watch your back | wrestling

[Plaguepaw]

I've been trying not to

Time and time again some older cats tried rounding him up in a futile effort to keep him in the nursery. It was boring there and after a while he always managed to sneak his way back out again. Long spindly limbs carried the patchy kitten throughout camp as he searched for a way to alleviate his boredom. However, as a patrol made its way into camp the boy smiled a crooked grin as the answer seemed to come to him. Las Plagas crouched as low as his abnormal height would allow, sneaking towards the entrance where many were blissfully unaware of his presence. His breath shudders with excitement, forked tail twitching to and fro at the thought of scaring the daylights out of an unsuspecting cat. His paws kneaded the earth below, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make his move. Finally, a koi patched pelt crosses directly before him, triggering his trap. "Rahhhh!" Las Plagas shouts, springing forth in an attempt to tackle Johnny's side and playfully sink his teeth into whatever fur he could possibly reach. Target? Acquired. Plan? Perfectly executed. Or so he thought. (@Johnny) ​

Go off the deep end​

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[DOOMPAW]

There's only one kit here beside him and Artorias, and he's ugly. Hardly any fur at all. Doomguy watches him with shrewd green eyes as he stalks about camp. The tiny tortie cannot blame the slightly older kit for leaving the nursery. He hates it in there, too. He wanders out behind Las Plagas, his fur spiking with delight when he sees the other kit dart after a big cat.

"Attack!" He squeals, baring his prickling teeth and charging for Johnny's tail -- if successful, he will deliver a hefty chomp to its temptingly twitching tip.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[teaselpaw.]

benzodiazepinepaw watches too, eyes narrowed, judgemental. she does not join in, of course. that behavior must be frowned upon. she sighs a soft little sigh to herself. kittens.

she's hardly more than one herself; how old is she now? ... five moons? that might be right. but to benzodiazepinepaw the difference feels massive. she's an apprentice, with duties and expectations and training every day. it means something that she's here. she hunts for her clan... she follows a code. she isn't just a kitten anymore, isn't useless or helpless.

she watches, eyes narrowed. her soft white coat is freshly groomed, like a blanket of snow settled over her. her blue eyes flick upward toward ... johnny. that's who they're attacking. will he tolerate it?

she thinks of something funny to say. her mouth curls upward in a grin. is it funny? she hopes she's right.

"you seem to have some fleas bothering you," she points out, prim and proper as she can manage. "two fleas, to be precise. kitten-sized fleas." she casts the kits a sidelong glance, grinning despite herself. "not actual fleas - i mean because they are little, and annoying. they are like fleas. would you like me to... squish them? like fleas?" by this point the joke's falling a little flat. cats don't squish fleas and benzodiazepinepaw is hardly bigger than the "fleas" herself and she's certainly overexplained by now. still she grins, a little strained, hoping she's added mirth to the situation and therefore secured herself some extra likeability.

(the personality politics here, in this place called "skyclan", are unlike any she's seen before... good thing benzodiazepinepaw is always prepared for a challenge.) ​

 

[CHALK]

⭒✧ It was odd, he supposed, that he had more experience with twoleg kits than feline ones. The teachingplace had them packed in tight during the day, as if they were magnets to metal. Flat feet that slapped the floor and mouths that flapped even louder. He avoided them well, but sometimes he lingered on beside the glass of a nest too long, learning, and interaction was unavoidable. With the smaller ones it was easier to give in, their lack of tact resulting in plucked hair or whiskers if he wasn't careful.

So, when a half-pelt kit launched an attack on an older tom, Chalk watched with mild interest. He sat beside the pale, straight backed shape of Benzodiazepinepaw. That name- it must be inconvenient. A small huff of air swept his chin as he listened to her flea talk. Funny.

"It might be easier to let them. Better to get the energy out now than suffer it when you're busy." The words were offered up with a decisive nod. If the kits found Johnny to be the most effective outlet for their outburst he'd be doing them all a favour by humouring it. Ears tall in anticipation of a response, Chalk eyed Doomguy as he toiled over the warrior's tail.
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⭒ ———————————— ✧⭒​

 

[Johnnyflame]

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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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OOC- I just had Doomyguy go fo his leg if thats okay- cuz Johnnys a bobtail so he's got nothing there to chase lol.

