flowersandskeletons526 - Tumblr blog

flowersandskeletons526 · 4 days ago

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"A Beaten Dog Will Always Bite" - Warriors Concept Album Fanfic

This is my take on how Ajax ends up in Coney Island and how she joins the Warriors. Enjoy!

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Ajax leaned against the hard brick wall and wiped blood off her face. Three men laid half-conscious on the ground, scattered around her, groaning and struggling to limp their way out of the alley. One attempted to get up and go after her again, but a swift kick to the ribs sent him scurrying off with the rest of the rats. She stood at the entrance of the alley and watched them disappear around the corner before stalking off in the opposite direction.

Her face hurt. Her hands hurt. She didn’t know how she kept getting hit in the nose but she was glad it hadn’t been broken yet, by some miracle. She scrubbed the blood off her knuckles with the hem of her shirt to see how badly they were split. Her shirt was already stained with her opponents’ blood so it didn’t matter if she added to it at this point.

She didn’t mean to get into a fight - not this time - but they had made… comments… and she couldn’t let that slide. She didn’t even do anything at first, just cussed them out and told them what she would do if they didn’t back off and leave her alone. And they were the ones that followed her out of the bar! What was she supposed to do? Run? She wasn’t a fucking wimp. They deserved what they got and if she had to be the one to deliver the karma, so be it.

She repeated all of this to her cousin at his apartment while he bandaged her hands. “It was their fault, Andre!” she said. “They started it, I just-”

“You finished it, right, right,” he grumbled. “Listen, Amber-”

“My name is Ajax.”

“Well, Ajax, you need to learn how to walk away sometimes. If they followed you, go back into the bar and get the bouncer or just run. I know you’re fast when you want to be.”

“I’m not gonna give them the satisfaction of thinking I’m some fucking wuss.”

“I’d rather you be a wuss than pick the wrong fight. Or if you insist on doing it, at least stay in Brighton Beach where I can keep an eye on you. Stop going to fucking Coney Island. You keep making trouble and you’re either going to get in over your head or that new boss starting up is going to come in and intervene and then it’s gonna be my problem.”

“Sorry, but don’t you need, y’know, a gang to be a boss? I thought she was just a rogue soldier from someone else’s charge.”

“No, she’s not. She was a second-in-command who sent that whole gang crumbling when she and her soldier split. She’s got power, alright? People respect her. I do not want to get on her bad side and I don’t want you to be there either.”

“How about I go join a gang then?”

“How about you go back to school?”

“You’re in a gang.”

“And that means I have responsibilities that you wouldn’t be able to handle.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean!”

Andre slammed his fist on the table and jabbed a finger in her face. “You don’t listen, you don’t know how to shut your mouth, and you don’t know when to walk the fuck away! You’re not a god! There is always going to be someone bigger than you. There’s always going to be someone who brings a gun to a knife fight. You’re gonna piss off the wrong fucking person and I’m not gonna be able to save your ass!”

Ajax snarled as her face grew hot from embarrassment. “I don’t need you to save my ass!”

“Then why’re you in my house?”

That was out of line. They both knew the moment he said it. He groaned and sat back in his chair as she got up to pace the room, refusing to look at him. She turned her back so he wouldn’t see her furiously trying to blink away tears. Her heart hurt. Her hands hurt. She didn’t want to be having this stupid conversation for the hundredth time this week.

She wasn’t trying to fight. She wasn’t trying to get into trouble. She just… she didn’t know how not to.

Andre took a deep breath and dragged a hand down his face. “Look, I understand why you had to leave Queens,” he said gently. “I get that your moms was bad and the people she let come around you were worse.”

“Understatement of the year,” Ajax scoffed tearfully. Fuck, she hated crying.

“But you gotta wise up soon, kid. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I’m tough. I can handle a few scraps.”

“Yeah, you’re tough. But you’re not invincible.” Andre stood and went to her side. He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder, giving her a light shake. “You should go sleep. Grab an ice pack for your hands.”

She roughly shrugged him off but did as she was told. Ice pack in hand, she sat cross-legged on the mattress in the absolute shoebox of an office that Andre had converted into a bedroom. She iced her hands, trying to calm down, but the men’s taunts and Andre’s words kept circling in her head like a tornado.

She knew she couldn’t keep pissing Andre off. They were never that close to begin with due to him being a solid eight years older than her, but he had a strong belief in family and knew she had nowhere else to go. Still, she didn’t know how many more times she could screw up before he got tired of dealing with her. Everyone did, eventually. She tried to keep herself under control. She tried taking deep breaths and counting to ten and walking away but someone always said something to make her lose her temper.

She could totally be in a gang! She knew some of the dudes Andre ran with and they were certified psychos who would stab someone for coughing too loud. Yeah, Ajax fought a lot and maybe some of them were minor overreactions but she only went after someone if there was an actual slight against her. Besides, she knew enough to know that every crew needed at least one person ready to throw down. Not all of them could be stoic strategists like her cousin. They’d be fucked if someone rolled up on them looking for a brawl.

Only issue was that Andre would kick her out if she joined a gang. “I do not want you involved in gang business,” he had told her when she first mentioned the subject. “I wouldn’t nominate you for my crew and if you joined another, I couldn’t keep you in my house. Conflict of interest.” When asked why he wouldn’t let her run with him, he answered simply, “You’re too young.”

Ajax was too young for a lot of the shit that had happened to her in life, but the idea of joining a gang was not one of them. She was bigger now. She was stronger. She wasn’t scared little Amber anymore; she left that girl in Queens.

And honestly? The thought of having a few people who pledged to have her back wasn’t an awful idea.

She heeded Andre’s warning to stay in Brighton for a couple days, which left her bored half to death. That’s why she started going to Coney in the first place. There was absolutely fucking nothing to do on her own and Andre was always out on business. Being cooped up in the apartment for half a day made her antsy, let alone being there 24/7 for multiple days. So, she ended up back in Coney Island.

She was okay for a while. When a bougie couple gave her a dirty look on the boardwalk, she had the patience to turn aside and not start screaming swear words at them. When a group of men leered at her and started whispering amongst themselves, she crossed the street and walked in the other direction. She was a little proud of herself. She could be calm when she wanted.

Until a man approached her at the bar.

“Hey, sweet thing,” he said as he sidled up to her at the counter. He smelled like stale sweat and cigarettes. There was a patch of some insignia sewn on the shoulder of his jacket, but Ajax couldn’t make out what it was. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Ajax wrinkled her nose. Dude had to be at least forty. “Already got one,” she said gruffly. “Thanks.”

“Then how ’bout I top you off? Bartender, bring a round for me and the lady!”

“Bartender, no.” Her chest tightened as she clenched her jaw. Her ears rang, heart pounding as her vision tunneled. She promised herself she wouldn’t lose it, not this time, he was just some old perv in a bar, she could keep a lid on her temper for this. “Look, man, I’m just trying to have a drink by myself. Go talk to some other chick.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, don’t be like that.”

He put a hand on her waist.

Fuck it.

Ajax whipped around and smashed him in the face with a beer bottle so hard she knocked him off the barstool. The bottle didn’t shatter - she knew that only happened in movies - but it busted his eyebrow open and left him gushing blood. She hopped off her chair as he grabbed at his face.

“You fucking bitch!” he shrieked.

Heads turned. The whole bar was looking at her now. She spotted several men moving towards her, all wearing the same jacket with the same insignia as the man bleeding on the floor.

Those were gang colors.

What the fuck had she done?

She ducked the first man who made a grab for her and bolted. Within seconds, she was racing through the streets, dodging cars and taking every twisting turn she could to outrun the gang shouting behind her. If she was in Queens, she’d be long gone, but she wasn’t Amber in Queens anymore. She was Ajax in Brooklyn, who had no idea where she was going and only knew that if she kept running west, she’d eventually hit Brighton Beach and be home free heading to Andre’s place.

Someone pushed her forward. She lost her balance and went tumbling across the sidewalk, dirt and pebbles tearing through her skin. She tried to get up but one of the men kicked her in the stomach, then the face, leaving her out of breath and seeing stars. She tasted blood. They wrenched her arms behind her back and dragged her onto her knees. One of the men yanked her hair, forcing her to look up. The man she’d hit stood over her with a switchblade in his hand.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Let’s see how pretty that face is after this,” he growled, and pressed the blade against her cheek.

“Stop!” Another gang member pulled the man back before he could cut her. “I know who that is. She belongs to the Neptunes.”

“The Neptunes don’t recruit girls,” the man with the knife said.

“She’s not affiliated. She’s their head scout’s cousin or something.”

“That little brat hit me with a bottle!”

“You’ll start a whole war if you slice her up!”

The man with the knife shoved the other guy hard in the chest. He looked back to Ajax, looked at his switchblade, and then put the knife away. The two gang members holding her arms threw her face down on the sidewalk.

