Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Inspired by Vauschen's I can't phucking aim !!

While my thing isn't a Phighting Isekai, Vauschen's fic inspired a lot of the character concepts and backstories. Go check em out!! literally an amazing fic

Quick intro to the four Phighting OCs I have:

Soda Pop

Pronouns: She/They
Orientation: N/A
Age: 22
Height: 5"2'
Gear: Bloxy Cola

Support Phighter
Health 90
Shield 50

Former Thieves’ Den member, now factionless (after an incident with Blackrock).

Notorious for the amount of horns on her head and their monochrome coloring not matching with her gear, but also for her weird mood swings and nonchalant, chaotic personality.

Hates Subspace with a burning passion. 

Catapult

Pronouns: He/They
Orientation: AroAce
Age: 24
Height: 6"2'
Gear: Roman Catapult

Ranged Phighter
Health 75
Shield 10

Former Playground member, now factionless.

His easygoing, chill personality doesn’t match well with his judging demeanor. Catapult is someone quick to judge and quicker to act. He’s defensive, but that’s just a facade in order to protect those he cares about.

Has been married to MG for almost two years.

Moneybag Mines (MG)

Pronouns: She/Her
Orientation: Bi
Age: 23
Height: 5"8'
Gear: (Modified) Moneybag

Ranged Phighter
Health 100
Shield 50

Former Lost Temple Member, factionless now. 

A known bank robber that goes by the name “Bux”

Formerly just Mines, MG illegally modified her gear and changed her name to escape the consequences of a particularly bad heist. Her lavish personality comes from an internal, suppressed want to make amends for those she’d wronged in the past.

Catapult, her husband, doesn’t know of her nighttime activities. She won’t let him know.

Gravity Coil

Pronouns: She/Her
Orientation: N/A
Age: 25
Height: 5"6'
Gear: Gravity Coil

Melee Phighter
Health  75
Shield 100

A Playgrounder and gang leader who’s taken up a job in Crossroads as a personal trainer for prospecting Phighters. Catapult’s childhood best friend and self-declared siblings. Extremely protective over those she cares about and will use her analytical eye to analyze everything she can.

Catapult doesn’t know she’s still involved in gang activity and she doesn’t plan on telling him anytime soon.

Renders all made by Jehuty!! Check them out, they're amazing :3

Please tell me if the images don't load, cause if not I'll just shove the filegarden links in lol

For additional bio information, check out their profiles!

Chapter Text

“Another day, another slay!”

“Soda, shut up.” A blue-horned demon scowled at his companion, lugging along the oversized catapult that corresponded with his own name. “I am. Tired.”

“You’re such a party pooper, Catapult.” Soda stuck out her tongue, pulling out a can of her gear and cracking it open. Catapult sighed, watching the smaller demon down the drink like it was nothing. 

“You’re going to get cavities if you continue on like that…”

“Pfft.” Soda tossed the empty can to the side, the gear flickering out of existence when it hit the ground. “Not like any of us can afford healthcare!”

“Point there,” Catapult mused, readjusting his grip on his grapple and giving his gear a good tug. 

Crossroads was quiet today, instead of the bustling city that it usually was. Even at night, lights would flicker, soft music would play, and there would be the occasional blood splatter from a nearby scuffle.

Such was the way of demons living in the Inpherno.

Which was why it was super weird that Crossroads was quiet today. If Catapult strained his ears, he’d probably be able to hear crickets.

“Wonder what’s happening?” he muttered under his breath, twisting his head to the side and surveying the buildings in the distance. His free hand came up to absentmindedly rub at his horns, messing with the gold rings hanging off of them. 

Soda Pop, on the other hand, paid no mind, simply downing another one of her peach-flavored Bloxy Colas and tossing the empty can to the side. “Cat cat cat–”

“What?” Catapult glanced back at the sugar demon, watching her vibrate in place. “What is it?”

“We’re here.”

“...Huh?”

