#i can’t wait to see them reunite in threads and be chaotic together

[antaripirate]

lila wearing alucard’s hat in sasenroche fills me with joy every time

[riverboundao3ff]

Riverbound, Chapter 10

Your name is POLYPA GOEZEE, and you almost killed your moirail, a jadeblood, and Tegiri’s coworkers all in one go.

Never before have you fucked up a job quite this badly; not just because you didn’t kill any of your targets but because you could have lost them all over again. They disappeared, and they were dead and gone and there was nothing left for you to do but take job after job to try and make ends meet, to fill the jagged, bleeding hole in your bloodpusher that scraped away at you one little piece at a time. It could have been a thousand nights or a thousand sweeps that this carried on, and then--

And then they were underneath you with the point of your blade coming down at their chest.

They were right there.

If you had killed them and Tagora and Stelsa, you know that you would never be able to look Tegiri in the eyes again. How could you, when the one troll you ever really trusted would know that you’re a mercenary, a friend-killer?

You try to not think about that too much.

There is, however, a bit of comfort in knowing that you’d be finally tracked down and culled for killing so many trolls at once. Maybe you’re just a coward, but whatever.

You come back to yourself in time to hear the alien laugh at something. They’re leaning against your side on the loungeplank you’re both relaxing on, pretty head thrown back against your collarbone as they try and muffle their snorting in the sleeve of their hoodie. The heat of their body grounds you to reality like an anchor.

Unfortunately, they’re laughing because of that damn jadeblood-- Lanque, was it? Ugh. He’s gonna be a problem, you just know it. He looks at your moirail with a fondness that doesn’t belong anywhere near his smug bastard face and he looks at you like you’re a piece of shit. Granted, you are definitely a piece of shit, but so is he and sooner or later he’s going to learn that Polypa Goezee doesn’t fuck around when it comes to her quadrants.

“-- And then this kid hands me a sword, except it’s not really a sword because it’s so shittily made that its corporeality is, like, barely hanging in there, and I’m able to hold it! I still have no idea if the thing was existing in multiple dimensions at once or why I was able to actually wield it, but still,” the alien explains fervently, gesturing around them with their hands. “One of these days I’m gonna take you guys to meet my human friends. It’ll be totally chaotic.”

“You have near total control of time and space, and you’re excited because you can hold a sword? No wonder you and Kalbur got along so well,” Tagora scoffs.

“Gor-Gor, it was the most incredible piece of shit sword I’ve ever laid eyes upon. To only describe the encounter with words is hardly doing it justice,” they shoot back.

There it is again. Apparently, your moirail has superpowers.

The story they told about what happened to them was horrifying enough, and you can see as clear as night how much it’s affecting them. When they talked about certain things, like that orb-headed god, they just… caved in on themselves. The light went from their beautiful alien eyes. Their pulse spiked and didn’t go down until they were almost done talking. How they were resting against you, chatting happily with their other friends, was beyond you. You are barely processing anything right now and the horrorterrors know you’ve already been through hell. You have been through hell, and you came out stronger, tougher, meaner, and a deep-seated hatred in your belly for the world that tried to kill you as a child.

Your moirail is soft and gentle, and yet they survived.

… The both of you are going to need so many piles.

But you know that won’t be happening until later. The moons are going down, and tomorrow you will be going on a resistance mission against the Alternian Empire. It doesn’t seem real.

You wave absently to Stelsa as she takes her leave, with Lanque doing the same not long after. He tries to get your moirail to come back to the caverns with him, pulling out all kinds of excuses like “The kids will miss you,” and “Aren’t all of your things in Lynera’s study?”

“Go ahead, dude, I’ll see you soon. Tell the others I’ll be back tomorrow,” the alien assures him, the pair leaning against each other as they walk Lanque to the door.

The jadeblood hums reluctantly. “Be safe.”

“I wouldn’t make my moirail sleep rough,” you tell him coldly.

Lanque gives you a nasty look over the alien’s head before smiling down at them. The second he strides out the door and shuts it you release a long, low hiss that has Tagora cowering in his rich-boy office chair.

Your moirail does a double-take. “What was that?”

“Nothing. Just tired.”

Tagora purses his lips and makes a big show of not meeting your eyes. You flash him the hilt of one of your blades.

“Oh… kay,” they mutter, clearly confused but willing to give it up. “Ready to head out?”

You feel a smile tug on your lips. “Yeah.”

Something in your back clicks when you stand and your forearm is still aching like a bitch from when Bombyx nearly ripped it off, but your mood lightens considerably when the alien thanks Tagora profusely for letting everybody hang out at his hive, leading the way to the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Good day!” they call back as they bounce down the stairs.

“Call me if you need anything!” he yells back from his office, eyeing you shrewdly over the rim of his mug. “And don’t die.”

You roll your eyes and quickly catch up to your moirail. They bump their shoulder against your arm, and you thread your fingers through theirs. It’s like they never disappeared, like the last six perigees were nothing but a bad dream.

There’s a lump in your throat that refuses to go away.

“So…” they mumble, not looking at you. Their shoulders are hunched up ever so slightly. “What have you been up to?”

The question is so absurd you make a noise that’s half-laughter and half-crying. “Well, you know. Um. Taking jobs. Wandering around, seeing what the city has to offer.”

“That’s good,” they encourage.

“If I’d known there was a… resistance faction in Thrashthrust, I would have had a lot more to do. People ought to make fliers if they want others to join their clubs, you know,” you joke.