“Run back to Brighton, you little runt,” he spat. “And if you ever bring your ass around Gravesend, I’ll chop you into fucking fish food.”

Later Ajax thought that was a stupid and rather cliche threat, but at the time, all she could focus on was scrambling to her feet and running for her life.

When she was sure they weren’t following her, she ducked into an alley and collapsed against the wall. She clutched her chest, willing her heartrate to slow down, damn near hyperventilating as she tried to chill the fuck out after that mess. Andre was right, as much as she hated saying it. This was too close of a call.

It was a long, lonely walk back to Brighton Beach. Her entire body was on fire after her tumble across the sidewalk. She flinched at every single noise, afraid that it might be that gang changing their minds and coming after her again. She hated being scared. It was one of the worst feelings in the world.

Not as bad, however, as the feeling of her heart sinking when she saw Andre sitting on his stoop with her backpack next to him.

He barely spared her a glance as she stood at the bottom of the steps, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He raised a hand to stop her when she started to come up.

“You could’ve walked away,” he said, his voice low and dark. “You could’ve gotten the bouncer. You could’ve asked to use the phone and called me and I would’ve come and settled it for you. Instead, you decided to start a fight with a fucking enforcer.”

“Andre-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“He put his hands on me first! If you heard the shit he was saying to me-”

“I said I don't want to hear it!” Andre roared. “I told you this would fucking happen! I had to beg my leader to stop them from going after you, groveling like a fucking dog. Do you even understand the kind of cred you just lost me? He only agreed on the stipulation that I don’t associate with you anymore.”

She felt smaller than she ever had in her life. “Andre, what the fuck!”

“I get we’re family. I get you’re my baby cousin. But if I went against them, I’d get jumped out, there’d be no protection for you, and we’d have Brighton Beach and southern Gravesend coming down on our heads.”

“But they don’t even run Coney Island! I wasn’t stepping on anyone’s turf!”

“That doesn’t matter! How stupid can you be to not realize that isn’t the issue! You smashed an enforcer in the face with a beer bottle. He was in his colors. Even though you’re not affiliated, you’ve learned enough through me to be expected to know better! You fucked up, alright? You fucked up too severely for me to help you anymore!” Andre stood, grabbed her backpack, and threw it at her feet. “There’s a list in there of homeless shelters that could take you if you can’t find anywhere else to crash.”

“But-”

“That’s all I can do for you now. I’m sorry, Ajax.”

And just like that, Ajax was once again alone in the world.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat on the stoop, trying to plan her next move and refusing to let herself cry over it. By the time she picked her head up out of her hands, the sun had begun to peek over the horizon. She heard car horns in the distance and the quiet clamor of the earliest risers on their way to work. Andre would probably be getting up soon to go handle whatever business he had during the day. Ajax slung her backpack over her shoulder and started walking.

She spent a few days sleeping in the corner booth of a twenty-four-hour diner. There was a pretty waitress who took pity on her and sometimes slipped her a donut with her coffee, free of charge, until the manager caught on and threatened to call the police on “that vagrant.” She ended up back in Coney Island again and passed time hiding under the boardwalk. She only got a week there before the cops did a sweep and cleared everyone out. She refused to go to a shelter no matter how cold the nights turned. Those places were hell on earth. The gender-segregated church-run homes took one look at her and refused her a bed based on “morals.” The city funded shelters were all coed. She’d rather freeze than take a chance with that.

She didn’t know how she ended up in Kaiser park. She was cold. She was starving. She’d barely slept in the weeks since Andre kicked her out, too wary of someone going after her when she was unaware even though she was exhausted to the point of insanity.

Still, death in Brooklyn was preferable to returning to her old life in Queens.

She’d only meant to lie down on the park bench for a moment, clutching her backpack beneath her head. She was too weak to even sit up for long. As she closed her eyes, a dark part of her realized she didn’t really care if she never woke up.

But Ajax had never been a lucky woman.

She was jolted back to consciousness by someone ripping her backpack out of her grip and taking off.

“What- hey!”

She bolted after the thief. He wasn’t too fast, running like one of his legs didn’t bend right, but Ajax barely had the strength to stand, let alone chase anyone down. She managed to snag the strap of her backpack and knock the man to the ground. He popped right back up with a tiny knife in hand. Ajax raised her backpack like a shield. The blade stuck her arm, which hurt like a bitch, but at least it missed her neck.

A voice rang out from down the street. “Hey! Hey! Drop the knife!”

The voice had such an authority ringing through it that the thief immediately turned tail and ran off. Out of the corner of her eye, Ajax saw two figures approaching her. She moved on instinct, dropping her backpack, raising her fists, ready to make one final stand before they took her out. She wouldn’t die lying down. She lunged.

One of the newcomers booted her in the stomach. Hard. She dropped, doubling over, all the wind knocked out of her. Her head spun as she gasped for air. Fuck, her condition was worse than she thought. That never would have taken her down before.

“Cochise, you didn’t have to do all that,” said the voice from earlier. A woman’s voice.

“It got her down,” said her companion. Another woman.

“Girl’s already down.”

As Ajax lifted her head, the first woman knelt in front of her. Ajax’s vision was hazy, but she was able to make out a gentle smile and kind eyes looking back at her. Behind the woman in front of her, the one who kicked her stood with her hands in her pockets, wearing an easy, calm expression as she watched Ajax. The two women weren’t intimidated by her at all. That was new.

“Sorry about that, kid,” said the woman with the kind eyes. “What’s your name?” Ajax didn’t answer, partly out of simple apprehension and partly because she hadn’t fully caught her breath yet. “Alright. Well, my name is Cleon, and my friend back there is Cochise.”

“Sorry for kicking you,” Cochise said by way of greeting.

Cleon. She knew that name. Where had she…?

Oh.

Fuck.

Ajax sat back on her heels, still holding her stomach. “You’re the new boss in Coney.”

Cleon shrugged one shoulder. “Not quite yet, but we’re on our way. We’re called the Warriors. You got a name?”

She hesitated. “I’m Ajax.”

“Oh! Andre’s cousin! You’re the one who rocked that dickhead enforcer from Gravesend!”

This was it. This was where Ajax died.

“Good for you.”

Ajax blinked. “What?”

“He’s a creep,” Cochise chimed in. “I’ve been waiting for someone to put him in his place.”

“I didn’t really-”

“Oh, hey, looks like that skell got you with his pocket knife. I can fix that up for you.”

“Wait-”

“Don’t worry, Cochise was a medic in Vietnam,” said Cleon. “She knows what she’s doing. You should come back to our place. We’ll grab a bite, I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

Ajax was way too exhausted to comprehend anything being said. “Wait, wait, I… I thought I was blacklisted. Andre said-”

“Kid, men like that enforcer are so scared of being shown up by a woman that they’ll tear the city apart to prove they’re tough. There’s been tension between Brighton and southern Gravesend for years. They used your fight as an excuse to have another dick swinging competition. They won’t do shit if you come talk to me for a while.” Cleon stood and offered a helping hand. She smiled that gentle, reassuring smile. “You coming?”

Back at Cleon’s apartment, Ajax sat on the couch as Cochise bandaged her arm. She didn’t talk much and they didn’t try to make her. She was still so out of it after weeks of trying to stay alive on the streets. They gave her a hot meal and a warm bed to sleep in. Cochise later told her that on that first night, she’d slept for a solid thirteen hours straight. “Cleon had to check if you were still breathing at one point,” she’d said.

After two days of this, when Ajax could finally understand simple sentences again, Cleon sat her down at the kitchen table. She set a steaming mug of coffee in front of Ajax. “Mind if we talk business?” she ventured.

“I’m in your house,” said Ajax.

“I try to be polite.” Cleon took a sip of coffee. “Besides Andre, do you have any family that’s gonna come looking for you?”

Ajax bristled. She kept silent for a moment, apprehensive about sharing anything about her past, but the two Warriors had fed her and fixed her arm and given her somewhere safe to sleep even with a black cloud hanging over her head. She knew that if Cleon hadn’t stepped in, she’d probably be lying on a slab in the morgue right now.

She finally said, “I have relatives in Queens, but I haven’t called them family since I was a kid. They don’t know where I am and they won’t come looking.”

Cleon nodded in understanding. “I know you’re not in any gang now, but have you ever been affiliated?”

“No.”

“Do you have anywhere to go other than here?”

Ajax squirmed in her seat. “No. I don’t.”

“Would you want to be in a gang?”

“I’ve thought about it.”

“Alright.” Cleon pushed her mug aside and leaned forward. “I’m trying to lay claim to Coney Island right now and I need people. I need someone who’s ready to throw down when shit hits the fan. I need someone like you. Wait, let me finish. This is not an immediate in, got it? You’d still have to go through some kind of initiation and if you’re up for it, I’ll tell you what that will be when I think of a fitting one. You’d stay here. You’d be a Warrior once you passed initiation. You’d be under my protection, my claim, and no one will fuck with you again. Not without me bringing the hammer down on their ass.”

