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is the warriors fandom alive

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Warriors is now an official fandom tag on ao3, LMM and Eisa announced plans for a stage production, more people are joining and interacting, we've got polyamory fics, backstories, AND we're staring to get more AUs

Baby this fandom is CRUSHING IT!!!!

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Obsessed with how literally nobody is on the same page during grays papaya. Half the group is trying to scrounge together money for franks and coconut champagne. Ajax just wants to know who the fuck this woman that started shit with the orphans and then began flirting with Swan is. Mercy is ready to start shit cause she’s being questioned. Swan just wants them to get on the fucking train, please for the love of god can we find another train, guys we are being actively hunted please we can sort this shit out at home

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On the conclave scene

Okay, let’s preface this with a disclaimer: I am well aware that all of this could mean nothing. Let’s be honest, it probably does! All of this could just be Roger Hill-isms or caused by a non-permanent injury he acquired before filming instead of acting choices. You don’t need to read anything into this.

The thing about me is, though, that it’s my life’s calling to read more into things, so humour me with this. Let’s make something out of what I’ve found.

So yesterday I made a post about being pretty sure that Cyrus hesitated before climbing up on the wooden structure he held his speech on. I, of course, couldn’t just leave it at ‘pretty sure’, so I rewatched the scene and here’s what I found: He did! … Kinda.

In the video file I have, Cyrus’ first appearance is at 00:08:55, which is what I’ll be basing my timestamps on. This is after the Warriors walked through the crowd at the meeting and found their place. In this shot, he is standing on the ground. Direct contact with the pavement. Like all things should be.

After that, we get a full/wide (I actually can’t tell, forgive me) shot of him and the Riffs around him, showing the crowd in the background (00:09:19). Some interesting dialogue here is that two people, presumably Gramercy Riffs, encourage Cyrus, their lines being “Come on, Cyrus, we’re with you!” and “Go ahead, bro!”.

Cyrus then walks up onto the first platform, which is just a step up from the floor, and over to the ladder, where he hesitates (00:09:25). There, the camera perspective switches between Cyrus and the crowd a few times, which is just common practice (see action and reaction shots), but the next thing that happens is rather interesting: Cyrus blinks a lot while talking and his eyes flick over to the wooden structure once, an action that can be read as nervous. (I am of course aware that this could be Roger Hill’s personal movement relating to making up or remembering blocking, but let us stay in the world where all of these things are acting choices.)

A bit after that (00:10:01), Cyrus actually climbs the ladder. Now, let me tell you: I have no idea how most people climb ladders. I have joint problems and a visual disability, I wasn’t born to climb ladders. This didn’t stop me from noticing that he was way faster at pushing himself up with his right leg than the left, looking more braced on that.

Then, he clings to the ladder (00:10:04), not quite taking the last step. His arms are around the railing on his right side, turned to the crowd, as he starts talking again. The camera then goes to the audience, but when he takes his last step up (00:10:21), he readjusts his stance multiple times before getting settled (00:10:24), his hands staying braced against the handrails whenever he is not gesticulating.

The first time he is seen hands-free, arms up to encourage applause (00:10:46), he is also noticeably further back than in the last shot of him, remaining there for the entire duration of the speech until he is shot.

Also, it is interesting how he immediately starts to stand a bit slanted to the left-hand-side as soon as he is not gesturing (00:11:03), his left hand the first to arrive on the railing again, only standing up straight when gesturing which is expected from an orator. This could hint at this being a protective/relieving posture which he falls into as often as possible to stop pain, discomfort, or instability.

So, what did we figure out? It takes Cyrus one minute and 29 seconds to comfortably stand on the structure after he first shows up, he seems nervous and is encouraged by people to do it, and he seems to prefer bracing his left side. One can draw many conclusions from this, mine being pain or instability, but I encourage you to draw your own and tell me! I’d love to hear from you!

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I've gathered the data, but before I'll tell you what I've found (and ask you to collaborate on making sense of this), here are some photos of Rembrandt:

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I am, of course, using this as an excuse to take countless screenshots of Rembrandt

wait I wanna make a post but I need to rewatch a scene for this

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wait I wanna make a post but I need to rewatch a scene for this

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Hellooo the Warriors (musical) fandom! I love you guys so much, BUT I would love for you guys to tag your fanfictions on AO3 appropriately.

Would it be okay if you guys tagged it as the musical instead of the movie? I love you guys so much and I’m glad that the fandom is being reawakened but they’re two different stories. I mean, they’re similar but still. It’s different!

