Kitty-Kat-
a shot in the heart doesn't make it unbreak
- 21
- 3
- Pronouns
- they/she
Kitty-Kat-'s Storage [DNP]
- Thread starter Kitty-Kat-
- Start date
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Kitty-Kat-
a shot in the heart doesn't make it unbreak
- 21
- 3
- Pronouns
- they/she
A first person POV oneshot for @Lullaby. that was originally for an AP Literature project.
I've always liked sunsets, the sky so brightly painted- painted like me, all dressed up in vibrant violets, dusky oranges, and soft yellows, edges tinted by the inky black of nightfall which followed us like a shadow, like a sweater draped around our shoulders as we slowly sink into nothingness, into that place of dreams where all creatures go when they sleep. Clouds danced above my head as I walked, like dandelions blowing away - make a wish my mother would say, and I would. Never say it out loud, she'd say, or it won't come true - I never needed that advice of course, but I appreciated it nonetheless.
Sometimes I'd make wishes on those puffy little clouds to - wishes to be better, to learn more, to grow up to be big and strong. I'd always touch my bandanna when I made those wishes - warm memories of simpler times in the back of my mind as I held the tattered fabric, the cloth rough in my grasp. Times when the voices didn't whisper behind my back, when my smiles were met with smiles instead of frowns, my silent greetings welcomed instead of judged. Back when I could just be a kid - I'm still a kid, you know, but now there's a weight on my shoulders that wasn't there before.
The tracks were cast in shadows up as I walked along them, the wood rough beneath my feet, the metal rusted and weathered with age and disuse. It wasn't much farther now - I was almost there, almost home. The birds above my head had long stopped their singing but I knew they were there - I could sense them, watching me warily, waiting for me to take leave of them. My own humming made up for their silence, the sound rumbling through the cool air like the thundering roar of a monster on the prowl.
As I wandered I'd find an oddity - a lone dandelion sprouted up between the rails, it's yellow hue stark against the graying earth between my toes. It was all alone - the drought had destroyed most of the flowers long ago, even before it had the birds and the mice.
All alone in the dark. Alone just like me.
It didn't matter though - I left with only a fleeting glance, took up my travels once more. My attention was caught up instead by a much more pressing matter, getting home.
I could already see it from here - the huge, lumbering shape outlined by the fading sun. It's serpentine body so smooth and shiny, so dark- like an abyss; just laying there in the forest, out of place in all it's unnaturalness. The hulking beast took up so much space in it's sleeping state, the long coils stretched out, filling the rugged path it was bound to as if it was trying to catch the sun in its mouth. Or perhaps it was trying to catch me in it's jaws - it had been sleeping for so long now nobody was certain which end had been which.
The snake-monster had once terrified me - it was so big, so vast, easily capable of swallowing me whole - of swallowing up everyone and everything I loved. But it was silent - like me, it had always been silent, and silence was comfort and safety and home. As I arrived at my destination, I took a bounding leap - up off the tracks and into the snakes cavernous belly, to where I knew my family awaited. Soft snores echoed off it's hardened walls, and with a yawn of my own I curl up within my own bed and close my eyes, my tail wrapping around me as I laid my head to rest upon my paws.
Tomorrow- I think, tomorrow will be a great day.
Sometimes I'd make wishes on those puffy little clouds to - wishes to be better, to learn more, to grow up to be big and strong. I'd always touch my bandanna when I made those wishes - warm memories of simpler times in the back of my mind as I held the tattered fabric, the cloth rough in my grasp. Times when the voices didn't whisper behind my back, when my smiles were met with smiles instead of frowns, my silent greetings welcomed instead of judged. Back when I could just be a kid - I'm still a kid, you know, but now there's a weight on my shoulders that wasn't there before.
The tracks were cast in shadows up as I walked along them, the wood rough beneath my feet, the metal rusted and weathered with age and disuse. It wasn't much farther now - I was almost there, almost home. The birds above my head had long stopped their singing but I knew they were there - I could sense them, watching me warily, waiting for me to take leave of them. My own humming made up for their silence, the sound rumbling through the cool air like the thundering roar of a monster on the prowl.
As I wandered I'd find an oddity - a lone dandelion sprouted up between the rails, it's yellow hue stark against the graying earth between my toes. It was all alone - the drought had destroyed most of the flowers long ago, even before it had the birds and the mice.
All alone in the dark. Alone just like me.