Ajax could only stare at her. Cleon… Cleon wanted her here? Cleon needed her? She’d never been wanted or needed anywhere by anyone and now this gang leader who even Andre wouldn’t dare disrespect was saying she wanted her to stay.

No more hiding.

No more running.

No more fear.

But Ajax was Ajax and couldn’t just take a good thing at face value, so she asked, “Why me?”

Cleon smiled. “You’ve got a way about you. You’ll need to work on your impulse control, but you’ve got the potential to be something great. I can tell.” She extended her hand. “So? You want to be a Warrior?”

Ajax hadn’t smiled in what felt like years, but at that moment, she was grinning from ear to ear. She shook Cleon’s hand.

“Where do I sign?”

#writing #fanfic #warriors concept album #warriors musical #ajax warriors #cleon warriors #cochise warriors #canon typical violence #sexism #tw implied abuse #Ajax needs therapy

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flowersandskeletons526 · 4 days ago

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Waiting Game

*Amber = Ajax, Gizel = Rembrandt. I am uncreative, it's okay lol*

*Content-warning: period-typical homophobia, intense internalized homophobia (angst with a happy-ending)*

Someone was tapping on her window.

Amber barely paid attention to the stray thought as she hovered in that heavy place between being awake and drifting back to sleep.

Someone was tapping on her window.

Her pillow was comfortable, soft, and she'd recently...acquired an extra quilt that made her bed extra warm in the colder winter months. Technically, the heating was on in the apartment, but their landlord knew how to toe the line of legality with an expertise of the cheap and malevolent. Gizel taught her that word: malevolent.

Someone was tapping on her-

Gizel.

Amber shot up in bed, fumbling for the cord on the lamp next to the bedside. As the lamp turned on, it illuminated the room and the small figure crouched on her fire escape. Pushing her blanket and quilt away, Amber shoved off her bed and across the room as quickly as she could, fumbling with the faulty window latch and shoving the window up. She helped Gizel through, the cold winter air biting at her exposed arms, pushing the window back down as soon as Gizel cleared it.

"Good evening," Gizel smiled as Ajax turned to her.

"What the fuck do you mean 'good evening'? What are you doing here?" Amber hissed.

"You said your dad's on night shift."

What did that have to do with anything?

At Amber's confusion, Gizel continued, "So you have the apartment to yourself."

"So you took that as an open invitation?!"

"Of course," Gizel smiled, throwing herself onto Amber's bed.

Amber felt her face heat. Gizel had been in her room before. Plenty of times. Never at night, though, never in her unmade bed. And never wearing such little clothing.

"Where the fuck are your clothes?" Amber asked, forcing herself to look at Gizel's face.

Do not be a creep. Do not be a creep. Do not be a-

But honestly who sneaks onto a fire escape in a tank top and boxer shorts?!

"They're my pajamas, asshole," Gizel said. "I snuck out."

"Without clothes. Or shoes," Amber gestured to Gizel's bare toes, bright red from the winter air. "Its below freezing out there."

"Eh, I barely have feeling in my feet, anyway," Gizel joked.

Amber didn't find the joke particularly funny. She remembered the day after the night her gran locked her on their fire escape, when Gizel walked to school in tears because her feet hurt so badly from the cold burn. She didn't say anything, though.

Gizel sighed as Amber stared at her. "Is it a crime to want to hang out with my- with you?"

"No," but Amber found herself awkwardly standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, as Gizel stared at her.

"Will you sit down?"

"I like standing."

"Come on," Gizel patted the bed. "You're gonna give me a complex, standing all the way over there."

Amber never did stand a chance, not when it was Gizel. So she crossed over and sat on the bed.

As far from Gizel as possible.

Who chose to not respect this decision and Amber soon found herself being forced to lay down on the bed, with Gizel plastering herself along Amber's body, her head resting on Amber's chest. Amber wondered if Gizel could hear her heart giving out.

"What are you doing?" Amber forced her voice to remain neutral, even. No emotion.

"You're warm," Gizel said. Then, after a moment, "What the fuck are you doing with your arms?"

Amber was not doing anything with her arms. They were laying obediently at her sides, not touching Gizel, exactly as Amber was telling them to do. Perfect statues, which wasn't particularly easy as Gizel was practically laying on one of them. "Nothing?"

"Why are you being so weird about this? We cuddle all the time," Gizel complained.

Amber would have argued that, no, they did not. They huddled against the cold, Gizel fitting her smaller body within the confines of Amber's jackets or flannels or whatever large, loose piece of outer-layer clothing Amber was using that day to make herself look larger than she was. Amber slung an arm around Gizel when they walked down the street to make it clear that she was not to be fucked around with, no matter how fragile she might seem. Gizel always grabbed for Amber's hand in crowds or when she needed to lead Amber somewhere or when she just needed to hold something. Gizel would lean into Amber when she was tired and Amber would gladly take the weight.

Amber would not call any of that cuddling. She, especially, would argue that these were all very different circumstances from cuddling in her bed.

Once upon a time, this might have been fine. A couple years ago, before Amber started noticing that, while she could care less about the boys her age that lived in the upstairs apartment, their older sister made her stammer over her words and feel like she stuck her face into the sun. A couple years ago, before Amber started noticing things about her best friend, like the way her curls bounced when she got excited or the freckles that dotted her nose in the summer and the millions of other things that Amber shoved down down down.

But this wasn't a couple years ago, this was now, and Amber had realized that she was, in fact, the sort of horrible deviant her dad ranted and raved about when the news came on at night. She had been born wrong, something was twisted and confused inside her, and she didn't know how to fix it, didn't think she could fix it, but she could keep it hidden. She could keep it away from the people she cared about.

She could protect Gizel from it, if she was diligent.

So she never invited Gizel over at night. She kept Gizel out of her bedroom and out of her bed and she always kept her eyes above the collarbone. In fact, as far as Amber was concerned, Gizel did not even have collarbones.

Then, suddenly, Gizel's face was very close to Amber's. Because Gizel had maneuvered herself to where she was now basically on top of Amber, Gizel's hands on either side of Amber's head as Gizel stared down at Amber.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

"Did I do something?" Gizel asked. "Because you have to tell me if I did something, those are the rules."

What rules?! Amber wanted to scream. But she couldn't. Because every inch of her felt like it was on fire.

"What are you doing?" Amber's voice came out strangled. Amazing.

Gizel narrowed her eyes. "I'm trying to hang out with you. But you're being weird about it. I thought you'd been being weird about it, but I thought I was just imagining things, because you would tell me if something was wrong. You tell me everything."

"I don't tell you everything," Amber's mouth moved before her mind. A typical issue for Amber, but usually the worst case scenario was her dad deciding he needed to fix her smart mouth.

The current worst case scenario was much, much worse and stared her in the face as Gizel looked uniquely heartbroken. "What does that mean?"

Amber closed her eyes to try and escape the look, but that just made her hyperaware of everywhere Gizel's body was touching hers. "Please get off me."

It was like teleporting, how fast Gizel moved away. Amber sat back up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed as Gizel all but plastered herself against her bedroom wall. Before Amber could say anything, Gizel started speaking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I dunno, I'm sorry-"

"Stop apologizing," Amber rubbed at her face, tired. Resigned. Except Gizel kept speaking.

"I don't want you to leave me!" Gizel exclaimed.

Amber paused. Looked at Gizel. Who seemed tired and stressed and...Had she been like that when she crawled through Amber's window? Gizel had a tendency to do that, try to force nervous energy into happiness. Amber was usually better at spotting it, tell her to knock it off, but...well...the lack of usual clothing may have been more distracting than she previously realized.

"Where the fuck do you think I'm going?" Amber asked.

"I don't know! Nowhere! But- People can leave without leaving."

"I'm not leaving till you tell me," Amber said.

"I would never tell you to leave." And fuck if it didn't look like Gizel believed it, too. "So why have you been weird lately?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Amber tried to lie.

"Really?" Gizel deadpanned. "So you don't know anything about that idiot with the spiky hair in my fourth period that tried to ask me out?"

Idiot? "I thought you said he was cool?"

Jonathan certainly wouldn't be winning any Nobel prizes, but he wasn't completely dull. He lived with his mom and had a really good relationship with her. His friends all said he was chill and even his ex-girlfriend didn't have a bad word to say, beyond that he was a bit boring.

"I said his leather jacket was cool. Leather jackets are cool! And what about that jerk from the baseball team?"

Amber furrowed her eyebrows. "You said you liked his personality or something."

"I thought it was cool how he sticks up for his friends! A bit violently, but it shows he cares, y'know!"

"...Yeah. And he thinks you're hot. So?" Amber was not understanding the problem here. At all.

