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sopaprimordialy · 1 month ago

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Hey boppers! Inspired by @almosthonest's post, I decided to make my own Warriors OC and share how they got initiated! I hope you guys enjoy it and feel inspired to do it as well :3

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Burn Bright, Hilda Hurricane!

Pablo did not expect to make his mom so fucking angry.

Actually, everything about this was a consequence of a huge miscalculation, since he wasn't expecting to see her at all that day. He reflected on his own bad luck as he ran through the dark streets, already far from home, with nothing more than a worn backpack, makeup smeared with tears and a knot in his chest.

Throughout his ridiculously short 17 years of existence, Pablo has always struggled with one thing or another. Being born in an immigrants family trying to find his place culturally — neither fully being his family's nationality, neither fully American — was hard enough; when he realized that there was something wrong with himself that made him attracted to the neighborhood boys instead of the girls, he went through yet another identity crisis, which turned into a very well-kept secret.

After the first time he stole his mother’s makeup and clothes during a particularly inspired night, everything went downhill and he simply stopped caring so much.

He stopped caring about the glares and the comments, because in order to feel bad, one must feel alive above all things; if he only felt alive doing what he did, what's the point in feeling bad? Was it wrong for him to exist?

In his honest opinion, no, it was not. Still, his family was a completely different subject, as the bonds of blood are meant to be different from those forged out in the forest of steel and concrete. His mother was always very strict and stressed, it was almost comical how she passed herself off as a perfect portrait of the "Latina mother" stereotype, but she was not only that: she could also be loving and caring. Pablo always knew that, despite everything, he would always have his mother by his side.

This trust, or rather, hope, made the pain of betrayal by the one who was supposed to love him most even more painful.

He took a turn into a quiet alley, looking both sides before letting himself slide on the wall to sit on the ground. He was shaky, breathing heavily and dirty. Gods, he hated feeling like that, powerless and weak.

Pablo wiped his face with the back of his hand as best he could. Where was he, anyway? Running aimlessly, he had reached an unfamiliar part of the city. He imagined he was somewhere north.

His thoughts were interrupted by a small commotion on the street next to the alley he had pathetically ducked into. Voices were shouting things, but overlapping voices are hard to understand and he was not in the best frame of mind to deal with it, so his sorrow quickly turned into misdirected anger. He was about to stand up and tell whoever was shouting to go fuck themselves, when a speeding figure hit him head on.

The boy screamed and fell back to the ground, his fall cushioned by the backpack full of clothes he had packed in his rush to leave his family's house. He opened his eyes to see a bit of skin, a neck, perhaps? And a bunch of brown hair, covering his vision. The person above him quickly moved to stand up again.

"Get your ass up! Police's comin'!" She said. Her voice was unsteady from running for too long, but she was also practically shaking from exhilaration.

"T-the what? Who are you?! Why the fuck you have skates on?" Pablo jumped, now standing much more alert. He didn't do anything wrong, but he knew he didn't need to have actually done something to have the police up his ass.

"No time to explain!" The girl, who couldn't be much older than him, quickly skated to the end of the alley. He hesitated a few more times, looking toward the street, until he heard the more distinguishable voices shouting unkind insults and ordering the girl to turn herself in. Pablo swallowed hard and followed her.

"There's a wall here!" He stumbled, standing next to her and facing a brick wall.

"I can see that." She answered nonchalantly. Next to the two of them, there was a dumpster, which was exactly what she used as support to climb the wall. Pablo watched in awe as the girl used the front part of the four-wheel skates as a support to keep herself stable. Now on her tiptoes, she jumped and grabbed the edge of the wall.

"A little help would be good!" The girl said through gritted teeth, and that was his clue to climb the dumpster as well and push her up by the waist. When she managed to sit, one leg on each side, she stretched out her hand to help him up.

They proceeded to fall rather ungracefully on the other side. Luckily, it was a small vacant lot with tall grass, which cushioned their fall. They sit there in silence until they heard the police officers approaching, cursing some more, and finally giving up: in their opinion, the girl wasn't worth the effort of jumping over the wall.

"So..." Pablo was first to speak as they caught their breath. "Who are you?"

"Name's Yaya. And you..." She could finally take a better look at him. She made a face instantly. "You look terrible."

"Haha. Thanks. I'm Pablo, if you care."

"Well, now I do. What horrible accident happened to you? Your boyfriend broke up with you or somethin'?" That was not a nice thing to say, but Yaya couldn't resist to mess with him a bit. Pablo frowned, immediately taking note of the fact she instantly knew he couldn't possibly have a girlfriend.

Instead of snapping back, he decided to tell the truth. He was to tired to play this game Yaya was playing. "My mom kicked me out."

"Ah- uh..." She wrung her hands uncomfortably, then put one to his shoulder, now sounding much more empathetic. "That sucks. Tell me more."

"Well, as you can see, I'm not the perfect example of a son. I was supposed to go to this club tonight with my friend, even stole my older sister's ID to get in, but my mother caught me with her make up on. She wasn't supposed to be home so soon tonight but... guess I'm just really unlucky." He hugged his knees, hiding his face a little to keep the tears from coming, then continued.

"I don't even know where this club is anyway... my friend was supposed to pick me up, but I guess she's not going, 'cause my mom will likely tell her I ran away or somethin'. In other words, estoy jodido."