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s the perfect place for it.”

You huff in amusement. How are they so good at this? “Your friends are… interesting.”

“Dude, you haven’t seen much yet. Wait until you meet Ardata. She’s a Grubtuber who tortures people in her basement.”

“Why would you make friends with somebody who tortures people in her basement?”

“Well, she tortured me in her basement, and then we had dinner together.”

“I-- what the fuck?”

“We had a long talk about her life choices and what it meant to be a highblood in Alternian society. Then we hugged and she let me go once I promised we could hang out sometime.”

“Why do you insist on hanging around those kinds of people?” you demand. You can’t believe your own goddamn moirail just casually mentioned they were tortured in the cellar of some highblood monster.

“In my defense, I’m kind of a dumbass.”

“Kind of?” you splutter, and you can’t help but start laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. They join in, swinging your joined hands back and forth as you two make your way over to the teal part of Thrashthrust. Maybe you wouldn’t be able to tell Tegiri everything about what was going on, but he did deserve to reunite with his friend and fellow anime nerd.

The look on his face when you let yourself and the alien in is worth more than any cull bounty. Dogdad, formally known as Tadashi Inu, usually so stoic, goes absolutely apeshit and almost takes your moirail to the ground when he jumps up on them, whimpering with delight. You dodge around the pair, mostly to avoid Tadashi’s tail wagging at terminal velocity and tackle Tegiri in a hug of your own.

“Surprise,” you giggle.

“Polypa,” he gasps, squeezing you tightly, before exploding in laughter and dragging you over to the alien and Tadashi. The four of you collapse on the ground in a heap, with Tegiri screeching demands as to how the hell his long-lost friend is alive and well and Tadashi barking up a storm.

“Shinjirarenai! I thought you were dead! I thought--” He quickly rubs his eyes under his glasses, which you graciously pretend not to notice. “Just… how?”

“It would take a lot more than death to break up the Eastern Alternian Fine Animated Art Appreciation Society!” your moirail sings, throwing their arms around Tegiri’s neck. He hugs them back, a rare, shameless grin lighting up his face like the moons.

“It’s a hell of a story,” you summarize. “You could make a whole anime out of this alien’s life, I swear. Absolute insanity.”

“You can say that a-fuckin’-gain,” they yawn, thunking their head down on Tegiri’s side. You can tell that they’re at the end of their energy cycle. Their movements are just a bit slower than usual, and they look ready to pass out right on top of your poor tealbood friend.

“What happened to you? Anata o mite! I can feel your bellow-sac enclosures through your clothes!” Tegiri exclaimed, shoving them off him and furiously patting the alien’s sides, making them squeak.

“Tegiri, I’m fine, dude. I’m just a little underweight. It’s been… rough,” they say, not meeting his worried gaze.

“Hmph. Well, I’m making food, and you’re going to eat it! All of it!”

With a whirl of his trenchcoat, he storms off to the kitchen. The hive is soon filled with the sounds of pots and pans banging, followed by a delicious smell that makes your acid tubes wiggle in anticipation.

The rest of the morning is spent talking, watching anime, and eating yourself into a coma. Your moirail falls asleep pretty quickly, so you and Tegiri cry a little by yourselves as you retell their story to him.

“All we can do is support them. Help them fight their inner demons. We all have them, after all,” Tegiri states. He grips the sheath of his sword for comfort. “Some more than others.”

You nod. “Always.”

:::

Tegiri is long gone when you and your moirail wake up the next evening, which doesn’t surprise you given his class schedule.

“Probably a good thing, too,” you mutter to the alien as you pull your pants back on. “‘Giri would shit a brick if he knew what the rest of our social lives entail.”

Your moirail is still sprawled out on the loungeplank, also devoid of pants, their pale skin glowing silver in the light of the rising moons. “I wish he’d join us. Can’t he see that the system hurts him, too?”

You shake your head. “He’d rather fall on his own blade than admit anything’s wrong with Alternia. He’s always been that way, and he probably always will.”

They don’t say anything, but you can practically feel their thinkpan going at a thousand miles an hour as they get dressed.

The both of you stop at a breakfast place on the way to the hideout to grab some food-- or, rather, you did, since your moirail needs to stay out of crowded public places for the time being. Walking down the street would be fine, since this is Alternia and people mind their own business, but anything else is a possible risk.

Fifteen minutes until the drone cycles start.

The abandoned building isn’t hard to find, even without the address. Turn right on Slitgullet Street, walk on down a few blocks, and boom, there’s the drone factory. Behind it is half a dozen warehouses and an alleyway. A hill rises up to meet a stretch of woodland, and at the crest sits a run-down heap that probably used to be part of the factory.

“That thing looks like it’s going to come down at any moment,” you hiss.

“Well, if it starts to go, I’ll just zap us out of there,” your moirail promises.

“About that…” You pause, wondering how to bring this up without it sounding like you think your beloved friend is lying. “So, you really do have powers? You can teleport?”

“Yep!”

“So how come you didn’t just teleport us here?”

They tilt their head, looking thoughtful. “I can teleport to places I’ve never been before, sure, but it’s a complete shot in the dark as to where I’m actually gonna end up. We might have ended up on top of the roof, or ten feet in the air, or somewhere inside that could be dangerous.”

“Oh, okay.” You’re not sure about their human units of measurement, but you get the idea now. Teleporting is risky. Got it.