It didn't matter though - I left with only a fleeting glance, took up my travels once more. My attention was caught up instead by a much more pressing matter, getting home.
I could already see it from here - the huge, lumbering shape outlined by the fading sun. It's serpentine body so smooth and shiny, so dark- like an abyss; just laying there in the forest, out of place in all it's unnaturalness. The hulking beast took up so much space in it's sleeping state, the long coils stretched out, filling the rugged path it was bound to as if it was trying to catch the sun in its mouth. Or perhaps it was trying to catch me in it's jaws - it had been sleeping for so long now nobody was certain which end had been which.
The snake-monster had once terrified me - it was so big, so vast, easily capable of swallowing me whole - of swallowing up everyone and everything I loved. But it was silent - like me, it had always been silent, and silence was comfort and safety and home. As I arrived at my destination, I took a bounding leap - up off the tracks and into the snakes cavernous belly, to where I knew my family awaited. Soft snores echoed off it's hardened walls, and with a yawn of my own I curl up within my own bed and close my eyes, my tail wrapping around me as I laid my head to rest upon my paws.
Tomorrow- I think, tomorrow will be a great day.
Kitty-Kat-
a shot in the heart doesn't make it unbreak
- 21
- 3
- Pronouns
- they/she
An unposted kitting/birth oneshot for @Rat. that was originally intended for CalicoCorner. TW for death/childbirth.
This wasn't how their story was supposed to go.
When Hopscotch had met Tesla, it had been love at first sight. A handsome housecat with the most unusual tail she'd ever seen and vivid blue eyes that seemed to see through her very soul, she'd been drawn to him instantly. They'd started talking - idle pleasantries at first, but soon enough it had become something more meaningful. She'd spent less time wandering the alleyways in search of scraps and more time sitting by his side, sharing the meat scraps his housefolk left out, playing in the garden and chasing the birds and lizards anything else unfortunate enough to cross their paths. When the nights grew colder and the prey scarcer she'd known she could rely on him, and she had.
The kit were an unexpected complication. They'd been dancing around each other for moons, their feelings plain to see, but no mention had been made of any permanence - their worlds were simply to different. Until they'd been blessed - her stomach growing rounder and her nausea a dead giveaway. She'd worried it'd be the end of them - instead, Tesla had been overjoyed. They decided she'd join him in his housefolk's stone nest - a steady supply of warmth and food was what was best for the kits, and while she'd be sad to be attached to the vine-like contraption that tied him to the yard instead of roaming free, it wasn't as if she hadn't spent most days by his side anyways.
The only problems was the timing - Tesla had echoed the same concerns she'd heard from other housecats, the ones who ran away from home when with kit. The fear of the twolegs taking the she-cats to the cutters and stealing their kits from them too soon. Neither of them would risk that, and so she was to wait in her den until it was time for them to come. Those days had been the hardest to bear - weeks of hiding in the alleyways and living off of scraps once more, a chill in her bones that never seemed to leave. And then the day had come, and she'd set off to see her lover, joy in her own dull blue eyes.
He wasn't there.
The nest was still - silent and empty, the air stale. The red monster was gone, the cat flap locked tight. Even some of the flowerpots had disappeared. Tesla was gone - without even a goodbye.
How was she going to care for her kits without him? The panic is tangible - an acrid taste filling her mouth as she stares blankly at the spot they'd spent so many moons together. It's this that gives her the idea - of the countless conversations, many had centered around the odd group of housecats and strays and alley cats alike, a rag-tag bunch that had spoken of 'clans' and living in the woods where the prey was plentiful. They'd been looking for members, hadn't they? There had been massive battle scarred toms and cunning loners, certainly they'd be able to help!
As the sun sets on the horizon, she'd set off with a new sense of determination, forcing her paws onwards despite the short-ness of breath. Finding the forest is easy enough - squeezing through the fence gap a bit harder, she'd grown rounder than she'd thought, her belly heavy with kits. The real problem had come in navigating the woods - every tree and rock and stump looked the same to her, and her senses had been dulled by the acrid taste of asphalt and tar, burning rubber and rotting garbage ever present in the twolegplace. The shadows seem to leer at her, and her paw steps quicken - anxiety coiling in her gut. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea after all.
She bursts into the moonlit clearing, flanks heaving as she struggles to catch her breath, when the first pang hits. Eyes go wide and she stumbles at the force of the contraction, a whimper slipping past her pale lips. "No," she chokes out. It's too soon - she can't have her kits, not yet, not here. She doesn't even know where here is - there could be any manner of predator, of danger. She'd meant to find the forest clan not whatever this place is.
