still unashamed | choking

[Plaguepaw]

I've been trying not to

A tiny, guttural hiss could be heard right outside the nursery. If one looked close enough they would spot the familiar gaunt, patchy kitten locked in a battle of tug of war with another kit. Although, for once, the former shelter kit was anything but all smiles. Black tapered ears lay flat against his helm, brow scrunched in frustration. His body jerked backward every couple of steps, trying to tear a vole from the jaws of his den mate. "Déjalo ir! I had it first and I don't wanna share!" He hissed around his pound of flesh. Growing tired of their stalemate, Las Plagas shook his head back and forth like a rabid dog, unlocking the jaws of the other kitten. The force sends his den mate tumbling into the dust but he could hardly find an ounce of care as he rushes away with the vole in his jaws.

Long spider-like limbs sprint away from the nursery where he dips underneath a nearby bush. Black paws press firmly against his vole, scarfing down his prey until it becomes lodged within his throat from swift gulps. Loud coughing ensues, eyes watery as he forgets the vole under paw for now. Choking sounds and weazy breaths emit the air during his struggle to breathe. His back arches, hoping that somehow that would alleviate the building pain, but to no avail. Fear buds and blossoms within his chest at the horrid feeling of something so simple as breathing being snatched from him. All he wanted was to eat his food in peace.
(@HAWKPAW. and @DAWNGLARE this is not a pafp, feel free to post before them!) ​

Go off the deep end​

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[Johnnyflame]

HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."​

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A soft sigh of exasperation escaped the tom as he caught sight of Las Plagas in the midst of wrestling a vole from a clanmate. Johnny was fond of the kit, of that there could be no doubt, but the child still had a lot to learn in terms of being considerate toward their clanmates.

As he watched the dark, patchy kitten run off into the nursery with their prize, the tabby pulled himself to his feet and went padding after them, knowing he'd have to have a talk with the boy about manners before he started making trouble for himself- Plagas would certainly come to regret it when he found none of the cats wanted to be their friend, and quite frankly the last thing he wanted was to see them feeling rejected.

"Alright ya little bug, we've got to have a talk about-" his words died in his throat as he walked into a den filled with the sound of gurgling coughs.

He froze in his tracks, amber eyes widening in shock as they landed on Plagas, clawing at his throat and arching his spine, eyes bulging as they struggled to breathe past whatever was lodged in their throat.

"DAWNGLARE!!!" he all but roared back out through the nurserys entrance, and had it not been for the obvious panic in his voice one might have thought the Skyclan medicine cat had done something to earn the warriors rage. But there was no anger in that shout, just fear that demanded someone act.
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[DOEBLAZE]

Bobbie herself was headed back from the fresh-kill pile, having just missed Las Plagas' latest escapade; a squirrel dangled comfortably from her jaws, and her green eyes were crinkled with cheerful anticipation as she limped towards the nursery. A roar reverbated through the bushes; the lilac queen's mane of fur bristled in surprise and she jumped a little, an uncomfortable back with a belly that seemed to endlessly grow. The tabby moved forward as quickly as she could with the combination of a limp and a swollen stomach, peering forth to spot a nerve-wracking scene: Johnny's mouth closing with the last of the shout that had so startled her, and an unfortunately familiar pelt coiled into a knot of shortened breaths.

An instinctive yelp emerged from Bobbie's shock-parted maw, the squirrel thudding to the ground. Her ears flattened nervously, easily-summoned tears curling under her eyelids; she wasn't the medicine cat, she had no idea what to do! The queen's green eyes widened and she stood anxiously in place, unsure what action could be taken; Las Plagas' frantic wheezing seemed to only get worse.
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[HAWKPAW.]

NO LONGER FATIMA, GODDESS, LIGHT​

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Hawkpaw had taken her usual position of lounging in the shadowy corners of the camp, white-tipped paws tucked neatly under her slender frame. Others in camp came and went about their day, on patrols, on hunts, "sharing tongues" (which she'd learned was their term for catching up, not nearly as intimate as it sounded). She'd tagged along on a patrol earlier, but she was still itching to do something, anything. Perhaps she'd chase up Dandelionwish and ask for some sparring practice or something later. With her habit of "people-watching", her attention was caught by the commotion near the nursery. A single glance revealed two squabbling kittens: Las Plagas, of course, and one of his denmates. Guess he's still at it, she mused inwardly, flashing back to his previous bingeing attempts. The raggedy black kitten claimed victorious and scampered off to a nearby bush, her pale green eyes following.

Despite his weird words and mannerisms, and his disgusting gluttony, the tortoiseshell harboured fondness for the abnormal tyke. He was such a pathetic little thing, something one couldn't draw their gaze away from. He was so absolute, every action done so fervently, fearless. Admirable, if not for his habit of pushing himself further than his little body could take. Somewhere, she supposed, she worried about him, though she struggled knowing why doing so felt so natural, instinctual. Still, she often found herself watching over him from afar, making sure he was safe. Keeping an eye on him near the fresh-kill pile was a whole 'nother game, however.

