My NM is cis fem and doesn’t play around with the notion of wanting to experience everything in her mortal body including conceiving carrying and having a baby (and being doted on/ waited on hand and foot by M+M ) the traditional way so fingers crossed for that potential option too (but if it’s too much I get it 🥹)
You will get to decide if your MC actually carries the baby or has alternative methods. As someone who has been pregnant irl and who has been around a lot of pregnancies, it would almost be easier for me to code if it was a lantern birth because pregnancy is such a wild experience that varies from person to person. Plus, I want to get rid of the notion of a child not being someone's child, just because they didn't 'give birth' to them. It's a dumb as shit concept. All children are children to the parents that love and raise them. Also, before anyone asks, you do not have to have a child either. Because deciding not to have children is also a valid life choice.
Personal: I have two step daughters who I consider my own children. I also have had two c section babies. I have literally been told before that I don't know what it's like to have children because I was only a step mother (this was before my bio children) and have been told that I was 'robbed' the beauty of childbirth because I didn't have my kids naturally. People are fucking wild in this world and have some stupid ass opinions when it comes to kids. I will absolutely be making variations available in this game to combat and normalize that it doesn't matter how a baby came into this world. It matters far more that people love and support them through life.
i need to draw more from this fic especially this book coz its... so... good... sniffles... Four To The End book three, fic on ao3 by @dovahtobi !!
i have like three chapters to go before i finish and then move on to the fourth book 🤔 quite thrilled. the last drawing is a little old. i might redraw it..
The sky arched over the earth in an impressive display of colors. Cinderpaw was situated outside of the Mother in a way where the massive legs kept her from seeing the horizons on either side of the world, but the sun’s glow was fighting hard to retain its gold and red, while on the other end stars crawled into the sky higher and higher in the deep blues and purples of night.
Cinderpaw’s eyes drifted between the stars she could see, connecting them with invisible lines and forming inexact silhouettes. She wondered if the stars ever made the shape of a cat or some other animal. Maybe that would make StarClan a little self-centered, to actually make a cat out of cats, but what else was a feline, really? At least, that was what Yellowfang had always said.
“Oh!”
She looked back down. Several cats were approaching, two of them crossing the road together. The smallest of them, a pair of patched cats, were coming around the corner of the Mother’s left leg. The older one, grey-and-white, was the one who had spoken.
“I did not expect you to be here so early,” he said in his soft, slightly creaky voice. “Apologies for making you wait.”
“Hi, Fognose.” Cinderpaw waved her tail and stood up. “I actually got here yesterday. Firestar had his ceremony and we thought I should stay here to save myself a trip.”
“Good idea,” said WindClan’s seer, a handsome dark brown tom named Buzzardface. He looked just as impassive as the rest of his Clan, but his words were kind. “Sorry about your mentor. Heard after the Gathering.”
“Yeah…” Cinderpaw sighed. “Thanks. I’m just glad the stars let me help name Firestar.”
“They know you’re not a fool.” Mudcloud said, another patched tom (this time dark brown) from RiverClan. His pleasantly round face squished in a bit with amusement. “If Yellowfang herself didn’t come down to swat you, I’m sure you did it right.”
Fognose and his apprentice, Littlepaw, both chuffed.
“She didn’t, luckily,” Cinderpaw said with a purr.
Fognose reached Cinderpaw. She saw a dim grief in his eyes. “I do hope she watches over us tonight. Her best apprentice ought to receive her name with her mentor present.” Before a heavy pause could rest between the seers, Fognose cleared his throat. “Now, I am to give you your name, and I know we have more than one option for you. You could be a -belly, and you could change your name entirely to honor your leg. I remember that you talked about that, once…”
“Well, actually—” Cinderpaw lifted a paw. “I have a different name I’d like, if I’m allowed.”
The toms all fell silent, looking at each other curiously. Fognose tilted his head.
“I know it’s a weird request, but I’d like to be given -pelt.” At the slightly confused squint from Buzzardface, Cinderpaw hastened to add, “Yellowfang’s old name was Murkpelt when she was in ShadowClan. I want something to honor her with for the rest of my life, and I think having part of her name with me is the best I can do.”