Love you all :3

Also watch The Warriors (1979)

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happy new year boppers

This was my first animatic ever and I feel like I learned a lot from it.

(this is also posted on YouTube, feel free to show some support there as well)

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Oughhh I imagine Riffs New Year’s parties would be fun

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The Initiate

"You aren't going to like this," were the first words out of Cleon's mouth when Swan got home.

Swan blinked. Closed the door behind her. Began to shrug off her jacket and vest. "Hello to you, too."

"We have a guest. On our couch," Cleon said, voice quiet.

Swan nodded. When Cleon did not continue talking, "All right."

"She won't tell me her name."

Huh. "New recruit?"

"I'd like her to be."

Again, Cleon stopped talking when Swan did not expect her to. "You're Warlord."

"She's fifteen."

Oh.

Fuck.

"We said no kids," Swan said.

"She doesn't have anywhere else to go," Cleon hissed. Swan looked around her to look at this supposed guest.

Jesus. They were lucky if she was fifteen, the girl was tiny, even tinier the way she sat hunched on their couch, bag in her lap, like she was ready to take off at the slightest hint of trouble. Her leg was bouncing.

"We said no kids," Swan repeated.

"I didn't actively recruit her," Cleon said. Cleon never actively recruited anyone, not really, though Swan chose to keep that little tidbit to herself. Cleon's Warriors was an interesting gang in many respects.

"Where did you find her?" Swan asked instead.

"The arcade," Cleon said. "I heard security call the cops to report a truancy. I pretended to be her older sister."

"Fuck, Cleon-"

"You were a kid, too."

"I was kicked out," Swan corrected. "That's different."

"How different could it-"

"My parents weren't looking for me. People look for runaways."

"Hardly," Cleon said. "Rembrandt was a runaway."

"Rembrandt graduated high school. It's different."

"She's got comic books in her backpack. And bubblegum. Right next to all the clothes she owns and she doesn't want to get another bag, because its hard enough keeping track of one when she spends the night at the youth shelter." Cleon was not playing fair. In the least.

"Do you remember how long it took us to get me a legit ID?" Swan asked. "How much more difficult its gonna be if we have to deal with a missing child case on top of that? What kind of charges we could pick up if she's caught in this house?"

"I'm not a runaway." Holy shit the kid could move quietly.

Over the few years with the Warriors, Swan managed her startle response, but her breath still caught when the words came from far closer than she expected. The girl stood there, clutching her backpack to her chest, looking at Swan and Cleon. She was tiny, short with birdlike bones, like Rembrandt almost.

"Kid," Swan sighed, guilt tugging at her just a bit about the kid hearing what they were talking about.

"I'm not," she insisted. "My parents are dead. I was living with an uncle and he said I could leave if I wanted. So I left." Then, when Swan looked at Cleon and Cleon looked at Swan, "You can meet him. If you want. If I can stay."

...Huh.

"You don't even know us," Swan said.

The kid shrugged. "Cleon saved my ass and- well. I've heard good things. I'm fast, too. Quiet. I could be a good scout. I've been watching the Riffs' scouts, to figure out the best times to go through their terf."

Swan's eyebrows raised. "You can spot Riff scouts?"

The kid's eyes narrowed, her head cocking just slightly to the side. Like a puppy, Swan's mind betrayed her. "...yes?"

As if the kid did not realize how impressive spotting a Riffs scout was. They were practically ghosts in the city, the shit they got back to Cyrus. The Warriors barely managed to breathe in the vicinity of a recruit before Cyrus knew they had added to their numbers again. Pissed off Rembrandt and Ajax to no end, as they never managed to spot a Riff scout on their terf.

"Do I even have a say?" Swan finally asked Cleon.

Cleon clapped her on the shoulder. "Not really, but its nice to get you on my back for this."

Fantastic.

Cleon decided to give the kid a week of sleeping on the couch, before they moved forward.

"Shouldn't she be in school?" Swan asked that first day.

"We'll figure that out if she stays," Cleon said.

"...I really don't want her to not be in school."

"We'll figure it out," Cleon repeated.

On the third day, it became pretty clear the kid wasn't going anywhere. That day started with Cowgirl and the kid sitting cross-legged in front of each other in the living room while Cowgirl did the kid's eyeliner and ended with Rembrandt showing her how to sketch characters from her comic books.

