#and Tybunny's OCs

[braincoins]

@tybunnythehellmoose

“You don’t mind if I record this, do you?”

“Of course not.” 

“Thank you.” The investigator from the United Kingdom’s Royal Society for Extrahuman Affairs started the recorder going on his phone and set it between them. He slid the file folders with him - Kairos’s DoVE folder was right on top - to one side and clicked his pen, setting it to the pad of yellow legal paper. “So, you are Kairos of Knossos, also known as Kairos Kineso, also known as Kairos Caine...”

“Ugh, I never use that last one anymore,” he groaned. “It was almost a joke to use it in the first place.”

The man arched an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Inside joke,” he added on, waving his hand dismissively. “And yes, I was born Kairos of Knossos, in the third year of the reign of Lycastus - in modern dating, 1653 BCE - in the fifth day of the reaping time. I was a scribe to Minos II in his palace before the Master turned me in 1630 BCE.” 

None of that was written down. “And this was the Bronze Age, yes?”

“Yes. Quite a long time ago.”

“You are one of those known as ‘the Firstborn’?”

“I am,” he agreed with a nod. So far, this was incredibly boring. Why am I doing this again? he asked Caitlin.

Grant says he was told to accommodate the man and aid in his investigation.

Investigation into what, exactly?

Firstborn, apparently. There was a sense of uneasiness that came with the message, and Kairos tried not to frown. Caitlin’s... status was hard to explain, and it was usually better to avoid it entirely. Most people assumed he had turned her and that she was, therefore, a Secondborn. He let them believe that, because it was the easiest way to explain how a woman whose birth certificate read “1985″ could possess so much power.

“Do you know the Watcher?” 

If his blood had been capable of such a thing, it would have gone cold at the question. “Most vampires know of the Watcher,” he replied carefully.

“Yes, ‘know of’. But do you know the Watcher personally?”

He wasn’t about to tell this random stranger the truth. “The Watcher is the mysterious adversary to the Master,” he answered.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No one knows the Watcher, except the Watcher themselves.” Being philosophical about it kept him from lying. He would, if he had to, for Caitlin’s sake. Most of their kind viewed the millennia-long grudge match between the man who had made vampires and the Watcher as a kind of sporting event: amusing, but ultimately of little consequence. But he couldn’t be sure someone out there didn’t have a misplaced sense of loyalty to “the Master” and wouldn’t try to come after the love of his entire life and death.

This human could be in the service of such a vampire, or he could just be too nosy for his own good. Who knew what his plans were for the Watcher? 

The investigator snorted in annoyance. “Is the Watcher a Firstborn?”

"Who can say? We know of seven, and even most of those are lost to our knowledge. Perhaps the Master made more and we don't know." He dearly hoped he hadn’t made more. 

"Is the Watcher even a vampire?" 

"I've heard a great many tales, but, to me, the Watcher is an angel." He smiled innocently.

“An angel?”

“Not literally. More in the ‘better angels of our nature’ sense.”

The investigator frowned and scribbled some things on the pad before looking up. “Are you hiding something from me?”

“I’m hiding a great deal,” he agreed. “For example, in my day, we didn’t wear this many clothes.”

The man looked at him, eyes flashing with anger. Kairos simply sat there and radiated his own amusement. This man, well-fed and of good stock, stood near 6 feet tall and thus would have towered over him if they were standing. But he was human and facing a Firstborn, a vampire of singular power and strength. As the investigator’s anger increased, Kairos swapped his amusement for just the barest hint of warning. I could drain you dry before you could scream, had I the inclination. But that wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all his brother-in-law, who was caught up in the DoVE bureaucracy and would not have a good time explaining to his colleagues over at RSEA about why their investigator was a desiccated husk.

The man sat back and stopped glaring. “Very well, let’s get back to you then.”

“Oh yes, let’s,” he said cheerily.

“You are currently married.”

“Happily, so don’t get any ideas.” He was having fun now.

The investigator said nothing to that. “And you have twins with your wife...”

“Yes, Ciaran and Brigid. Do you want to see photos?”

He went on as if there had been no interruption. “...who is also a vampire. How is that possible? We know that ova production ceases immediately upon death and that the uterus and remaining ova quickly become... inoperable.”

This was a truth he would have dodged with damn near anyone, if for no other reason than that he wasn’t sure how to explain it, really. Instead, he pointed out, “She wasn’t always a vampire,” and left it at that.

“The twins are dhampir, then?”

“Yes.” True, but, again, inexplicable.

