Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Far below the heavens, Crossroads bustles with life.  The city looms around its citizens, a place of opportunity for some, ruin for others, but a unique experience for all. 

They sing praise of their god, whisper prayers to him when they encounter times of distress.  Firebrand hears their every word and cares for them all. 

Windforce cares not about the citizens’ wellbeing, but watches them anyway.

Sword and Rocket often find it difficult to make time to meet up, since they both have usually busy schedules. 
Today is one of the rare occasions where they did find time to hang out.

Sword is excitedly chittering at Rocket about how they could spend their time.
“Let’s get cookies at Slingshot’s cafe!! Oooh, or how about a piece of lemon cake? Or some brownies? We haven’t been there in ages!! So many awesome options!!”
“Sword, I don’t think this is such a good idea-“
“Surely you jest! Today is a wonderful day to get cookies! In fact, every day is!”
Rocket grimaces inwardly at the thought of visiting an area that’s usually busy and crowded. “There’s just… too many people in the cafe all the time, you know? Too overwhelming.”
“Lighten up, it’s a great chance to meet new people! You need to stop and smell the flowers! Besides, how could you say no to lemon cake? Or cookies??” Sword pouts as he swings an arm around Rocket’s shoulder and stares at him, pleading.  
Rocket sighs. Sword does have a point. About the lemon cake, anyways. “Fine, I guess I can go.”
Sword beams at him and Rocket is given little time to react before he is nearly crushed to death in Sword’s arms. 
“Hooray!”

“Swordicanbarelybreathe-“
“Whoops! Sorry, Rocket!”

Unbeknownst to the two, Windforce is curiously watching their banter from the roof of a nearby office building.
“Hmmmm…”
“I didn’t know my dearest sister would suddenly develop an interest in the lives of puny mortals.” Windforce jumps at the voice and snaps her head towards the sound, rolling her eyes at the sight of Firebrand materializing next to her. 
“Must you always DO THAT!??”
“Mmmm... perhaps!” Firebrand grins at her.
“Well, it’s none of your BUSINESS! I was merely observing their behavior!” She waves her arms in exasperation as she speaks, and Firebrand’s gaze follows her movement as she does so.
“Just because I am watching mortals does not mean I want ANYTHING to do with them, you hear!?”
The wind currents are doing lively spirals where she waves. 
“Are you even LISTENING TO ME?”
Firebrand whistles innocently, pointing in the general direction where she was waving her right arm. She turns her head around and notices that the red and the blue mortal she was observing prior are now plastered together onto the pavement outside of “Slingshot’s Cafe”. Likely a result of her unintentional manipulation of the wind, if she had to guess based on Firebrand’s amusement. 

“Why, look at you! My unsociable sister is finally helping out mortals with their affairs!”
“…Oops.”

Sword raises his head up in a daze.  He’d been walking just fine moments prior, but then someone (or something) pushed him!! And now he’s on the ground!! What the heck!!!
“GET OFF OF ME THIS INSTANT!! SWORD!!!” Oh. Rocket’s crushed beneath him.
He hurriedly picks himself off of Rocket’s squashed figure, and Rocket slowly pries himself from the ground. “Sorry! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! But lord, you great oaf, watch where you’re stepping next time! My entire life flashed before my eyes!” Rocket stands up and adjusts his crooked goggles back to their normal position.
Sword glances at Rocket apologetically, but freezes when he sees Rocket’s face.

“…”
“What are you staring at?”
“Rocket.”
“What?”
Sword slowly raises his arm to point at Rocket’s face, and Rocket spins to look at his reflection in the glass window of the cafe. 

Great heavens, there’s a light blue blush dusting his cheeks. He is mortified.

“…How long?”
“…….” Rocket quietly mumbles something beneath his breath. 
“I didn’t catch that, could you repeat?”
“…Too long. Thought you’d hate me if you found out.”

Sword drapes his arms over Rocket’s shoulders and turns him to face him. Rocket shuts his eyes tightly and prepares for the worst.
“Rocket, I would never hate you.”
Rocket cracks open one eye to look at Sword. 
“…Really?”

“Yeah. It’s okay, Rocket.”

Sword smiles warmly at Rocket and Rocket nearly melts into a puddle right then and there. 
“Now how about that lemon cake?”