The two of you trudge up the hill to the building and wiggle your way inside through one of the many holes in the walls. It’s dusty and gross, and cloudy moonlight streams down through the holes in the roof, lighting up the wreckage littered everywhere. Judging by the smell, something or someone had recently died here.

“I can’t see,” the alien mutters, grabbing your arm.

“Not much to enjoy. It’s gross in here.” You carefully guide them around the debris as you make your way towards a less messy part of the building. “Tell that jadeblood boy of yours that next time, I’m picking the hideout--”

“Tell me what?”

You bite your tongue when you see your moirail’s eyes light up as a tall, lean figure slinks out of the shadows, followed by three more silhouettes. Two of them you recognize as Tagora and Stelsa, but the girl in the gray jacket is new.

“Hi, guys! Ready for crime?” they ask, before their brows furrow. “Wait, where’s Daraya?”

Lanque shakes his head. “Bronya grounded the four of us. I’m the only one who managed to sneak out.”

You snort. “Holy shit, you’re a grown-ass man and you still get grounded?”

“Listen, I certainly don’t ask to be treated like a wiggler, so shut it.”

“Does your head jade let you speak like that?”

Lanque’s lips peel back to reveal those dagger-sharp fangs of his, and your arm pangs in response. Before you can get ready to fight, your moirail is standing between you two with their hands braced against both of your chests.

“If you two can’t learn to behave, I’m zapping the both of you right out of here,” they state.

“Tell your moirail to keep her mouth shut--”

“I will, Lanque, as long as you don’t attack her. Polypa, cut the crap. Please. Thank you.”

“Fine,” you agree, glaring at Lanque as you step back.

“Anyways…” Tagora sighs, rolling his eyes. “Polypa, this is Tyzias. Tyzias, Polypa. She’s sort of our leader.”

“Hi.” Tyzias nods to you. She’s not much bigger than Tagora, and she looks like she hasn’t gotten a good day’s rest in half a sweep. Her white button-down is about two sizes too big. There’s a noticeable smear across the left lens of her glasses, like she’d grabbed them in a rush.

“Hey,” you say. This chick is the leader of a rebellion? Huh.

“Okay, so you guys basically came up with the whole plan last night, so yeah. Our mutual friend here is gonna teleport in, place the bombs in all five sectors of the factory, and get out. Since you’re going along, you can provide an extra set of eyes to make sure you guys aren’t caught.”

Tagora hands off the backpack to the alien, who nods and shoulders it without complaint.

“This is where you’re headed.” Tyzias whips out a map and points to an area circled in red, with five circles of blue within. “You have four hours total to find the control rooms, plant the bombs, and skedaddle. There won’t be too many workers there, but you still need to be extremely careful. Avoid the security cameras, obviously.”

“Got it.”

“Yep.”

Stelsa checks her timeteller. “In ten, nine, eight…”

You take your moirail’s hand, and they squeeze it tight. You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Is this even going to work?

“Five, four, three…”

Your moirail’s eyes shut in deep concentration.

“... two, one.”

It all happens in a beat of your bloodpusher. At the end of Stelsa’s countdown, your surroundings disappear into a perfect void. There’s no light, no sound, no sensation save the human’s hand clasped firmly in your own.

And then you’re somewhere else, facing a wall with some sort of stain on it.

You blink. “I… well.”

Your moirail squeezes your hand again before letting go. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You really do have powers.”

“Damn skippy.”

You don’t know what that means, but then there’s footsteps coming down the hallway adjacent to the one you two are in. You grab your alien and pull them forward into a doorway. Above your head is an airway cover.

Perfect. With a grunt, you crouch down and leap up to hook your claws into the grating. It only takes one tug for the left end to come loose. Just as you hear the footsteps round the corner, you reach down, grab your moirail, and drag them up into the airway pipe with you.

Huffing, you close the cover behind you. “I think we’re on the first floor.”

“I could have just zapped us up into the vents, you know.”

You grin at them. “Yeah, but that’s less fun.”

They smile and roll their eyes. Shit, you missed them so much.

“Can you move us into a different part of the airways?” you ask.

“Yep. Hang on.”

Space folds around you again. The both of you are now somewhere else in the pipes. It doesn’t look much different to where you guys were before, but now you can hear voices below. Two of them, to be exact. Right behind you is another airway cover, so you turn around to get a better idea of what’s going on.

“... Tune out channel XC-DR so I can connect the…”

“No, try the other one, dumbass--”

Computer room? you mouth to your partner, who purses their lips. Then, their eyes widen when you bring out your daggers. They shake their head frantically, distress making them reel back.

Your moirail is soft, and you love them for it, but you couldn’t let that stop you now.

“Showtime,” you whisper, and then you kick the cover off and fling yourself into the first thing that moves.

[bearlywrite]

Shopping Shenanigans

Word Count: 1940

Summary: I repeat, Arthur Kirkland, your child is at register ten. Well, he knew he didn’t have a child, but he did have an overgrown man-baby that just so happened to be his boyfriend. 

A/N: This was written off this tweet. I thought it was perfect for usuk. 

Ao3

Arthur sighed as Alfred bounced alongside him, scanning the colorful aisles and idly chattering about this food and that. Alfred always insisted on accompanying Arthur on his weekly supermarket trips, something about spending ‘quality domestic time together’, but it was always an exhausting trip when his excitable American boyfriend came with him.