With the arrival of the shelter cats and Blazestars announcement that they'd be welcome to stay, things had been hectic in camp. Johnny had been kept busy with the usual work despite the fact that a lot of it had doubled in order to accomodate the increase in numbers, but he'd also been trying to help the newcomers settle in a bit. The transition wasn't always easy especially when the decision was so sudden, and he felt bad for those who were struggling.

Luckily, it seemed like not every new cat was having such a hard time settling in, something Johnny would come to realize when he suddenly had two kits charging straight at him.

Amber eyes widened in surprise at findng himself the target of the two rambunctious children, but it only took a second for him to start grinning, a laugh tumbling past his lips as tiny teeth latched onto the fur of his shoulder and hind leg.

"Ouch! Ya little buggers!" he half-heartedly scolded as Doomguy chomped down on his leg like a piranah, Las Plagas dangling from his side from where he'd latched on. It didn't take much thinking for Johnny to decide to play along.

"Don't expect me to go down without a fight!" he warned them, giving his coat a gentle and leg a gentle shake- enough to give the kids a challenge with hanging on, but not enough to hurt them if they lost their grip. They were just playing, after all.

"Hey! Don't talk my backup out of helping me- who's side are you on!" Johnny called as he caught Chalks words to Benzo, flashing the pair a good natured grin to accompany his teasing words. "Can't believe your gonna let the fleas eat me alive."

Though he didn't think Chalk was necessarily wrong. Orangeblossom had likely been trying to wrangle the little ones since they'd arrived, and the bobtail tabby didn't mind keeping them distracted for a while. She needed some time with Ashen and her clanmates anyways, and Johnny always had energy to burn, even if the last few days still had him feeling beyond tired.
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[Plaguepaw]

I've been trying not to

Teeth seek and successfully find purchase upon the shoulder of the stocky tom. Las Plagas' forearms frevertently scramble to keep their hold on Johnny as he gives a gentle shake. "Get him on the ground!" His back legs aim to deliver rapid bunny kicks to the daylight warrior's side before eventually losing his grip and falling off. Cackling he rushes to stand again, tapered ears swiveling to catch the conversation of Benzodiazepinepaw and Chalk. Fleas? Did fleas bite? He wondered if they were anything like the strange things his former twolegs would fight when playing their games. He didn't know what zombies were exactly. But he knew they bit things a lot and turned others into them. Regardless, he saw fit to drag her into their game as well. "I'll make you a flea!" Las Plagas shouts, gangly long limbs sending him into an ungraceful sprint. With jaws wide open he aims to chomp Benz's leg. ​

Go off the deep end​

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[Sorrelpaw !]

SORREL — she’s been living on the highest shelf.
When three scrappy bundles of fur had filed into the nursery, two placed at Orangeblossoms side next to her, Sorrel had been in awe. They were bug-eyed little things, their muzzled always scrunched in a weird grimace… like angry little mice.
She watches one of them now, Doomguy, alongside… oh what was his name? Las.. lost… plague… prong?
She sits and watches with a wide gaze, her attention completely fixated on the attack the duo had launched on Johnny. "Get him, Doom!" She cheers the other on from the sideline.
"speech"

tags​

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[DOOMPAW]

// pretend i forgot johnny was a bobtail teehee

Their target endures needling, prickling teeth longer than most would; he shakes his pelt out, and Doomguy goes rolling (gently) away. He isn't deterred in the slightest -- not by the older cats, for sure -- and bares his tiny teeth in a gruesome snarl. "Get him on the ground!" Las Plagas calls, and Doomguy rushes again to leap onto Johnny's chest in a likely-futile attempt to knock him over.

He can see his funny-looking denmate rush to bite one of the other cats -- had she called them fleas?? -- and his attention strays to the sidelines, where Sorrel cheers. He thinks Sorrel's okay, for a girl.

"Come help me!" He commands, eyes narrowing. Does she have his back? Truly?​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​