“…I’d love to.”
Sword lets go of Rocket’s shoulders and offers out a hand to him, inviting.  Rocket takes it, and they enter the cafe together. 

Windforce grunts at the sight.  “About time, I suppose! Those two spent ages dancing around each other!!”
Firebrand chortles and bangs once on Windforce’s helmet, Windforce snapping around to glare at him. “So you really are interested in helping!”
“So what if I am!?”

Chapter Text

Hyperlaser dreams of a different time, a time where he instead strove to help other people, a version of him that would’ve laughed at you and called you insane if you’d suggested to him that perhaps, just maybe, society wouldn’t have a place for an individual with such ambitions. 

In reality, society shunned him the exact day his accident happened.  The same day he lost his face, his identity, the same day where only a monstrous husk remained of the soul with a once-bright future.  He couldn’t find work anywhere after that day- after all, what kind of business would want to employ a monster?

Blackrock promised him salvation, a new beginning, a real chance to make himself become feared and respected.  Accepting their offer was one of the worst decisions of his life, but what could he do?  He was desperate for a purpose, an answer to his anguish, and there was no escape from their iron grasp the moment he’d stepped foot on the facility grounds.

His managers at Blackrock are both difficult and demanding, and he often finds himself struggling to hold himself back from lashing out his frustration against them. None of the other factions have need of his kind anymore, and he needs the money. Necessities and equipment at Blackrock are always in low supply(and therefore expensive) on top of always having to set aside a crucial sum to buy food for his beloved cat, Princess.

Shame the money is going to waste either way, seeing as how he’s now spending it on alcohol to rinse away his woes.

His cat might as well be the only worthwhile thing left for him in this world.  Family was never really a factor in his life, and the people he considered his friends all left him behind after the accident.

When the executives of Blackrock requested him to dispose of them, how could he refuse?

Hyperlaser laughs bitterly at the thought and drains the remainder of his glass, slamming it down on the counter.  The amber liquid burns as it slides down his throat,  but he swallows it anyway.

He thinks about getting another glass, but the thought of his cat waiting for him back at his residence stops him, and instead opts to grit his teeth before grumbling and slumping down miserably on the counter. 

A band strums out a cheery tune somewhere behind him, and the other patrons laugh and clink glasses together in celebration of securities that Hyperlaser has long forgotten. Ordinarily, he would find the clamor to be somewhat charming, but now the noise only clangs unpleasantly through his ears and violently rattles his already-troubled mind.

His tumultuous thoughts drown out the chime of the bell announcing the arrival of another patron, and that the new arrival slides onto the stool next to his own. 

“You seem troubled.” Hyperlaser startles at the voice, turning to see Katana elegantly perched on the adjacent seat, watching him. 
“…” Hyperlaser’s grip on the glass tightens.  The subtle action does not go unnoticed by Katana, who dips his head in acknowledgment and flags down the waiter with a wave of his arm. 
“Beer for two.” The waiter glances disinterestedly at Katana before reaching behind and grabbing two empty shot glasses, filling them up and swiftly sending them gliding over the counter. 
Katana gently stops the two glasses as they arrive and nudges one towards Hyperlaser, clinking against his already-empty glass from earlier.  Hyperlaser blankly shifts his gaze from the empty glass to the new one. 
“...”
Katana tilts slightly forward, wrapping his hand around his own glass. “Seemed like you could use it.”
Hyperlaser’s shoulders visibly tense, seemingly considering whether to turn away or accept the offering before letting his shoulders slump and sliding the glass closer. 
“Thank you.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, taking turns sipping from their drinks. 

After their drinks have been emptied, Hyperlaser slumps back down on the counter, staring straight ahead. 
“Tough day?”
Hyperlaser grumbles under his breath.  “I suppose you could put it that way.”

“I see.” Katana leans back in the stool, observing Hyperlaser closely. 
Hyperlaser groans out, remembering that he is unfortunately a grown man and has responsibilities to attend to, and that he cannot spend the rest of the night rotting away in a bar. 
“I should be getting back now, but thank you again for the drink.”
“My pleasure.”
Hyperlaser stands up from his seat, throwing one last glance at Katana before heading for the door.  The door jingles merrily as he pushes it open and steps out into the crisp night air. 