"Ajax seems to like her, too," Cleon said as her and Swan washed the dishes, after Swan reported how the others seemed to be warming up to the kid.

"Ajax wasn't a question," Swan said, because Ajax wasn't.

"...fair enough." Because it wasn't. As much as Ajax tried to pretend, as much as Swan did not see it in the beginning, Ajax had a protective streak larger than the city itself and the kid on their couch needed protecting.

On the seventh day, Swan looked at Cleon and asked: "So where is she going to sleep, now?"

Because it wasn't like they had an extra bedroom in their apartment. No one they trusted did, either.

"My room has space for a twin," Swan said after a moment.

Cleon raised her eyebrows, "Are you sure?"

Swan shrugged. "I'm the youngest besides her. Makes the most sense and I'd rather have her here than anywhere else." Then, "But we're meeting that uncle first. And getting her documents."

"Documents?" Cleon's eyebrows furrowed.

"Birth certificate. Letter from him stating he's chill with her living here. All that," Swan said. At Cleon's continued confusion, "We need it to enroll her in school."

"Oh," was Cleon's only response.

"She's going to school," Swan said after a moment, firm.

Cleon just looked at her, though. Then, "I didn't realize how important school was to you."

"The kid's smart," Swan said. "And we're going to need to stop calling her Kid. She won't be one forever and I don't want that name to stick."

Cleon winced. "Yeah. Good point. Good luck getting Ajax off that, though."

Ajax still called Swan Stray when she thought Swan was being annoying.

Later that day found the kid leading Cleon and Swan to Staten Island, of all fucking places.

"I hate boats," Swan grumbled as they finally made it to land.

"Had to be Staten?" Cleon teased as they got onto their second train of the damn trip.

The kid scowled, like a true Staten Islander, "It's not that bad."

The uncle was, though. Considering the man didn't blink twice, barely noticed the clearly displayed colors and waved his hand in the general vicinity of where he thought important paperwork landed, Swan considered it a miracle the kid survived as long as she did with him. He signed the necessary letter and Cleon managed to find the kid's birth certificate and they were on their way back to Coney Island.

"He wasn't horrible," the kid said to Swan, Cleon off to get some air - she hated being trapped, could barely stand trains, and boats freaked her out a bit. "Not really, I just- I couldn't be there anymore."

"Was that your parents' house?" Swan asked.

The kid scowled. "It's supposed to go to me, when I turn twenty-five. He's wrecked it, though."

"When did they die?"

"Four years ago," the kid kicked lazily at the junction between the floor and the wall, scuffing the white rubber of her shoe. "Car accident."

"Sorry to hear that."

The kid looked at her out of the corner of her eye. Shrewd. Discerning. She was smarter than she seemed initially. "Yours are still alive."

"Mm."

"You said you got kicked out," the kid continued. "Why?"

Swan moved her jaw to the left. To the right. "My dad found out that I'm gay. He thought I was a bad influence on my younger sisters."

"Oh." The kid blinked. "That sucks."

"Yeah."

"Ajax and Rembrandt are dating right?"

Swan laughed, a small, huffed sound. "Yeah. Yeah, they are. A long time now."

"Thought so," the kid nodded. "I don't want my name to be kid."

"It won't be."

"I want it to be something cool," the kid said.

"Like one of your comics?" Swan raised an eyebrow, checking the kid's shoulder with one of hers.

The kid rolled her eyes. "No. Like yours."

"Mine?"

"Yeah. Swan's are cool."

Later that night, after they showed the kid her new bed in Swan's room and the kid had fallen asleep, Swan retold the story in the living room.

"Fuck that," Ajax scowled. "My name's way cooler. Mythology, like Athena or something."

"You are such a nerd," Cowgirl whined, causing Ajax to throw a pillow at her.

"Let her pick her own, that's what I did," Rembrandt said.

"Because you nearly killed me when I suggested Van Gogh," Cochise reminded.

"He cut off his ear-"

"I was thinking Fox," Cleon said, as the others descended into bickering.

"Fox," Swan repeated. Feeling the name. Pictured the flighty, intelligent kid. "Fox."

"Keeps the animal theme."

Swan's eyes flicked to Cleon. "You recruited her."

Cleon shrugged. "Still."

Fox liked the name, in the end. Though they got little time with her excitement before they got to learn exactly how miserable an unhappy teenager can make everyone around them.

"Wait, I have to go to school?" Fox stared at Cleon and Swan like they sprouted three heads.

