Chapter Text
Norb grinned smugly while fixing his tie, the black silk bow catching the late-afternoon sunlight that filtered through the towering Douglas firs surrounding the hidden forest clearing outside Wayouttatown, Oregon. His reflection stared back at him from the perfectly still pond — golden-yellow fur immaculate, blond top-hair styled into that effortlessly cool swoop he spent twenty minutes perfecting, light-purple nose polished to a shine, and those trademark half-lidded eyes screaming “I’m too cool for this planet.” The tuxedo was bespoke (well, as bespoke as a beaver could get): midnight-black jacket with satin lapels, crisp white dress shirt, onyx cufflinks shaped like tiny jalapeños, and a wildflower boutonnière bursting with color. A pair of round purple-tinted sunglasses rested on his head like a crown. Norbert Foster Beaver, older brother by four glorious minutes, professional slacker, horror-movie aficionado, and self-declared “chillest mammal in the Pacific Northwest,” was about to become a married beaver.
The wedding venue was pure Wayouttatown magic. Hundreds of fairy lights twinkled in the branches overhead even though it was still daylight. A massive archway of interwoven logs and flowering vines framed the altar, built by Norb and Daggett over three straight days of arguing, explosions, and eventual teamwork. Rows of hand-carved cedar benches were packed with every forest critter who mattered: Barry the bear in a comically small tuxedo vest, Oxnard Montalvo's "son," some hamster wearing a monocle, a whole choir of owls in tiny bow ties, raccoons already eyeing the buffet, and even Stump the tree stump (who had been rolled in and propped upright as an honored guest).
At the altar waited Treeflower — orange fur glowing like sunset, flowing bohemian wedding dress embroidered with peace signs and swirling galaxies, pink-and-yellow flower earrings swaying gently, light-blue eyes misty with pure hippie joy. She clutched a bouquet of daisies, sunflowers, lavender, and ferns so big it nearly hid her tan stomach. Her bluish-gray tail swished dreamily as she spotted Norb.
“Norbie!” she called in that soft, melodic voice that always made Norbert’s knees weak. “This whole scene is, like, totally in harmony with the cosmos, man. I can feel the good energy flowing!”
Norb sauntered down the aisle with maximum swagger, nodding coolly at the guests. “Yeah, babe. Took us long enough, but the universe finally got its act together. No more touring with the band, no more Truckee drama — just you, me, and infinite chill from here on out.”
Daggett, best man and walking disaster zone, bounced beside the altar in a tux three sizes too large, sleeves flopping over his paws, gray tail whipping like a helicopter blade. “This is the SPOOTIEST day ever! My big bro’s gettin’ hitched! Don’t mess it up, Norb, or I’ll mess YOU up! Hey, where’d I put the rings again? SPOOT! They were right here! Treeflower, you look pretty! Can I have cake now? No? After the kiss? Fine, fine!”
The wise old owl officiant adjusted his spectacles and spread his wings dramatically. “Dearly beloved critters of the forest, we are gathered beneath these ancient pines to join Norbert Foster Beaver and Treeflower in eternal beaver matrimony…”
Norb turned to his bride-to-be, voice low and smooth. “Treeflower, you’re my cosmic groove, my late-night horror buddy, my jalapeño-poppin’ soulmate. I promise to keep the dam stocked with snacks, never complain about your incense, and love you even when Dag accidentally blows up the living room. Again.”
Treeflower’s eyes sparkled. “Norbie… that was, like, the grooviest vow ever. I promise to keep the vibes high, share my sunflower seeds, and remind you that everything is connected, man — even when Daggett connects explosives to the toaster.”
Daggett sniffled loudly. “That’s so beautiful I’m gonna barf! In a good way! Pass the tissues! Wait — no crying till cake!”
The owl hooted solemnly. “Then by the power vested in me by the Great Acorn, I now pronounce you beaver and—”
The earth itself growled.
A shadow blotted out the sun. Every bird in a ten-mile radius took flight at once as massive crimson ships descended through the canopy, rotors screaming, red visors glowing like demon eyes. Laser fire scorched the ground. Robots — tall, blocky, merciless — poured out, energy nets crackling.
Guests screamed. Bears roared. Squirrels spiraled into the sky. The flower arch exploded into splinters.
Daggett immediately charged the nearest robot. “YOU METAL SPOOTHEADS ARE RUININ’ EVERYTHING! TAKE THIS!” He threw the ring pillow; it bounced harmlessly off the robot’s chest plate. A claw snatched him mid-air. “NOOOO! NOT THE TUX! NORB! BRO! HELP! THIS IS WORSE THAN THAT TIME WITH THE TERMITES AND THE DYNAMITE AND THE—”
Treeflower tried to calm the machines with peace signs. “Whoa, robot dudes, let’s just breathe, okay? In with the good vibes, out with the—” A net wrapped around her. “Norbie! The universe needs you, man!”