He stands still for a few moments, breathing in the chilly atmosphere, but whips his head around when he hears the door chime again. He observes Katana stepping out of the establishment behind him. 

“Thought I’d walk you to your residence.”
Hyperlaser snorts. “I am no mere child, there is no need.”
“I’m aware, but I thought you could use the company.” Hyperlaser squints at him through his visor. 
“…Very well.”

As they pass through a block of quiet apartment complexes, a singular flowerpot suddenly tips off of a balcony above and plummets towards Hyperlaser.  Before it can make contact, a sharp sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath rings out through the air. 

Two perfect halves of the flowerpot hit the ground and shatter around Hyperlaser’s feet, and he stops in surprise to glance first at the broken halves, and then at Katana. 

A singular flower from the pot drifts down from above, and Katana holds out his weapon, allowing the flower to fall to a rest on the tip of it.  He gracefully retracts his arm to pluck the flower, a bluebell, off of his weapon, and presents it to Hyperlaser.

“For you.”
Hyperlaser stares at the bluebell in bewilderment for a second before picking it out of Katana’s hand, bringing it up to his visor and examining it through the dark material.

Fancy that, huh.

Katana turns his head upwards to where the flowerpot fell from, and catches a glimpse of gold horns and grey wings before they quickly whisk out of view.

Chapter Text

“Lovely day today, isn’t it?”
“I guess so.”
Traffic leans against Zuka’s truck, smoking. Zuka absolutely despises the smell, but rarely ever voices it around Traffic. 

Zuka sits at Traffic’s usual counter, counting the number of trips he took earlier in the day.

“Hmmm.. I think the wind is starting to pick up, you feel it?”
“You’re imagining things. Now shut up.”
Traffic chuckles and silently watches Zuka scribble marks onto his tally sheet.

Zuka is nearly done with his report when the wind snatches the hat right off of his head, and he almost doesn’t notice with how engrossed he is in his work. 
“Hey dude, I think your hat ran off.”
“Huh?”
Zuka glances up at Traffic for a moment before realizing that his head feels abnormally colder than usual. 
“My hat!”
He glances around frantically for the hat and spots it flying away in the wind, and immediately tosses down his pencil to chase after it. 
“I told you so about the wind!”
Zuka ignores him. 

Zuka ends up chasing the hat across half of the entire city, civilians curiously glancing at him as he dashes by while muttering various colorful curses under his breath.  The hat seems to taunt him by drifting to a rest on various reachable locations, only to take flight once again when Zuka draws close. 

Zuka eventually has to stop to catch his breath, and the hat drifts out of sight between a couple of nearby commercial buildings. 
“Huff…”
“Looking for something, my dear friend?”
Broker’s head pops out from behind a store, giggling loopily and twirling Zuka’s hat on his finger as he steps out onto the street. 
Zuka takes a single step forward, unsure of how to act. 
“Broker. Give me my hat back.”
Broker snickers and props his chin up with his other hand, pretending to think. 
“Hmmm.. I don’t think so! Finders keepers, right?”

Zuka’s eyes narrow and he glares death at Broker, Broker staring back with barely suppressed glee.  Zuka’s fists are repeatedly slowly clenching and opening in frustration. 
“Broker.”
“Is there a problem, friend?”
Zuka snorts irritably at the question and suddenly lunges for the hat, arms reaching out.  Broker easily sidesteps the man’s attempt to retrieve the hat, sending him crashing onto the asphalt with a displeased (slightly pained) groan. 
“Ughhh… you- you fucker! I’m gonna beat your face in with a brick as soon as I get my hands on you!”
“Nuh-uh!”
Broker skips merry circles around Zuka as he tries unsuccessfully to prop himself up in his daze from the ground. 
Zuka flops back down on the ground after a few failed attempts(he’s really too old to be dealing with this), and then an idea pops into his mind. 

He reaches out and grabs Broker’s ankle as he skips, sending him crashing down alongside Zuka. 
“Owwww!!! So mean!!!”
“Give me my hat!”
Zuka’s hat ends up impaled on Broker’s left horn during the resulting scuffle, and Zuka eventually pins down a giggling Broker with his considerably bulkier frame. Zuka rolls his eyes as Broker grins up cheerily at him, and he plucks his hat off Broker’s horn.  He stands up, dusting himself off, then brings the hat up and frowns as he inspects it and notices the newly punctured hole in the fabric. 