She has no choice though, she can barely drag herself to the roots of the massive trees before she collapses in pain as the contractions worsen - the pangs and spasms sending searing pain through her body. A quiet scream is ripped from her throat as her vision darkens and she tastes blood - she must have bit her tongue. She lies there in pain for what seems like forever and no time at all at once, before an odd sound breaks the silence.
"H-hello?" the panicked voice snags her attention, and with what feels like too much effort her dull gaze flicks to the strange feline before her. A skeletal thin scrap of fur stands before her, haunting green gaze glowing in the darkness. She cannot speak, cannot do anything but cry and wait the pain out again, but she finds herself relieved. Help had finally arrived. Frantic paws press against her pelt, garbled words she can't make out through the haze and the feel of another's tongue rasping frantically against her cheek has her blinking her eyes open - when had she closed them? "Please... wake up... I cant- I don't... know what to do!" Head lolls to the side, peering at herself in some sort of detached state - when did the kits get here? "Lick them... backwards," it's the advice her own mother had passed onto her so many moons ago, when she'd still been around.
So many of her friends are dead... is she going to join them?
She feels as though she's floating in a bubble as she watches, a faint smile in her lips despite the desperation of the cat before her. A hysterical chuckle escapes her, and when the other molly - for the figure before her is a she-cat, she finally notes, she has only this to say "You're a clan cat, right?" she doesn't think to specify which clan the feline before her is from. A startled nod is answer enough, and she voices the question that's been on her mind the entire journey. "Will you take them? Protect them?" she knows she's dying - she can feel her strength fading away, the color leeching from the world as blood ebbs from her wounds, staining the ground and the paws of the warrior before her.
"I... I will- wait!" she doesn't; she can't. Head hits the ground as her breathing finally stops, a hollow echo of a smile left on her face, and Hopscotch is no more. She's content in the knowledge that her kits will be looked after, will be safe.
Rat stares blankly, hollowly, at the still warm body pressed against her. Blood soaks her pelt, rendering her chilled in the night air, and tiny kits squirm and wriggle against her. This is not how she'd imagined the night going - she'd simply wanted to go for a quick hunt, a nighttime stroll. Her usual routine for sleepless nights had not been so routine after all when she'd stumbled upon the molly mid kitting. She'd wanted to run for help, but there had been so much blood. The blue tabby had barely even been responsive - the lone kit birthed before her arrive still wrapped in it's mucus sack, still and unbreathing. She'd thought them both dead before the molly had finally spoken.
She'd followed the directions blindly - panic rushing her strokes and movements. She'd startled when the tiny body at her paws had taken it's first breath - a wailing cry that seemed to echo in the stillness of Fourtrees. She'd repeated the process over and over again, three more times before it was over. There was no time for relief, no time for the joy of new life, because the strange feline before was quickly slipping away. The promise was drawn from her lips without a second thought, and before she can even argue the queen is gone - eyes glassy, flanks still, her body already beginning to cool.
She screams at the unfairness of it all - Why her?
She's not sure how long she lays there, sobbing into the queens fur - her cheeks are damp with blood and tears even as she struggles to her paws. The newborns are tiny - so tiny, she's terrified they'll break. They're clutched gently in her jaws as she takes step after step - placed beneath the hollow roots, sheltered, away from the blood that coats the grass and makes it slick, her own paws slipping.
She buries the molly who's name she'd never learned - gives her a grave marker and a name within the confines of her own mind. "Don't worry, I'll take care of them... I swear," is her choked promise, reiterated one last time, and she's gathering up the kits again - her kits. She turns her back on the forest and all that it holds, her paws carrying her to moorlands she knows so well. She will take them home.
When Hopscotch had met Tesla, it had been love at first sight. A handsome housecat with the most unusual tail she'd ever seen and vivid blue eyes that seemed to see through her very soul, she'd been drawn to him instantly. They'd started talking - idle pleasantries at first, but soon enough it had become something more meaningful. She'd spent less time wandering the alleyways in search of scraps and more time sitting by his side, sharing the meat scraps his housefolk left out, playing in the garden and chasing the birds and lizards anything else unfortunate enough to cross their paths. When the nights grew colder and the prey scarcer she'd known she could rely on him, and she had.