Norb stood frozen for half a second — the longest he’d ever been still in his life — then dove behind a toppled banquet table as lasers carved the cake into flaming chunks.
From the bushes came a metallic bark. Goddard skidded to a halt, hologram flickering to life.
Jimmy Neutron’s giant head filled the projection. “Citizen of the attacked dimension! This is Jimmy Neutron from Retroville. Your world is under assault by Professor Calamitous and the Evil Syndicate — Plankton, Vlad Plasmius, and Denzel Crocker. They’re harvesting energy for a doomsday device. Follow Goddard through the portal. We need you!”
The portal swirled open — emerald, humming, inviting.
Norb watched another ship beam up a cage full of screaming guests, Daggett and Treeflower among them.
He exhaled shakily. “Wedding’s… delayed. Great.”
He looked down at the ruined tuxedo — jacket torn, bow tie hanging crooked, boutonnière incinerated. With deliberate slowness, he ripped the bow tie off and flung it into the pond. Then the jacket — shrugged off and tossed over a burning log. Cufflinks pinged into the dirt. Shirt unbuttoned and discarded. In seconds he stood in just his white undershirt, black pants, and a whole lot of righteous fury.
“Later, formalwear. Time to get un-chill.”
He dashed after Goddard into the portal.
He tumbled out into Jimmy’s lab, rolled across the polished floor, and came up in a fighting stance — fur singed, undershirt smudged with soot, hair still somehow perfect.
Four strangers stared.
SpongeBob bounced forward first. “Hiiiiii! I’m SpongeBob! Wow, a beaver! Your teeth are HUGE! Do you like krabby patties? We’re gonna be best friends I can already tell!”
Danny Phantom floated down, arms crossed. “Rough entrance. Welcome to the resistance.”
Timmy waved. “Talking beaver in half a tux? This day just got ten times cooler.”
Jimmy adjusted his atom shirt. “Norbert Beaver of Wayouttatown, correct? Your world was—”
Norb cut him off, advancing until he was nose-to-giant-forehead with Jimmy. “You. Big Head McLabCoat. And you, Glowstick McFloatyPants.” He jabbed a claw at Danny. “This is YOUR fault.”
Jimmy blinked. “Statistically, the probability that I personally—”
“Save it, egg-dome! You and Ghost Boy over here with your portals and your ghost fights and your ‘boy genius’ nonsense — you poked the multiverse one too many times, and now MY wedding is a flaming pile of kindling! I had vows! I had jalapeño poppers! I had a three-tier dam-shaped cake with fondant waterfalls! And those bucket-headed goons just turned it into a robot buffet!”
Danny’s eyes flashed green. “Hey, back off, bucktooth. Vlad Plasmius has been trying to take over my town for years. I didn’t invite him to your forest party.”
“Yeah?” Norb snarled, tail slapping the floor hard enough to rattle beakers. “Well maybe if you two hadn’t been playing ‘save the universe’ every other Tuesday, the bad guys wouldn’t have gotten ideas above their pay grade! I was THIS close to eternal happiness, man! THIS close!”
He held up two claws a millimeter apart, trembling with rage.
SpongeBob inserted himself between them, literally wedging his square body between Norb and the others. “Okay, okay! Deep breaths, everybody! In with the friendship, out with the anger! Mr. Angry Beaver, you kinda remind me of Squidward when he’s extra grumpy, but with more fur! We’re gonna get your brother and your pretty flower lady back, I promise! I’m super-duper good at promises! Wanna blow bubbles to calm down? Bubbles fix everything!”
Norb stared down at the yellow sponge vibrating with pure, unfiltered optimism. The nonstop chatter. The flailing arms. The refusal to acknowledge doom.
It was Daggett. If Daggett was made of sponge and lived under the sea.
Norb’s shoulders slumped. He ran a paw down his face, exhaling a long, defeated sigh.
“…Spoot. You’re like my brother, but… yellow. And porous. And way too happy about it.”
He looked up, voice quieter now but still edged. “Fine. Truce. For now. But when this is over, you two” — he pointed at Jimmy and Danny — “are paying for the replacement cake. And the open bar. And therapy for Daggett, which he’s needed since birth.”
Jimmy allowed himself a small smile. “Deal. Welcome to the team, Norb.”
Danny smirked. “Let’s go remind the Syndicate why you don’t crash a beaver wedding.”
SpongeBob threw his arms around Norb’s waist (as high as he could reach). “Group hug! Wait — beaver hug! Beaver hug!”
Norb groaned, but didn’t pull away. “Somebody get this sponge off me before I change my mind.”
Timmy laughed. “This is gonna be the best team ever.”
As portals flared brighter and Jimmy began barking orders, Norbert Foster Beaver — shirtless, furious, and newly single (temporarily) — cracked his knuckles.
“Alright, universe. You delayed my wedding. Now I’m delaying your doomsday. Let’s roll.”