#warriors cleon

[crimzydiamond]

I drown in the shots and the shouts as the world falls down

Cleon wasn't on my previous illustration so I just had to make another one just because of her

[thewhizzyhead]

before I do the long feminist recontextualization ramble on lmm's warriors album, I must note that the album, despite it being lmm's grittiest work, has such a hopeful tone in it especially near the end. Perhaps the hopeful tones really shine through especially in the backdrop of among the grittiest subject matter featured in MT, but there is something so heartwarming in this being a VERY intentional choice - what with cyrus' dream and the songs that follow with cleon and the gramercy riffs. in their grief and sorrow especially they still sing of giving life meaning - breathing in and believing in the hope of unification against the bigger forces in tow (acab). And this shines especially so with this album's interpretation that the gangs are more of community protectors than deviants and ruffians - and the reason they all believed in Cyrus in the first place is because they wanted a better city for their constituents.

simply said in "somewhere in the city" and simply repeated in the album's finale, they seek a city where they all come home alive.

[thatgenderfluidmonstrosity]

Made some quick sketches of the Warriors inspired by/based off their singers!!!

(I’m tired- and I tried 😭)

[rembrandts-neckerchief]

okay but the connection Cleon and Masai have? Outstanding.

[whatcannotbesaid-shallbewept]

Warriors promotional images.

[pinkygripper]

CLEEEONNNNN!!! She's sleeping now that her family is all back home safe (sort of ahahaha(sobbing)). ANyway first post on anything ever hope you like my art! Please please let me know if you do :))

The warriors is currently consuming my every waking thought i love this album so much.

p.s. a hand by any other name would look just the same so maybe just dont look too closely at it okay :*

[theexistingbox]

good evening warriors musical fandom, have some doodles

[yourlocalkatiesimp]

to the whole 4 people who might see this, one of you PLEASE dm me to talk about swan and mercy bc their song and interactions together are ROTTING MY BRAIN

[subwaylesbians]

do y’all think ajax feels personally responsible for fox’s death? the fighter wasn’t there, and so it was the youngest and least experienced warrior who ended up putting herself on the line to keep them safe. obviously it might have made no difference, or things might have ended up even worse - but if she’d saved her fight for the station, and not the park cop, fox might still be there

[loreartisan]

boppers did Cleon lose her family/someone important in the derailed train she experienced as a kid, therefore being her first loss of a loved one? And when she recalled that moment when Cyrus got shot-was that a reflection on how she saw Cyrus as part of her community?

[alexihollis]

so we all know that cleon was terrified that night. first, for her own life, because fuck that did NOT look good and Masai was pissed and baby girl was STRESSING. but then, Masai wasnt going to kill her, great.

but all her girls are still out there. with no weapons. because she told them not to bring weapons.

so of course shes worried about all of them. shes worried about Fox - the youngest, quiet. Swan's been working with her, but she still isn't the best fighter.

She's worried about Rembrandt, who doesn't like to fight in the first place, but can hold her own as long as she's got Ajax to back her up.

Which gets her worried about Ajax resisting the urge to bite off more than she can chew all the way back home. Ajax, Cochise, Cowgirl? Solid fighters, the usual suspects that Cleon sends outside their territory when needed. She's worried but they can handle it.

But the one shes worried about most of all? Swan. The girl she found curled up under the boardwalk. All her other girls came to her in pairs or from other gangs. Bruised, banged up, needing some TLC.

Swan, though? The world had all but broken Swan in a way that Cleon never let the other girls see. Swan was her little sister in a way that, while Cleon could recognize her talents and let her make her own way, it made her nauseous that night to think about what situation she was in as Cleon's number two. The obvious de facto leader. Strong, stoic, a hell of a fighter - Swan was all of those things now, but Cleon still sees the sick teenage girl trying to die on her couch and its Swan on her mind that night.

And she sees Swan kick Luther's ass and for the first time Cleon feels like she can breathe because Swan is alive. Bruised to all Hell and back and- some random chick is wearing her vest? For some reason? But Swan is alive!

...and then Cleon realizes Fox isn't there. And Ajax isn't either. And it's one of the biggest failings Cleon sees in herself as a leader because one of the first thoughts that ran through her head after the pure pain of realizing she lost two of her girls was "thank fucking God it wasn't Swan."

