pafp twelve bells at noon 🍤 big mistake

[SHRIMPY BOY]

Shrimpy Boy's belly is of portly proportions.

Owing to a prior diet of kibble, seafood, gravy and, above all, treats, the ginger tom has always packed a hefty paunch. But, it's never been of much concern to him. He wears it with dignity, for those who eat well, live well, and those who live well are a joy to be around.

There's no denying, though, the fact he brings more bounce to the ounce than the average SkyClan cat—a reality which may be earning some bitter looks amongst his newfound clanmates. They're survivors, not housepets, and he can't help but feel a good deal of them perceive him as the latter. Nevertheless, he isn't able to fully tell, as he's largely kept to himself since joining their ranks, and hasn't really bothered to ask anyone.

This eve, tragically, Shrimpy Boy finds his belly particularly wanting of food. Whether he conked out last night without having a meal, or he has yet to acclimatise to the smaller portions around here, the fact remains that Shrimpy Boy is extra peckish. Unless he gets a good eat in tonight, his own stomach juices will instead eat him from inside-out. Such a disastrous dilemma calls for precautionary measures.

He departs from the fresh-kill pile with both a mouse and a vole clenched between his teeth. Two servings. He doesn't think anything wrong of it; the young ones and older ones have already gotten their share by now, and surely a supplementary rodent wouldn't hurt anybody.

The two catches are dropped onto the soil below, in a far-flung corner of camp. With a lick of his chops, he burrows into the mouse, a fulfilled expression across his face while his teeth tear through its warm tissue.


// @SLATE ​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — Despite being born a kittypet, Slate never had much of a chance to develop a hefty belly as many house cats did. He had always been large, but most of his bulk was comprised of fur and muscle. Hell, ever since joining SkyClan, he probably looked healthier than he ever did on the streets. The notion that every cat got their fair share kept Slate fed yet relatively slimmed; always hunting, always training, yet eating enough where he no longer had to starve.

So, when the fairly new warrior spots one of the newest additions to SkyClan plucking two scrumptious pieces from the pile all for himself, a frown etches onto his maw. Slate didn't want to come off as a Silversmoke-esque stickler, but this guy was going to eat all of their hard-earned kills if no one told him off. So, the burly Maine Coon prowls over, fiery yellow eyes ablaze with utter exasperation. "Y'got enough food there, pal?" A venomous greeting rolls off of his tongue.

Any other SkyClanner would have likely issued Shrimpy Boy a gentle reminder about the customs of the clan. However, Slate wouldn't turn down an opportunity to publicly berate a kittypet, especially if they were caught in the act of doing something wrong. That way, his attitude would be justifiable, at least. "We all get one piece. Get used to it or go back to your twolegs." The scarred tom snorts with a lash of his tail. Secretly, selfishly, he wishes for the latter outcome.​

 

[Orangestar]

A growl of disdain rumbles through the camp and Orangeblossom looks up from her own meal, barely touched before being interrupted (she suppresses a sigh - if it isn't one thing these days it's another, such is the life of a deputy) and rises to her paws. Of course it's Slate - it's always him, for one reason or another. Ginger-and-white she-cat trots over, limp barely noticeable, and upon realising the situation is transported immediately back to Snorlaxmoon's buffet, the sheer awestruck horror of multiple SkyClanners, and her own speechless reaction.

"We only ever take one." She nods; and though her tone is firm, it's far nicer than Slate's vitriolic snicker. Maybe the former rogue still was yet to understand that not every SkyClanner had the same common sense around prey that he does. Shrimpy Boy, on the other paw, might need the explanation - so the deputy turns her eyes back to him. "That way, if something happens and no prey is caught tomorrow, we have more to go around and no cat has to sleep with an empty stomach."

— info

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  orangeblossom. tags.
  — she/her, skyclan deputy.
  — mentor to eveningpaw.
  — attack in #e08550. uses trees as an integral part of her fighting style.
  — mean enough to note that her thoughts don't reflect my opinions as a writer haha.
  — penned by mercibun; @ me in any official tabbytales discord for plots. :]
  — art by merc!<3
  

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[SNORLAXMOON]

It's a lesson he's learned the hard way, not eating more than his fair share when he steps into the pine forest, when other's call him Snorlaxmoon, instead of Snorlax. A vast array of food he'd thought he'd earned brought in front of his white paws, only to be snatched away and scorned for before he could even take a bite!