Usually, the Englishman would arrive at the supermarket about an hour after it opened to browse in peace before the mob of people came out to do their weekly shopping. He’d typically leisurely make his way around the store, examining the contents lined on the shelves as he checked off his list of the products he needed for the week.

But when Alfred came with him, everything was less peaceful and far more chaotic.

Since Alfred never wanted to get up at a decent time and go, they usually arrived at the supermarket just as the rush was beginning. That meant parking was terrible, carts were few and far between and aisles were crowded with pushy, rude people. It was frustrating to fight for parking and then a cart – Arthur nearly ran over an old lady and had to wrestle with an annoying brat child to get a cart – and then squeezing past people in the aisles always frustrated Arthur to no end. On other shopping trips weeks past, Arthur had gotten into a bit of a shouting match when someone pushed past him and nearly knocked him over into a display of stacked cereal boxes.

Needless to say, that had not been a fun day.

Arthur continued down the aisle, watching with a small lift in his lips as his boyfriend bounded past him to examine the various brands of soda lined on the walls. He was chattering away about his favorite brand, or how good the deals were and began loading bottles upon bottles of the sugary drinks into their cart.

Arthur shook his head, fondly rolling his eyes at his boyfriend’s antics. Alfred himself was quite a handful as well on these excursions.

He loved to run down the aisles and load their cart with sugary drinks and foods that he insisted they needed. When Alfred came with him they could never leave the store without a heaping cart full of junk food. It certainly cost them far more, yet Arthur couldn’t bring himself to tell Alfred no, especially since the boy somehow ate everything in the house and never let any of the food they bought go to waste.

Lost in his own thoughts, Arthur hadn’t realized they had just turned down the aisle that was the bane of Arthur’s existence when he came with Alfred: the snack aisle.

The aisle that was filled to the brim with cakes, cookies, chips and brownies, every junk food that Alfred insisted be piled into their cart.

He turned slightly to watch his boyfriend, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling as he took in the rows of brightly colored packaging. He could imagine that if he had a tail, it’d be wagging excitably.

The American bounded over to the chips, looking back at Arthur with a grin as bright as the sun as he dropped five bags of chips into their cart.

Arthur stared up at his boyfriend, shaking his head.

“You know, you’re going to make me go bankrupt if you keep buying all this rubbish,” he said, picking up two bags of chips and placing them back on the shelf. Alfred pouted slightly but moved onto the next section, picking up three different packages of cookies only to grin sheepishly at Arthur’s look and set one in their cart and reluctantly placing two back on the shelf.

A child ran past them, reaching between them to grab a package of Oreos before running back to his mother. Alfred pouted, pointing to the boy.

“See, he gets pick whatever snack he wants,” Arthur rolled his eyes as Alfred gingerly picked up one of the packages of cookies again, waving them in front of his face like he was trying to place a spell on him. Arthur swatted his hand away with a slightly exasperated- but no less fond- smile. “and I know you love these cookies as much as I do.”

Arthur bit his lip, eyes locked on the package of cookies, before darting to their already half-full cart.

But damn, he did like those cookies.

The Englishman sighed, and Alfred knew that was a sign that he won the battle and he pumped his fist as he set the package in their cart. He grabbed the handle of the cart with one hand and reached out to thread their fingers together with the other hand.

They somehow managed to leave the aisle of doom, only adding a few more things to their cart before they made their way to Arthur’s favorite aisle.

The reason Arthur preferred this supermarket was for one thing and one thing only: their selection of teas.

It had every brand and every flavor of tea and Arthur always spent far too long in this aisle. Of course, he’d pick up a box of his favorites like early gray and English breakfast, but he’d browse the options each week and pick out a new flavor to try. Last week it was blueberry green tea, which was surprisingly sweet, and he was eager to pick out his experiment for this week.

As the two slowed to a stop in front of the boxes of tea, Arthur felt Alfred’s hand wiggle out of his grasp. He turned to look at his boyfriend questioningly, and he was given a small smile and a peck on the cheek which made his cheeks flush red.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick darling,” Alfred said with a grin. “try not to miss me too much.”

At his wink, Arthur rolled his eyes and shooed his boyfriend away, somewhat thankful that he’d get to choose his tea in peace. Alfred never wanted to wait too long for Arthur to contemplate his decision and always made comments about his ‘nasty leaf water’.

Arthur watched as Alfred left, weaving in between others in the aisle until he was out of sight to return his sights to the rows of tea in front of him.

He immediately grabbed a box of earl gray, knowing that he was dangerously low on his favorite tea. He deposited the box into their cart, eyes scanning along the different tea options laid in front of him.

Colorful boxes jumped out at him, each displaying a different flavor of tea that intrigued him. Arthur found that while he enjoyed the classics, he was quite fond of the more adventurous teas.

Pomegranate, blueberry, raspberry, mango passionfruit – Alfred had made fun of him for that one- they were all surprisingly decent and he’d taken a liking to picking a new ‘exotic’ tea to try.

He scanned the boxes of teas he’d already tried, and though he was tempted to grab another box of the pomegranate, he steeled himself away to different flavors to experiment with.  

After a few minutes of contemplation, he picked up a bright box that advertised a citrus tea that looked interesting and added it to the cart.

He looked around the aisle to see if he could spot a familiar golden blond head, but his boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

With another quick glance around the aisle, the Englishman shrugged and continued past the teas and onto the next aisle, deciding Alfred would be able to find him the next aisle over.