She watched as Johnny approached Las Plagas, and she watched his face fall into shock. Before his bellowing yowl even left his throat, Hawkpaw had jumped to her paws and raced to his side. The cacophony of hacking and desperate wheezing halted her in her tracks. Her own eyes grew wide as she gazed at the kit's heaving body. The remains of a vole not far away revealed the root of the problem. It wasn't long before she was joined by a lilac tabby queen, who seemed overwhelmed by her own shock. Her arrival encouraged the apprentice to actually take some action - it wouldn't help anything if both of them sat there gawking like idiots. Plus, the stress couldn't be good for her kits. And it definitely wasn't good for Plagas, being freaked out while watching all the adults (or semi-adult, in her case) freak out.

She was frustrated, knowing she'd warned him and he hadn't listened, but she was also afraid for him and his safety. Bile bubbled in her stomach, and she expressed it in the only way she knew how. Brushing past the other two cats, she stopped for just a moment to address them with her typical abrasive demeanour. "Maybe you should go get Dawnglare instead of yelling for him." Giving them no time to respond, she returned her attention to Las Plagas. Honestly, if Dawnglare hadn't heard Johnny call for him, he'd have to be deaf. Either way, he hadn't shown his face here yet. Resolving to chew him out later, Hawkpaw approached the still-spluttering kit. The coughing was a good sign right? That meant he still had at least a little air? That's what she hoped.

"Y'know, I told you not to eat like that," she sighed, crouching down low next to his smaller frame. She'd chastise him a little harder when she knew he definitely wasn't gonna kick it. The parallels between this and their first conversation weren't lost on her. This kid and his food. The poor thing looked terrified, and her cold eyes softened at the sight. "C'mon, kid, just cough a little harder and see if you can get that up." Did she sound like she knew what she was doing? She hoped that's what she sounded like. She definitely wasn't winging it, no way.

//tl; dr - hawk is there, is scared so she is angery, and is trying to calm down plagas/give him "advice" (what i read on the internets abt choking) n praying it works

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I'VE BECOME RUSALKA, DEMON OF NIGHT​

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[DAWNGLARE]

A howl above the wind has Dawnglare stumbling from his den, owlish eyes poking from his burrow in all its blue splendor. He was not fully committed to barreling outside in the rough winds before he knew it was worth his time, for the force of the punishment far exceeded the merit of reward. Things were often like that here, with a sun that burned more than it brightened; a moon that chilled more than it glowed. The red of his face is just barely visible. Ears flatten themselves to a steady skull and then perk again (wind, wind it blows visciously; makes him want nothing more than to shrink away). The movements loop with an oddness of rhythm; senses honing in to whatever troubled the lesser - folk so.

The flame - dusted form of a sun - shadowed fool is what calls for him. Ash brown is visible, still as stone, though aghast in demeanor. A white - jawed molly dithers nearby, mumbling, mumbling (or perhaps it only seemed like that over the wind.) Dawnglare's eyes flicker sky - bound, to see the idle branches quivering with Mother's might. With a last pause– lingering thing, he slithers his way upon open surface, ivory paws dappling the ground he makes way across.

The earth seems to shudder– more than it usually did (In in ugly sense too, reeking of something not meant to be). He knows who is in there, who was hacking up a smattering of guts. The idle swish of a plumy tail stops abruptly then. Blue pools settle on the scene with a blink. Damned as this one was, he figures the earth is determine to take him away. Not quickly, though. Not lovingly. His head tilts as if the sight truly puzzled him, and to an extent it did. He would laugh at any cat to pass to too much food, and the moon would laugh with him, then; but for a kit... the circumstances were hardly fair.

" Ahh... hm... " no thoughts may acquiest to conclusion. Instead he picks at meat - scraps lodges between his teeth. Advice already given was nothing bad, but paultry from the likes oh her, he thinks. Dawnglare would crane his neck down at the kit, trying not to mind the way the wind batters his fur or the way germs could glide easily upon it. Being so close already makes him feel diseased, but nonetheless, he pinches out the words, " Cough up your lung, and the blockage will come up with it. " A pale paw would hover toward the abomination as if contemplating a pat along the back, but redraws quickly, not wanting to catch...whatever it has. Surely it could cough itself.​

 

[DOOMPAW]

Doomguy is used to Las Plagas eating too much. Sometimes it’s funny to him; sometimes he even joins in! Ever since Orangeblossom had cut him, Abysskit, Sorrelkit, and her own brood from her once-endless supply of milk, he’s been almost as ravenous as his friend. It’s especially sweet to crunch the hard-to-chew bits of prey. He can understand the impulse.

He watches the bald-spotted kit gulp mouthfuls of prey, only to make a strange face and seize. He coughs, which isn’t unnatural, but he doesn’t seem to be able to breathe at all. Doomkit watches with fascination. “’S wrong with you?” He asks, eyebrow quirked. “’S’it eating you back?”