“And you’re sure they’re yours?”

Anyone else might have been angry, but Kairos just burst out laughing. He probably should have been worried by the question, truth be told, because the implication was that a female vampire had somehow had children with a male human, which was thought to be impossible. That would point to some power or ability previously unknown, which would bring Caitlin back into the spotlight as a person of interest.

But Kairos was too amused to go through that train of thought. “You came here to interview me without doing the minimum of research? Or did you just forget?" He reached over to tap his folder on top of the stack. “I’m fully-registered with DoVE and all other relevant agencies in the countries where I do business -  including your RSEA. Did you read my file? My information is all right there, including my Gift.”

The man shifted in his chair. “Yes, I read your file,” he all but growled. “I know about your ‘expanded Sire’ Gift: you can Command all those of your bloodline, not just your Children. You can sense them, communicate with them telepathically at any distance, etc.”

“Did you miss the full implications of the phrase ‘of my bloodline’?” He had (mostly) stopped laughing - an occasional giggle escaped - and was in Patient Teacher Mode. “The twins are currently at school; I don’t even need to close my eyes to feel them there. So, yes, as they are ‘of my bloodline,’ they are my children, even though they are not my Children.” He smiled again, but more coldly this time. “Should I let them know you say hello?”

“That won’t be necessary. This is enough for now.” He stopped the phone recording. “I may want to interview you at another time.”

Kairos stood, and though he was not of impressive stature, the sheer power at his beck and call made him seem taller and more muscular. He was the founder and CEO of a worldwide import/export business, with seats on the boards of many other companies. He was a multi-billionaire who was on a first name basis with many powerful people. And, of course, he was one of the oldest and most powerful beings on the planet. 

He pulled all that power to him, wearing it like a mantle draped over his expensive business suit, and raised his chin just a little as he looked at the human.

“Mr. Kineso, sir,” the investigator added quickly.

He nodded. “Of course. I am at your disposal, day or night.” He added that last phrase on as a reminder: he was so old that even the noonday sun was a nuisance and not an immediate death sentence. 

The investigator gathered up his phone and the files and scurried out of the room...

...where Grant caught him. “So, how’d it go?” Before he could answer, Kairos’s brother-in-law (and head of the New York City office of DoVE) kept going. “You can tell me all about it at this great bar I know, right around the corner. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” He all but pulled the man away from Caitlin and down the hall.

Kairos walked out and looked at his wife. He was the Fifth of the Firstborn, uniquely powerful, it was true. But he relinquished his mantle of power and smiled fondly at Caitlin Kineso nee O’Leary, his wife, the mother of his children, and the Fourth of the Firstborn, known to the vampiric world as The Watcher. 

“Do you think he’ll want to interview me?” she asked, more curious than afraid.

“Grant will no doubt convince him it’s a waste of time. Everyone thinks you’re Secondborn. What about Abrihet?” A sister Firstborn, and a friend of theirs.

“She’s conveniently on vacation, visiting Athanasia.” She wrapped him up in a hug. “I hear they might go to Crete.”

He hugged her back. “Oh good, she’ll finally get some culture then.”

Caitlin laughed, and his heart that had stilled thousands of years ago felt like it skipped a beat. “It’s unbecoming of a Firstborn to fight so childishly with a Secondborn,” she teased him gently.

“It’s unbecoming of a Greek Secondborn to try to tell a Cretan Firstborn that hers is the superior culture,” he shot back. 

She snorted. “But seriously, Kairos, what should we do about this? Is it really so big a deal to let RSEA or DoVE or all the rest of them know I’m the Watcher?”

“You want to have to explain all of that to them?” he asked. “Do you want them trying to figure out how you traveled through time so that they can manipulate it for their own ends?”

“They won’t figure it out. I don’t even know how it happened.”

“But if they know it’s possible, they’ll try to do it.” He tipped her face up to his. “You already spent millennia setting the world right so we could be together again, my dearest. Do you want to do it again?”

“I would,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “For you, I would.”

He murmured his thanks in his own long-forgotten tongue, pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “I’d rather you not have to. DoVE doesn’t need to know this, and neither does some limey Brit.”

She laughed again. “Has my Irish bloodline’s hatred of the British rubbed off on you?”

“No, I just like hearing you laugh.” And it was the truest thing he’d said all day, right up until he said, “I love you.”