Steve was a good guy, Amber's personal favorite so far. He had four younger sisters who all adored him and he actually said that he thought Gizel was "as beautiful as her art" which made Amber want to punch him a bit, but fit the bill well enough. Except, evidently, he was apparently a jerk which meant Amber might need to have a more fist-to-face conversation with him...

"And that cashier at the movies?"

"Okay, he's been flirting with you for weeks and you said he had nice eyes." Admittedly, Amber did not know as much about Christopher, but he did live nearby, had a steady job, his coworkers liked him, and, if push came to shove, lived nearby if Amber needed to deal with him. Plus, the movie theater manager had a bad taste in character and liked Amber, so losing his job was also definitely on the table if Christopher decided to be a dick.

"Why are you trying to set me up with guys?!" Gizel demanded.

Amber did not understand what this had to do with her acting weird. "You said you wanted to start dating? Remember?"

Gizel's mouth opened.

Then closed.

Then opened again as she stared at Amber. "You. Are. An idiot."

Amber reeled back on the bed, like the words hit her, "Excuse me-"

"You! I wanted to start dating you! How could I have been more clear?!" Gizel exclaimed. "I hold your hand. I lean on you while we walk down the street. I worm my way into your jackets while you wear them. Yes, I liked the jacket, I told you it reminded me of yours. I said I think its kind of cool when people are willing to go to bat for their friends, like you do for me. I said I liked brown eyes. I think they are nice. You have brown eyes. I crawl onto your fire escape in no clothing in the middle of the winter, do I need to spell this out for you?!"

Amber stared, the words washing over her like a tidal wave.

Gizel stared back.

Amber stared.

"Are you going to say anything?!" Gizel exclaimed. "I mean, if you didn't like me back, that's fine, but you could've at least acknowledged-"

"Did I do this to you?" Amber asked as the horror started to settle.

Gizel blinked. "...what?"

"I didn't- Did I- Is it permanent? Can I- Can you change back, I don't-"

Amber did this. She must have, somehow. What was she thinking? How delusional was she to think that she could protect Gizel from herself?

"Oh, shit," Gizel muttered as she stared at Ajax, eyes wide and round. "Amber-"

"You need to go," Amber got up from the bed, moving to go to the window.

"Wait. Wait, wait, please-" Amber felt a hand grab her wrist and she flinched. Hard.

"Stop!" Amber turned to face Gizel, doing her best to make space, but her knees hit the bed. "I have clearly done enough and you need to go."

"You haven't done anything-"

"I'm gay," Amber forced herself to say. "And, clearly, its contagious or some- I don't know, you need to go. Just- just go home and- Gizel, please, I can't-"

"It isn't contagious," Gizel interrupted, her voice firm. "And I'm not leaving. Fuck. I fucked this up."

"Gizel-"

"I'm gay. I have always been gay. And I'm happy."

Amber was already shaking her head. "No. No, you're perfect, you aren't-"

"I am. It's not a bad thing, Amber," Gizel's voice was soft and she kept inching closer.

Amber tried to step back, put more space between them, but fell onto the bed instead, eyes fixed on Gizel as her heart raced in her chest.

"I thought you already knew," Gizel admitted. "You always...I thought you knew about me and I never, in a million years, thought that you felt this way about yourself. I'm sorry. I wouldn't have- I would have done this differently if I realized."

Their knees were touching. Amber watched as Gizel's knees bumped hers. Her eyes burned. Amber kept them open, trying to ignore the tears welling and the impending sense of doom.

"We don't have to talk about this, now, okay?" Gizel said. "I'm sorry for pushing it, I'm sorry for pushing you, but can you at least believe me when I say its okay? I love you, the way I always have. And you love me. That can be enough."

Amber's throat felt thick as her hands twitched, wanting to move towards Gizel. She forced them into fists, forcing them down into the mattress instead. Gizel's hands folded over her fists.

"Can I?"

Amber folded, allowing Gizel to maneuver herself inbetween Amber's legs as her arms went around Amber. In seconds, Amber found her own hands clutching at the back of Gizel's tanktop as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," Amber kept repeating.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Gizel repeated.

They didn't talk about that night, or the subject of that night, for a long time. Amber stopped seeking out guys for Gizel and slowly started to expect Gizel on her fire escape when her dad worked the night shift. When it was cold, Gizel would worm her way into her coats and, when it was warmer, into the flannels or oversized baseball jerseys Amber war over tanktops. When Amber had a free hand, she would lose said hand to Gizel. When they said goodbye, when it was safe, Gizel would peck a kiss to Amber's cheek. When they hugged, Amber would hold on longer than necessary.

But they didn't talk about it.

They ran away from the apartment in Queens and didn't talk about it.

Well, kind of.

"You're dad was wrong about a lot of shit, you know," Rembrandt said one day while tagging, Ajax acting as lookout.

"Yeah?" Ajax was not sure where this was going.

"The whole gay things just one of a million."

Ajax rolled her eyes. "Yes. I agree."

"Cool. As long as we're on the same page with that."

Then, they stopped talking about it.

Kind of.

Because they gained a new girl. A sickly, terrified little thing who Cleon found under the boardwalk and Ajax really thought they would need to bury there, too. Except she survived.

"She's not eighteen, Cleon, no way in Hell," Ajax said.

"She just turned seventeen, she said," Cleon said. "Gave me her ID and everything to prove it. No one's looking for her. What do you want me to do?"

Ajax rolled her eyes, "Give her my room. I'll move in with Rembrandt."

To Cowgirl's objections and Cochise's glee.

"You're going to let them move into the room next to me?!" Cowgirl exclaimed when Cleon approved. "Make them move into Ajax's!"

"Cowgirl," Cleon groaned.

Ajax pretended to not understand what Cowgirl was saying.

The room did have two beds. It took two nights before Rembrandt's bed stopped being utilized.

Three weeks passed before Ajax came home to find that bed gone and replaced with a desk.

"Need space for art," was Rembrandt's distracted answer when Ajax asked, Rembrandt far too deep in some detailed drawing.

A month later, Ajax sat in their bed, watching as Rembrandt got ready for bed.

"What?" Rembrandt asked, laughing slightly as she sat on the bed.

And Ajax leaned in and kissed her. A short, sweet thing.

"Was that okay?" Ajax asked as she pulled away.

Then found herself tackled to the bed.

The next morning, Ajax woke up to Rembrandt watching her.

"Good morning," Rembrandt said, smiling.

Ajax smiled back, "Morning." Then, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Rembrandt rolled her lips together. Then, "So. You're my girlfriend, now? Can I say that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you can." And that was much easier than Ajax thought it would ever be.

It took two weeks before any of the Warriors commented on it.

Specifically, before Cleon made an announcement to all of them that Rembrandt warned Ajax about before hand: "Rem and Ajax are dating. If anyone has a problem with that, you have a problem with me and this gang. Anyone need to have a chat?"

No one said anything.

Though, later, when Ajax and Swan were on patrol, Swan did ask, "Was that announcement about me?"

"What do you mean?" Ajax asked, pretending like Swan did not just startle the absolute fuck out of her. Damn creepy kid she was, she never talked.

"Why did Cleon announce you were dating?" Swan asked.

Ajax grit her teeth. "Because it's a new a thing."

Swan raised her eyebrows. Nodded once. And said nothing. Smart creepy kid, probably why Cleon was already training her as her second.

Cowgirl?

Not as smart.

"You didn't just start dating, I call complete bullshit," Cowgirl said one night over dinner, a common refrain over the last few days. "No. That amount of pining and physical contact is ridiculous. I refuse."

"Cowgirl, I will beat you, shut the fuck up," Ajax finally broke.

"I'm just saying-"

"I'll help her," Swan said, not even looking up from her plate.

There was a solid chance that had been the first time Swan spoke at dinner.

"Damn. All right, fine," Cowgirl muttered.

That night, as they laid in bed, Ajax couldn't get Cowgirl's words out of her head. "Does it bother you that I took so long?"

"No." Rembrandt's immediate answer helped a bit, too. "I'd wait forever."

That helped even more.

#🥲🥲🥲#you've done it again #I'm so obsessed with the way you write their relationship

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flowersandskeletons526 · 4 days ago

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Two job-hunting resources that changed my life:

This cover letter post on askamanger.com. A job interview guide written by Alison Green, who runs askamanager.

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flowersandskeletons526 · 4 days ago

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A gentle sound (the rolling in the graves)

“Where are you going?”

If Ajax was startled by Cowgirl’s sudden question, she doesn’t show it. Disappointing. Cowgirl had been so sure she hadn’t noticed that she was being followed. Rude, also, to let Cowgirl follow her all the way down to the marina without even saying hi.

“None of your business,” she says, not looking back at Cowgirl.