Cats spring to his aid—Johnny, Hawk, and Bobbie, the lilac queen who tends to care for Las Plagas. None of them are able to get him to stop. Even Dawnglare doesn’t do much for Plagas at all, and Doomguy furrows his brow. He stalks closer to his friend and gives him a hardy swat to the back of his head. It’s not out of knowledge or an intent to do anything—it’s out of annoyance. “Stop that!” He commands. “Breathe normal ‘n stop makin’ all that noise! Tryin’ to relax.”
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[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

 

[Johnnyflame]

HE SAID, "WELL MY NAME'S JOHNNY, AND IT MIGHT BE A SIN
BUT I'LL TAKE YOUR BET, AND YOU'RE GONNA REGRET, CUZ IM THE BEST THERE'S EVER BEEN."​

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Cats were gathering, but none of them were doing anything. Just standing and encouraging Plague to cough harder or to stop altogether. And maybe it really was as simple as that- but what if he couldn't? What if he wasn't able to get enough air because of the blockage in his throat? Dawnglare seemed to wreak of hesitation, lifting a paw as if to reach out to Plagas only to withdraw with a look of disgust.

It made a part of Johnny see red, but now wasn't the time to let his panic give way to anger.

They all seemed confident that a good cough would do the trick, so the tom pushed forward and did what Dawnglare wouldn't, paw firmly firmly patting the childs back to try and help them dislodge the blockage. "One big breath, Plagas- try and take it through your nose if you can't use your mouth." he encouraged, voice steady as it fell into something more authoritative. He needed Plagas to calm down and focus, to do as they were all saying and force one breath in.

And if he couldn't, Johnny would reach down their throat himself to yank the clump of food out.
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[Plaguepaw]

I've been trying not to

Time seemingly passed by in slow motion. Nothing he'd tried thus far was working and his strangled wheezing only seemed to grow worse by the minute. Johnnyflame screamed Dawnglare's name, seeking to summon the crimson tinged healer. Wide turquoise eyes fixate on the lead warrior before bouncing to Bobbie, watching with equal parts horror and confusion as they proceeded to stand there. Why weren't they helping him? Hawkpaw rushes over next, taking it upon herself to chastise him over his eating habits with a tired sigh upon her lips. He could hardly be bothered to care about something like that at the moment, not when he was choking. Another airy, sputtering cough proves to be fruitless in its effort to hack the lodged piece of vole up. Dawnglare also encourages him to keep coughing, something he was already doing but found no relief.

With energy draining fast he flops back on his haunches, shoulders slumped and head low. Maybe it could slide out of his throat if he coughed with his head down? Within the midst of it all he feels a hefty smack against the back of his head. Teary eyes shot Doomkit a hard look. Although the force of the hit did work to dislodge the blockage a little, much to his surprise. Las Plagas nearly turns to prompt Doomkit to beat him over the head again but Johnny takes the lead, patting him firmly across the back. Heeding words of guidance his forked tail curls from the strain of one final cough that dislodges the mass stuck in his throat.

The chunk of hastily chewed meat splatters against the ground as he sucked in a breath of air. His formally burning lungs are grateful for the fresh supply. A dark paw rubs at his collared throat now thoroughly raw from his close brush with death. The patchy scrap turns his attention toward Doomkit first and then Johnny. "Thanks!" He voiced hoarsely, crooked grin spreading across his maw. "I'm okay now." Glancing back down at the vole he immediately picks up where he left off. Biting into his meal to enjoy what was left albeit at a much slower pace. Despite what just happened there was no way he was going to waste perfectly good food. ​

Go off the deep end​

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[MALLOWLARK]

Oh, and what a cacophony! It shot silver eyes wide-awake, that horrible little scraping choking sound... it was like a toll of death, clawing its way out of a throat! But it was not a sickly cough, no- it was a hard, scraping one, the sort that inevitably would bring on a headache if it kept going and going and going like that. He exited his den to view the scene, and panic soon set in as he witnessed the source- a silver gaze first fell upon Dawnglare, and then- and then, upon poor Las Plagas, who heaved and wheezed. Choking!

It was not funny, and so- and so, for once, Mallowlark did not laugh. It was hyperventilation that caught him as he trotted over, a small hitching worry that would give way to sobs if he wasn't careful. Dawnglare's paws were capable, but- the little patchy kitten had promised, and already it was shattered!

As soon as he was at his mate's side, grey eyes caught the rocketing piece of flesh as it flew from Las Plagas' mouth, the kit soon after claiming he was alright. Relief flew out of Mallowlark in the form of a small sob, a shove of a sound that escaped him before he could stop it. As ever, his emotions bled out of his fur like his body was a wound... made bigger than they should be by the inescapable uncontrollability of his laughter and crying he had been afflicted with since birth. "Oh, I- I told you to promise me not to choke to death, didn't- didn't I?" A soft scolding, now that the kitten was alright.​

☺PENNED BY PIN​