[braincoins]

"Excuse me?" She let herself sound snippy. Fluff-headed socialites could be snippy. In fact, they could be snippy quite frequently, if you insulted their dress or their jewelry or even possibly their family members. Roger Chillworth was not thrown off by her snippiness. He stood there in her family's parlor and continued to frown at her. "I thought you understood. I thought you knew I would come for you once Father could no longer object."

'Renne rolled her eyes. This was not how she had wanted to start the day, but Roger had presented himself at the house at literally the first moment it was Societally-Decent to do so. She was still in a robe and nightgown, hair pulled back hastily because there was a Man around and he was not Family (nor was he About to Become Family, i.e., Gwyn). 

"I never promised you I'd wait for you, Roger. And I truly am sorry that you thought I would. But you know better now. You can move on and find someone else."

"I don't want someone else."

Get used to disappointment then. She barely bit that back in time. But before she could speak, Roger had the audacity to move in closer to her and drop his voice to ask, in what could hardly be called a whisper, "Are you marrying the captain because of... obligation?" He glanced down along her body, let his eyes linger on her stomach before pulling them back up to hers.

She backed away and pulled her mental gloves off. "I Am NOT. Captain Hedly is a true gentleman, no matter what the status of his birth would say. In fact, while I was in hiding, I saw him only when he could get away from his work. You know, the whole 'cozying up to Lareina Sumpter in order to keep an eye on her for the sake of Serenia' business?" She folded her arms and glared at him. "I am not marrying him because of an indelicate condition. I am marrying him because I fell in love with him."

Roger shook his head. "Have you considered that you feel obligated to him regardless? Because he saved your life? And that that is truly what you're feeling?"

She sighed. "I know my heart and my mind, Roger. And here is what I need you to understand: even if there were no Captain Hedly, I would not marry you. I was not waiting for you to be free; I was looking for someone I found suitable. The captain is, as it turns out, more than just 'suitable' for me. But you are not."

It was her turn to advance, and she glared daggers at him as she spoke. "You are a coward, Roger, craven and conniving. You slither around obstacles instead of facing up to them. And you care more about appearances than substance." She let herself grin as he actually began to back away from her. "There is more to me than parties and dresses and the latest scandals. You never wanted to know that part of me, I don't think, and it didn't matter, because your father said, 'No,' and you threw all of me away without protest or hesitation."

He stumbled a bit when he hit a chair and fell into a seat into it. She leaned down to look him in the eye when she said, "I Am Not A Woman To Be Thrown Away." She straightened up and backed away to a respectable distance.

"You had your chance. It's long since gone. Now get out of my family's house; I have things to do today. Important things that will actually help people."

He stood, straightened out his clothes. "You don't mean to go into the Slums by yourself, I hope."

Actually, I mean exactly that. She wanted to get to know the "neighbors" of the two properties she was eyeballing. "What I do is not your concern, Roger. It never was. And I am capable of so much more than you give me credit for."

"It's not..."

"I told you to leave," she snapped at him as a reminder. "So get out. And don't expect an invitation to the wedding. It will be small, family and friends, and not because I have anything to 'hide' but because I want to celebrate with the people I most truly care about. Everything I went through, that sent me into hiding, sharpened for me what truly matters in life. You and every idiot like you? You don't matter." And she put her hands on her hips and glared at him until he muttered the polite civilities and all but ran out. She sighed and dropped her hands and rolled her eyes again, putting her back to the parlor entrance and, beyond it, the door through which Roger Chillworth had bolted. "Under ten minutes," she heard her mother say. "Just under five from the moment you delivered that 'Excuse me?' of yours."

She turned back to see her mother standing there with a tea service for two. "Sorry, I didn't intend for him to stay for tea."

"No, I didn't think you did. This is for you and me." She brought it in and set it down and began to pour.

'Renne just laughed and took a seat. There were cinnamon swirl cookies today, it seemed, with icing. "You were listening the whole time?"

"Mm," her mother agreed, not offering over a teacup as she ought to do. This was not a 'proper' tea; this was Mother and Daughter Tea. "I'm always proud of you, but sending him packing while tearing down his ridiculous notions... Oh, I am just so, so proud of you right now."

"He's not the only one who's going to have those ridiculous notions."

"I know. But all you can do is show them up after the fact." She finished pouring, picked up a cookie and took a bite. "Stoopih nuhility."

"Very stupid," she agreed, choosing to blow on her tea and take a sip of it. Ginger tea, a little honey. Bracing, good for mornings when you had to get a lot done. Also a favorite of hers. She mmm'ed appreciatively. "I don't suppose I can convince you to come with me? I appreciate your opinions."