"You're fifteen," Swan deadpanned.

"School?! I'm in a gang and I have to go to school?"

"Okay, maybe don't mention that at school," Cleon said.

Fox narrowed her eyes. "Will that get me kicked out of school?"

"Graduating's your initiation," Swan said. The look on Cleon's face was priceless, if not for the fact that, technically, this was not a Swan decision and she had not cleared it by Cleon. It got the proper reaction from Fox, though, wide-eyed and quiet. "No graduation, no colors."

"But I'm years away from graduating," Fox gaped.

"I got my colors when I was eighteen. You'll still be the youngest person initiated into the Warriors," Swan said, silently begging Cleon to go along with this. To see what Fox would do in seconds of being enrolled if Cleon did not make this a requirement.

"Yep," Cleon said after a moment. "You'll be protected, though. Live here. You'll do some light work to cover your rent and expenses. And you'll get to wear colors, it'll just be...semi-probational."

"And you are not wearing them at school," Swan said. Because that would be another disaster.

"Absolutely," Cleon agreed fully on that at the very least.

But, boy, did Fox make sure everyone knew what her initiation was.

Ajax was less than helpful, laughing as Fox recounted the trip to the registration office that day and looking at Swan, "Isn't that a bit hypocritical of you?"

Swan could have killed Ajax, her hand tightening around her fork as Fox's head snapped to Swan.

"What do you mean?" Fox asked.

"Swan didn't fucking graduate," Ajax said.

"Ajax!" Cleon hissed.

"She didn't!" Ajax exclaimed. "She doesn't even have her GED- Jesus Christ, Rembrandt, ow!"

Rembrandt had jabbed a very pointy elbow into Ajax's side.

"Why do I have to graduate, then?" Fox gaped.

"Because you have the opportunity and it's important," Swan said.

Fox stared at Swan. The rest of the Warriors. "No one is ever going to believe me if I say that my gang initiation was graduating high school."

She worked hard, though. That first progress report, Fox brought it home all smiles, As and Bs all the way down.

"Is that good enough?" Fox asked, after she pushed the paper at Swan.

"It's great," Swan said.

"But is it good enough?" Fox pestered.

Swan gave her a look. "Have you graduated?"

Fox frowned. "No."

Swan ruffled her hair. "They're good grades."

"Swan, seriously-"

And Swan knew that it was largely a sham. Fox worked hard in class, but she didn't stay after school. As soon as the bell rang, Fox ran back to their apartment and donned her colors, patrolling the boardwalk and bouncing between Warriors. She read her comic books still, but Ajax taught her to throw a proper punch and Swan helped her learn how to fight. Fox never asked Cleon for money to buy a dress for a dance. But when they moved to a new apartment and Fox got her own bedroom, she proudly displayed her comic books and the stuffed toys she won on the boardwalk and Swan knew they did the right thing with her initiation.

Then, her senior year, it started getting a bit dangerous.

Gangs were getting restless, a strange energy that even the Riffs couldn't keep a lid on. Fights along borders were becoming more violent. Seventeen was an age that many gangs saw as prime recruitment and Fox's school bordered on the territory of at least four separate gangs, not even including the Warriors, so that year saw Swan walking Fox to and from school every day.

Over the years, Fox changed. She rankled against being the kid of the group, took it less light-heartedly when people teased her about still technically being an initiate, and she started poking harder at Swan for her initiation. She talked a bit less, stared a bit more, and hit way harder when Swan and her sparred.

On one of these walks back home, the spring of her senior year, Fox broke their comfortable silence. "Why didn't you get your GED?"

"Hm?" Swan looked out of the corner of her eye at Fox. "My GED?"

"Yeah."

"...I never actually went to school."

"What do you mean?"

"My parents' homeschooled my siblings and me," Swan said, staring straight ahead. "They were really religious. When my dad kicked me out...I tried, at first. One of the first youth shelters I went to gave me a placement test. I was seventeen performing at a fifth grade level in all subjects, maybe sixth in math. Even to do my GED...that's a lot of catching up."

Fox was quiet for a long while, before all but whispering, "I didn't know that."

"No one does."

"Not even Cleon?"

Swan shook her head.

"That sucks," Fox said, with all the righteous fury of a seventeen year old.

Swan laughed, a short, bitter thing. "Yeah. A bit."

The night of Fox's graduation, the Warriors celebrated. They ate and drank and played music way too loud and Fox beamed from ear to ear. Cleon kept talking about framing her diploma on their living room wall. Ajax teased Fox about being the longest initiate in history.