Catapult glanced up. 

The towering building of Flipside Tower greeted his eyes. Well shit. They were here.

“What are you waiting for, dummy?” Soda grabbed his free hand, pulling him along with a weirdly firm strength, despite her small stature. “Zuka’s car is right there–”

Catapult pulled back, eyeing the truck with an uncertain eye. “You think my gear will fit on that–”

Lo and behold, none other than Ban Hammer opened the passenger’s side of the car, hefting himself out–

And his gigantic gear with him.

Catapult blinked, dropping his grapple and holding up both hands in an attempt to make sense of what just happened. The truck was that big– but Ban Hammer– but truck– but gear?

His head hurt. How did–?

“It’s better to not question it.” Soda Pop, in a brief gesture of uncharacteristic solemnity, quietly patted Catapult’s arm. “Just don’t question it.”

Catapult wasn’t sure if he wanted to question it in the first place.

Chapter Text

Hit. Punch. Swing. Dodge.

It was a part of Gravity Coil’s daily life. Quite literally something she did everyday. 

“C’mon, I know you can do better than that,” she chastised, whacking another demon’s arm down.

Nameless. All of them. She’d bother to remember this guy’s name if they’d refrained from being a complete piece of ass.

Which is exactly what they didn’t do, stumbling forward and swearing at her.

She’d dealt with this many times before.

Stay calm. You’re getting paid.

“Again,” Coil ordered, dodging a clumsy swing. “How do you expect to be good at the game if you can’t even get into the games in the first place, hm?”

Another swear. Another swing. Mediocre at best. A fatal mistake at worst.

This time, Coil didn't attempt to dodge the pathetically sad attempt. She caught the demon's fist, twisting to the side and throwing them over her shoulder. She suppressed a wince at the harsh thunk and soft crack. Oops. Probably broke a finger or two. 

If she had broken something, the demon certainly didn't show it. They simply lay on the ground, gasping for air, while she watched them with an impassive expression.

“We’re done for today.”

She pushed her pity to the back of her mind and turned her back on them, starting to walk away. “We’ll continue this next week.”

The whir of a gear being charged was the only warning Coil got before she whipped around, throwing her own gear upward and creating a charge-powered gust of air that knocked the other demon off balance. Their gear’s flashing lights dimmed, the gun powering down.

Amateur.

All pity was gone.

“On second thought, I’m not going to be seeing you next week, or ever.” Coil opened the door of the studio she had rented out. “Have a good rest of your life.”

The door closed behind her. Coil leaned against the wall of the building, feeling the buzz of her gear dying down, sky-blue sparks dancing against her skin. The rain fell against her healed scars, showering a gentle dampness on the dryness of her arms.

SFOTH, she was so tired. 

The door slammed open next to her, barely missing hitting her arm, if not for her last minute dodging. The demon from before walked out, muttering obscenities under their breath. They spotted her, advancing–

A simple glare was enough to make the demon turn away, their metaphorical tail tucked between their legs. Coil sighed, watching the demon all but sprint away, feet splashing against neon-lit puddles. Putting the incident in the back of her mind, she ignored the demon's retreat and instead checked her watch, wiping away droplets to get a good look at the clock. 

6:47. What time was she supposed to be there? 

She pulled out her phone, shielding the screen with her sleeve. Scrolling through her texts, Coil clicked on the one with an obnoxiously pink profile. 

7:00 was when they were meeting, if Soda's illegible spelling was deciphered correctly. Where again? 

Coil clicked on the sent location. 

…oh snap.

Iron Cafe was halfway across Crossroads. Uhm. This would be fun. 

Coil twisted the gravity coil around her arm, looking nervously up at the sky. Hopefully she wouldn't be too late…

Hopefully. 

She eyed the rooftop. Maybe there was a shortcut? 

The flash of blue sparks, and then Coil was in the air, drifting slowly downwards to gently land on top of the roof of the building. She eyed the slowly setting sun, watching neon lights gradually grow brighter and brighter. Regaining her footing, Coil navigated the shallow puddles and tiles of the rooftops, jumping from one to another. 