[swantactics]

swan being the last in roll call because she always ends up putting herself between her warriors and others, THATS MY FAVE NUMBER TWO 

[thewhizzyhead]

how genderbending the warriors (2024) is done not for the sole sake of "bad-assery"

okay here we go feminist ramble time for our newest chick on the block: warriors. now i'll be honest, prior to listening to the album, when i first heard that the warriors main girls were originally dudes in the movie and the novel, i thought that the decision for the genderbending, in lmm's perspective, were from the following: 1.) girl power move in like a very basic meaning of the word "bad-ass" 2.) simply a twist on a cult movie about big gang bros loved by the film bros, and 3.) a way to have the schuyler sisters back together gjfkdfldf

but when i read more about warriors and its development and how lmm took inspiration from the gamergate controversies of 2014-2015 aka among the peak of gamerbro misogyny campaigns, that's when i realized that Oh Shit Is Serious - because adapting a story about a group being framed and targeted and harassed for something they are accused of doing without any substantial proof other than a man screaming "THE WARRIORS SHOT CYYYYRUUS" with 21st century misogyny campaigns in mind makes the theme of fighting back a lot more complicated and a lot more resonant, going beyond just marketing a cast you can call "badass"

take the hurricanes' quiet girls, for example. the hurricanes (concept album version) is the only gang that lets the warriors off the hook and with a stern warning: quiet girls don't make it home. here, the hurricanes berate the warriors for not saying shit or attempting to defend themselves from accusations they know well aren't true. THIS MESSAGE IN PARTICULAR is what stays and influences ajax, fox, and swan til the very end of their stories.

literally one song after this does ajax show how easily she resonated with the hurricanes' lesson by finally sticking with her gut and actually choosing to fight back against both the baseball furies AND against the sleazy undercover cop. the latter encounter is one of the instances that really solidifies the recontextualization of the story because in the OG movie, ajax (a dude) WAS the sleazy fuck up harassing a woman in a park - and now with the literal character switch, ajax goes from being just a rebellious gangbro dude bro into someone whose want to fight is warranted. such a want to fight is seen in fox seeing as fox is the first to comment on the quiet girls scene and that, in the concept album, she is the one that instigates the rumble against the police in union square - saying that she is sick of being afraid of them and their 'fuckin powder blue' colors (also notice how she is the only warrior that really does say fuck the cops i think that's cool BUT I'LL TALK ABOUT FOX MORE NEXT TIME)

to a less obvious extent, swan also gets the receiving end of this recurring theme - by the album's finale, the usually violence-averse caution-first interim leader becomes a lot fiercer in protecting her crew. but perhaps among what i consider to be the biggest recontextualized change in the feminist sense is MERCY and her motivations to join the warriors in the first place. according to the wiki, her attraction to swan and the warriors and um seeing the orphans as wimps is what led her to switch sides BUT IN THE CONCEPT ALBUM, mercy's motivation to become a warrior is deepened, rooted in admiration rather than attraction - wanting to be like those women who hold their head up high. and again, we see this in Sick of Runnin' when she takes part in the rumble, finding her bravery within their ranks as they fight back. here, mercy becomes less of a swan tagalong and more of someone that wants what the warriors have: pride.

of course now that i type this out i realize that warriors is not based solely on the feminist rhetoric as with their theme of hope amidst adversity, the story is more intersectional and rooted in community struggle and wanting for more than that. but nonetheless, i genuinely believe that the twt filmbros arguments on why the genders should not have been changed in the first place just for "woke" points is kinda like,,,very shortsighted because not only does the narrative of women narrowly escaping unwarranted accusations actually fucking fit, but the act of learning to fight back amidst all odds - be it that of disbelieving, predatory men or the power of oppressive pigs - stays resonant for women yesterday, today, and the days to come.

ultimately, warriors (2024) is not solely a tale of female badassery - rather, it is a tale of the need for such "female badassery" in the face of past and present realities, which is why it somehow fucking worked.

[thatgenderfluidmonstrosity]

Warriors redraw based off their pictures on the Warriors Album Official Lyric Book!! (Click to see full pictures)

[rembrandts-neckerchief]

I might be animating Still Breathin‘- (ID under the cut!)