Ouch. An uncounterable point. It’s lucky Cowgirl doesn’t really care what is or isn’t her business. Ajax has been disappearing after dinner for a few weeks now, and Cowgirl is going to find out what she’s been up to if it kills her.

“Mm,” Cowgirl says, “There’s nothing down here. Unless you’re stealing a boat. If you’re stealing a boat you have to let me name it or else I’m telling Cleon.”

Ajax rolls her eyes so hard she has to stop walking for a second, which makes a perfect opportunity for Cowgirl to jog the extra few steps to stand next to her. Ajax gives her an unimpressed look.

“I’m not stealing a boat,” she says flatly.

“Great! Then you won’t mind if I come with you.”

“Knock yourself out,” Ajax says. She turns away from the path that goes down to the docks and opens a gate to a stairwell that leads down to the shore. She doesn’t wait to see if Cowgirl is following her.

“Um,” Cowgirl says, peering down the worn, algae-slick stairs. “Ajax?”

Ajax makes a noise like she’s listening but would rather not be.

“I didn’t really dress for this.” She had worn her most fashionable boots, which were not her most walking-on-slippery-rocks-down-by-the-water boots.

“Wow,” says Ajax, who had worn grippy shoes, “What a shame. Guess you’ll have to turn back.”

At this grave insult to her honor, Cowgirl decides to begin picking her way down the stairs to hurry after Ajax. She can’t quite move at top speed, seeing as she has to avoid pools of water and patches of seaweed that Ajax stomps right through. Ajax is walking slightly slower than usual, though, so Cowgirl isn’t too worried that she’ll be left behind.

She is a little bit more concerned when she looks up and sees that Ajax is headed beneath the pier, where a forest of pilings stretch into an endless gloom.

“Ajax,” she hisses. “Ajax!”

Ajax pauses a moment just within the shadow of the pier looming over them, turning back to look at her. “You really don’t have to come,” she says, sounding kind of amused at whatever face Cowgirl was surely making.

Like hell she’s turning back now, though. If she tries to ask Ajax about it later she’ll just get all smug and say ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Which was just unacceptable. Cowgirl will just have to keep going. It’s the only way to preserve her dignity.

“Just wait up,” Cowgirl grumbles.

The pier stretches on so far that Cowgirl can’t see the light on the other side, thick wooden planks holding up boat chartering offices and marina administrators and fish market stalls. She’d run amok on the top side of the pier plenty as a kid, but it had never occurred to her to try and go under it. She feels a little uneasy being under it now, at the mercy of the tide coming back in, even if she knows they aren't in much danger of being trapped.

It’s just so unsettling down here, the sound of the waves echoing strangely and the light of the fading sunset reflecting off the water. The further they venture from the edge of the pier the more uneasy Cowgirl becomes. There’s something about the way the echoes of the water fade out into an eerie tuneless humming that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

Except. It’s not the water at all. As they walk, the sound grows slowly louder, until Cowgirl can hear that it’s someone singing. They’re not really carrying a melody, but the sound floats over the water, folding back onto itself as it reverberates in the air around them. It’s beautiful. It’s like the time Cowgirl got to go on a school trip to the opera and the soprano’s voice seemed to make the whole room sing, but better again by half. It’s almost like-

Cowgirl stops walking. It’s almost like they’re below the high tide mark, at twilight. And someone is singing.

Cowgirl is eighty-five percent city girl, but she spent a summer with her cousins in Massachusetts as a kid. She knows the kind of places you’re not supposed to go alone after the sun sets. She knows the kind of things that live in them.

“Ajax,” Cowgirl says, trying to project an aura of everything-is-fine.

Ajax pauses and turns back to look at her. She doesn’t look even a little bit afraid. Her eyes are very dark in the dim light.

“Ajax,” Cowgirl repeats, with what she thinks is an admirable attempt at keeping her voice level. “There’s a siren down here.”

Ajax blinks at her. “Yes,” she says, slowly, as if Cowgirl is the one who’s slow on the uptake. “I know.”

Cowgirl would like to amend her earlier statement about finding out what Ajax is up to even if it kills her. She would actually like very much to live, if anyone is listening.

“Oh my god,” she says, abandoning her attempts at acting calm. She thinks that advice is actually for bears, anyways. “Oh my god, you’ve been fucking mind-whammied. By a siren. And now you’ve dragged me down here to feed me to it. I can’t fucking believe this.”

Ajax looks deeply unimpressed at this theory. “I actually remember telling you you didn’t have to come. Multiple times.”

“Reverse psychology. You knew I’d get suspicious if you seemed too enthusiastic. Oooh, this is diabolical. I never expected it from you, which is why its the perfect betrayal.”

“...Anyways,” Ajax says, “Sirens don’t eat people. I’m here to feed the siren popcorn, actually.”

At this, she gestures with the bag of popcorn that she has, admittedly, been holding this whole time. Cowgirl hadn’t considered it relevant to their journey.

“There was just a boat sunk by sirens in Mallorca,” Cowgirl exclaims, “I saw it on the news!”

Ajax frowns. “I never said sirens don’t kill people,” she amends. “But they don’t eat ‘em.”

“Great!” Cowgirl laughs. “That’s so reassuring!”

Ajax’s frown deepens. “Humans kill each other all the time! I don’t see why it matters! You don’t have to come if you’re gonna be weird about it.”

She turns back around and keeps walking. Cowgirl looks back at the entrance, and then at Ajax’s retreating form. It’s. Well. The siren doesn’t have the element of surprise. And she shouldn’t leave Ajax alone with it. And, more importantly, like fucking hell is she going to go back to the others to tell them Ajax has been fucking around with a siren and Cowgirl didn’t even go look at it.

Cowgirl isn’t really sure what she expected a siren to look like. She’d never really asked questions after the old guys who worked the fishing boats told her to never ever go by the water at dusk, and especially not at low tide. That was how they got you. Something about the land between high- and low-tide being neutral territory. Cowgirl didn’t really care about the details of who they were. She was perfectly happy just not being gotten. Or, well, she had been.

There’s a girl sitting on a rock, kicking her bare feet in the water, staring out at the waves. When Cowgirl sees her, her first thought is that the siren has already found another victim and they’re off the hook. But as girl turns around to look at them, her face breaking into a grin of too-sharp teeth, the humming abruptly stops.

Cowgirl stops a comfortable distance from the siren, but Ajax - who does not practice proper wildlife safety measures - walks right up to her. Cowgirl just stares at them. The siren looks distressingly normal. She’s wearing an oversized tee shirt and cut-off denim shorts, and only the amount of salt crusted on both looks remotely out of the ordinary. She just looks like any girl their age, with pretty brown eyes and a bob of unruly hair.

“Yo,” Ajax says, offering her the bag of popcorn, “Got your shit.”

And, well, she had just lit up when she saw Ajax. Cowgirl knows all about girls who light up when they see Ajax.

“Thank youu,” the siren says, with an odd sort of warbling voice, like a character in a musical who can’t decide if they’re supposed to be singing right now.

“Cowgirl,” Ajax barks. Ah, shit. “Starin’ is rude.”

Sheepishly, Cowgirl crosses the final couple feet to stand next to them. “Hi,” she says. What’s the protocol here? Sirens aren’t fey, right? She won’t get dragged into the water forever if she’s rude, or anything.

“Helloo,” the siren says. There’s a quality to her voice like a parrot, like she’s copying a sound she’s heard. The timing is just a little bit wrong. “I’m Rembrandt.”

And Cowgirl can hear in the way she shapes those vowels, the little bit of Brooklyn lilt she puts on just that one word, that it’s a name Ajax gave her.

#YESSSS GIMME MAGIC AU WITH SIREN REMBRANDT #I NEED MORE OF THIS IMMEDIATELY

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flowersandskeletons526 · 4 days ago

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In this one, Fox survive the train somehow but is stuck barely conscious in a hospital bed. Small description on Fox on the rail before she gets to the hospital then everything else is the rest of the Warriors coming to talk/see her.

A muffled scream came from the rail, right there was a barely breathing girl, her legs in an impossible position, bleeding from everywhere.

Fox was hurting. Everything hurted so much, well everything except her legs. That she couldn’t feel at all. Thinking hurted. She couldn't be dead, death was probably less painful. Something wet dribbled down her cheeks, blood or tears she couldn't say. She heard sounds from so far away. She wanted to check where she was but turning her head was clearly not an option. Her vision got blurry, sounds got even more distant, maybe she could finally rest now that the warriors were home safe.

She started hearing again. It was muted and too loud at the same time. She still couldn’t see anything. Even if she wanted to open her eyes she wasn’t sure she could. Her lungs felt like fire, her mouth was so dry, she felt like she needed to cough but simply couldn’t. Her body refused to move. The voices got clearer. Was that Cleon she heard? If that was the afterlife it sucked, but at least she was with Cleon. She could barely hear what was said, only a few words “Fox” “Home” “Alive”. Then the voices disappeared.