It was a popular method of travel in Crossroads. As Coil parkoured her way around, she spotted other demons doing the same. One was even using a jetpack gear to rush through the air. 

Coil would know, she almost crashed into them. 

Eventually, the Iron Cafe came into view. And with it, the ending of the rain. 

Coil landed on the rooftop, using her gear to float down to the entrance and making her way inside. 

She made her way upstairs, watching the world outside become stained with pinks and blues and gentle golds, watching it fade to a dark, starry night. 

“COIL!! HAI!!!”

Coil startled, glancing to her right and spotting a familiar flash of pink, “Soda!”

“Yo.”

“Cat!”

“Hey.”

Coil smiled, raising a hand in greeting. “Hey, MG.”

And the four of them watched the sunset together.

I drew this and then wrote the short for it lmao

Chapter Text

He was their ace. Their four-pointer. The one to never fail. The one to make every shot.

Turf wars in Playground were violent. Bloody. Deathly, if the wrong people were in the way.

An entire conflict could be escalated if the wrong person walked into the wrong section.

Everyone knew to avoid their turf, though.

Because they knew. They knew if they were ever to start a conflict, they’d be taken down.

His gang was never the type to brawl. Never the type to show off strength.

No.

They dealt with things quietly.

He was their ace.

And he knew how to aim.

Catapult shot up, sweat beading down his brow, his limbs cold and hands shaking. The blurry room refused to focus, but he couldn’t care less.

His arms and legs burned, phantom pain dancing and flickering across his skin under the rough scar tissue that made up most of him.

Catapult took in a shaky breath, hugging his arms around himself. He took in another breath, squeezing his eyes shut and forcing himself to calm down.

Five things you can hear.

Breathing.

Snoring.

Shuffling.

The air conditioning.

Crossroads traffic outside.

Four things you can smell.

MG’s fabric softener.

Soda’s peach.

Coil’s lotion.

My horn care products.

Three things you can feel.

My arms.

The wind from the open window.

A blanket. On my lap.

Two things you can taste.

Blood. Bit my tongue.

Popcorn… from earlier.

One thing you can see.

At that, Catapult cracked open his eyes, squinting at the faint, blurry visibility that the moonlight gave him.

He looked down.

The couch.

He was sitting on the couch, a blanket bundled over him. There was a weight on his shoulder, the familiar grooves of his wife’s horns pressing into his skin. 

He could feel her soft breathing as she snuggled against him.

Thankfully, Cat was the tallest out of his group. He carefully peered over MG’s head, making sure not to jostle her.

Coil was curled up on MG’s other side, her arms resting against the couch’s arms and acting as a makeshift pillow. She looked… almost peaceful.

Catapult resisted the small smile that threatened to overtake his features in favor of looking around the room for that familiar spark of teal.

There it was. The gravity coil. Under the couch- right within arm’s reach. Coil was always paranoid. Perks of growing up in Playground, he guesses.

He knows. He grew up in Playground too.

A loud snore interrupted his thoughts, somehow not waking the other two even as Cat jolted. He whipped his head around to search for the source of the sound.

…Soda was draped over the couch like a towel.

Cat suppressed a snort at the sight, pressing a hand against his mouth. He turned away, pulling the blanket up and refocusing his attention back towards the window.

Nighttimes in Crossroads were beautiful.

Even through his SFOTH-damned blurry vision, he could still make out the twinkling of stars through the open window. The cold breeze that came from it froze him down to his core, but he didn’t make a move to go close it.

He didn’t feel like it.

Catapult pulled the blanket over his head, turning away and closing his eyes. He felt himself drifting right back to sleep.

It’s all okay now.

He’s safe.

Inspired by this doodle I did a couple days ago:

Look at them they eeby

(This short would technically be set after MG fell asleep lmao)