As the night wound down, Fox found Swan on the roof, smoking.

"Can I have one?" Fox asked, because she always asked.

"Nope." Swan said and Fox laughed.

They stared out at the city. Companionable silence between them.

"You could do it, you know," Fox said.

Swan looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "Do what?"

"Get your GED," Fox said. "I could help."

"Hm."

"I'm serious," Fox pressed. "You're more than capable of it."

Swan hummed, looking out at all the lights.

"I really think I could help you study," Fox said. "And I found a group at the library. They break during the summer, but they have a study group and assistance things starting back up again in the fall."

Swan didn't say anything.

Fox didn't either, for a moment. "I only recently started realizing how many jobs require a diploma. Or a GED."

Way too fucking many.

"Thank you," Fox said. "Even though I gave you shit for it."

Swan chuckled, just a bit. "I'll think about the study group."

"You have the opportunity and it's important," Fox teased and Swan considered tossing the kid off that roof.

Swan did consider going to that study group.

But by that fall, there was an empty bedroom in Cleon's apartment that they pretended didn't exist. Filled with comic books no one would ever touch and stuffed toys that gathered dust and a diploma still waiting for that frame and no one to walk with Swan to the library.

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I think I might need Witness Protection after that last paragraph.

Does it help if I say I made myself cry?

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Why is there not a modern au about the Warriors??? that would be so interesting, like imagine Ajax fighting with kids on Roblox or Masai and Cyrus/Cleon having a podcast

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little portrait of Rembrandt, about one hour on gartic phone <3

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Bad Math

*CW: Angst with a Happy Ending and Canon-Typical Violence*

Ajax hated running. Ajax hated running, so why was she once again sprinting down a subway platform? She pushed at Rembrandt's back, urging the smaller woman to go faster. Faster, faster, faster.

"Mercy, hurry the fuck up!" Ajax yelled when she looked over her shoulder to find Mercy lagging. The girl had legs, what the hell was she doing?

"I'm good!" Mercy yelled back and Ajax just shook her head, focusing on Rembrandt once more.

Thank God the door was open on the train. Rembrandt hopped inside, Ajax on her tail. When Ajax turned around though...

"Mercy!" Ajax screamed as she found Mercy several feet away, stopped and facing the oncoming gang.

Ajax still didn't recognize their colors. Hadn't recognized them when she noticed that they were being tailed from Gramercy. The Riffs would be pissed one they found out, but they were currently occupied. They were coming back from a meeting with Masai, Cleon choosing to hang around and have the Riffs drive her back down to Coney later. When Ajax noticed the first knife, she knew it would be too long before any of the Riffs' scouts got word out to their soldiers.

"I'll meet you back home!" Mercy yelled, flicking out her own switch knife. Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"Mercy, no!" Rembrandt screamed.

Except it was already too late. One of the guys was already on Mercy and it slowly dawned on Ajax what Mercy had done. She had known the train doors weren't going to close in time, they were going to be stuck in a car with this psychos, so she-

"Mercy!" Rembrandt lunged, but Ajax grabbed her, wrapped her arms around Rembrandt's chest as Rembrandt struggled against her. "Let me go! Mercy!"

Two guys were now on Mercy and it wasn't good. And then there was a third. They weren't getting past her, but...Ajax felt sick to her stomach as she watched. At the very least, she could watch.

Ajax held tight until the door closed. Rembrandt's fists pounded at the glass as the train sped away.

"Not again," Rembrandt muttered as she turned her back to the door, sliding down to the floor of the train, hands fisting in her hair. "Not again, not again, not again."

"She'll be okay," Ajax forced herself to believe. "She's strong, she'll-"

"This is gonna kill Swan," Rembrandt said, her voice hollow sounding.

Ajax wanted to throw up.

--------

The apartment was silent. Not even the TV was on as they sat in the living room. Waiting. Cochise hated waiting.

It had been six hours since Ajax and Rembrandt got home and told them what happened. Six hours since they called the Riffs' headquarters trying to get a hold of Cleon. Six hours since Swan had last spoken, hanging up the phone and saying that Cleon's orders were to lay low in the apartment until Cleon either called back or came home.

The apartment was client, but now Ajax decided she wanted to pick a fight.

"Why the fuck aren't you mad at me?" Ajax asked, all but glaring at Swan from where Ajax and Rembrandt sat on the couch.