"Ah, hablas español" Yaya said, apparently ignoring the tragic account. Well, she wasn't actually ignoring it, just didn't know what to say. "Where you from?"

"Hm. My family's half Mexican, half Brazilian. I was born here." He was taken aback by the sudden change of subject, but didn't complain. Yaya stood up.

"Which club were you going?"

"Uh... somewhere called 'Hurricanes Club'. I have no idea how the place is" He stood up as well, watching his new weird friend smile.

"Well, honey, I happen to know."

"Wait, really?" a small spark of hope made her face light up, and Yaya's smile grew even wider.

"Come with me."

——w——

It turns out, this place was apparently owned by a gang, The House Of Hurricane, which Yaya was a part of. Pablo wasn’t all that surprised to hear this; it explained the reason for the unique clothes and the police chase, which she seemed to have a lot of experience with. They talked about it on the way, and she told him that all the gang members were drag queens, artists! After a night of misfortune, Pablo couldn’t believe his luck.

The club wasn’t that far from where they were, so it didn’t take them long to get there. Yaya skated gracefully to the side of the building, avoiding the crowded main entrance, and simply nodded to the security guard who stood at the foot of the metal stairs. Despite being on skates, she climbed up faster than Pablo.

They entered through the door at the top and found themselves in a large room, full of chairs, poufs and sofas, as well as dressing tables. It was a sort of dressing room for several people, and in fact, there was as much movement up there as below, where the loud music and party noises came from. Yaya guided him through the hustle and bustle of drag queens and makeup artists until she found who she was looking for.

A drag queen not much older than them, but definitely more imposing, was frantically giving orders. Pablo correctly guessed that this must be the Hurricanes' warlord.

"Élan!" Yaya called, trying to make her voice rise above the commotion around her.

"What- Yaya! Where the fuck have you been?" The queen immediately turned towards the two and placed her hands on the hips, a reproving look on her face. "I already told you I don't like your little escapes, girl, I won't tolerate it-"

"Élan, stop that!" She embarrassedly hissed. "I don't need a babysitter, I can manage on my own! Besides, I have something more important." She quickly added when the leader opened her mouth to say something back.

It was only then that she noticed Pablo's presence there; she raised an eyebrow. "And who are you?"

"I-I'm Pablo, ma'am, and I want to be a part of your crew because I don't have somewhere to drop dead and honestly you're my only hope I don't know what to-" He began to yap nervously, but Élan stopped him.

"Shush! Look, we're in a busy night and one of my performers called in sick a couple of minutes ago. I trust Yaya's judgement, so if you can prove you have what it takes, go ahead!" Élan snapped her fingers, catching the attention of a makeup artist. "Please, fix her up, dear." He promptly nodded and moved closer to Pablo, who jumped a bit, putting his hands up.

"Pera aí, espera, hold up! Just like that? Do you just want me to go there and, I don't know, pull up a show??"

Yaya smiled and gently pushed him back towards the makeup artist. "That's exactly what she wants, hermana."

"As I said, we're busy. Get used to the rhythm here." Élan wrote something in a piece of paper at the same time they talked, demonstrating what she just said. Suddenly, she looked back at Pablo. "What you said your name was again?"

"Pablo?"

"No, nonono. That won't do. You can't walk there and be introduced as Pablo, girl! Pick a new one."

Actually, I can. He thought as he was practically dragged away from Élan and Yaya by the makeup artist. It would be unusual, of course, but nothing necessarily stopped him... except pride. If it was time to be reborn into a new life, he needed a new name.

A few minutes later — seriously, an absurdly short amount of minutes— she was practically a different person. Her makeup highlighted her most elegant features, her blue dress contrasted with her long orange braids, which had been put there by a hairdresser (who had appeared out of nowhere), like water and fire. Looking at herself in the mirror, she felt alive.

She came back to where Élan frantically worked, now being helped by Yaya. When she looked at her, Yaya almost screamed.

"Holy shit, you look beautiful!"

"I gotta admit, you have the looks, girl. But do you have the groove?" Élan added, raising an eyebrow. "What's your name?" She repeated the question, in a tone that sounded much more like a test. This time, the answer came without hesitation.

"Hilda."

"Oh? Beautiful name, but don't you feel there's somethin' lacking there, dear?" Élan asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. Indeed, only Hilda didn't seem like a full stage name, and it wasn't.

"Hilda Huracán" Hilda Hurricane. Élan let out a loud laugh, and Hilda smiled at her.

"You got the nerves! Get your ass down on stage and surprise me, or you won't be gettin' that last name. Burn bright, Hilda Hurricane!"

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oh, hello again! Don't mind me, I just have to drop these here-

Picrew used: https://picrew.me/ja/image_maker/1469769

(also I clearly have no idea how clubs and etc work. Normally I'd research and double check everything but I just wanted to write without much compromise so... yeah sorry KASKASK)

#sopa writes #warriors musical #warriors album #hey boppers #Don't get me started on the amount of references to Brazilian culture there is in her names alone #“Pablo” comes from a Br drag queen called Pabllo Vittar #“Hilda Hurricane” or Hilda Furacão in Portuguese comes from a telenovela #which in turn was inspired by a real person who lived in my city

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