The kit were an unexpected complication. They'd been dancing around each other for moons, their feelings plain to see, but no mention had been made of any permanence - their worlds were simply to different. Until they'd been blessed - her stomach growing rounder and her nausea a dead giveaway. She'd worried it'd be the end of them - instead, Tesla had been overjoyed. They decided she'd join him in his housefolk's stone nest - a steady supply of warmth and food was what was best for the kits, and while she'd be sad to be attached to the vine-like contraption that tied him to the yard instead of roaming free, it wasn't as if she hadn't spent most days by his side anyways.
The only problems was the timing - Tesla had echoed the same concerns she'd heard from other housecats, the ones who ran away from home when with kit. The fear of the twolegs taking the she-cats to the cutters and stealing their kits from them too soon. Neither of them would risk that, and so she was to wait in her den until it was time for them to come. Those days had been the hardest to bear - weeks of hiding in the alleyways and living off of scraps once more, a chill in her bones that never seemed to leave. And then the day had come, and she'd set off to see her lover, joy in her own dull blue eyes.
He wasn't there.
The nest was still - silent and empty, the air stale. The red monster was gone, the cat flap locked tight. Even some of the flowerpots had disappeared. Tesla was gone - without even a goodbye.
How was she going to care for her kits without him? The panic is tangible - an acrid taste filling her mouth as she stares blankly at the spot they'd spent so many moons together. It's this that gives her the idea - of the countless conversations, many had centered around the odd group of housecats and strays and alley cats alike, a rag-tag bunch that had spoken of 'clans' and living in the woods where the prey was plentiful. They'd been looking for members, hadn't they? There had been massive battle scarred toms and cunning loners, certainly they'd be able to help!
As the sun sets on the horizon, she'd set off with a new sense of determination, forcing her paws onwards despite the short-ness of breath. Finding the forest is easy enough - squeezing through the fence gap a bit harder, she'd grown rounder than she'd thought, her belly heavy with kits. The real problem had come in navigating the woods - every tree and rock and stump looked the same to her, and her senses had been dulled by the acrid taste of asphalt and tar, burning rubber and rotting garbage ever present in the twolegplace. The shadows seem to leer at her, and her paw steps quicken - anxiety coiling in her gut. Perhaps this hadn't been the best idea after all.
She bursts into the moonlit clearing, flanks heaving as she struggles to catch her breath, when the first pang hits. Eyes go wide and she stumbles at the force of the contraction, a whimper slipping past her pale lips. "No," she chokes out. It's too soon - she can't have her kits, not yet, not here. She doesn't even know where here is - there could be any manner of predator, of danger. She'd meant to find the forest clan not whatever this place is.
She has no choice though, she can barely drag herself to the roots of the massive trees before she collapses in pain as the contractions worsen - the pangs and spasms sending searing pain through her body. A quiet scream is ripped from her throat as her vision darkens and she tastes blood - she must have bit her tongue. She lies there in pain for what seems like forever and no time at all at once, before an odd sound breaks the silence.
"H-hello?" the panicked voice snags her attention, and with what feels like too much effort her dull gaze flicks to the strange feline before her. A skeletal thin scrap of fur stands before her, haunting green gaze glowing in the darkness. She cannot speak, cannot do anything but cry and wait the pain out again, but she finds herself relieved. Help had finally arrived. Frantic paws press against her pelt, garbled words she can't make out through the haze and the feel of another's tongue rasping frantically against her cheek has her blinking her eyes open - when had she closed them? "Please... wake up... I cant- I don't... know what to do!" Head lolls to the side, peering at herself in some sort of detached state - when did the kits get here? "Lick them... backwards," it's the advice her own mother had passed onto her so many moons ago, when she'd still been around.
So many of her friends are dead... is she going to join them?
She feels as though she's floating in a bubble as she watches, a faint smile in her lips despite the desperation of the cat before her. A hysterical chuckle escapes her, and when the other molly - for the figure before her is a she-cat, she finally notes, she has only this to say "You're a clan cat, right?" she doesn't think to specify which clan the feline before her is from. A startled nod is answer enough, and she voices the question that's been on her mind the entire journey. "Will you take them? Protect them?" she knows she's dying - she can feel her strength fading away, the color leeching from the world as blood ebbs from her wounds, staining the ground and the paws of the warrior before her.
"I... I will- wait!" she doesn't; she can't. Head hits the ground as her breathing finally stops, a hollow echo of a smile left on her face, and Hopscotch is no more. She's content in the knowledge that her kits will be looked after, will be safe.