"Tell me about everything afterwards," her mother said. "My days of scandalizing the nobility are through."

"Only because you let them be," 'Renne sing-songed, reaching for a cookie.

"In any case, I will be sending lunch with you because I'm sure you'll be out there all day."

"Most of the day. I want to get a nap in before dinner. Then it's taking the new Nightguard recruits for a bit of a run before I double back and talk to Gwyn about everything."

"Then you haven't much time."

"I'll probably only get scouting done at one property today," she agreed. "But I always knew I'd have to go multiple days for each one before deciding."

"You'll not be scouting tomorrow," her mother reminded her. "You've dress fitting for your brother's wedding."

"Yes, yes, I remember. That's why I wanted to go today. After the fitting, I need to buy new shoes and I wanted to go to the hairdresser to see what can be done with my hair while it's growing out."

"Who knows? Maybe you'll start a trend!"

She laughed. "Of ladies cutting their hair short? I doubt it."

"Well, not short, but shorter. It could happen." Her mother reached across to grab her wrist lightly. "Take care out there today."

She held on to her mother's wrist in return, giving a light squeeze. "I'm always careful, Mother."

She snorted and released her. "Not half so as you should be, my precious daughter. Come, I'll bring the cookies up to your room; we can continue talking while you get dressed."

"Thank you," she said. "For everything."

And her mother smiled. "You're welcome to all that and more. Let's go."

[braincoins]

Of all the infirmities we have, the most savage is to despise our being.  - Michel de Montaigne

He didn't do it often.

Karina - his chosen whore of the night - had said, "You have such pretty eyes." She was sweet like that sometimes. But tonight it lingered in him, longer than the sweat and the sex.

"Such pretty eyes."

She was asleep, and he had left the warmth of the bed to cross to the mirror above the washbasin. And, after a few hesitant moments, he summoned to himself the magic that was so much a part of him it might as well be his blood, and he did what he normally couldn't stand to do.

He made himself whole.

He glamoured himself to look as he should have been, were it not for a fiery night long ago. The scars smoothed away, his other eyebrow appeared... he mirrored the side of his face that hadn't been burned by the heat from magical flame. He didn't mirror the hair, it wouldn't look nice like that, but he created something appropriate for himself.

And he looked in the mirror at what, in another lifetime, Dylan Priest could have been. He didn't do it often. It was hard to look at his mother's nose, harder still to look into his father's eyes. No, not quite. Father's eyes were always cold, hard. Had been. Had been cold and hard. Make the past definitive, because Father was dead and so was Mother and there was no magic in the world that could change that.

Look at this handsome young man who would have had ladies swooning for his smile, who would have had the world at his feet with the twinkle in his eyes. A man like everyone else. A man who had never unleashed mythical fire and destroyed his family.

He banished the glamour in disgust and turned away from the mirror. That wasn't who he was, and it wasn't who he was meant to be. He was destined to be this, scarred and half-hairless, a man who had to buy love because he would never, ever have it on his own. 

He'd accepted that long ago, but it stung tonight, made him want to scream at Karina, wake her up and tell her to get out, though that was absurd, this was her room in this house of ill-reputed delights. He wanted to hate her because he hated himself... for just a moment. It passed. It always passed. He didn't truly hate her; it wasn't her fault, and she was so sweet and innocent-looking in her sleep. They all were. He wondered if he looked "innocent" in his sleep. He doubted it. Innocence wasn't permanently marked by its sins.

He felt deflated, defeated, and he slumped into an overstuffed chair, a bit shabby from years of use, but still comfortable and elegant-looking, from a distance. He felt the tears come and didn't fight them this time. He was too worn down to try.

He wasn't sure why he was crying though. Mourning a lost life, a lost face, a lost family? Loathed self-pity? He didn't know but he knew he couldn't stop the tears. This was always what happened. The glamour, the disgust, the weakness and tears. This was the last step. He didn't do it often. But he knew he'd have to go through the whole thing.

"Pretty eyes."

He wondered sometimes why his other eye hadn't been burned, why it hadn't popped or melted or otherwise been destroyed. Perhaps so he could better see himself for what he was: killer of his parents, ruiner of lives. It was only right that he had to face that, that he had two eyes to stare into in the looking glass. His father's eyes.

Perhaps his eye had been saved because it was as cold as his father's stare, colder than the hottest flame. He didn't think himself at all like his father, didn't like to, didn't want to. Sometimes he still hated the man with childish passion. Sometimes he even blamed him for that night, and it felt triumphant, like a little boy who stomped his foot and demanded a new toy and got it.