[Image ID: Three animation frames, labelled "8 seconds, 10 seconds, and 12 seconds". Their background is black and they show drawings in bright red. Every one of them has Cleon from her chest up, having a big, locked hairstyle, relatively big eyebrows and a flat nose. Additionally, she has two lip piercings shown as rings and a few scars scattered on the left side of her face. She is drawn in a half profile, to the right, and wearing two necklaces, a jacket, and a top with a low cutout. Next to her in every frame is Masai‘s hand, holding a lit zippo lighter with the Gramercy Riffs‘ logo, an R with the top part being an arrow and the hole a star. His pinky finger is missing from the first joint outside the hand onward. In the first frame, the hand is really close to Cleon, both of them shaking, and Cleon has wide eyes and an open mouth. In the second frame, the hand is a bit further away, being pulled in that direction, but both Cleon and Masai are still shaking. Cleon is squinting now, her mouth in the process of being pulled into a line. She looks hurt, one pair of ellipses and the word "oh…" are floating around her head. In the third frame, Cleon is clearly in pain. Her eyes are almost closed and her mouth is a wobbly like. This is also strengthened by the words "fuck" and "ow." floating around her head. Masai‘s hand is even further away now and is not shaking at that point. End image ID.]

[flowersandskeletons526]

"We Need A Tagger" - Warriors Concept Album Fanfic (Part 1/5)

okay so based off some of their interactions on the album, I am of the firm belief that Ajax was the one to recruit Rembrandt. This is my take on their first meeting and Rembrandt's initiation. Enjoy!

-------

Ajax sat at the table in the Warriors’ tiny apartment, holding a crumpled tissue under her still-bleeding nose. Cleon paced the kitchen around her as she muttered under her breath. In the other room, Cochise sat on the couch thumbing through a newspaper beside their newest addition, the stray Cleon found under the boardwalk and promptly promoted to second-in-command. Ajax was still a little sore about that, but Cleon made the argument that her number two needed to at least sometimes remain level-headed and Ajax couldn’t make a valid point against that. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ajax,” Cleon hissed. “When I said I wanted to expand our territory, I didn’t mean you should go off by yourself to annex two blocks!”

“I thought I was on our turf,” Ajax repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “I swear, Cleon. I wasn’t picking a fight on purpose.”

“This time,” Cochise added.

“Fuck off.”

“If you thought someone was on our turf, you should've gotten us,” said Cleon.

“There were only three of them.”

“And only one of you!”

“Send your assistant on patrols with me if you’re worried about numbers.”

“Hey, fuck you, man!” Swan snapped.

Ajax leapt to her feet and was immediately pushed back into her seat by Cleon. “I made you an enforcer, not a scout,” she said. “You handle the issues the scouts bring in. You don’t go looking for them yourself.”

“We don’t have scouts,” Cochise pointed out. 

“I thought you were gonna talk to your friend that bartends at the Neptune Lounge. The one that’s always wearing that fucking hat.”

“Still trying to convince her.”

“Fuck.”

“We need a tagger,” Swan interjected. “Yeah, we need more members, but that’s just going to cause more problems for us if we don’t mark our borders.”

“For once,” said Ajax, “I agree with the sewer rat.”

“Dude! The fuck!”

“Cool it, you two,” Cleon warned. “Do you have any nominations?”

“I’ll find one,” Ajax offered.

“If you can find a decent tagger that isn’t already affiliated, you have my permission to bring ’em in to talk.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And no more fights!”

So ensued two weeks of fruitless searching for an unclaimed graffiti artist. Ajax went halfway insane with frustration by the end of the first week. Every time she found a new artist’s signature, she went back to report and was met with one denial or another. If they weren’t already running with a crew, it was because they were untrustworthy or had been jumped out of their old gang for some offense and Cleon didn’t want someone else’s scraps. 

Swan volunteered to go out for a few rounds with her. She knew more about the political side of things, Ajax could admit that, and since they’d both promised Cleon that they wouldn’t butt heads, the trips passed by in almost complete science. They were out late one evening, the sun setting over the ocean as they patrolled the boardwalk, when Swan stopped before a massive, impressively intricate and detailed graffiti mural sprayed across the front of a shuttered carnival booth.

She whistled as she looked over the painting. “Damn. Someone spent time on this.”

“There are a bunch of these,” Ajax said, standing beside her. “Talked to some of the carnies, they said the things pop up overnight, they get covered or washed off, and the next day there’s a whole new design.”

