#stop making that SCHLOP with your MOUTHS

[ace-and-ranty]

I’m always amused when people complain that a kissing scene was shoddily acted, because if I ever need confirmation that I’m ace, this is it.

You mean there are kissing scenes y’all like?

[legobiwan]

The muse came to me. Who was I to say no? 

Dooku at the Opera: A Lineage Tale (A Comedy in 3 Acts)

Featuring: Yan Dooku, Rael Averross, Qui-gon Jinn, and Obi-wan Kenobi

----------------------------------------

“Here, take this.”

A dented, silver flask was thrust into Qui-gon’s inner pocket, the weight of the object throwing his deep brown dress robe off-kilter. 

“Rael!” Qui-gon hissed, trying to fish the object from his voluminous, velvet-trimmed outwear. By the Force, he hated wearing this thing. “I’m not - “ The fabric tangled, wrapping around Qui-gon’s arm - once, twice - somehow pinning his limb immobile against his side. 

Rael Averross tossed his head back and laughed for a good minute, leaving a scowling Qui-gon half-bound, trapped in the finest Jedi robes the Temple had to offer. Chuckling, he stepped forward to help Qui-gon unfurl from his self-made prison. “Just trust me, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

“I'm not sneaking Rodian liquor into the Coruscant Opera with Master Dooku at my side. He’ll flay me alive if catches me!” Qui-gon shuddered, testing out his freed arm.

“I’m not asking you to drink it,” Rael cocked his head with a small sigh. “That stuff would strip the paint off the side of a Grellan nightclub.” 

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Qui-gon snapped, rolling his eyes. He didn’t want to know how Rael had such intimate knowledge of the infamous Grellan nightclubs.

“All I’m saying, kid,” Rael’s voice softened as he wrapped an arm around Qui-gon’s bony shoulders, leading him to the full-length mirror standing in the corner of his and Dooku’s shared quarters. “Is that Master Dooku has probably forgotten about about this particular escape tactic.” Rael put a finger to his chin, glancing to the ceiling in thought. “It was twelve years ago.”

Qui-gon frowned, his own confused expression staring back at him in the polished glass. The boy - man - seemed a stranger, wrapped in a long, velvet-trimmed robe, his tunics a darker shade of his customary beige, pressed, absent the usual dark soil spots and off-green streaks that so infuriated his Master. He looked...well, respectable. 

He was fifteen now, had been Master Dooku’s Padawan for just over three years. He had also had the dubious honor of keeping Rael Averross’s occasional company for almost as long. 

“Rael, it’s the opera, not the Citadel. Why do I need an escape tactic?” Qui-gon gestured with the flask in his hand, liquid sloshing against its container. “And if I’m not to drink this, then what in Nine Corellian Hells am I supposed to do with it?”

“I don’t know, kid, you’re a Jedi. You’ll figure it out,” Rael shrugged, pushing wavy black hair from his face. He cocked a crooked smile in Qui-gon’s direction, ruffling his short, spiky hair. 

“Make your exit after the first intermission, but not too close to the start of the second act. Did that one too many times and Dooku’s cottoned on to it.” Rael began to push Qui-gon towards the door, ignoring the boy’s stammered protests. “Now get outta here before he gets suspicious.”

Qui-gon gaped from the other side of the threshold. “Rael!”

But the door only closed with a final whoosh, leaving a very confused Qui-gon Jinn in an empty Temple corridor, battered container of Rodian gin in hand. 

What in the galaxy was that all about? It was the opera. Not just opera, but a Serennian opera. Truth be told, Qui-gon wasn’t much one for the more prestigious arts, not like his Master was, at least. But he had learned to keep those opinions secret after spending two weeks dusting and reorganizing Master Dooku’s extensive holoart book collection, a consequence of expressing his opinion at an exhibition of Tuerrilian landscapes that all the paintings “looked like the same smashball field with the goalposts removed.”

But this would be different, this wouldn’t be a bunch of boring green lawns perched atop various boring curved, silver architectures. This was a story about Serenno. Yes, with large-bodied, multiple-lipped Trellian singers in strange, pointed hats and all, but it was a way to get to know his Master better, learn something new about him, about his planet. 

Behind Qui-gon, the door to Dooku’s quarters opened halfway. “Oh, and kid?” Rael called down the hall. “Say hi to Brigindia the Breadthful and Hagvor the Hu - “ Rael clicked his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks flushing. “Anyway, tell ’em Rael Averross sends his regards if you happen to leave by the stage door exit,” he finished, sly smile spreading across his face.

----

Knock knock knock.

