat living or dead: nothing and no one could compare. The first, a little black-and-white kit: he looks like me, Badgermoon thought with a start. "Frostkit." he echoed thoughtfully - approvingly, adoringly. It suited him, even if it hurt his heart to know that the warrior it was surely an homage to was gone. The next, a seal point splashed with white: "Rumblekit." he agreed at once, an enormous grin appearing on his face. It was a perfect name for a perfect kit, and honored another of their mother's friends.

The next, a blue-and-cream patchwork; Badgermoon was reminded at once of Curlewnose, and was unable to keep his eyes from darting over to the amber-eyed tom. "Luckykit." he hummed with affection and admiration. I'm the lucky one. thought Badgermoon with a shiver of joy darting down his spine. And last - though certainly not least; how could any of them be anything less than the most perfect creature in all the world? - a tiny she-kit, a riot of orange and black and white. Just like her mother. he thought fondly, though he did not fail to notice the white ear-tips. Like mine! To his surprise, Scorchstreak didn't name their last child; she dropped her head back down, instead, clearly exhausted from the hours of labor. "M-me? I..." he was going to get to name one? He stared down at their daughter, his eyes wide, before finally murmuring: "Scorchkit. For you. For...for everything."

With that said, Badgermoon edged closer and attempted to curl around the tunneler and the children they now shared, purrs emanating from his body so deeply they may well have shaken the very foundations of the nursery.​

 

[SCORCHSTREAK]

The calico doesn’t know what to expect of Badgermoon’s naming. Perhaps he’ll name the kit after himself, or after a good friend of his. Perhaps he’ll name the kit after Curlewnose, or Sootstar. But the name that falls from his mouth—Scorchkit. For a kit who looks like both of them, but has the fiery red markings of her mother. It’s… perfect.

"You’re naming her after me?" Shining golden eyes flick from Badgermoon to the little scrap of tricolored fur at her belly, and then to Curlewnose and Spiderbloom. One of her kits is named after her—she feels the onset of tears pricking at her eyes, and attempts to blink them away quickly. She’s so tired, it’s no wonder her emotional regulation is failing her.

Tilting her head—it’s so, so heavy right now—to lie back on her nest, Scorchstreak relaxes into the cats who surround her. She’s safe, and her kits are safe as she sleeps, wedged between clanmates who care about all five of them. "I’m going to… take a nap, I think." Her eyes slip closed at last, and Scorchstreak sleeps.
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[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

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[SCORCHSTORM]

TAGS — The mottled spot of a kitten is born, and not long after she is named, which means her life has truly begun. She is Scorchkit, named for her gale of a mother; the inferno that she takes after; a gesture of thanks to strengthen a perhaps tenuous friendship. And yet she has just as much her father's resemblance: his white-tipped ears, shoulders that would someday fill the broad silhouette he cuts. Maybe she'll grow to match their unwavering loyalty, or their irrefutable skill. Maybe she'll grow to inherit the flex of their claws and the slice of their teeth. It's hard to tell when she is just a scrap of fur at Scorchstreak's belly, with nursing being the only instinct she can follow. For now, that is all she needs; like her mother, she is soon asleep-- but she is not without the faintest of dreams.​

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[WEASELCLAW]

Weaselclaw had been utterly confused to discover the sire of Scorchstreak’s kits. He’d never seen Badgermoon or the tortoiseshell queen express affection toward one another, and truthfully, his deputy always looks faintly embarrassed in her presence. Still, when the black and white tom enters the nursery with Curlewnose, he realizes it’s time. The kits of the deputy and a fierce, respected lead warrior are a boon for the Clan regardless of their relationship to one another.

He waits a respectful amount of time before entering the nursery, once the cries have become murmurs among friends and mates. Badgermoon is curled proudly around Scorchstreak, whose eyelids flutter with exhaustion. Curlewnose is on the other side. Spiderbloom lurks in the background, likely with her own kits.

Weaselclaw offers a respectful nod to his superior and a friendly smile to his co-lead warrior. He acknowledges Curlewnose and Spiderbloom with a flick of the tail. “Congratulations. They look strong and healthy.” Patches of ginger, white, black, all dot the tortoiseshell’s flank. He’s taken back to his own kits’ birthing, as he always does, as he will for the rest of his life, and his eyes are momentarily soft. “Enjoy it while it lasts. Soon enough they’ll be causing you more gray hairs than you can count.”

He parts with a wave of his paw, exiting the nursery.

// out! He doesn’t want to intrude, he’s just paying respects
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[LUCKYPAW]

Hardly much more than a ball of fur, the tri-colored kitten curls deeper into the warmth of his family, initial cries already beginning to peter out into nothing but soft, intermittent mewls as everything around him begins to calm. Luckykit, he's named, just as his siblings receive their names, though it's not something he'll know until later; for now, his existence revolves only around nursing, and around the other bodies pressed up against him. It's all that he needs in this moment, and if he were able to put his thoughts into words, he'd only need one - contentment. Eventually, he drifts off alongside his family, at peace for the first time in his newly-found life, assured that when he wakes everything will still be as it should, everyone in their proper places.
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[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]​