Swan hummed and nudged the bottom of the grate with her foot. Where she stepped, in gorgeous swirling script, was a signature. “Rembrandt,” she read aloud. “You tell Cleon?”

“Asked her, asked Cochise, asked everyone. No one knows who the guy is, just that he’s talented and prolific.”

“Well.” Swan shrugged. “Let’s find him.”

Easier said than done. When Ajax said no one knew, she meant no one. No one had a clue because no one ever saw the paintings go up. When Ajax explained her plight to the crew, the only help she got was, “You said you would find a tagger, so go find him.”

This resulted in Ajax walking the boardwalk in the dead of night, listening to the waves and her own footsteps and watching out for the sound of spray cans. Her unlucky streak finally broke one night walking past the abandoned parachute tower. She almost thought she was hearing a gas leak at first, a constant hissing from the other side of the structure. She realized it was spray paint when she heard the telltale rattle of a can being shaken.

Crouching low, she crept silently around the base of the tower. A small, slight figure wearing a respirator face mask held a can in each hand, arms flying as the graffiti artist raced through his work. Ajax watched in fascination as he dropped cans into his backpack and pulled out new colors without ever taking his eyes off his canvas, working only by the light of the moon and the city’s distant glow.

She straightened. She’d found the phantom tagger.

“Yo!” She called. The artist froze as she approached. She couldn’t see his eyes beneath his hood, only the mask. “Let me talk to you for a second.”

The artist grabbed his backpack and a paint can and bolted.

“Shit!”

Ajax took off in a chase after the artist. The little fucker was quick and agile, but Ajax was quicker and knew Coney Island like the back of her hand. “Stop!” she shouted. “I just want to talk!” He only ran faster.

Just as she thought she would run out of steam, the artist turned the corner into an alley. He hit the fence at the back hard and started to climb but Ajax had a major height advantage. She grabbed his backpack and yanked him down. He wheeled around, can in hand, and smashed her square in the face with it. 

He was quick but he wasn’t that strong. Ajax was certain the hit at least chipped a tooth, the taste of blood coating her tongue, but she wasn’t stunned. He tried to dart past her. She spun and snagged a fistful of his sleeve, then threw him backwards into the fence with enough force to knock the mask off his face. She wasn’t proud of it - she was trying to recruit the punk, after all - but her mouth hurt from the hit so she considered it a fair trade.

Ajax stood over the artist. On his ass with his back pressed to the fence, he raised a paint can and pointed it at her like a gun. His hand trembled so hard she thought he might drop his improvised weapon. His hood fell back. She finally got a good look at his face.

Staring up at her was a terrified young woman with the saddest deep brown eyes she’d ever seen. She had a busted lip halfway healed and short, wild curls framing her face. She didn’t even try to act tough; she wore the expression of someone who’d been in a similar position and knew she didn’t have the skill to fight her way out of it.

Ajax was violently aware of how dangerous she must have looked at that moment. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t proud of it.

“I’m not tagging,” the girl said before Ajax could get a word out. “I don’t run with anyone. I’m just painting. I swear I was only painting.”

Ajax tried to make her voice sound gentle. “I know. I know you’re not.” She wiped away the blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. “Fuck. You really clocked me. Sorry for throwing you, I didn’t mean to do that.”

“I’m not tagging,” the girl repeated. “I don’t-”

“I know! Calm down, I just want to talk. I’m not going to hurt you. Really.” She crouched down to the artist’s eye level. “You’re Rembrandt, right? That’s your signature?”

The girl lowered the can. “Yeah,” she said timidly. 

“Call me Ajax. I run with the Warriors.” She extended a hand to shake. Rembrandt didn’t take it. Fair enough. “You don’t have a crew, right? Did you ever run with one?”

“No.”

“Well, listen, we’re looking for a tagger-”

Red and blue lights illuminated the alley. Police sirens blared. Ajax shot to her feet.

“Shit! Why are the cops - wait! No, no, no, wait! Come back!”

But Rembrandt was already over the fence. Ajax roared in frustration and booked it, knowing she couldn’t risk getting jammed up by the cops again.

Mission failed, tail between her legs, Ajax ran home.

---------

“The artist’s a girl?” Cleon asked, huddled around the kitchen table with the rest of the gang. “Damn. I feel a little sexist now.” 