Rat stares blankly, hollowly, at the still warm body pressed against her. Blood soaks her pelt, rendering her chilled in the night air, and tiny kits squirm and wriggle against her. This is not how she'd imagined the night going - she'd simply wanted to go for a quick hunt, a nighttime stroll. Her usual routine for sleepless nights had not been so routine after all when she'd stumbled upon the molly mid kitting. She'd wanted to run for help, but there had been so much blood. The blue tabby had barely even been responsive - the lone kit birthed before her arrive still wrapped in it's mucus sack, still and unbreathing. She'd thought them both dead before the molly had finally spoken.
She'd followed the directions blindly - panic rushing her strokes and movements. She'd startled when the tiny body at her paws had taken it's first breath - a wailing cry that seemed to echo in the stillness of Fourtrees. She'd repeated the process over and over again, three more times before it was over. There was no time for relief, no time for the joy of new life, because the strange feline before was quickly slipping away. The promise was drawn from her lips without a second thought, and before she can even argue the queen is gone - eyes glassy, flanks still, her body already beginning to cool.
She screams at the unfairness of it all - Why her?
She's not sure how long she lays there, sobbing into the queens fur - her cheeks are damp with blood and tears even as she struggles to her paws. The newborns are tiny - so tiny, she's terrified they'll break. They're clutched gently in her jaws as she takes step after step - placed beneath the hollow roots, sheltered, away from the blood that coats the grass and makes it slick, her own paws slipping.
She buries the molly who's name she'd never learned - gives her a grave marker and a name within the confines of her own mind. "Don't worry, I'll take care of them... I swear," is her choked promise, reiterated one last time, and she's gathering up the kits again - her kits. She turns her back on the forest and all that it holds, her paws carrying her to moorlands she knows so well. She will take them home.
Kitty-Kat-
a shot in the heart doesn't make it unbreak
- 21
- 3
- Pronouns
- they/she
Code:
[fancypost=70%; margin: auto; font-family: georgia; color: white; size: 12px; text-align: justify;][fancypost=99%; margin: auto; font-family: indie flower; font-size: 20px; color: white;][center][color=steelblue][b] Plover's Kittens - Colony Adopts [/b][/color][/center][/fancypost]
[fancypost='width: 99%; margin: 0 auto; border: none;background:linear-gradient(to right,transparent,slateblue,steelblue,steelblue,slateblue,transparent); height: 2px;'][color=transparent]-[/color][/fancypost]
Plover has always been a family oriented cat - once close with his parents and siblings, after losing them and joining the colony he finds himself feeling rather lonesome once more. Ignoring Fray's illness and the budding tension between factions, Plover decides that if he can't have his family back, he'll simply start a new one. Amidst the growing struggles, the split, and an oncoming leaf-bare, Plover finds himself suffering from morning sickness - at perhaps the worst time possible. Still, he feels nothing but elation - his dream coming true.
[b][color=steelblue]Rules.[/color][/b]
[color=steelblue]➣[/color] this is not fcfs. kittens will be chosen on [b]12/12[/b]
[color=steelblue]➣[/color] plover is currently [b]three weeks along[/b], with the due date set for [b]12/15[/b]. kits will start at two moons old and age [u]realtime[/u] each month on their birthdate.
[color=steelblue]➣[/color] these kits may be born in the colony or in thunderclan, depending on how long things take to play out. however, they will be required to follow plover to thunderclan should the split happen [i]after[/i] they are born.
[color=steelblue]➣[/color] plover uses masc. terms (he/him) and would be refered to as dad (or some variation of it) by these kits
[color=steelblue]➣[/color] this litter has a color theme rather then specific genetics. please keep this in mind when designing and applying.
[color=steelblue]➣[/color] while there is a maximum of three slots allowed per litter as being open, plase be aware that [b]I may not fill all slots[/b]. this is nothing against any specific roleplayer or application.[/indent]
[b][color=steelblue]Genetics.[/color][/b]
[indent][color=steelblue]➣[/color] kittens can be [b]any black or blue coloration[/b]. this means they must have at least some black or blue on them, but what pattern is entirely up to you as long as it passes the semi-realism test. they can have any fur length, eye color, amount of white, etc. just make sure they stick to the black/blue fur color theme! [/indent]
[b][color=steelblue]Slots.[/color][/b]
[indent][color=steelblue]➣[/color] [i]it's a secret[/i]
[/indent]
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