The next time Fox regained consciousness, she heard two women whispering but couldn’t discern what was said or who was talking. Then the door closed and someone shuffled close to her and sat on what she guessed was a chair. "Hey Fox…” Swan’s voice was the clearest thing she heard in a while. She sounded so tired, like a lifetime had passed since they last talked to each other. “I don't know if you can really hear us but they said talking could help.” A long silence followed as Swan tried to concentrate on what to say. “I'm so sorry Fox... I would do anything for us to change places. I should have been the one taking on the cops to get you home alive... We saw you get hit... We all thought you died... I should have come back for you right away. Cleon would have. A true leader wouldn't have let you there..." Fox could hear Swan voice breaking and shaking more with each sentence. "The warriors need you home, I need you home." Fox heard Swan’s breath get caught in her throat. “I can’t do this, I’m so sorry”. And Fox was alone again.

Cochise was the next person Fox heard. The woman’s voice was calm and matter of fact, as if she had been there before. "You did good, you know? Must have been scary to be alone against this cop, but you were so brave and so strong. A true warrior.” Fox felt the blanket on her get adjusted so most of her body was covered. She had even realised she was cold but she felt much better. “The doctors said you're doing better, you just have to wake up now. I know it's hard and scary and it won't be easier once you'll wake up but we'll be there with you. We'll bring you back to Coney, Fox." Cochise finished while changing Fox’s pillow.

Fox was still so tired. She kept trying to wake up, but she lacked the strength. Everyone was counting on her to wake up. Just before falling back asleep, she heard a soft “Heyy..” She vaguely remembered that voice from that night. “I feel like I should reintroduce myself, I'm Mercy, don't know if you remember me. The warriors... they're a mess without you. I mean they do what they have to do but everyone seems so out of it. Swan haven't really slept since that night... pretty sure she blames herself for what happened to you and Ajax. So it would be nice if you could wake up and tell her she's being dumb. And go hug Rembrandt. She misses you and Ajax so much, even I can see it. She hasn’t come back to your guy’s place yet, she’s staying with Cleon and Swan, and me ” Silence. “You'll be okay, right?” Another silence before Mercy walked to the door. “Just… Come back to them, please.” Silence filled the room again.

A loud “HEYO” was suddenly heard in the quiet room and Fox knew Cowgirl was there. The woman had come to see her a few times already, always with so much energy. It filled Fox with joy but also drained her of all her energy. "How’s it going, Foxy? I mean other than being stuck in a hospital bed and all that. I��m here to report this week's news directly from the warriors headquarters. First off, Ajax is still in jail but she’s supposed to be released soon! I’m sure she will come visit you in no time. Or you know you could wake up and surprise her!” Cowgirl stopped in her tracks and waited a bit to see if Fox answered her before continuing. “I’ll let you think about that. On other news, Swan and Mercy are together! You know Mercy the rando from the Orphans that kept following us, the one that made chicken sounds? Of course you know her, she comes by from time to time. So anyway she's a warrior now and she's with Swan! I saw Swan smile at her the other day, it was soooo weird, she’s so whipped." Another pause. “We also expanded our turf to one more block but it’s hard to make sure others know since Rembrandt hasn't gone out to tag anything since… I shouldn’t bore you with work. We can’t wait to have you back with us.” Cowgirl continued talking about anything and everything but Fox stopped listening, she felt herself losing consciousness again.

Fox felt the bed dropping a little on the side. A delicate hand touched her arm and her body relaxed. Fox recognised the smell of paint coming from the small woman carefully lying by her side. Rembrandt slowly put her head on Fox's chest listening to her heart beat. A moment passed, Fox didn't know if it had been three hours or three seconds but someone knocked on the door. "It's time to go, Rem, they won't let us stay any longer," said Swan. Rembrandt moved slowly out of the bed and rearranged Fox's hair out of her face. She squeezed Fox’s hand before joining Swan by the door and leaving with one last look.

"They let me out.” Ajax, Fox finally heard Ajax again. “I should be happy to be free but if I hadn't gone after that goddamn cop you wouldn’t be here... I could have protected you... I'm sorry Fox. I fucked up bad this time. I promise you I’ll do everything to keep you safe." Ajax stayed by her side for a while. Talking from time to time explaining how she fucked up in her opinion. Fox was just happy she was there with her.

Fox heard someone shuffle around to bring the chair closer to her. A strong hand took hers. "They made it home alive thanks to you. They told me everything that happened. You were so brave Fox, I’m so proud of the woman you’re becoming.” A calming silence filled the room. “But please never put yourself in front of a moving train again or I’ll whoop your ass.” Every fiber of Fox’s body relaxed as if the voice had taken away that whole night. She didn’t think she would hear her again. Not here. Not with the others. “Now wake up and come back home, back to your family." Cleon was alive. Cleon wanted to bring her home. Fox had brought everyone home alive. Tears rolled down her cheek. Everyone got home alive. She squeezed the hand with all the strength she had. Cleon squeezed back and looked up with a smile at her warriors on the other side of the hospital room glass. Fox is alive.

#AAAAAAAAAAA #I'M CRYING SO MUCH #/pos #all the interactions were so perfectly characterized #and REMBRANDT #REMBRANDT NOT SAYING ANYTHING JUST LYING NEXT TO HER #MY HEART #this is a gift #op i owe you my life

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flowersandskeletons526 · 5 days ago

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List of Warriors concept album fanfics I have on Ao3

Since apparently I've made this my new brand, here's the links and what the primary relationship is in them:

When We All Come Home Alive (one part): Ajax/Rembrandt

We Need A Tagger (five parts): Ajax/Rembrandt

A Tribute (two parts): Swan & Rembrandt

The Girl at the End of the Bar (one part): Rembrandt & Fox (kinda)

Don't Let Anything Happen To Her (two parts): Mercy & Rembrandt

Anniversary (one part): Ajax/Rembrandt

A Beaten Dog Will Always Bite (one part): Cleon & Ajax

Will update as I write more

#writing #fanfic #warriors concept album

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flowersandskeletons526 · 5 days ago

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homecoming

The train pulls into Union Square, and she can almost hear it - a thud, a shudder as the driver pumps the brakes. Bile rises in her throat. Across the aisle, a couple lean into each other lazily. Schoolgirls in crisp blue uniforms stifle laughter. The platform, lit in flickering fluorescents, looks the same as it ever has. She wonders who buried Fox, and under what name, and the thrumming in her ears grows louder.

1.3k. in which ajax gets out of jail, goes looking for swan, and finds someone else instead.

The city welcomes her back with horizontal sleet, piles of brown snow-mush lining the sidewalk. The clothes she is wearing were chosen for a September night, but she hardly minds the way the January chill rips through her - it is worth it for the familiar weight of the vest across her shoulders.

They would have come to collect her - of course they would have. But Ajax has seen Cleon's sympathetic manner when members get out. If anyone tries to be sympathetic in her direction, today of all days, she has resolute plans to throw a punch. And so she walks, from the bus stop to Queensboro Plaza, stares at rusting metal as she shivers and waits for the N.

The thing about guilt, she knows, is that you need something louder to drown it out. The cold almost works, for a while, pinpricks of pain against her face and arms. So far from Coney, with colours on, she holds onto the half-hope that someone will call her out for it - but they rattle through Queens, and then Manhattan, and no one challenges her. She wonders if Cleon has really managed to work that miracle Cyrus set in motion. Cleon had seemed different, on the one visit she and Rembrandt had made to Riker's - exhausted, but so determined. She had found that thing that sang louder than guilt, and it was hope. Ajax drums her fingers against the window, cursing the stupid treaty that had dragged them to the wrong side of the city. Hope doesn't do it for her. When you lose enough, it starts to feel a lot like stupidity.

By the time the line ends it has become something frenetic, a pulsing behind her eyes. It lends a strange slant to the streets she's walked a thousand times, every colour slightly off and every sound setting her teeth on edge. Back on Warriors turf, without the need for vigilance to distract her, she feels the shame like a living thing at her back. She strides down Brighton 7th as though she could outrun it, but it clings on, joining the pain in a stifling chorus of should-have-been-there-should-have-been-there-you-should-have-been-there.

She passes a familiar brown-brick facade, and knows she should turn - there are people here who have been waiting on her for months. Rembrandt would look at her with that furrow in her brows that came out when she couldn't decide whether to throw her arms around Ajax or throw a punch. She would end up going for the former, she always did. She always forgave her. And the other bedroom, walls papered with posters Fox lifted from the cinema, would be empty. Right now, Ajax doesn't feel like being forgiven.