“You owe me a new hat.”
Broker laughs, a high-pitched and unpleasant sound.  “I’ll bring you a new one tonight!”
“I will twist your spine if you break into my house in the middle of the night again. Or if you bring me another hot pink barbie bucket hat. That one was just distasteful.”

“Nuh-uh! And I’ll have you know the bucket hat was difficult to get my hands on! Top quality collectors’ item!”
Zuka glares at him, visibly unimpressed. “I do not care.”
He does care, just a little bit.

Chapter Text

Knock, knock.

Ah, that should be Vinestaff.
Ghosdeeri hurriedly makes her way to the door and cracks the door open to peek at the arrival, swinging it open as soon as she catches a glimpse of Vinestaff. 

“Hello hello, welcome in!” She steps to the side and waves her arm invitingly, gesturing for Vinestaff to come in. 

“Deeri! Long time no see!” Vinestaff steps in with her staff held under her shoulder, setting it to the side and leaning it on the small wooden stand that Ghosdeeri specially made for her as a gift. 
She happily wraps her arms around Ghosdeeri’s torso, and Ghosdeeri hesitates for a moment, unsure, before doing the same. 

Ghosdeeri’s apartment is rustic and cozy, with almost all of the furniture being made out of wood, fabric, or a combination of both.  She carved most of the wooden pieces by hand out of pine trees growing on Blackrock’s border. The result is pleasant rocking chairs that beckon for people to sit, tables that sing of the chatter and laughter that has happened above them, and small desks that whisper of stories written on their surfaces time and time again.

(Medkit once commented on how much of a fire hazard the place was when he came by for a visit, but Ghosdeeri ignored him.)

Ghosdeeri ushers Vinestaff over to sit at the unassuming dining table, placing teacups at both ends of the table.
“I’ll have tea for you in just a second.”
“That’s very kind, thank you.”
Ghosdeeri turns to the stove to wait, where a kettle had already been placed for heating beforehand. 
Vinestaff inspects the numerous small containers lining the shelves as she waits, all of which are labeled with small neat writing in charcoal.  Garlic, cloves, basil, oregano, pepper, parsley…
“Tea’s ready.”
Vinestaff snaps her attention away as Ghosdeeri brings over a steaming teapot and fills her cup. 
Vinestaff brings the cup up to her face and blows lightly on it, taking a sip.
“It’s good.”
“Glad to hear.” Ghosdeeri pours herself a smaller amount and settles down, placing the teapot on the kitchen counter.
“The taste reminds me of the stuff that Katana likes to brew on occasion.”
“Mmmmmm.” Ghosdeeri stares at her own cup, tracing the edge of it.
“You aren’t going to drink any?”
Ghostdeeri’s gaze flicks up to look at Vinestaff. “I don’t exactly have a functional method to consume liquids, Vine.”
“Oh! My apologies, I didn’t realize.” The thought had never occurred to Vinestaff, but now that she thinks about it, she’s never seen Ghosdeeri eat or drink anything.  She’d always just politely declined when offered consumables in the past. 

“It’s fine.”

“What are the cooking ingredients for if you don’t consume anything?”
“I cook as a hobby. Even though I can’t taste my cooking, I go off of my sense of smell and other peoples’ feedback to improve.” Ghosdeeri lifts her teacup, allowing the warm steam to brush her face.

“Ah, I see…”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while as Vinestaff slowly sips her tea, and Ghosdeeri closes her eyes and begins to hum.  A quiet, serene tune, gently resonating from Ghosdeeri that goes unnoticed by Vinestaff at first, but she listens with her full attention when she picks it up. 

Ghosdeeri eventually breaks the tune to look at Vinestaff, and cringes away in slight embarrassment upon noticing that Vinestaff had been listening and is currently watching her with a pleasant smile. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was vocalizing.”
“No, it’s fine! It’s a lovely tune. Really.”
Ghosdeeri regards Vinestaff with a mildly dubious look.  Suddenly, the sound of glass shattering and a heavy thump abruptly disturbs their silence.  Both of them snap their heads towards the noise in surprise, and a light grey crow-like bird lays sprawled on the floor among a sea of shattered glass. 

