If you asked some mothers, they would be able to tell you that they knew the exact day that they were going to give birth. They were somehow just able to sense it, and knew when they would have to lay down and just let things run their course. However, Michael had not been gifted this sixth sense, instead having the occasion of the birth of his pups fall into his lap rather unexpectedly. In fact, it was extremely unexpectedly, considering the coyote had been planning on making a trip. He had been planning to go and see Trevor, hoping that the other would spend a few days with him before the pups were born. The thief had been able to tell that he was swelling considerably, and knew it wouldn't be too long until the little ones came, but he figured he had enough time. Besides, he really want his husband to be around for the whole ordeal, considering all of it sort of terrified him. It wasn't as if the reaver had ever expected this to be part of his life, and he had certainly never been taught how to handle it. He had seen both his sister and Goldie get through it just fine – and Aphra as well, he supposed – but beyond simply seeing a pregnant mother and healthy children? He had no idea what to do, or how to react to things.

Thankfully, the universe was actually acting in Michael's favor for once. The thief had only gotten a few steps along the railroad tracks before a familiar voice cut through the air, rough and incredulous, "Michael Townley, what the fuck are you doing?" It was none other than his husband, Trevor, standing there. The other coyote had a bag against his side, and actually looked rather put together for once, a fact that threw Michael for a temporary loop. However, his confusion was short lived, as he found himself rushing forward, practically tackling his lover as he cheerfully yipped, "Trevor! What the hell are you doing here? I was just going to go see you..." Michael felt lanky front limbs wrap around him before Trevor grunted, the sandy colored canine sending a glare in the reaver's direction, "I figured the pups were gonna be 'ere pretty soon, and I wanted to be around for that. There's no fucking way that you should've been coming to see me. You look like you're gonna pop any minute." As his husband snickered, Michael sent a sharp look in the other male's direction. His muzzle opened to tell the other off, and say quite simply that he was wrong, but the world also had a cruel sense of irony. Almost immediately, the reaver's stomach began to churn, and pain radiated throughout his limbs. Something was definitely happening, and he nearly fell down onto his chest before he abruptly sat.

The look on Michael's face must've said something his words couldn't, considering the concerned gleam that suddenly came to Trevor's eyes, "Michael...? You good?" When the jet black coyote shook his head from side to side, Trevor let out a string of curses, before Michael heard the other mutter, "Augh... what the fuck was the kid's name... Roan! Roan! Get your ass over here! Mikey's puppies are coming!" The world was oddly disjointed as Michael sat there, and everything suddenly felt unbearably loud. His heart was beating quickly enough to drown out any other noise around him, and before he knew it, he had one body on either side of him. One he recognized as his husband, and one he recognized as Roan, the soothsayer helping him forward with a determined and focused expression on his face. The medic's presence helped to alleviate Michael's anxiety slightly, although the thief still said hardly anything as he was led to his home, the odd hush that had fallen over the land remaining. It only slightly alleviated when he was placed into a bed of blankets and pillows, pain rolling over his body in waves as he put his head down. He could feel Trevor settle down behind him, the other's weight a comforting presence as Michael settled in for what could be a very long process.

Truthfully, Michael was unsure of how much time had really passed when he came to again, the pain finally having faded from his body. All he knew was that it had been a while, and now he had four little puppies kicking and squirming at his side, eyes still squeezed shut. Trevor's head was still resting against his shoulder as Michael twisted slightly to inspect his children, nosing and licking at the first one. The first boy looked the most like Trevor, with sandy colored fur covering his entire body. He had a few streaks of black along his flank and running over his tail, but the other certainly reminded Michael more of his husband in terms of appearance. The reaver smiled softly before he spoke, for the first time in quite a while, "Franklin... I wanna name this one Franklin." He could feel the soft rumble of Trevor's chuckling against his back, as if the name was a private joke between the two of them – in some ways, it was, although not really humorous. Michael felt a soft nudge against his ear before Trevor's voice split gently through the air, "That sounds good to me, sugar." The shortening of the other's usual pet name for him caused the thief to smile, glad to not have to endure the more crude version in front of his nephew and children.