Rael looked up from his holobook, tapping the bookmark button as he glanced at his chrono. 

Not bad, kid, he thought, giving his arms a long stretch before leaving the comfort of Dooku’s plush arm chair. He stopped in the pantry before answering the door, pouring two cups of cold, Nemishian tea.

“So you got out,” Rael said as greeting. “Record time, too.”

Qui-gon pushed past the older Jedi, a flurry of wrinkled fabric and frustration, the faint odor of burnt Ceylla wood drifting from his robes. He made a series of aborted half-circles, like a jittery, indecisive Lothcat before Rael took pity on him and led him to the sofa, pushing a glass of the Nemishian tea into his hand.

The young Jedi sat, unmoving, for a good minute, eyes wide as he seemed to replay every last event of the past three hours in excruciating detail. Rael took his own glass, downing half of it in one go, giving a satisfied smack of his lips. Dooku always did have better provisions than the Jedi commissary, a way of enticing wayward Padawans out of mealtime trouble and sometimes extracting an extra hour’s work out of them.

“It was terrible, Rael,” Qui-gon finally spoke, eyes still wide, voice somewhat haunted.

Rael laughed, slapping his thigh as he sat back in Dooku’s armchair, extending his legs long, his ankles crossed. “C’mon. It couldn’t have been that bad,” Rael teased. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Five of them, actually,” Qui-gon murmured, taking a sip of his tea. The drink seemed to restore some of the color to his pallid face. “Each with a thirty-minute aria.”

“Ah, The Fall of the House of Carellic.” Rael grinned. “A classic.”

Qui-gon’s eyes widened, as he nearly dropped his glass. “You mean he’s seen this one before?”

“It cycles in every seven years or so,” Rael answered. “I imagine at this point Master Dooku has it memorized.”

“But then why,” Qui-gon's voice rose, “did he give me a three-hour running commentary of everything wrong with its portrayal of Serennian culture if he knows it so well?”

“That, my young friend,” Rael drawled, eyes tightening with barely restrained laughter. “Is all part of the experience. Now,” he leaned forward, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “How’d you escape?”

The corner of Qui-gon’s mouth quirked upwards. “Spilled your paint stripper on the mezzanine-level bar. Was a real shame everyone knows the Senator from Gorrusk likes to smoke indoors, although I think both his outfit and pride will recover from the mishap."

“And being the dutiful Padawan you are,” Rael continued, grinning, “of course you volunteered to accompany the poor Senator to the on-site healer, ensuring your Master would not have his night interrupted.” Rael tutted. “It’s just a damned shame there was so much paperwork to fill out.”

Qui-gon raised his glass in Rael’s direction. “Takes forever, really.”

Rael nodded, raising his own glass in salute. “Not too shabby, kid.”

The two Jedi sat in contented silence for a few moments, the adrenaline rush of Qui-gon’s frantic escape finally waning, the younger man’s head slowly tilting downwards, his eyes closing. A minute later, Rael heard a soft snore emanate from the pile of tunics sprawled on the couch. 

Chuckling, Rael stood, collecting both glasses, pulling Qui-gon’s long legs fully onto the couch, boots and all, covering him with a soft blanket plucked from a nearby closet. Dooku could snipe at Rael later for letting his Padawan desecrate his furniture in such a manner. He wouldn’t be back for at least another five hours anyway.

Qui-gon was going to be one of the good ones, Rael thought. Still needed to loosen up a little bit - Dooku had him scared to rights most of the time, but he’d learn soon enough that his old Master was just as much bark as bite - at least, most of the time. 

Fifteen years and Dooku has never gotten anyone to sit through the entirety of one of those Force-forsaken circuses. Rael had never been sure why he insisted on the charade every year - Dooku had to know full well his Padawans were sneaking off. Hell, even the other Jedi Masters always seemed to find a polite excuse to avoid Dooku’s yearly invitations to the opera, Master Windu going as far as claiming he needed to “shave his head and was busy that night and all the other nights the act was in town.”

Force help all of us the day he finds some kid willing to sit through that schlop. They’d probably end up being more terrifying than Dooku himself.

----

“Master,” Obi-wan Kenobi gave a series of gentle raps on the door to Qui-gon’s room. 

Qui-gon peered his eyes open, squinting at the bright morning sun shining through the small gap in his curtains. Morning already?

“Obi-wan, come in,” Qui-gon groaned, voice still full of sleep. “How was the opera?” he asked, suddenly remembering where his Padawan had been last night, shuttled away in a familiar velvet-trimmed robe by his old Master. 