Vinestaff makes a noise of distress and carefully makes her way over to the crow, lifting it from the ground and cradling it while examining it for injuries. 
The crow has strange gold accents running along its wings and neck, and Vinestaff’s never seen anything even remotely resembling it.  A gold band with a matching ornament in the shape of a feather is secured on its right leg, and a tiny crown of gold olive branches sits on its head. The crow pecks at her hand when she tries to reach for it to see it more closely. 
Surprisingly, the crow isn’t wounded in any way. None of the glass shards seem to have made cuts, when the bird should’ve had an abundance of them from smashing straight through a window. 
Ghosdeeri’s footsteps are rapidly approaching.  Vinestaff yelps out as the crow suddenly pecks her arm hard and struggles, managing to slip from her grasp and flying up to perch on a kitchen cupboard. 

Ghosdeeri follows the bird with a piercing glare, and the bird meets her eyes and glares back with beady eyes when it lands. 
“Did that thing… smash through my window?”
“I believe so, yes. Thankfully it doesn’t seem to be injured.”

Ghosdeeri slowly settles back into her seat while still observing the crow, and sighs.
“Well, guess I have a whole mess to clean up after this.”
“Mhm.”

Ghosdeeri watches the crow hop around on the cupboard, and the crow starts to curiously peck away at the jars of honey and homemade fruit jams that reside there. 

“So, how have things been?” Ghosdeeri snaps her attention back to Vinestaff.
“Could be worse, could be better.” She gestures up at the crow.
“It seems to like your place.”
“Perhaps.”
They both hear a dull thumping noise coming from the cupboard, and raise their heads just in time for a small sack of flour to come crashing down and exploding on Vinestaff’s face. She winces and slowly reaches up to wipe some of the powder away from her eyelids. 
“Oh, lord.”
Ghosdeeri wheezes as the flour settles around Vinestaff, laughter threatening to erupt from her lungs.

After Ghosdeeri chokes down the urge to burst out laughing at Vinestaff, she grabs a towel from the drying rack, wetting it slightly in the sink and wiping the bulk of the flour off of Vinestaff’s face.  Vinestaff murmurs soft thanks as she does so, and takes the towel from her to clean off the remainder of the flour herself. 

Ghosdeeri turns her attention to the crow, placing her hands on her hips and glaring up at it.  The crow bobs its head up and down, taunting her. 
She huffs and exits the room, mumbling various insults resembling “stupid bird” under her breath as she does so.  When she comes back, she comes clutching a long broom, and threateningly waves the long handle of it up at the crow. 
“Shoo!”
The crow caws and hops about to avoid her first few attempts to get at it, but the broom eventually does make contact with the crow. It squawks in alarm, frantically flapping around the room and smashing into walls multiple times before being disgracefully clobbered back out the window it originally came in through. 
She places the broom down and leans out the window, swiveling her head around and making sure the crow is gone. 
“Satisfied that it’s finally gone?”
Ghosdeeri grunts. “Not particularly, no. I would’ve liked to have made skewers out of the wretched thing.”
Vinestaff snickers and pats her on the back.  “Regardless, thanks for helping me clean off.”
“…You’re welcome.”
“Come rest on the couch with me? You must be tired after swinging around that heavy broom.”
“Mmmm. Of course.”

Windforce watches from afar in a tree as they eventually drift off to sleep, Vinestaff leaning against Ghosdeeri’s shoulder.   

Chapter Text

BANG BANG BANG

Slingshot jumps at the sound, but rolls his eyes when he realizes that it’s probably just Skateboard dropping by and bashing loudly on the back entrance in his usual gracious manner.

He places his small pile of pending orders down on the counter, and walks over to the back door. He cracks the door open and cautiously peeks his head out to look, letting out a strangled noise when strong arms immediately wrap around his neck and tug him outside and into a tight embrace.

“Sling! It’s you!” Skateboard beams happily down at Sling, in contrast to Sling’s mildly displeased (and strangled) expression.
“I’m especially busy with orders today, please leave me be.”
“You always are!” Skateboard lets Slingshot go, and Slingshot stumbles away and takes a few deep breaths to ground himself before replying.