He continued, finding himself falling into his usual routine when he shopped alone. He knew what aisles had the items he needed and he knew right where everything was on the shelves. Without realizing it their cart was full and his list was complete and there was still no sign of Alfred.

He wondered what his boyfriend had gotten himself into in the short trip to the bathroom. Knowing Alfred, he probably got caught up doing some ‘heroic deed’ for an old lady or just got plain lost. He wasn’t the best at navigating such a large store with so many things to catch his attention.

Arthur shook his head. He knew his boyfriend was a child at heart and probably ran off and got distracted somewhere.

He decided then to make his way back to the tea aisle, where Alfred had left him. It’d be the most probable spot for Alfred to be in, Arthur supposed, though he knew Alfred could sometimes be unpredictable.

Just as he was about to turn his cart around and make his way back to the aisle, the loudspeaker crackled to life.

Arthur Kirkland, your child is at register ten.

Arthur paused, ears straining to hear the low voice over the rattling of carts and the giggles of children.

I repeat, Arthur Kirkland, your child is at register ten.

Well, he knew he didn’t have a child, but he did have an overgrown man-baby that just so happened to be his boyfriend.

The man sighed, shoulders sagging and a light chuckle escaping his lips as he turned his cart towards the registers, ready to come pick up his ‘child’.

As he made his way to register ten as prompted, he nearly laughed out loud.

There he was, his twenty-three-year-old boyfriend, sitting in a small chair behind a disgruntled teenage worker with the biggest pout on his face.

He strolled up to the register with a grin, ignoring Alfred’s slight whine as he turned to the teenage employee.

“I thank you for returning my child to me,” Arthur said, barely restraining his laughter. Alfred’s pout only worsened, if that was possible, and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “I hope he wasn’t too much of a handful.”

The girl chuckled and shook her head, turning towards Alfred.

“He was very well behaved.”

“That’s very good to hear.”

Arthur turned to give his boyfriend a wicked grin. Alfred only rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Arthur, the Englishman laughing in amusement at his boyfriend’s antics.

“Well, thank you again, for helping me reunite with my… child.”

Arthur and the employee shared another laugh before Arthur offered his hand to Alfred. Alfred puffed out his cheeks in annoyance but took the hand offered, using it to pull himself out of the small chair.

When he made the move to release Arthur’s hand, the Brit tightened his grip.

“Can’t have you wandering away from me again,” Arthur said, laughing as Alfred whined.

“It took me forever to get to the bathroom and when I finally managed to get back to the tea aisle you were gone,” Alfred whined, his grip on Arthur’s hand tightening. “and I walked the store at least three times looking for you, but I couldn’t find you and my phone was dead.” The American stopped walking and wrenched his hand from Arthur’s and crossed his arms over his chest once more, pouting at the ground.

Arthur watched his boyfriend pout for a moment before reaching out and falling into his chest.

“Well, you found me,” Arthur said, a mischievous grin finding way to his face. He felt Alfred’s arms curl around him and he leaned back from Alfred’s sturdy chest to give him a coy smile.

“Are you going to start calling me ‘Daddy’ now?”

Alfred squawked and pushed Arthur away from him, mumbling something about ‘dirty old man’ under his breath before grabbing the cart and running to the back of a different line to check out their groceries.

Arthur laughed about it all the way to the car.

[twilighteve-writes]

Feather One Divided -- Chapter 2: The Arrival

Fic Summary:

Feather one divided, fate’s ties frayed, Fractured and wedged, scattered and gone.

After sharing an unsettling dream of Felldrake, the Three Caballeros decided to join back together with Xandra to form a stronghold in case the sorcerer returned. But Felldrake’s plans proved to be bigger than they expected, and when he struck so close to home, it was all Donald could do to keep his family – and himself – together.

(Also available in AO3)

(Chapter 1)

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Feather one divided to three,

The emerald, the sapphire, and the ruby.

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Panchito and José came like a storm, like they always did. Donald had told them to contact him if they’d reach Duckburg, but apparently they decided to just show up unannounced at the manor three days before their estimated arrival time, bowling Donald over in an excitable tumble of feathers and giggles, sweeping him into their signature secret handshake and leaving Donald breathless with it.

For a moment, the problem with the dream and his suspected Sheldgoose sighting was forgotten.

“Oh, geez,” Della spoke up, breaking the euphoria that swept over Donald whenever he reunited with Panchito and José. “Last time the handshake wasn’t that long. That seems to get more and more elaborate every time you boys meet up.”

“Della!” José greeted in delight, walking over to her and taking her hand to kiss, causing Della to bark out a surprised laughter. “It’s good to see you, you’re as beautiful as ever – “

Donald dragged him away by the collar. “I told you not to hit on my sister, you big palooka.”

Panchito took his chance and swooped in, hugging Della and getting a surprised squeal. He held Della by the shoulders and asked, “Della! Long time no see, mi amiga! How was the moon?”

“I told you both not to hit on her!” This time, Donald grabbed Panchito and dragged.

“That was not hitting on her! That was greeting her!” José protested. The grin betrayed the hurt his tone would indicate.

“Oh, so I’m not pretty enough for you to hit on, José? Is that it?” Della teased.

“Of course not, Della, minha querida. You are prettier than any white rose – “

“José, oh my god. I will drown you in the pool, I swear.”