Qui-gon felt a pang of disappointment. He had hoped his Padawan would come to him after making his escape, would share in his escapades with Qui-gon over a glass of Nemishian tea, that they would laugh like two younglings as he and Rael had every year until Qui-gon’s Knighting.

But like most other parts of their partnership, this, too, Obi-wan seemed to approach with cool, measured detachment. 

Obi-wan brightened at the question, however, pulling out a crisp holoprogram from his robes. “It was delightful, Master! Master Dooku and I had a splendid time. He even treated me to a Drynarian spiced wine during the second intermission.”

Qui-gon gaped at his student, certain he had heard him incorrectly. His eyes flitted to the cover of the holoprogram - The Fall of the House of Carellic - emblazoned in regal Aurebesh and Serennian script. 

“You - you stayed?”

Obi-wan furrowed his brow. “Of course, Master. Granted, the opera as a whole was a bit bloated, the singers past their prime - Brigindia the Breadthful’s range didn’t quite match up to her alias and Hagvor the Hu - “ Obi-wan hissed, his cheeks flushing red. “Well, Master Dooku said that wasn’t really his name, that it was a ‘improper moniker bestowed upon a great artist for base reasons.’ I didn’t ask after it, but he was alright, as tenors go.”

“But Padawan, the letter-opener I gave you - “ Qui-gon stammered. Not that he had expected Obi-wan to stab anybody with it in an attempt to escape the opera, far from it. But he had thought - Qui-gon let out a breath - hell, he didn’t know - maybe rip a curtain or sabotage some official’s clothing? 

“Oh yes, that was quite useful Master, thank you,” Obi-wan beamed. “The packaging on those meiloorun pastries can rather difficult.”

Qui-gon nodded dumbly at his Padawan. 

“Oh, before I forget, Master, this is for you, from Master Dooku.” Obi-wan held out a flimsi, folded in half, Qui-gon’s name printed in familiar, elegant script. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a shower and a short nap before the day begins.”

“Yes, yes, of course, Padawan,” Qui-gon said, distracted, not bothering to close the door as Obi-wan hopped out of the room.

With no small degree of trepidation, Qui-gon opened the note.

“Qui-gon - 

I would like to thank you for allowing me to borrow your charge for the evening. It is rare to encounter a young mind with such intellect, curiosity, and, shall I say, an inherent sense of taste and propriety. I find myself wanting to repeat the experience, if Obi-wan (and you) should be open to it. 

As for your letter-opener, I am disappointed that you would arm your student with such an unimaginative weapon. I would say that next year you should confer with Rael in the matter, but I do believe that will not be necessary, given Obi-wan’s sincere enthusiasm throughout the evening. Senator Rembran of Gorrusk sends his regards to you, as he does every year. Ever since the incident at the bar, he has been convinced of the Jedi’s importance in the Republic, so I must thank you for the unintended repercussion of your clumsy sabotage those years ago.

Brigindia and Hagvor also send their regards to Rael. I do hope you didn’t share the mortifying origins of Hagvor’s colorful moniker with your student. He has yet to encounter Rael Averross in person, and I would prefer he and Obi-wan to meet without any prurient preconceptions, as Rael is a good, if infuriating man. How he remains my former pupil is still one of the great mysteries of the galaxy.

Finally, I would like to extend an invitation for you to join me (and Obi-wan, again, if it is to be allowed) for next year’s production of The Sentinel’s Progress, which has not been staged in over a millenia. I am told it is a most inaccurate depiction of our ancient Serennian culture and I would be glad to share my thoughts with you and your Padawan. Of course, if you feel the need to come armed with a letter-opener, you need but slip the blade through Madame Tursky’s silver gown-train. Rumor has it she is most protective of her honor and can be seen hovering near the mezzanine-level bar like a drunken hawkbat at most intermissions. 

Until then, Padawan. And may the Force be with you.

             ---Best Regards,

                    Yan Dooku”

[demonprosecutor]

SOMETHING MORE LIGHTHEARTED THIS TIME

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10  | part 11

“don’t tell me that you’re scared of myroclus.” the words leave your mouth amused, patting the flank of the enormous draft horse, watching as zagreus stared back at myroclus warily. like he was going to bite his head off or something. the cottage doesn’t exactly have a stable, nor is myroclus an entirely domesticated horse, but he’s a good companion and fairly compliant with you.

zagreus shook his head, a little bit peeved at the thought of being scared of a horse - after all, he was the one who faced the hordes of the underworld, dying so many times that hypnos had to dedicate a list solely for himself. “i’m not scared. just -- wary, ok? does he have special powers? what’s his parentage? and do i have to expect fire-breathing in the near future.”