“Running a restaurant isn’t easy, you know. I’d be happy to spend time with you after I close up shop.”
Skateboard frowns. “But that’ll take forever.”

“Be patient, you’re not five years old.”
“At least let me help you? Please?” Slingshot opens his mouth to reply with an immediate refusal, but the words drain away from him when Skateboard stares at him with an absolutely childish, pleading expression.

“Fine, fine! Just don’t mess anything up!”
“Yayyy!”
“Or eat anything that isn’t yours! I spent way too long having to explain to that other patron whose food you ate about why their order was taking so long!”
“Aw man!!”

Skateboard fidgets around on his stool as he watches Slingshot move from station to station in the cafe, mixing drinks and plating various different pastries that he’d just made this morning.

His gaze drifts away to look at some of the customers, and he notices a distinct red and blue pair sitting at a booth.

“Say, isn’t that Sword and Rocket?”
“Yeah. They drop by somewhat often, you’ve just coincidentally never been around when they’ve come.”

“I see!”

He excitedly waves at the pair, but they’re too preoccupied with each other to notice him.

“Do they always stare at each other like that? It’s weird!”
“Huh?” Slingshot turns his head from the coffee machine that he’d been occupied with, and squints at the pair.
“I’ve never seen them doing that before, odd.”
“Odd, indeed!”
“Well, it’s none of my business. I’m a busy man, you know?” He turns back to the machine.
“Hmmmmm…”

Skateboard continues watching the pair for a while longer, when a loud thump sounds from the window beside him.
“Hey!” He swings his head around.
There’s a light grey crow plastered on the window. It slowly slides downward with a comical screeching sound.

Skateboard gawks at it. Why is it here?
When the crow comes to its senses, it perks up at the sight of Skateboard and pecks at the glass, seemingly wanting something.
“Stupid bird!”

He waves his arms at the bird in a (not very) threatening manner, but all it does is halt its pecking to tilt its head at him.

“Shoo!”

The crow hops about on the windowsill for a few more seconds before turning and taking flight, and Skateboard watches it go, feeling proud of himself.
“Skate, could you help me with this order?”
“Oh! Yeah, coming!” He merrily hops off his stool and runs over to Slingshot, who is busily scribbling notes on various different order forms with one hand and balancing two plates in the other.
“Could you deliver that coffee to booth 7?” He pauses writing and waves his arm at a mug sitting on the counter. “It’s the one between the door and the left front window.”

“On it!” Skateboard scoops up the mug and goes out from behind the counter, making his way to said booth. He bumps into several other patrons on his way, and they glare at his back as he does so.
“Here you are! He puts (slams) down the mug on booth 7’s table, startling the two customers at the booth, a fed-up looking man donning tall green antlers on top of checkered dark green clothing, and a (hideous smelling) bright pink man with 4 short horns framing their face and disagreeable-looking monochrome clothing. “
(Also, he spills a fair bit of the coffee as he slams it down.)
“Hey!! Watch it!!! You nearly splashed that nasty brown water on my state-of-the-art uniform!!!”
“Your uniform is not “state-of-the-art”, half of the staff at Blackrock has that same exact outfit.”
As the pink man pouts, the green man turns to Skateboard. “Thanks for the delivery.”
“No problem!” He sticks his tongue out at the pink man as he walks away, and the pink man lets out an indignant shriek at the action and yells out various half-comprehensible speech about murdering Skateboard before the green man tells him to shut up.

“Skateboard, you really shouldn’t do that to customers.”

“But they were being so unpleasant!”
“To be fair, you are bumbling around like a giant clumsy oaf in a busy area. Also, you definitely could’ve placed down the mug with a little more caution.”
“I am not a clumsy oaf! And bah!!”
Slingshot pauses his writing to regard Skateboard with an unimpressed expression. “Uh huh.”
“I’m not!!”
“You have worse fine motor control than a caveman.”
“I do not! Meet me at central park after and I’ll show you!!”
Slingshot snorts. “Fine, whatever you say. I’ll come after I close up.”