“I thought Uncle Donald being put together with Panchito and José is the definition of chaos, but it turns out throwing Mom in makes things even more chaotic,” Dewey commented above the din.

“Oh no, no. If you want chaos, you throw Scrooge in, too,” Panchito told them. “You see, Scrooge – “

Uncle Scrooge stomped down the stairs angrily, yelling, “What is with the ruckus?! Tone it down, you kids!”

“ – is like that,” Panchito continued with a laugh.

Donald sighed. “Sorry, Uncle Scrooge.”

“And I thought you two were coming later this week?” Uncle Scrooge accused.

Donald scratched his cheek. “Uh, about that. I forgot to tell you that they might arrive sooner. Sorry, Uncle Scrooge.”

Uncle Scrooge huffed. “Fine, just keep it down. Gyro’s coming soon to show me some progress on something I asked him to make. I wanted you to see it too.” He glanced to Panchito and José. “I suppose you two can join as well.”

“When is he coming?” Della snatched Donald’s phone from his pocket to check the time.

“Now, if he’s on time,” Uncle Scrooge answered. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. “Oh look, the lad’s on time. Louie, will you open the door for me?”

“Sure, but when Gyro’s around the manor weird things usually happen, so…” Louie shrugged and went to the door. Sure enough, when he opened it, Gyro was there, with Fenton right behind him with a case. Fenton waved at Louie with a cheerful smile, and Louie waved back with a hint of hesitation.

“Hello!” Fenton greeted. “I didn’t think it would be this crowded in the demonstration today. Is the bracelet meant for all of them, Mr. McDuck?”

“Not for these two, but yes,” Uncle Scrooge answered as he pointed at Panchito and José. “Do you have them?”

“And are you sure it’s safe? Because Gyro’s inventions have a weird tendency of getting weird.” Dewey squinted his eyes at the briefcase Fenton held.

“And that’s why we have the beta testing phase, blue nephew,” Gyro told him. He turned to Panchito and José. “Anyway, who are you?”

Panchito snatched his hand and shook it vigorously. “Hola, Donald’s friend! I am Panchito, a good friend of Donald’s, and this is our good friend José!”

José tipped his hat. “We are just visiting. Don’t mind us.”

Fenton’s eyes went wide. “Wait, was that Spanish?”

Panchito turned to him slowly. “…si…?”

Fenton practically lit up and greeted them in Spanish, and Panchito and José both perked up and responded in kind. Donald strained to listen to them; he could understand Spanish and bits of Portuguese that José threw in the conversation, but he wasn’t fluent enough to follow the rapid-fire back-and-forth the three was engaged in. He was pretty sure they’d moved from introduction to… talking about telenovelas? What?

His hunch was proven true when Panchito gasped and turned to Donald. “Donald, you need to drive me to Fenton’s house! I need to meet his m’ma and discuss her excellent taste in telenovelas!”

José gasped dramatically. “I have to argue that! Patos de la Pasión dims in comparison to Las Gemelas and I will fight you on that.”

“Hey, that’s my M’ma’s favorite telenovela you’re dragging through the mud there,” Fenton interjected with a smile.

“My friend, I am not saying Patos is bad. I’m simply saying Gemelas is better.”

Donald rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on. Telenovelas are basically all about a sexy woman seducing a rich man and having the man’s mom or sister or something arrange the woman to have an accident or poisoning or whatever. Throw in amnesia and getting put in the asylum and you’re gold. You just have to choose to have the sexy woman be an innocent woman who knows basically nothing about real life or a bad one who would do anything for cash, including ditching her perfectly fine and hot but poor boyfriend and seducing a wrinkly old man. It’s just a trope bingo.”

Panchito, José, and Fenton let out an offended gasp at the same time.

“How dare you – “

“Listen here – “

“Okay, first of all – “

Donald rolled his eyes at the onslaught the three directed at him. The edge of his beak pulled into a smile. Panchito and José were always so easy to rile up when it came to telenovelas, but he hadn’t expected Fenton to share that.

“How do you even know so much about telenovelas?” Dewey asked, visibly confused.

“They kept sitting me down to watch them,” Donald answered with a shrug.

Uncle Scrooge cleared his throat loudly, and the chatter ceased. He levelled an unamused stare at them. “As interesting as this thread of conversation is, I would like to see the invention, if you please.”

“Right!” Fenton grimaced in embarrassment and rushed to Gyro’s side, offering a sheepish smile when he glared. “Right, the bracelets are here.” He lifted the briefcase he had been holding and opened it to reveal three bracelets. The metallic material gleamed under the light that seeped into the manor, glinting off the small round glass at the middle of the interconnected metal squares.

“They’re only samples, and they’re all still in testing,” Gyro added. He took a bracelet and handed it to Uncle Scrooge. “As you requested, it has a built-in GPS system and can be used for communication as well as showing maps. It’s powered up by motion and body warmth and is heat proof, water proof, break proof, and can sustain deep sea pressures. I can assure you that this is a very strong bracelet.”

“And it also works as a way to provide light!” Fenton took another bracelet, shook it, and tapped at the glass twice. It lit up brightly, and he tapped it twice again. The light died. “I took liberty to put in the map of Duckburg here for demonstration, and – “ he pinched at the glass and flicked it to the air. Said map hovered brightly in bluish hologram. Fenton reached out and zoomed in and out of the map, turning expectantly to Uncle Scrooge.