But this... this new face, he's able to sink his teeth into a feast that is more than his share before anyone tells him off. It's an image he sees upon arrival to camp, one that causes the daylight warrior to blink away false sleep, as if he was dreaming the sight before him. It doesn't shift, though - the orange tabby has too much food, and is getting away with it.

"Can he do that?" he asks no one in particular. If he could eat so much, why couldn't Snorlax? How unfair! The daylight warrior doesn't get to stew in the unfairness for long as others begin to catch on to the new face's actions, to which Snorlaxmoon shakes his head at - a look of disappointment, as if he's truly learned something here.

The grey tom nears the duo telling the newcomer off, pale eyes holding an unamused look to them as he looks down at the food that sits before him. "If I can't get away with it, neither can you," he informs him, tail swaying behind him. He looks to the Sherrif expectantly, a new question at the forefront of his mind. "Can I have the vole, then?"

It might as well be his, if the newcomer can't have it. Besides, he hasn't tried vole yet.
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[CHRYSALISWING]

"You kittypets are nothing but selfish gluttons. Always taking and never giving." Chrysalispaw's caustic voice sounded from afar as if his venom-lipped fangs could be felt from a mile away. Even if such anathema did not break through the skin, it hung upon the air like an approaching smog. The flame-flushed apprentice haughtily strutted up to the gathering crowd, and such nosy whiskers combed their way through a growing dissonance, of which he was both the observer and perpetrator. He didn't mind being a firestarter, not if the sanctity and reputation of his clan were at stake. A spark of ephemeral yet bright hatred glimmered in heterochromatic eyes, pushing past Snorlaxmoon and Slate - who tended to be the other recipients of his disdain, but not today. Like the owl to the rodent, he had his hawkish glare set on his target.

He then turned his ire-flooded gaze to Shrimpy Boy's two voles, which seemed plumper than most of the others, and that act was more of a mockery to the hardworking warriors. (Did kittypets enjoy being so obtusely derisive? He couldn't tell if they did it on purpose or not.) A sneer tore through gaudy countenance, like a snarl breaking through the mask of flame, a flash of the alabaster moon against the dusk. It was a familiar contortion, a tried dance. "You do realize that you're supposed to give your prey to the kits and elder first, right? Those two could have gone to a starving cat, but no. Your fat ass had to gobble them all up."
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[Honeysplash]

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The walk to camp had become something of routine. Down the path to the left, take a right and then keep going until hitting the bramble tunnel. It was akin to knowing the scent of ones own mother- it was just instinct at this point. A tail waved behind a little yellow body as they trotted along the dirt path and pushed through the tunnel happily. Taking in a deep breath of the fresh forest air and the many scents of clanmates that mingled about. Little white paws danced across the ground in excitement for a new day, and looked around for Sharpeye in hopes of doing some sort of training today. Though what caught her eye was not her mentor, in fact it was a group of cats by the edge of camp. A little red tom was eating two voles, Slate, Orangeblossom and Chrysalispaw seemed to be bristling over this fact. Ah right, he was new right? What was his name- Shrimp? Yeah that sounded right!

Curious as ever, paws moved towards the group of cats with a tilt of a rounded head before blinking a bit- taken aback. Having caught Chrys' statement of kittypets being selfish gluttons- it made ears flatten against their head. Looking up at Orangeblossom, she lifted her head defiantly, "We are far from selfish," She stated firmly with a flick of her tail, "He probably doesn't know any better. I know when I first joined I wanted to eat the whole forest!" They where really too harsh on Shrimp. The orange tabby was new, it was a lot to learn and keep track off- no need to kick him while hes down.

Bananapaw gave a look at Chrys as if daring him to argue with her, he probably would to be fair, and then turned to Shrimp, "But he is right, we feed the others first then ourselves! I know it can be confusing, but its an honest mistake," She offered her signature sweet smile and waved her tail behind her.

speech​

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[BLAZESTAR]

It's been many moons since Blazestar had first become lost in the pines, limping on a twisted paw and belly rumbling. It had been greenleaf then, right before the Great Battle. Prey had been at its most bountiful for the Pine Colony, and yet, he remembers feeling as though he were going to keel over from starvation for the first several weeks. He'd been used to a strict feeding regimen -- a cupful or so of kibble in the mornings, and a cupful right before his housefolk retired to their nests for the evening. The change of pace, from mouthfuls of dusty, near-tasteless food, plentiful and available, to the delicious but hard-won meat stripped from a squirrel had been a difficult transition.