Mudcloud blinked. “You want your name to not be your own?”
“I do,” Cinderpaw said with a firm nod. She added to Fognose, “Please.”
Littlepaw looked up at his mentor, gauging his reaction. Hesitantly, he offered, “I think it would honor your mentor, sir.”
“It would,” Fognose murmured. His eyes warmed as he regarded the taller Cinderpaw. “Very well, then. At your request.”
“Best get started.” Buzzardface started off for the mouth of the Mother, the other seers following him.
The walk inside those tunnels, with the absolute lack of sensory input, alarmed many apprentices and warriors. Cinderpaw herself strolled along with confidence, having a faint impression of being gently held in the belly of a queen, even if it was absolutely freezing in here.
The party reached the cave of the Moon Stone in what seemed like no time at all. Fognose turned and stood with his back to the Mother’s heart, while the other seers sat to the side and Cinderpaw stood across from him.
I know my lines, she thought. I know them. I do. I just wish they weren’t so long. Warriors don’t have to deal with this…
“Mirra, the Three, and StarClan,” Fognose began, startling her. “I ask that you bear witness to our ceremony tonight, and bring blessings to this young seer.” He looked at Cinderpaw. “Why have you come to our Mother’s heart?”
Cinderpaw straightened up. “I ask for my name promised to me in the light of the moon and stars.”
She got that part right; Fognose looked pleased. “What have you done to earn your name?”
“I have been taught to read the mysteries of leaf, feather, and light, in the stones of my soul,” Cinderpaw replied. “I have learned the law of our mothers’ mothers. With everything I see in the light of the stars, I shall earn my name.”
“How will you use your name?” Fognose asked.
Cinderpaw felt a warm glow in her chest. “I will guide my cats in the path of starlight. I will speak what I see. With this, I shall use my name.”
Fognose leaned a little forward. “Who do you ask to honor your name?”
Here came the big one. Cinderpaw took in a deep breath. “I ask the Endless Watcher for the courage to bear my name well in the light of the sun. I ask the Pathcarver for the discretion to bear my name well in the light of the moon.” The glowing warmth intensified. “I ask the Twilight for the voice to bear my name well in the path of starlight.”
Fognose turned his head to look at the other seers, who were all watching intently. “Do we agree to bestow this apprentice with the name of a seer, and all it entails?”
“I agree,” said Buzzardface.
“As do I,” Mudcloud said.
Littlepaw simply nodded. Apprentices didn’t have a voice in the ceremony, but he had an eager look on his face when he watched Cinderpaw, like he was imagining his own naming.
Fognose turned back to Cinderpaw, his big eyes crinkled. “Blessed apprentice of the stars, that which you ask for will be given. In the heart of the Mother, under the eye of the lady Suriin, in the light of our lord Rokhar, I call you by your name.” He bowed his head. “Welcome, Cinderpelt. May StarClan light your path.”
The chant had less voices in it, but they echoed in this cavern enough to drown out a warrior’s cheer. “Cinderpelt! Cinderpelt!”
The warmth flared into heat, just for a moment, before softening and fading entirely. Cinderpelt bowed her head to Fognose in turn as the other seers gathered closer.
“Blessings and congratulations,” Littlepaw said to her. “ThunderClan will be proud of you when you come home.”
Cinderpelt ruffled his head-fur. “And I’ll be proud of you when it’s your turn.”
“With that,” Mudcloud said, “we ought to dream now.”
Cinderpelt went up with the others and touched her nose to the Moon Stone—she’d never get over the blast of ice flowing through her body as soon as she made contact. She backed up and sat down, facing the stone, while the other seers laid down around her and shut their eyes.