But it was wrong. It was his fault, it always had been and always would be. Wrong to blame his father, unless it was to blame the blood in him. Part dragon. That had been a surprise. And his mother had known, and that was why she'd gone along with it. "My little dragon."

He closed his eyes against the tears. He couldn't really hear it in her voice anymore, but somehow he could still remember the way she'd said it: fondly, a touch of amusement. She'd known. He didn't blame her for not telling him; as a child, he wouldn't have understood.

He stood and made his way back to the bed, pulled the covers back just enough so he could slip in beside Karina, whom he'd chosen for her wicked grin, flashing eyes, and marvelous tits. She was sweet with her words sometimes though, as had been proven. She liked to cuddle in the afterglow, despite his face and his scars. He liked that. He didn't cuddle up to her, rolling onto his side so his back was to her. He stared out into the room until his eyelids were too sleep-heavy to stay open. No more gazing in the mirror at someone who looked like him but wasn't him, could never be him.

He didn't do it often.

[braincoins]

Meet the Darkboots Household!

These are characters related to Illuminati University, a GURPS setting from Steve Jackson Games. Bram & Percy are actual RP characters; Ray came along later.

(all art courtesy of @duckydrawsart ; Percy courtesy of @tybunnythehellmoose)

from L to R:

Blu-Ray Darknoll - research scientist specializing in human sexuality. An alien from a race whose language is unpronounceable by human tongues. Runs a “research center” that is functionally a brothel. Therefore the main breadwinner of the household. Bram’s husband. (Cis pansexual male. Graduate of SPCA’s Department of House-Making)

Bramwell Artemis Darknoll - prefers just being called “Bram.” Hates his full name. Time-traveling hero/adventurer. Takes various odd jobs but won’t do anything against his morals. His morals are a bit gray in certain circumstances. (Cis homosexual male. C.T.H.U.L.H.U. graduate)

Percy Boots - born Persephone Boutillier. Kitsune/human mix. Adventurer/magician/time-travelling-troublemaker/server/parent/ demi-god (don’t ask, long story)/part time sex worker (or, as Ray would have it, “research assistant”) /musician/spy. Seeing as how Percy is genderqueer, has their kids refer to them as “Bacon” instead of “Mother” or “Father.” Bram’s so-called “pest friend.” They/them pronouns. (Androgynous genderqueer aromantic pansexual; AFAB. CoM graduate)

The Children (not pictured here, obviously):

Technically they have the surname “Boots” or “Darknoll” but many of them will give “Darkboots” as a surname because of the blended household they’re a part of (or just to fuck with people/hide their actual identities to some degree).

Blaine Boots - Son of Percy and Gideon Darknoll, Bram’s identical twin brother. Because of the deal made by Percy with the University, Blaine effectively belongs to IOU, as payment for tuition. Percy promised their first born, never actually intending to have any children. But the University Finds A Way. Like his “bacon” (Percy), has some kitsune magic to him. (Cis homoromantic asexual male. Eventual WUSE student)

Gideon Darknoll, Jr. - aka “Giddy,” a nickname his father despises. Son of Gideon Darknoll and his lawful wife, he ran away and found his uncle Bram. Dislikes and distrusts his father (for good reason), and is much happier with his uncle and their strange little family. (Cis bisexual/romantic male. Eventual WUSE student)

Tamika Boots - Daughter of Percy and Gideon Darknoll. Percy seems to like knocking boots with Gideon and keeps using time travel to go back to before Gideon’s married. From Gideon’s perspective, it’s a short fling over the course of a few days; he has no way of knowing that every time he’s with “Miss Boutillier,” she’s becoming pregnant and giving birth to his children. Tamika picked up kitsune magic from her “bacon” like her older brother. (Cis heterosexual female, though she does quite a bit of experimentation before deciding she’s straight. Eventual School of Performing & Creative Arts student)

Cora Darknoll - Daughter of Bram and Ray, via genetic engineering. She is made with both of her fathers’ DNA and the use of one of Ray’s machines (his race reproduces through genetic engineering now anyway). Named after Percy (Percy from Persephone = Kore thus Cora). (Cis pansexual aromantic female. Eventual COUP student, going into law school)

Jester Boots - Child of Percy and Gideon Darknoll. The only one not to have gotten kitsune magic from their “bacon.” (Pansexual NB; AFAB. Eventual CoM student)

Toast Boots - Youngest child of Percy and Gideon Darknoll. Possesses kitsune magic. AFAB but still too young to have started in on romantic/sexual explorations.