Uncle Scrooge hummed in thought, weighing the bracelet in his hand. His gaze met Donald’s, and he gestured lightly. Understanding immediately, Donald walked closer to him and took the bracelet when Uncle Scrooge handed it to him.

“You’re probably the one with the best control among all of you. Can you try raising your magic a little?” Uncle Scrooge requested. When Donald gave him a look, he scoffed. “Oh, these are Gyro and Fenton. They’re not going to do anything with that information. And I know how you are with your friends, they probably already know what you can do.”

Donald glanced at the two scientists, who at this point was staring in confusion. He shrugged and called to the familiar push and pull that rested at the back of his mind and called it forth until his vision was overtaken by the sea blue. The soothing rush of his magic filled him to the brim, and he let out a breath.

In his hand, the bracelet fizzled painfully. He let go of it in reflex, squawking in surprise at the sudden sting of electricity it let out. The bracelet fell, already smoking before it even hit the floor, and the surge of magic receded.

“So it can’t handle magic, after all,” Scrooge mused.

“Well, yeah, tech and magic generally don’t mix,” Donald said.

Fenton let out a laugh. “Good one! Now let me check what was wrong with that bracelet, it shouldn’t have exploded like that.”

“It was magic, Fenton,” Donald deadpanned.

Fenton blinked at him, then laughed again, a little uncomfortably this time. When he realized no one else was laughing, he stopped abruptly. “Wait, was that not a joke?”

“No?”

“But… magic?” Fenton turned to Gyro. “Dr. Gearloose? Is this for real?”

Gyro just shrugged. “I learned early on that anything’s possible with this family. You either accept and adapt or you don’t.”

Fenton blinked at him, then looked down at the fallen bracelet. “…okay,” he hedged, taking the fallen bracelet. “Okay. Um, so we should make the bracelet… resistant? To magic?” he grimaced when he said magic, and at this point Donald couldn’t blame him; he probably found the concept too foreign at this point.

Uncle Scrooge nodded. “And this is why I had you two come here. I don’t know how badly magic can damage your – “ he twirled his hand by his head as he searched for words “ – knick-knacks down at your lab. Here is likely safer.”

Gyro stared at the fried bracelet for a moment, clearly thinking. “We’ll need to record the magic, somehow. Try to measure it. Put a number on it somehow.”

“Oh, I can help,” Huey offered. “I’m pretty much free this afternoon, I can definitely help.”

“Yeah, I want to see how you measure magic, too,” Dewey added.

“Same. Wouldn’t it be kinda boring, though?” Louie glanced at Dewey in question.

“What? No! Magic stuff is never boring.”

“Oh, can I watch?” Webby asked. “I’ve wondered about that, too. How do you measure magic?”

“Wait, you kids have it too?” Fenton asked. Judging from his face, he was clearly overwhelmed.

“Webby doesn’t, we three do,” Huey explained. “We just never showed it to anyone. Mostly because there’s no reason to. Webby’s charms are super effective, though.” He looked around. “Can we do the measuring thing outside? Louie can probably risk doing stuff inside, but Dewey and I really shouldn’t use magic indoors. Something will catch fire.”

“…why?”

“Oh, I have fire, Dewey can make lightning, and Louie can control gold.”

Poor Fenton looked like he was had been blindfolded, spun, and told to hit a watermelon that turned out to be a hornet’s nest by then. “…what?”

“We’ll show you outside, it’ll be easier,” Dewey said, bouncing on his heels. His fingers were already twined with white-blue light, and Donald could see Fenton’s eyes zooming in to his hands.

He smiled and took Panchito and José’s hands. “You kids have fun! I’m going to catch up with Panchito and José. We’ll me in the houseboat if you need us.”

“Have fun, boys,” Della called out as she sent a teasing question through their bond, more or less asking if them catching up would also consist of them discussing steamy details. Donald sent her the mental equivalent of telling her to shove off and ignored her amusement.

The three of them entered the houseboat and settled at the dining table, and Donald stared at them. “Did your amulets suddenly appeared?”

José’s gaze went grim. “It did,” he answered, pulling out the square amulet, the green gemstone gleaming in the sunlight. Panchito mirrored the motion and pulled out his, a triangular amulet with red gemstone. “Where is yours, Donal’?”

Donald stood and went to his bedroom to retrieve the amulet. “Left it in my bedroom. It appeared the night we had that dream under my pillow.” He brought the amulet out and put it on the dining table, the circular blue gem glinting almost innocently. “I still don’t get why this just appeared.”

“The worst thing is that we couldn’t find Xandra,” Panchito huffed. “We tried going to places she might be in, but she wasn’t there.”

“The dream, the amulet appearing… I thought the power of the amulet infused with us when we got into that wizard puddle,” José said with a frown. “And the fact that Sheldgoose might be around in Duckburg is unsettling.”

“I tried looking for him, but I couldn’t find him.” Donald tapped the blue amulet absently, feeling the boost of power it gave his magic. “I don’t like that he went for Louie, too. I guess we’re lucky Funso’s manager got him out of there.”

“You can’t find him, Donal’,” José reminded.

“Well that creep’s nowhere near my kids. That’s a win,” Donald retorted. José hummed and nodded, acknowledging his words.

Panchito frowned. “Tell me what happened again.”

Donald sighed impatiently. “The kids went to Funso’s with their friends and split up there. Louie was alone and apparently Sheldgoose cornered him. I asked the kids again if anything happened, and they said he grabbed Louie by the elbow and he felt magic from him. Something that reminded Louie to space, he said something like it being big and dark and cold.” He leaned back at the chair. “And Dewey mentioned something about it feeling paralyzing.”