It's one Blazestar can sympathize with, though he gives both Slate and Orangeblossom a nod of approval for putting an end to Shrimpy Boy's would-be gluttony. Sympathy is one thing, but he has a Clan to feed, and daylight warriors especially cannot poach more than their fair share of the fresh-kill pile. "You'll have more kibble waiting for you at home, won't you?" He reminds the portly ginger-pelted tom with a smile.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[SHRIMPY BOY]

Cutting remarks would put the tom's indulgence to an end. Olive eyes, grown wide by worry, drift up from his meal find the same fellow who'd given him heck so many days ago. Resentment simmers under Slate's skin as fiercely as it had then, and Shrimpy Boy can only cower before the condemnations thrown his way. Is he going to get punished? By all things that're holy, he hadn't meant anything by it!

He wants to either stand his ground or offer a strained apology for his transgression. It's merely an extra vole at the end of the day, and he hasn't even bitten into it yet. Slate's just making a mountain out of a molehill here. If he had half the nerve of the burlier warrior, he'd shove the vole straight down the other's throat.

The tabby cannot react, however, as it would seem a drove of clanmates caught onto the trespass. Shrimpy Boy ascends to all fours, slinking defensively, ginger furs standing on end. He tries to defy those surrounding him with a bold stare and the seeds of a snarl, but any experienced face-reader would see a terrified boy behind his eyes.

Orangeblossom's strict reminder, Snorlaxmoon's disputing, and Chrysalispaw's vilification all wear down his facade one-by-one. Nervously, his vision flickers between each of them, pausing briefly on the apprentice who'd shown him kindness, before descending upon the leader himself. Shrimpy Boy receives Blazestar's question poorly, as he doesn't know the answer anymore. There's a fat chance that his owner's forgotten about him again, totally omitted him from memory, as though she hadn't been the one to pick him all those moons ago.

"Go ahead, eat it," he musters weakly, swatting the rotten thing across the ground. He watches miserably as the vole comes to a stop between Snorlaxmoon's paws. Then, his gaze falls onto Slate once more. "I know how to follow rules, acorn-brain," he expels. He dedicates what little willpower remains to making his voice sound steadier. "Stop trying to be so tough and open your eyes. I took an extra piece by accident. Have a little heart." Probably too much to ask from someone so outwardly trying to compensate for something.

Saddened by this whole encounter, he gazes longingly at the mouse which remained at his paws.

He prefers the taste of real meat over kibble. Anyone in their right mind would. If only these cats realised that.​

 

[SLATE]

❪ TAGS ❫ — More cats show up and, surprisingly, most are on his side. Some approaches are gentler than others, as expected, but for once Slate feels like he's not the one in the wrong.

"I know how to follow rules, acorn-brain," Slate curled his lip and bared rows of jagged whites like a snarling wolf, amber eyes setting flame as a response to this indignance. The gall of this kittypet! Slate was better than him in every single way by default. He wasn't a fat, lazy, spoiled, privileged house cat and he never would be! Even if Slate was being an asshole to Shrimpy Boy, he was at least in the right, was he not? The orange cat obviously had a lot to learn, especially how to hold his damn tongue. Like it or not, he was the newcomer around these parts. Slate himself got a lot of shit from the clan when he first showed up, not limited to suspicious stares and prejudice because of his outsider background, so this kittypet ought to learn to just take it.

The tabby tom claims a simple misunderstanding, but Slate simply doesn't buy it, figuring that he's only trying to save his own ass. "An accident. Right." His big ol' apologetic eyes may fool anyone else but it wasn't fooling him. Snorlaxmoon had gone and done the same exact shit right around the time when he first arrived in SkyClan. How does one accidentally grab two pieces of prey and not notice? Why hadn't he gone to put it back? Kittypets were simply gluttons by nature, as Chrysalispaw stated. Slate didn't like sharing his catches as much as the next cat did, but that was the way things worked around here.

The Maine Coon doesn't see much of a reason to stick around. Shrimpy Boy received warning upon warning, so with the job done, Slate turns and stalks out of camp to perhaps let off some steam. He wasn't a high rank, so this was no longer his issue to deal with.

// ic opinions ofc ​