“Her paintings are amazing,” Ajax said. She was still a little breathless from her sprint back to the apartment. “And she’s insanely fast. No way the cops would ever catch her.”

“Apparently no way you could catch her, either.”

“She was listening to me. The cops scared her. That’s why she ran.”

“Take a breath, you look like you’re going to pass out,” said Swan. Ajax flipped her the bird, and she rolled her eyes. “You said she looked scared out of her mind. What makes you think you’re ever going to catch up to her again?”

“She has a point,” Cochise agreed. “Ajax, you know I love you, girl, but you’re not exactly the most, y’know, approachable person.”

“She was listening to me! If I can go out there again, I swear I can find her and get her to come back here and talk to us. Cleon, come on, have my back.” 

Cleon sighed and hung her head. “Alright,” she relented. “If you think you can get her, then go get her.”

So Ajax went.

She sat beside the unfinished painting for five nights straight. She made sure no one covered it or washed it away, hoping the graffiti artist would come back to finish her work, but Rembrandt never showed. When Ajax returned to the apartment in the morning, she was met with the same simple question: “Any luck?” And she would only shake her head before going to pass out in the room she shared with Cochise. Cleon suggested she call off the search by the fourth night of no results, but Ajax couldn’t bring herself to take a step back and she didn’t understand why. Maybe it was simply a sense of duty to succeed at this mission for her gang. Maybe it was the paintings. Maybe it was the fear in the girl’s eyes and the fact that there was so obviously someone beating on her that made Ajax want to find her so badly. 

Cleon offered to come with on the evening of the sixth day, an offer that Ajax declined. “I don’t want to show up with the crew behind me and freak her out,” she explained.

“Ajax, I really can’t afford to keep sending you out. We’ve got other jobs I need you for.”

“Two more nights. Give me a solid week.”

“You get tonight. And if you can’t find her, I’m calling it off. We’ll find another tagger.”

“Fine.”

“Be safe.”

Ajax wandered the boardwalk for a bit before parking herself in front of the unfinished mural. It hadn’t been touched. She sighed and shoved her hands in her vest pockets. This mission was a fucking bust. Two weeks of searching and a week of waiting around and she had nothing to show for it. It was already past midnight and she hadn’t seen a single sign of anyone being out there with her, let alone Rembrandt. She promised herself that she’d stay until dawn and after that, she would give up and call it quits. Still, it sucked. She hated leaving things unfinished.

She wasn’t sure when she dozed off, only that she woke with a start to the quiet patter of footsteps on the weathered wooden planks. She looked up to see the masked, hooded figure standing a little ways off and staring straight at her. She climbed slowly to her feet and raised her hands.

“I’m not packing,” she promised. “I’m here as a friend.”

Rembrandt removed her hood and pulled her mask down around her neck. In addition to the split lip, she now sported a black eye with a scabbed over cut on her cheek beneath it. She kept her left arm tucked in close to her side like it hurt to move it.

Ajax grimaced. “Holy shit, man. Is that-”

“It wasn’t from you. You didn’t throw me that hard,” Rembrandt said quietly. “What do you want from me?”

“My gang needs a tagger.”

“I’m not a tagger.”

“You’ve got more than enough skill to be one. Look, the Warriors are on our way to running Coney Island but first we need someone to define our borders. You said you just want to paint? We’d give you free reign to put up new murals anywhere you want and they wouldn’t keep getting taken down. And whatever’s going on with this…” Ajax gestured to her black eye, and she turned aside to hide it. “We could help with that, too.”

Rembrandt hesitated. “Why me? I can’t fight.”

“You wouldn’t need to, just need to run. That’s why they have me.” Ajax looked over her shoulder at the unfinished painting. She flashed a smile. “How long would it take you to finish this?”

She thought. “Thirty minutes max.”

“Great. I got your six.” Ajax stepped away from the wall and posted up behind the girl, who frowned quizzically at her. “Seriously. Finish it. Just promise you’ll come back to Warriors Headquarters with me when you’re done. My friend makes a great breakfast and our leader is a lot nicer than I am. She wants to meet you.”

Rembrandt only stared at the warrior. Ajax made a little go on gesture before returning to her watch position. She heard cans rattling behind her and the thud of a backpack hitting the boardwalk, then the hiss of spray paint. She waited a minute before glancing back. 