She doesn't remember consenting to the movement, but in a moment she is striding across the street. They all should have made it home, and if she hadn't been there, she needs answers from someone who was. The momentum of the thought carries her up three flights, and before she can question herself, she jams her spare key - for emergencies, on a technicality - into the lock. A figure in the kitchen glances up in surprise, coffee pot in hand and hair still messy from sleep. Not Swan, not Cleon, not Cochise. A new wave of anger flares in her stomach, and she welcomes it. They'd lost one of their own, but of course the stray they picked up in the gutter had made it home safe.

"Where's Swan?"

Mercy's eyes trail her up and down, taking in the tension in her jaw, the ball of her fists. "... Out. Does Cleon know you’re back? Does Rembrandt? ” When Ajax makes no attempt to either leave or answer the question, she sighs. "Do you want coffee? You look like shit."

“And you’re looking right at home.” She makes no attempt to hide the disdain in her voice.

“Because I live here. Do you have a problem?”

She almost laughs. "Your girlfriend promised she'd get us all home. That's my problem."

"She did her best."

"If her best ends up with a kid on the fucking tracks-"

"Don't call her a kid," Mercy snaps, and Ajax is surprised by the heat in her voice. "You didn't see her holding her own against the cop."

I didn't know there was a cop, she doesn't say. In the visitor's room at Riker's, with guards hovering close enough to catch every word, Cleon and Rembrandt had been careful. An accident, they had called it. Another gang, Ajax's mind had filled in. And she'd been right, in a way.

Something stings at the edge of her eyes. She plows on. "Where the fuck was Swan when they needed a fighter?"

"Where the fuck were you? Has it occurred to you that if you hadn't been so desperate to prove something, we would have had an extra person?"

It has. Every single day for the past four months, the knowledge has slid through her like a knife. But she is hardly about to admit that in front of the Orphan girl. "Stop saying we. Have you even been fucking initiated?"

Colour rises in Mercy’s cheeks. "I am just as much a part of this gang as you are."

Ajax sneers. "I'll take that as a no. So we're just letting anyone fuck their way in now?"

For a brief, hopeful moment she is certain the woman is going to hit her. Then a door creaks open down the corridor, and a voice, hoarse with sleep but unmistakably Swan's, says "You makin' coffee?"

Mercy's voice is light as she calls out, "I'll bring you one," but her eyes don't leave Ajax's. She takes a step to the side, planting herself conspicuously between Ajax and the hallway.

Ajax has seen plenty of fights in the past four months, thrown fists in a good few. The moment before a scrap always reminds her of stray cats in an alley - a drawn-out pause, an assessment. It had seemed natural amid the harsh lighting and ever-present commotion of Riker’s. It is much, much stranger to get that sense in her friends' kitchen, across from a woman in boxer shorts and a baseball shirt she is certain belongs to Swan.

Then Mercy glances back towards the hallway, and sighs. "His name is Victor Kelly, you know. Police captain. Just in case you wanted to direct all this" - she waves a hand at Ajax's entire being - "towards the cop who pushed her onto the fucking tracks. For God's sake, I'd help you. But leave Swan out of it. Everyone's spent three months picking up the pieces, and you don't get to come back and fuck that up."

Victor Kelly. She turns the name over in her mind. It is something to latch onto - a future where he has to watch his fucking back is a future worth seeing. But it also leaves her stranded, no one except the spectre of a police captain to train her anger on. She deflates, and Mercy must see it, because she shoves a mug of coffee in her direction. "Go home. They missed you."

Ajax knows what's waiting for her across the street - Rembrandt's disappointment, and an empty room that feels like an accusation. And yet all the fight has bled from her limbs, and she aches to be there anyway. Unwilling to lose whatever this stand-off is, she swipes the mug from the bench and turns towards the door. She hears it shatter, hears Mercy’s stream of curse words and Swan’s rushed footsteps, but she is already halfway down the stairs. She will make Kelly pay tomorrow. Today, she is going home.

(inspired by tags @emilywaters left on my post about ajax and guilt! nyc locals please don’t look too hard at the geography, mta trip planner and I gave it our best shot)

#i live for ajax processing every emotion as anger #girl we have the same damn coping mechanism #i want ajax to get therapy #I'll pay #i love this so much

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flowersandskeletons526 · 5 days ago

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I was put on this planet to make silly posts of which only some are substantiated by canon I think

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flowersandskeletons526 · 5 days ago

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okay but like. reunion square is not exaggerating how complicated it is to change trains at union square. getting from any numbered train to the Q (which I'm assuming the warriors are on during Same Train Home, because that and the B are the trains that stop at Prospect Park station) is a journey in and of itself. the signs saying "this way to the Q!" are a bewildering suggestion.

you need to go onto subway platforms to get to stairs that will take you to subway platforms. if you want to find an elevator, good fucking luck.

#can confirm #99% sure that whole station is haunted #I've seen strange things at 3 am

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flowersandskeletons526 · 5 days ago

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I'm curious as to how many people in the warriors fandom are actually in the boroughs, I wanna compare notes

#warriors concept album #warriors musical #writing #boppers

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flowersandskeletons526 · 5 days ago

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"Anniversary" - Warriors Concept Album Fanfic

This is only fluff, I PROMISE. No hidden angst. I swear by the locked tomb. Just a quick little drabble on how I think Ajax and Rembrandt would spend their first anniversary :)

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Ajax paced in the kitchen, arms crossed and shoulders tensed. Cochise and Cowgirl sat on the couch in the living room and watched her mumble absentmindedly to herself. Swan sat curled up in the armchair reading a book. Rembrandt had gone out with Cleon, leaving Ajax alone in their bedroom with her thoughts, which quickly evolved to wandering the common area so she didn’t have to be completely isolated while her mind raced.

Ajax caught the way Swan’s eye twitched as she closed her book. “Ajax,” she ground out, “I’m gonna have a brain aneurysm if you keep grumbling like that.”

“I’m not grumbling,” Ajax shot back. “I’m planning.”

“I don’t get what you’re so worked up about,” said Cowgirl with a flippant wave of her hand. “Just buy her some new paints and she’ll be happy.”

“I get her new paints all the time. I was getting her paints before we were even together. This has to be special.”

“You know she’ll love whatever you do,” Cochise pointed out. “It’s not like you’re still trying to make an impression.”

“You’re right, I’m not. I’ve already shown her my best, so if I don’t show up for this, it’s gonna look even worse.”

Cowgirl laughed. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger,” she teased. “Look, anniversaries are easy. Have a nice dinner, go to a club, and when you get back to your bedroom-”

Cochise clapped a hand over Cowgirl’s mouth before she could finish her sentence. “I really don’t think Ajax needs any advice on that,” she hissed. She turned to Ajax, who had gone so red in the face with embarrassment that she was almost purple. “Don’t overthink it. You know Rembrandt better than anyone. You don’t need to pull out some big stunt to make her happy. Just do what you know she’ll like.”

Cowgirl dislodged Cochise’s hand long enough to make a crass comment. Cochise resorted to smacking her in the face with a pillow while Swan jumped up to stop Ajax from throttling the other Warrior. Swan sat Ajax down at the kitchen table, trying to distract her from Cochise’s attempts to shut Cowgirl up.

“Level with me,” she said quietly. “Why are you so nervous about this? It’s Rembrandt.” Ajax glowered at her. “Oh, for the love of fuck, don’t give me that. You know what I mean.”

Ajax squirmed in her seat. She did not talk about her feelings often and definitely not to Swan of all people. Cleon, maybe - big maybe - and sometimes Cochise every now and then if she really had no other choice, but not Swan. However, she needed advice, and she knew Swan was a softy at heart. She’d seen some of the trashy romance novels the girl had on her bookshelf. So, she could put those reservations aside for the time being, even if she felt like a dorky kid saying it.

“I’ve never had a relationship that lasted for more than a few months,” she said haltingly, keeping her voice low so she didn’t give Cowgirl more ammunition to make fun of her. “And I don’t even know if you could actually call those relationships. They weren’t, y’know… Rembrandt. I don’t want to fuck up a one year anniversary because I didn’t put enough thought into it.”

“I think you’re putting too much thought into this,” Swan told her. “You love Rembrandt and Rembrandt loves you. No matter what you do, she’s going to be happy.”

“I just don’t want it to not be enough. Plus Rembrandt’s a total hopeless romantic, I don’t want to fall short.”

“Course she is, she’s an artist. If you’re concerned with falling short, make a day out of it. Ask Cleon if you can have a break from work. Unless you start a fight while you two are out on a date-”

“Fuck you for that.”

“-there’s literally nothing you can do that Rembrandt won’t think is sweet. Hell, she might even like that, she’s with you for some reason.”

“Dude! Fuck you!”

Swan stood and clapped Ajax on the back. “Chin up, man. You’ve got a week to plan. Try not to worry about it.”