"Ajax, what are you-?" Rembrandt tried to say, but Ajax continued.

"You haven't said shit to me about this. Why?" Ajax demanded.

Swan didn't say anything. She sat in the arm chair and stared at the phone.

Ajax got off the couch, despite Rembrandt's best attempts to keep her seated, and stalked towards Swan. "Say something. I fucked up! Hit me! Tell me to go out and find her, you're number two, you can do that!"

"Cleon gave her orders," Cochise said.

"Fuck Cleon's orders, this is your girl, Swan!" Ajax yelled. "Why aren't you-?"

"I can't do this right now." Cochise hadn't heard Swan sound like that in years. Not since the earliest days of her slinking around the boardwalk like she thought they were still going to run her off despite the colors on her back. Swan stood up, shoulders hunched, and disappeared down the hallway, the quiet click of her bedroom door the only hint where she went.

"C'mon, Ajax, why'd you need to do that?" Cowgirl asked, tired. They were all tired.

Ajax shook her head. "No. No, she's supposed to be mad at me. Why isn't she mad at me?"

"Because she's worried about something else? Fucking Christ, Ajax, it isn't-"

"Cowgirl!" Cochise interrupted. Cowgirl's eyes snapped to her and Cochise shook her head.

Cowgirl's eyes widened just slightly, looked to Ajax for a second, and all the tension that was building immediately melted out of her.

But Ajax didn't want to back down. "What? What were you going to say?"

"I'm not fighting you either," Cowgirl said.

"I'm not- I- Motherfucker," Ajax muttered, hands on her head, fingers intertwined as she started to pace the room. "Motherfucker."

More time passed.

Then, Cleon came home. As soon as the key was in the lock, Swan was in the living room with the rest of them, waiting.

Cleon entered like the weight of the entire world pressed down on her. She stopped short, looking at them all.

For a moment, Cochise thought Cleon might actually make it through this. Then, Cochise saw the moment Cleon made eye-contact with Swan.

Cleon's mouth opened and her eyes welled and no words came out.

It didn't matter, though.

"No," Swan said. "No. No, no, no."

"I'm sorry," Cleon said. "We couldn't find her. We don't know who jumped them. Masai is still looking, but I wanted to let you know."

"Then we need to go out," Ajax said. "We need to help them."

Cleon shook her head, though. "I told Masai we would lie low. He thinks it was targeted."

At that, the most heartbreaking sob came from Swan. Swan's hands flew to her mouth, knuckles white as she pressed hard.

"Swan," Cleon went to move towards Swan.

Swan backed herself into a wall. Shaking her head. Then, she was flying back down the hall and the bedroom door slammed.

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Swan had not left her room for three days. Swan had not unlocked her bedroom door for three days. Cleon tried bribery. She made Swan's favorite meals and placed the plates right next to the door. She offered money. Alcohol. Anything. Cleon tried threats. The worst jobs for a month. Two months. Being on Cowgirl patrol for a year when they went out dancing. Swan refused to unlock the door.

Even worse? Ajax refused to pick the lock.

"You're the one who gave her the bedroom with the attached bathroom," Ajax said when Cleon tried. Then, when Cleon really pushed, "She deserves time alone. Give it to her."

The only thing keeping Cleon sane was that Rembrandt could sneak onto the fire escape outside of Swan's room and peek in, assuring Cleon that, yes, Swan was in fact alive in there.

Masai wasn't helping. "Are you sure those were the colors? Could it have been green and yellow?"

Cleon groaned into the phone. "They said green and purple vests. My girls aren't stupid, they know colors, and Rembrandt is one of the witnesses!"

"Got it. Got it, but- Cleon, no one's talking. And we're talking about Union Square. That's a lot of fucking people to not see shit."

Cleon hung up the phone and wanted to bash her head through the wall.

It was three-thirty in the morning, moving into the fourth day as Cleon sat alone in the kitchen, when she heard the door open. Cleon stopped breathing as she heard soft footsteps move down the hall and Swan appeared in the kitchen.

Swan did not seem surprised to see Cleon, but she didn't acknowledge Cleon either, moving to the pantry and pulling out a box of crackers. Then, she sat at the kitchen table.

Cleon didn't know what to say.

"Cochise," Swan said, staring at the table top.

Cleon blinked. "What?"

"Cochise would be a good second." Swan ate a cracker, like this was a completely casual conversation. "She's smart. Good with people. She stops Ajax from picking fights."