Dean Darknoll - Son of Bram and Ray. AMAB but already showing androgynous leanings, and enjoys makeup and dresses and tiaras as much as more traditionally “masculine” clothing and accessories.

To give you an idea of ages:

When Blaine is 20, Giddy is 18, Tamika 17, Cora 16, Jester 13, and Toast and Dean are both 8.

[braincoins]

Braym - pizza, blizzard, gremlin

((Chaos bless everyone who asks for my boys

“IT’S SNOWING SO MUCH OUTSIDE! Like a lot a lot! Is this a blizzard, Dad? It looks like a blizzard. I think it’s a blizzard.”

“Cora, if you’re so sure, why’d you ask me?” Bram groaned. 

“I was asking Science Dad,” she informed him.

“Then why are you sitting on me?” 

Their daughter had burst into their bedroom and practically launched herself at him, and was now sitting on his stomach, kicking at Ray as she peppered them both with her questions. 

“Because you’re comfier.”

“That’s it, I’m going to the gym,” he said, throwing off the covers...and, coincidentally, tossing them onto Cora. And before she could free herself, he sat up and wrapped her up in the blanket, tickling everywhere he could get. Her shrieks were muffled by the bedclothes.

“You could stand to lose a little weight,” Ray observed with a yawn, “but I do not think you’re at an unhealthy level yet. Perhaps cut back on the heavy breakfasts.”

“Oy! A proper English breakfast...”

“...is not healthy.” He got out of bed, ignoring Cora’s thrashing and squeaking. “Let her out.”

“She barged in here! The little gremlin gets what she deserves!”

“DADDYYYYYYY!” came the muffled plea for mercy.

“Bram,” Ray said mildly.

“Oh, fine.” He released her and her head popped out of the covers so she could catch her breath.

“Have you finished your inquiries of meteorological quantification?” he asked her.

Bram might have thought those words were too high dollar for an eight year old, but she just pointed out, “You didn’t answer them yet,” and he couldn’t help beaming proudly. 

Ray walked around to the window and tossed open the curtains to consider the view. “It is quite a heavy snow, if nothing else.” He looked over his shoulder at Bram. “We were meant to go grocery shopping today.”

“Can still do,” Bram insisted. “Just don’t let Percy drive. In the meantime, we can scrounge together something for breakfast.”

“Bacon’s got cold pizza downstairs,” Cora said.

Ray sighed heavily. “Also not a nutritious breakfast, though it is at least fewer calories than your father’s ‘proper English’ ones.”

“See if you can convince them to heat a few slices up?” Bram asked her. “We’ll be down in a tick.”

Cora squirmed and thrashed free of the bedclothes and bolted from the room, already yelling, “BACON! HEAT UP THREE SLICES PLEASE!”

Bram swung his legs over the bed, hooked up his prosthetic, stood and walked over to slide his arms around Ray’s waist. He couldn’t see the snow because his husband was taller, but he didn’t really care about that. This is the best view anyway, and he pressed a warm kiss against Ray’s spine. “Hey, so, I’ve been thinking...”

“First thing in the morning?”

Bram chuckled. It’d taken Ray a few years to get good at human teasing, but he’d definitely got the hang of it now. “Let’s have another kid. Maybe a boy this time. Just to have one of each.”

“We don’t have enough?” Ray’s voice was warm with amusement.

“We only have one. Not my fault Percy keeps getting themselves knocked up.”

“By your brother.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Your twin brother.”

“DON’T remind me,” he insisted. 

Bram loosened his grip a bit as Ray moved, so that he could turn around and still be in his arms. “I suppose we’re financially stable enough to support another child.”

“Yeah, yeah, but do you want another one?” he pressed. 

“You complain about the chaos around here,” Ray countered.

“Yeah, but... they’re fun. And it’s... watching Cora grow up, knowing she has both our genes, seeing the bits that are you and the bits that are me...”

“I’ll think about it,” Ray said. “After breakfast. And grocery shopping, assuming we can get there in this.” 

“It’ll be an adventure; the kids’ll love it.” He leaned up and Ray bent down so their lips could meet. 

“But if we do, I’m naming this one,” Ray said. He pulled away but took Bram’s arm, tugging him towards the door. “You’ll name them all after Percy otherwise.”

“I will not!” he protested, heading out for their leftover pizza breakfast.