The graffiti artist had her mask back up over her face but left her hood off. She painted with one hand this time, moving slow, her presumably-injured arm hanging limp at her side. Ajax cringed a little internally. She was right; someone was definitely going after her. She caught a glimpse of Rembrandt’s expression, and despite looking like she’d lost a brawl, the look in her eyes was one of complete, pure, calm joy. She was truly in her element, surrounded by a cloud of spray paint, building the shape of the Wonder Wheel and the parachute tower with layers of a rainbow of colors. She added in tiny cartoon creatures running through the city. Ajax almost laughed. 

She leaned against the tower beside the painting. “You got anyone who’s gonna freak out if they think you’re missing?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Rembrandt replied without taking her eyes off her work.

“Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

“No.”

“Any family?”

Rembrandt paused. She turned to Ajax, showing the deep bruise on her face, her eyes downcast as the joy faded and the sadness and fear replaced it. Ajax’s heart softened just a bit.

“Got it,” she said, and faced front again.

The sky was barely beginning to lighten by the time Rembrandt packed up her cans and stuck her mask in her backpack with them. Ajax stood beside her, admiring the painting. “Looks nice,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“So…? Will you come meet with the Warriors?”

Rembrandt shouldered her bag. She shifted her weight between her feet like a little bird ready to take off. Ajax was convinced she might run again and prepared herself for another chase, but Rembrandt buried her hands in the pockets of her hoodie and looked up at the enforcer.

“Who’s your leader?” the artist asked.

“Her name’s Cleon.”

Rembrandt blinked. “Like… like Cleon? Like the Cleon?”

“Yep. The Cleon,” said Ajax. God, the fucking ego boost this was going to give that woman would be astronomical.

“She wants to meet me?”

“Uh-huh. You coming or not?”

“But she’s like - wait, hang on! Yes, I’m coming!”

Ajax led her away from the beach, off the boardwalk and into the surrounding streets. Ajax always kept her head on a swivel, always, and apparently so did Rembrandt. She walked a half step behind Ajax, staying just slightly to the right in case she needed to take off and leave Ajax behind. Fuck, she was flighty. This early in the morning, not many people were out and about yet, but Rembrandt kept her hood up and looked down to hide her face. Ajax waved her hand by her side, and Rembrandt moved to walk directly behind her. She kept stepping on the back of Ajax’s shoes on accident, apologizing profusely each time, but she picked her head up, at least.

Ajax stopped Rembrandt outside the door to the apartment. “Stay behind me,” she said, “and don’t freak out. Cochise is a little loud and Swan’s got major resting bitch face but no one’s gonna go after you. You’re safe here.”

“Okay,” Rembrandt mumbled. 

They stepped inside. Cochise stood over the stove, stirring something in a pan and humming to herself. Swan sat on the couch with DJ Lynne Pen’s show playing quietly over the radio beside her. Cleon was on the phone listening to someone talk and scribbling notes in a small journal. Ajax reached over Rembrandt’s head to shut the door and hollered, “’Sup motherfuckers!” Rembrandt flinched.

Swan looked up with annoyance drawn across her face. “Who are you calling a motherfu-…” Her voice trailed. Cochise and Cleon turned to Ajax. Ajax stepped to the side and gestured to the girl standing next to her.

“Everyone,” she announced with a smile, “meet Rembrandt.”

No one spoke. Rembrandt waved sheepishly.

Cleon said into the phone, “I’ll call you back,” and hung up the receiver. 

“Wow,” said Cochise. “She actually exists.”

Swan stood, staring at Rembrandt’s black eye. “Ajax, what did you-”

“It’s not from her,” Rembrandt interjected. “Um, sorry. Hi.”

Cleon approached. Ajax nudged Rembrandt forward, but the artist backed up into the door instead. Cleon stopped where she was, raised her hands, and offered the same comforting smile that she had given Ajax and Cochise and Swan on all their first interactions. Above all, Cleon could get virtually anyone to calm down and listen to her. 

“Hey, nice to meet you,” she said gently. Ajax watched Rembrandt’s tensed shoulders come down just a fraction of an inch. “I’m Cleon. Rembrandt, right?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Want some breakfast?”

------

And that's the end of the first part! Stay tuned because I am going to continue this