Turning his mismatched gaze towards the second child, Michael was honestly surprised by how scrawny he was. Yes, Trevor was rather tall and skinny, but this particular pup seemed to take it to another level, with a thin form that bore too large ears, and paws. Michael couldn't help but love him, however, especially when he saw what the pup's pelt looked like. In a stark contrast to Franklin, this one took more after Michael, bearing a pelt of mostly jet black. However, the youngling was a chimera, with messy smears of grey along his right side and the right half of his face. There were sparse patches of brown, right around where wrists met oversized paws. That wasn't even mentioning the white that creeped up on occasion, decorating the boy's belly wherever it could reach. Michael took a long moment to just admire the other before he spoke, letting out a soft hum, "He's... Butch. I like that name for him." Trevor seemed to shift a little at that, a huff of a laugh brushing against Michael's neck before he was questioned, "Butch...?" Michael just snorted at the other's confusion, raising a paw to shove playfully at his cheek before he answered, "Like Butch Cassidy, Trev. Don't you know any good thieves?" He received only an eye roll in response, before the other canine nodded silently, giving his approval for the name in question.

The third of the litter also seemed to take after Michael, although he was a more even combination than any of his other siblings. His fur was bathed in tones of darker browns, rather than Trevor's sandy shades, but it was easy enough to see the resemblance in the shades that painted the boy's belly. His fur color grew darker as one looked closer to his spine, able to see the line of black and brown that moved all the way up over his head. It was broken up by patches of piebald white, messily brushed along the boy's paws, chest, tail, and back. It was a rather eye-catching combination, and Michael found himself brushing his son's fur back carefully. Once he was done grooming the little one, Michael could hear Trevor's thoughtful hum before he spoke, "If we're going with thieves, I wanna name this one Clyde. Y'know, like Bonnie and Clyde?" He sounded far too proud of himself for coming up with it, and Michael nodded, saying with a little laugh, "Yeah, I got it. I like that one too... little Clyde." Bonnie and Clyde had hardly met a very pleasant end, but Michael hoped the boy's namesake would be just that – a namesake, and not a sign of his future.

The last of the children was probably the most eye-catching overall, and Michael found himself blinking a couple of times just to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He seemed to take after Trevor in that he had a sandy base pelt, but the youngling's surprising coloration hardly ended there. For one thing, the child seemed to have a sparse bit of Michael's coloration mixed in, with a black strip running up his chest and spilling up, over his muzzle. However, that wasn't the most surprising part. The surprising part was the golden color that draped over the child in messy splotches, seemingly melting up over his paws and legs, and messing adorning his tail. The gold patches were seemingly random, and almost seemed to glint in the light, to the point where Michael touched his nose to them just to make sure that they were really just soft fur. The last part that would cause pause for most was the pattern that was spread out over the child's spine. It seemed as though there was almost a pair of golden wings painted onto his fur, although instead of soft, rounded off feathers, there were messy spikes of gold reaching out, almost looking sharp to the touch. After a stunned moment of staring, Michael muttered firmly, "This one is Midas." Trevor seemed confused at that, tilting his head to one side before he spoke, "Midas wasn't a thief, though." Shrugging his shoulders loosely, Michael spoke passionately in response, "Yeah, but... I mean... just look at him. There's nothing more fitting than a king that turns everything he touches to gold." It took only a moment of Trevor's own inspection for the other coyote to nod in agreement, signaling that all of the children were now named.

An entire litter of boys. It was surprising, but Michael wasn't displeased with it. He would've been perfectly content no matter what gender his children were, just glad to have ushered them into the world safely. Watching as they squirmed and yipped at the side of his belly, the reaver stretched his legs out to get comfortable, laying his head down on top of his paws for the moment. He felt Trevor's chin settle once again down against the crook of his husband's neck, both signaling protection over the melanistic coyote, and a desire to watch his newborn children as well. The two new parents sat in comfortable silence together, with the front door to their shared hut left wide open for all the world to enter. Roan lingered around on the porch, the soothsayer not wanting to leave until some time had passed without any sort of complications. Not only that, but he was sure that his mama would be one of the first to want to see the pups. Needless to say, there was a sort of soothing contentedness and peacefulness within Michael's home that day, with no room for bitterness or loss. If anyone came looking to stir up trouble, the reaver had little doubt that they would be swiftly shut down without mercy.

( permission given by trev's roleplayer to use him in the thread <3 )

MICHAEL TOWNLEY-PHILLIPS - THE TYPHOON - REAVER

code by Reggan

Quiet was the sandy coyote, soft whimpers leaving it as it prodded Michael's side. Searching for warmth, he began to whimper, headbutting to the best of his abilitry. Tiny paws dug at dark fur, as if trying to return to the warmth it had been torn from. Upset by the inability to return to the warm, the pup began to cry out, whimpers leaving them as they squirmed.