That just made Ajax worry more. She lied awake in bed at night, conjuring a hundred ideas just to nix all of them. She looked down at Rembrandt curled up against her chest, sleeping peacefully in one of Ajax’s shirts that was way too big on her, and gently brushed her bangs off her face. Rembrandt made a soft noise and snuggled closer to Ajax in her sleep. Ajax smiled, planting a kiss on the top of her head. She could do this. She could plan a good anniversary. Everything would be fine!

She hoped.

She pulled Cleon aside the next day when Rembrandt was out with Cowgirl, an idea that she hated because she had very little trust that Cowgirl wouldn’t say anything. “I wanted to see if Rem and I could have Saturday off,” she asked. “Day and night.”

Cleon frowned. “You’re asking for a full day and night of no gang business?”

“I know it’s-”

“Wait, let me rephrase that. You are asking for a day off? You? You go stir crazy if I keep you in the house for more than six hours.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be in the house. Day off, not a day in.”

“You got business you don’t want me knowing about?”

“No, it’s… Saturday is our one year anniversary.”

Cleon’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Oh shit, that’s right! I forgot about that. Yeah, go ahead. I’ll make sure you don’t get called in for anything.”

Ajax grinned and breathed a sigh of relief. She knew Cleon would say yes but she was still so afraid that she might not. Fuck, this was such a weird state of mind for her to be in. “Thanks, Cleon.”

“What do you have planned?”

“A lot.”

“Can you do it all in one day without feeling like you have to rush Rembrandt through it all?”

Ajax faltered, her brow furrowing. “Uh… maybe?”

Cleon smiled and put an arm around Ajax, leading her to the couch and sitting beside her. “Alright. I’ve been on a few dates in my time. Tell me whatcha got planned.”

Ajax took a deep breath. “Okay, I was gonna start with…”

She did not sleep at all Friday night. She kept waking up, staring at the ceiling or out the window. She considered stealing a cigarette from Rembrandt’s pack in her jacket pocket just to calm her nerves, but Rembrandt would smell it on her and even though she smoked, she didn’t want Ajax to start. Ajax just wanted morning to come already.

She was still awake when the gray light of dawn cracked through the window. She carefully slipped out of Rembrandt’s arms, taking extra caution not to wake her as she headed into the kitchen. She was the first one up and about in the house which normally never happened. Reaching into the back of a high shelf, she grabbed a little sheet of paper with “Cochise’s World Famous Pancakes” written across the top and a recipe underneath. Ajax had originally planned to just use the ready-made box mix but Cochise had convinced her otherwise.

She made Rembrandt’s favorite breakfast: pancakes smothered in syrup, scrambled eggs, and bacon taken out of the pan mere seconds before it burned to a crisp. She tried to make it look somewhat nice on the plate, took a deep breath, and stepped back into the bedroom.

Rembrandt was still asleep. Ajax sat on the edge of the bed beside her and gave her a gentle shake. “Hey,” she whispered. “Wake up, baby.”

Rembrandt lifted her head, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She smiled at Ajax as she rolled over and sat up. “Morning,” she said. Ajax passed her the plate. “What’s this?”

“Happy anniversary.”

She grinned. “Did you make this?”

“Cochise gave me the recipe.” Ajax scooched up to sit against the headboard, putting an arm around Rembrandt as she leaned into her. “I did my best.”

“It’s perfect.” Rembrandt her a light kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Ajax kissed her temple. “Eat up. I’ve got a fun day planned for us.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I can be romantic sometimes.”

“You’re always romantic.”

First part of the day: the theme park on the boardwalk. Neither of them liked the rides all that much. Rollercoasters made Rembrandt grossly dizzy and Ajax was not-so-secretly afraid of heights - something Cowgirl thought was hilarious considering who Ajax was dating - but it was nice to be out. They enjoyed the sun, the salty breeze off the ocean, the sounds of laughter and fun coming from all around them.

One of Ajax’s more hidden talents was how good she was at carnival games. No matter how rigged the booth was, she’d walk away with something. This led to Rembrandt carrying a giant plush seagull and an armful of little prizes that the couple gave to passing kids who looked like they’d lost too many games to go home happy. Rembrandt was good with kids. Ajax liked that about her. She often thought, maybe in another life.

They had Nathan’s for an early dinner. Despite Cowgirl’s suggestion, neither of them liked the idea of fancy candlelit restaurants. Rembrandt knew she looked out of place, always looking around trying to keep an eye on everyone and everything. Ajax could feel the fear and judgement of the eyes roving over her scarred skin. Not to mention the bougie motherfuckers who frequented those places never looked kindly upon two women who were so obviously on a date. So, no thanks, they’d take Nathan’s on the boardwalk any day of the week.

Second part of the day: their favorite club. They stopped by home briefly to drop off the plush seagull and get changed. Nothing fancy, just clothes better suited for dancing.

They spent hours wrapped up in each other, shrouded in the smoke and lights and heavy music of a place where no one would even dream of looking at them sideways. Ajax savored the feeling of Rembrandt’s body under her hands, solid and close and real, as they moved in time with each other and the music. Rembrandt’s touch burned as it trailed over Ajax’s neck, her arms, her back, pulling her in tight as she laid her head on Ajax’s chest. They were more than a little drunk, high on the energy of the club, and life was perfect.

They stumbled out of the club, grinning the entire time as they walked home. Ajax insisted on carrying Rembrandt, not because Rembrandt couldn’t walk on her own, but because Ajax loved showing off and loved the way Rembrandt giggled and clung to her when she did it. The lights seemed brighter as Rembrandt kissed her cheek. The city felt kinder as they fell into an easy silence, simply enjoying being close to each other.

They snuck through the house and made sure not to wake anyone up. Ajax didn’t think Cleon would appreciate being woken up at three in the morning to them coming in drunk. Rembrandt led her through the house with a hand twisted in the front of her shirt, tossing a coy smile over her shoulder as Ajax followed along. They fell into bed laughing the moment they got to their room. Rembrandt wrapped her arms around Ajax’s neck as they shared a deep, slow kiss.

Ajax propped herself up on her elbows over Rembrandt, smiling as the artist swept her thumbs along the curve of her jaw. “Did you have a good day?” she asked.

“The best,” Rembrandt said. A stripe of moonlight fell across her face from the window, illuminating her gorgeous deep brown eyes and the light flush across her cheeks. “Today was perfect.”

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

“Happy anniversary.” Rembrandt pulled her into another kiss, only to immediately shove her back by the shoulders, exclaiming, “Fuck! Wait, I totally forgot!”

“Forgot what?” Ajax said as Rembrandt jumped up and reached for something under their bed.

“This.”

She handed Ajax a small, soft package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. A little heart with A+R inside it was doodled on the front. Ajax gave Rembrandt a quizzical look as she sat beside her on the bed. Rembrandt gestured for her to open it, grinning from ear to ear. Ajax untied the string and opened the package.

Inside was a brand new black leather jacket. It was covered in metal spikes and chains, the spikes punched through the leather in beautiful swirling patterns that Ajax could never dream of doing herself. On the leather that wasn’t studded, there were dragon and flower designs intricately set in fire engine red paint. On the cuff of one sleeve, on the inside near the wrist where only Ajax would see it, there was the same A+R in a heart that had been drawn on the packaging.

Ajax turned to Rembrandt, eyes wide. Rembrandt smiled softly.

“Remember how you thought you lost your leather punch and I said don’t worry about it because I’d get you a new one?” she said. “Well, I actually stole it so I could do this. Your punch is hidden in the sock drawer.”

“You did all of this? That’s gotta be like a thousand spikes!”

“Cleon showed me how to do it. Are you gonna try it on or what?”

Ajax stood and slipped the jacket on. It fit perfectly. She loved the way the spikes glinted in the light and the chains rattled as they spilled over her shoulders. As she stretched her arms and flexed her shoulders, testing how the seams felt, the painted designs seemed to move with her, the flowers waving in a phantom breeze and the dragons winding their way down her arms. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever worn.

“So?” Rembrandt prompted. “Do you like it?”

Ajax responded by tackling Rembrandt into bed. Rembrandt burst out laughing as Ajax wrapped her up in a tight hug and peppered her face and neck with kisses. “Babe, quit it, that tickles!” she giggled.

“You are the most amazing fucking girlfriend in the universe,” Ajax proclaimed as she buried her face against Rembrandt’s chest.

“Right back at you, you goof.”

“I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you, too.” Rembrandt trailed her fingers across the back of Ajax’s neck, tracing random patterns on her skin. “Hey, Ajax?” she purred.

“Yeah?”

“Lock the door.”

Ajax never moved so fast in her life.

#writing #fanfic #warriors concept album #warriors musical #rembrandt warriors #ajax warriors #ajax x rembrandt #cleon warriors #cochise warriors #swan warriors #cowgirl warriors #anniversary #fluff #only fluff #no angst #tooth rotting fluff #remjax #now that this is here I'm going back to traumatizing my comfort characters

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