"I have a second," Cleon said, willing her voice to be calm. Stable.

"We both know I'm not surviving this one." Swan could have been saying it was about to rain. "I might make it another week or two. But Rembrandt told me what she saw. Ajax, too. This is it for me."

"You're just gonna give up? After all this time?" Cleon's throat felt tight and her eyes burned. "All this, and you're gonna roll over?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Swan looked at Cleon, who hated how clear Swan's eyes looked. "I love you."

"Then, stay," Cleon's voice broke, but Swan was already shaking her head. "It's an order. You're staying, I don't give a fuck. I will have Ajax follow your ass until you are seventy-fucking-years old, you're surviving this."

One corner of Swan's mouth ticked up, just slightly. The smallest, saddest smile as she said, "Okay, Cleon."

"Fuck. Fuck," Cleon swiped at the tears that fell out of her eyes as she threw herself at Swan, holding tight. Swan hugged back, less tightly. "I love you, Swan, please. We love you."

It was like trying to hug a cloud.

------------

Two fucking weeks. It took Mercy two fucking weeks for the hospital to let her go. Not even for her injuries, a safety hold!

"We're concerned about your safety at home," they kept saying. Kept asking about a boyfriend or father, despite Mercy insisting that she did not, in fact, live with any men.

"I got jumped," Mercy kept saying, kept trying to explain, but no one believed her! No one!

It wasn't until all her wounds had healed and the safety hold expired that they finally let her walk out. When they asked for an address to send the bill, Mercy's eye twitched, but she got a perverse sense of glee writing her step-monster's address on the form. After all, the hospital was in the Bronx of all places, there was no way Cheryl would find her based on that (the question of why the fucking ambulance took her from Union Square to a hospital in the Bronx had not been answered, no matter how many times Mercy asked).

The worst of it? They wouldn't even let her use a fucking phone. So Mercy was left finding her own transportation all the way to Coney Island.

She made it into Manhattan when she realized she was being tailed.

Then, a car pulled up next to her and rolled down the window.

"Warrior!" Masai called out. "Mercy! Where the absolute fuck have you been?!"

Mercy blinked. The back door opened.

"Get in the goddamn car!" Masai yelled. "Fucking Warriors, do you even-? Jesus fucking Christ."

Masai...was usually not like this. Mercy got in the car, next to a silent Riff.

"Thanks?" Mercy said as the car sped off. "The hospital put me on a safety hold."

"Hospital? Which hospital? We checked all the hospitals!" Masai seemed ridiculously agitated for this situation.

"Montefiore?"

"I checked there," the Riff next to her said. "They said there wasn't anyone there matching your description. I went back multiple times."

"Huh."

"Never mind, that, we need to get you home, Cleon's losing her damn mind," Masai muttered, his hands gripping the wheel tight.

Which...Mercy wasn't exactly sure why Cleon would be freaking out that much, but she chose to keep her mouth shut on the drive home. They pulled up to the building and Mercy was surprised when Masai parked the car.

"I'm walking you to the door," he said.

"Okay," Mercy shrugged.

They made their way up the stairs. Masai's eyes on her back felt like a physical weight.

Mercy barely slid her key into the lock before the door was yanked open.

"Mercy?!" Rembrandt screamed.

"Oh, holy shit, okay," Mercy took a step back before being tackled by Rembrandt.

"Oh, my God. Oh, my God, you're alive?!" Rembrandt was very loud. And now pulling her into the apartment. "Swan! Swan!"

Ajax was suddenly there, as well, though she was by the front door, blocking Masai from what Mercy could tell. "Thanks, but no."

"Just wanted to make sure she got home. Have Cleon call me," Masai said, sounding much more his typical self.

"Will do. Bye." Then the door was closed.

"Swan!" Rembrandt yelled again as she was pushing Mercy down on to the couch. Then, to Mercy, "Do you need anything? Water? Food? Where the fuck have you been?!"

"I-" Mercy tried.

Then, Cleon was there, looking tired and stressed. "Mercy?!"

"Hi-"

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Cleon yelled and, okay, now she was hugging Mercy, too. "Are you hurt? What the fuck? We are having a very long conversation about subway stations and fights! Where have you been?"

"The hospital!" Mercy finally managed to say over the cacophony of Cleon and Cochise and Cowgirl, Rembrandt was muttering something about food. "I was at the hospital! Someone called an ambulance and they took me up to the Bronx. I'm fine, but they put me on a safety hold." Then, after a moment, "I think the Riffs may have accidentally caused the safety hold."