Skateboard leaves the establishment early to go ponder ideas for his meet with Slingshot, and comes up with the genius idea of attempting to toss his (not very aerodynamic) skateboard at Slingshot.

As he’s awkwardly holding up the board in a pose that would ordinarily be used for throwing javelins, he hears snickering behind him. He abruptly whips around, seeing Slingshot with a smirk on his face.

“You look stupid.”
“Do not!”
“Was this your brilliant idea to prove you’re not a bumbling oaf?”
“Yeah!!”
“Well, I’m waiting. Impress me.” Slingshot leans against a tree and twirls their slingshot on the tip of their finger, watching Skateboard.

Skateboard hesitates for a moment before reluctantly stepping back into the javelin pose.

“Posture’s wrong in all the places, you know.”
Skateboard frowns. He looks down at the board clutched in his hands, decides to ditch the pose, and simply flings the board with considerable force at Slingshot.
Slingshot dodges the board with ease, and the board lodges upright into the mud behind.
“Well, that sure was an attempt, I suppose.” He swivels his head back to look at the board.
As he turns back to look at Skateboard, he sees Skateboard charging at him.
“Rahhhh!!!”
“AA-“
Slingshot has just barely enough time to dodge out of the way, and Skateboard clumsily stumbles as he tries to slow himself, slumping into the grass.
“Owww…”
As he lays on the grass, a small sharp object pelts against his horn. “Hey!”

Another. Skateboard shakes his head and fumbles around on the grass until he feels one of the offending objects, and brings it up to his face to examine it.
It’s an acorn. He winces as yet another one bounces off his helmet.
“Stoppp!!” He flings the acorn away.
Slingshot only snickers, readying another acorn.

When Skateboard finally manages to get up(Slingshot assaulting him the entire way up), he charges again at Slingshot.  Slingshot nimbly sidesteps the attack once again, and Skateboard ends up smashing directly onto the tree that had been behind him. 

BONK

“OW!!!”
Skateboard falls backwards into the grass with his vision spinning.

Just then, a strong gust of wind tears through the park, through the trees, and Skateboard is absolutely showered with a barrage of tens of sharp little acorns.

“WAAAAA!!!”

He can distantly hear Slingshot hollering with laughter in the background. 

Chapter Text

At the top of the crossroads spire, Windforce sits, watching the city below. Her sharp eyes can pick out even the smallest details in the city, and she idly sweeps her gaze to and from different happenings in the community.

A short demon dressed in green and navy haggling with another over the price of decommissioned mechanical parts in an alleyway, hidden away from prying eyes…

A scruffy-looking pink demon deliberately scaring a child on the streets by suddenly bending down and yelling “RAHHH” in its face, causing it to cry out in fear, and then being dragged away and scolded by a reserved green demon…

The red and the blue mortal from earlier, walking in the park, brushing shoulders as they giggle to each other…

The news stand at city central, with various headlines reading ‘Police state a criminal has escaped recently and is on the run’, ‘New happenings! Rumors of a new god! Is there another divine being watching over us alongside Firebrand’s holy light?’

Windforce frowns at the last headline.

Her gaze drifts over to the fountain in the city center, where demons of varying colors and qualities pop out every so often, some from couples sacrificing their livelihoods to the fountain to have a biological child pop out, but most arriving alone without anybody waiting to anticipate their arrival.

Now, the government does pick them up and take them away to be cared for, but it sometimes takes several hours for anybody to show up…

She watches as caretakers arrive and sweep away the most recent batch of new spawns, but as they are leaving, one more pops out of the fountain. They fail to notice him as they are driving away.
Windforce can’t help but feel sorry for the freshspawn, and she observes as he glances around in panic and confusion.  The passing civilians barely pay any attention to him, but the ones who do stop and point at him as they shake heads and whisper among themselves, and Windforce wonders why.

As he flinches away from their reactions and turns his head away, she finally realizes why.

He has two pairs of eyes, much like herself. Almost all civilians only have two eyes, and Windforce has watched many of the ones who have four be bullied and outcasted from society time and time again.

Deformed, weirdo, ugly, four eyes, never fit in-

Windforce shakes herself from her thoughts and tucks her wings in to swoop down towards the child.