As Yellowfang had instructed her so long ago, she shut her own, but didn’t go to sleep. Instead, she breathed in and out slowly, the world around her seeping into her body. Every hair on her pelt was touched by something different: a swallow taking flight from the Barn’s entrance, a doe raising her head from the grass and watching a distant bush suspiciously rustle, the wind carrying the scents of far-distant lands down the moor and into the forest. She followed that wind, racing without moving a whisker, and entered the forest, listening and seeing from the darkness of the Mother.
---
It’s just not fair.
She walks aimlessly, her path indiscriminate, stepping one direction and turning in another. Pain and hunger and ennui cling to her essence, dragging her down by her long, blue fur until she’s fighting with everything she has (and it isn’t much) just to keep from sinking to the ground and lying there until she fades.
She’s a failure. She devastated her Clan, forced them to struggle amongst themselves without a leader. She had sworn so long ago that she would never wrong them again, that the kits were gone, that she wouldn’t even look at Oakclaw. She had done so well for so long, and then…
And then this—this form of hers now. Skeletal, her fur greasy and matted, her eyesight agonizingly dull. She can hardly make out a bush in front of her.
How could she have let this happen? What is wrong with her?
Here is the end of her legacy: a shriveled-up bag of bones that left her charges with no one to protect them, no one to lead them.
It took her days to come to her senses; she thought she was still alive, just sleeping, when she opened her eyes and realized her body wasn’t there anymore. She wandered into camp, and only the young and old remained. The warriors were gone. Were they fighting each other for the leader’s spot? Where were they?
And then she saw them walking back into the forest, auras dark and haunted and exhausted. They said nothing to each other as she watched them. She didn’t follow. She was afraid to.
The weights tighten their grip on her soul and yank her towards the earth. She’s forgotten what it was to feel pride and joy at this point. What is there but regret, shame, failure? She used to be someone, and she died as no one. No, worse - as a disappointment.
Maybe… maybe lying down wouldn’t feel so bad for a bit. For forever.
Then heat rests on her shoulders. She blinks, her despair momentarily forgotten, and looks around in confusion. The heat grows, and with it the forest brightens as a form of sunlight steps past ThunderClan’s border.
She stands straight, bristling her matted fur… but, as she squints and strains her eyes, she realizes she needn’t bother.
The form is smaller than usual, quiet and serene, ginger fur smooth and soft. She recognizes the wiry build, the verdant eyes, the gentle, loving aura radiating off of him. He walks calmly, his head high and tail higher, determination setting his face into something nearing majestic.
She knows that light.
“They chose you,” she near-whispers. “You’re… you’re…”
“Firestar now.”
She looks up. On the edge of the forest, standing in the grass of the neutral grounds, is a familiar form: a handsome, tall, warm brown tabby with merriment in his starry eyes. She stares at him. Her paws move without her instruction.
“Sorry to interrupt your descent into wraithhood,” he says as she steps closer. “You were taking a while to get to us.”
“Oakclaw,” she breathes. With that single word, and with every step, the weights begin dropping off of her, one by one.
“Bluestar,” he says, casual and amused, but with that underlying tenderness she remembers from so long ago. “I’m glad I got to you in time.”
The former leader of ThunderClan feels her posture straighten, her knots untangle. “I was worried about my Clan. I couldn’t leave without knowing that they’d be okay.”
“They’ll be okay.” Oakclaw brushes his muzzle against hers, purring. “They made the right choice, and he’ll take care of them just as well as you did. Maybe even better.” He pulls back to look at his beloved with fondness. “You’d be amazed at what they’ve gotten up to since you’ve been gone. I can tell you all about it, if you come with me.”
Bluestar hesitates, just for a heartbeat… but the pull of the material world is gone. She glances back, noticing her form filling out again and fur glowing, just to watch the firelight fade into the woods, before turning back to Oakclaw and saying, “Happily.”
Oakclaw presses his forehead on her neck, their spirit-energy flowing into each other with the simple contact, and starts walking with her, heading for a rising path of starlight coming from the Gatheringplace’s center. Bluestar’s steps are stronger, more deliberate, more regal, like she remembers, like others remember her. She doesn’t look back again as they head for StarClan, tails twined together. She doesn’t need to.