Mercy could see the financial side of Cleon's brain click in. "Oh. Um. Two weeks in the hospital?"

"I sent the bill to Cheryl," Mercy said and Cleon all but deflated with relief and a muttered, "Thank fucking God."

Rembrandt was shoving a glass of water in Mercy's hands. "Drink."

"Rem, I'm fine-"

"Mercy?"

The glass of water was no longer in Mercy's hands, she thought Rembrandt might have grabbed it as Mercy shot to her feet.

Swan looked horrible, which was a new experience for Mercy because she thought Swan looked beautiful even during the Night from Hell. And Swan still looked beautiful, of course she did, but right now she also looked miserable. Dark bags under her eyes and hair barely braided back.

What really broke Mercy's heart was the hoodie Swan wore. Mercy's hoodie, the oversized one that Mercy bought with her first real paycheck from Jenkins' bar.

Mercy didn't notice her feet moving towards Swan, focused only on Swan. "Baby. Baby, I'm so sorry."

Tears welled in Swan's eyes and Mercy rocked back as she had her arms full of sobbing Swan. Mercy held tight as Swan melted, then and there, in a way Mercy had never seen her do before, not in front of the other Warriors.

"I'm here," Mercy promised, pressing soft kisses to the top of Swan's head. "I'm here. It's okay. I'm here."

She managed to get Swan back into their room, back into the unmade bed. Swan curled herself tight against Mercy.

Cleon appeared in the doorway after Swan cried herself to sleep, still clutching tight to Mercy.

"She sleeping?" Cleon asked.

Mercy nodded. Looked down at Swan and brushed at the tear tracks drying on her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry everyone."

"Not your fault," Cleon sighed, heavily. "Just- I don't fucking know. It's bad math with you two."

And Mercy wasn't sure what that meant, but Cleon left before she could ask.

Ajax swung by later, took a seat at the small desk, rocking the chair back and forth on its back legs because Ajax didn't know how to sit still. Gave Mercy a quiet, but large amount of shit for the stunt she pulled at the station.

"She didn't even yell at me," Ajax said, gesturing to sleeping Swan. "When we got back without you. Didn't say shit."

"You guys find the gang thats responsible for it?" Mercy asked.

Ajax shook her head. "Masai thinks it might be some new guys trying to come up." She shifted on her feet, her arms crossed, uncomfortable. "I think Cleon thinks it's the Rogues trying to make some sort of comeback. That that might be why we got targeted like that."

"Awesome," Mercy muttered darkly. Then, "Cleon's mad at me, isn't she?"

"Cleon's mad at Cleon," Ajax corrected. "Swan's special to her, always has been."

Which had been a terrifying realization for Mercy that first day as a Warrior, realizing that she was dating her new leader's adopted little sister, not just her number two.

"Cleon always says Rem and me are bad math," Ajax continued. "That if she loses one of us, the other's not gonna last long. She can handle that with us, we've always been like that, but Swan? This scared the shit out of her, because, as much as Cleon might not want to admit it, Cleon would lose her shit if she lost Swan. More than if she lost the rest of us."

"Oh," Mercy said. Because what else was there to say?

That she wouldn't stay back? That she wouldn't fight for her crew? They thought they killed her, Mercy was sure of it, and they freaked when the ambulance's sirens came screaming. If they were stuck on a train car with only Mercy, Rembrandt and Ajax?

No.

Mercy would have made the same decision.

So there was nothing else to say. And there was nothing else to do except hold Swan tight and be glad she survived that night after all.

--------------

all complaints can be forwarded to the glorious @wutheringhestia who gave me the amazing prompt that sparked this!!!! thank you so much

[rembrandts-neckerchief]

NY times article, ALLL the way at the bottom he says

"So I think at the top of the year, Eisa and I will just start having conversations about how to adapt that to the stage."

BOPPERS ITS OFFICIAL 😆😆😆

[rembrandts-neckerchief]

Listened to the entire Warriors album while messing around drawing Luther as his David Patrick Kelly and Kim Dracula versions respectively. Idk why my brain decided to fixate on this horrible greasy incel of a man but it made me happy so I thought I’d share my sketches :3

Hopefully I can get around to experimenting with the rest of the characters’ designs. I especially love basing them off their actors but sometimes it’s fun to come up with my own stuff too.