Panchito blinked, and in one of the rare moments in his life, he seemed truly disturbed. “That… sounds like Felldrake.”

“See why I’m glad he’s not near my kids?” Donald lifted a brow.

Panchito nodded. “I don’t want him anywhere near, either.”

“In any case, this only makes finding Xandra even more crucial.” José shifted in his seat. “Should we check the cabana? Do you think the girls know how to contact Xandra?”

“April, May, and June?” Donald asked. “I don’t think so. If we can’t contact her, I don’t think they do.”

Panchito let out a string of rapid-fire cursing in Spanish.

“Don’t let me catch you talk like that in front of the kids,” Donald threatened immediately.

“Aw, but I want to be the fun uncle who teaches them the things the straight-laced Uncle Donald would never tell them,” Panchito teased.

“And come on, Donal’, you’re the one with the worst vocabulary out of us three,” José added. “Ah, the things you had me hear when you were really angry…”

“Trust me, I’m tame compared to the others in the Navy,” Donald said dryly. “They meant it when they said sailors have potty mouths.”

“And Xandra taught you several words in multiple dead languages to add to your collection, too,” Panchito sighed. “Your kids will be livid once they start swearing if they know.”

“If they’re smart they will never do it in front of any of us,” Donald said. “But, back to the matter at hand…”

The three of them fell into thoughtful silence, the gears in their brains turning. They were resourceful on their own rights, but Xandra had always been the best one when it came to assembling a plan, unless it was something that needed out-of-the-box thinking like José and Panchito’s telenovela ploy. It probably came with the territory, with her being an immortal and the goddess of adventure and all.

“What if we wear the amulets and activate the magic?” José ventured. “Would that signal to her that we need her help?”

“That will tell Felldrake where we are, too,” Panchito pointed out. “If he’s near and we don’t have Xandra around, we’re finished.”

“But… we can seal him again, with the amulets here. Right?” Donald asked uncertainly. “Last time, it was us who did the sealing.”

“Felldrake would know we’ll want to do that,” Panchito said, shaking his head.

“But we need Xandra and we need her soon,” José argued grimly. “Do you have any other idea? Because if you do, I’m listening.”

Panchito fell silent, and eventually he sighed. “No,” he admitted reluctantly. “Should we do it now then?”

“Yeah.” Donald reached to his amulet, but paused. “Um, I think I should tell you that the triplets and Della all can sense magic, sort of. So we’ll have to be ready to explain about the magic, later. Plus Caballero stuff, if Xandra appeared.”

“That’s okay, I’m fine with them knowing.” Panchito took his amulet, and José did the same. When Donald didn’t, they both stared at him.

“Donal’?” José prodded.

Donald frowned. “Shut up, I’m trying to think about how I’m going to explain the Caballero stuff to my family.”

José blinked. “They don’t know yet?”

“No? Look, I didn’t think there was any chance of us having to face Felldrake again.”

“We’ll help you explain later,” Panchito assured, and let the amulet dangle around his neck before Donald could say anything else. José followed suit, as did Donald, with a sigh.

The amulet had always provided a boost to his magic. The push and pull of the sea rose to a roar, and the magic grew lighter and heavier and the same time, expanding its reach – Donald could feel the pool water starting to respond to his magic the way seawater did, but he knew it would never be the same.

But with all three Caballeros wearing the amulet, the change was visible. Soft light enveloped them – red with Panchito, blue with Donald, and green with José, corresponding with the colors of the gemstones adoring their respective amulets. The hum of something powerful that could almost contain supernovas and black holes breathed power into their feathers, and something inside them stirred. It had been so long that they’d almost forgotten how connected they were to one another, how in sync.

It wasn’t the borderline telepathic bond Donald shared with Della. It wasn’t even the way the triplets’ magic linked so closely to each others’. It was more subtle, but it was undeniably there, with the way they could think so similarly and feed off each others’ energy ever since they first laid eyes on one another[GHL1] .

They only needed to share a glance to understand each other. With barely any effort at all, they raised their magic. Donald’s deep-and-waves mixed with Panchito’s exuberant music and whistles and chatter and laughter and José’s soft guitar plucks among distant jazz and whispered words, growing louder and louder in a crescendo as their magic was amplified by the amulet.

They held the chaotic symphony for a moment, hoping it was enough of a signal to get Xandra’s attention. Then something touched the swirling magic, something big and cold and twined with whispers of a million dying stars, giddy and greedy and hungry. The three of them pulled back on their magic in reflex, eyes blown wide as they stared at each other.

“Felldrake,” Donald breathed.

Panchito nodded as he swallowed. “He found us.” He grimaced. “And so soon, too.”

“It was a risk we took.” José took a deep breath. “If our gamble worked, Xandra would be here at any – “

His words was cut off when something landed on the foredeck of the boat with enough force to sent all three of them tumbling. Donald scrambled to his feet and ran up to the deck, ignoring the sway of the boat, his friends hot on his heels. He skidded to a halt at the top of the stairs, getting himself bowled over as the three of them fell and fell on top of one another. He ignored the pain in favor of looking up to see the familiar raven locks and golden armor.

Xandra, obviously having just landed on the deck, huffed. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “Do you know how hard it is to find you guys? I’ve been trying to reach you for days!”