As she makes her landing, she scoops the child into her arms, earning a yelp from said child, and the nearby civilians all immediately freeze and gawk at the sight of her. She frowns at them and spreads her wings, taking flight with the child in tow.

—

Firebrand is abruptly awoken from his slumber by the sound of something bashing on the knocker of his front door, and he hoists himself up from his bed, infuriated and grumbling.

‘Lord, what is it now…’

The bashing only seems to get louder in the time it takes him to tidy up and make sure he looks at least somewhat presentable, and his eyebrows furrow with displeasure.

“Would you stop that infernal racket? I’ll be there in just a second!”, he irritably grunts out as he adjusts his belt.

A haughty huff comes from behind the door, but the racket does halt.
“This is important! Hurry your slow ass up!” Ah, Windforce.

“You say everything is important every time you visit me!” Firebrand mumbles under his breath about Windforce having no patience or class as he straightens his cravat and turns to head for the door.
He swings the door open with considerable force(nearly slamming it out of its frame in the process), and glares at Windforce.

“What could possibly be so important for my dearest sister to come bashing on my door at 5 in the morning? You interrupted me from the pleasant dream I was having about…” His voice trails off and his gaze drifts slightly downward as he speaks.

Windforce is tightly holding a small child in her arms, with two (relatively) large purple horns and two pairs of eyes, much like herself. Firebrand gawks at it, but then his face twists as he tries to repress a smile and he snorts in amusement. The child’s expression looks a bit strangled.
“I think you are crushing it half to death, Windforce.”

Windforce rolls her eyes at him, but slightly loosens her grip, and the child gasps in relief for air and looks up to glare at her.

He smirks at her. “I didn’t think my dear sister ever do such a thing. Congrats on your child!”
Windforce’s expression contorts into a disturbed scowl. “It’s not mine, you halfwit burnt old campfire!”
“So… you stole it? From who, exactly? An unfortunate civilian? I didn’t think my dear sister would stoop so low!” A guffaw bubbles up inside of him, threatening to erupt from his chest, and it takes every last shred of his self-control to prevent it from bursting out. 

Windforce glares bloody murder at him and wishes that she could reach out and strangle him right then and there, but she can’t do anything with both her arms occupied.

“It was sitting at the spawn, all alone. I found it pitiful, so I took him with me”, she huffs. She looks down at the child and it stares back up at her in discontent, still unhappy from when she was crushing it prior.
“Abducting children now, are we?”
“No.” Firebrand sniggers at her and leans against the doorway, crossing his arms.
“Tens of these sorts of mortals pop out of the spawn daily, what made you want to pay closer attention to this one?”
“Dunno.” Firebrand raises an eyebrow at her, doubtful.
“Really, now.”
Windforce cringes at his expression.  “…He reminds me of myself, from when I was young. Just a little bit”, she admits.

“Ooooh, very interesting! And how, exactly, do I have anything to do with this?” Firebrand rests his chin on his knuckle, smiling.
“... I changed my mind about wanting to keep the child. Could you-“
“Nope!” Firebrand steps back and cheerily slams the door in her face, startling the child in the process.
“Hey! I wasn’t done speaking to you!” Windforce bangs on the door, infuriated.
“That’s your problem now! I’m going back to bed, but have fun with your brand new obligation! Lalalalaaa…” Firebrand’s voice trails off as he retreats further back into his house.

Windforce sighs, looking back down at the child, who is now wiggling and thrashing around in a largely ineffective attempt to escape from her arms.
“Well, I guess I’m stuck with you.”

—

“STOP THAT!”
The child sits on the floor, busily chewing on various pieces of silverware amidst a cacophony of various ruined objects and shattered glassware. Various articles of clothing are impaled on both of his horns, and he looks rather pleased with himself.
“YOU’VE ONLY BEEN HERE SEVENTEEN MINUTES, HOW HAVE YOU ALREADY BROKEN OR DESTROYED HALF THE OBJECTS IN MY HOUSEHOLD?”  Windforce attempts to snatch the silverware out of his mouth and hands, but he turns his body the other way to avoid her grasp.
“Rrrrrrrr!!!” He digs his teeth deeper into the silverware and stares up at Windforce, seemingly challenging her.
“WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH YOU?” Windforce cups her face in her hands and screams out in frustration, and the child giggles at her.