the questions make you laugh, myroclus nickering and shaking his head before dipping it to sneak a few nibbles of grass below. tsk, tsk, what a hungry thing! “no powers, just a normal horse. he’s a draft horse. i use him for plowing and riding in the woods yonder, the wolves fear him.” you move forward, scratching myroclus’s neck, fond at the way he nestled his head on your shoulder. 

dark eyes peer at zagreus, almost conveying the words of: my human. zagreus raises his hands in surrender, no, he wasn’t going to steal your human. it was clear that winter was already nearing, and the journey towards the nearest town was going to be fairly treacherous, but there were some needed supplies and you couldn’t wait till after lady demeter’s anger abetted.

but still - you didn’t want your two best boys (don’t tell zagreus that you already considered him a best boy, his ego did not need any more stroking) to argue on the journey there. with quick hands, you produce an apple, voice pitching into something baby-ish, “you are a good boy, right, myroclus? you’re going to behave for me?” 

myroclus takes the apple from your hands, snuffling along your palm with a pleased snort. “ok, come here. he got his treat and he knows to be a good boy, right, sweet one?” myroclus shudders in delight, eyes going slightly lidded and hooves stamping the ground. 

“are you sure?”

you roll your eyes and turn around, reaching out to curl your hand around the prince’s, tugging him closer. “yes. i am sure. would i ever lead you astray?”

“no, but...” you shush him and press his hand on the side of myroclus’s flank, guiding him to stroke the horse firmly. “wait, i dont want to hurt him...”

“he’s made of pure muscle, he likes it firm, zag.” you concentrate on helping the prince pet myroclus to his liking, not noticing the apollo-bright smile that he levelled at you. when you do notice, you pause, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. “what.”

“you called me zag.” he points out, fingers curling to scratch myroclus’ favourite spot. “instead of zagreus.”

fluster rises like an inferno, ready to swallow you whole. “mm.” you pull your hand back, averting your gaze to the carefully-folded blue cloth that you meant to drape over the horse’s back in preparation of the journey.

zagreus grabs your arm, careful, gentle. like he always was, like he feared he could shatter you to pieces with one wrong move. (he wasn’t wrong exactly, but this sort of gentleness scared you because where else would ever experience that and prince zagreus’ destiny was beyond you and the simple cottage). “hey, i wasn’t making fun of you. i always told you, you didn’t have to be so formal with me. we’re friends. philia is what we are.”

philia, a friendly sort of love, an affection between friends, one of the four words love.

you tilt your head, heart molded like clay, warmed by the heat of his caring hands. and it is peace that makes its way in the hallowed atriums of your chest. home, you think. this was meant to be, in some strange, Fate-spun way. “philia.” you parrot, wrapping a hand around the one zagreus had curled around your arm.

it’s a strange moment, one that’s shattered with the way zagreus suddenly pulls back; flexing his hand slightly. “so, you were teaching me to ride this beast?”

myroclus whinnies in indignation, he was not a mere beast, he was the grandest of horses! you laugh again, unfolding the blue blanket that allowed you to the barest hint of relief from the bumpiness that riding horses could serve. “perhaps, but most of all, i will teach you to hold on. it would do you well to go and explore outside of my lady’s lands.” pause, thoughtful look. “if that is your wish, anyways.”

“i find no issue with that, i have been feeling a bit cooped up. and i have never ridden a horse before, how hard could it be?” zagreus watches as you tie the blanket to myroclus’ back before seeing the unimpressed look on your face. “what?”

“riding a horse is no easy feat, i’ll have you know.”

he could tell that he’s offended you, smiling sheepishly as if to say sorry! nonetheless, you turn towards myroclus, rolling up your chiton to revealed toned legs and thighs from years of hard work. sticking your tongue out, you take a few steps back before rushing forward and vaulting yourself onto myroclus’ back. zagreus claps wildly, whistling in appreciation at the show of athleticism, the only show of athleticism that you are willing to display.

you are simply content to walk through life instead of rushing. 

“me next!” zagreus mirrors you, tensing his legs to leap...

“stop! no! you don’t know how to do it yet and myroclus isn’t prepared, what we are going to do is this.” you pat the horse’s neck, whispering a quiet: down boy, and myroclus settles on the ground. “now, up.” you pat behind your form, waiting patiently for zagreus to sit behind you, but he doesn’t.

oh. he looks... petulant. like a child. “i’m not a child, you know. i can do what you did. it’s easy!” he crosses his arms, but obligingly sits on the spot you had indicated. “This isn’t too bad.”

His arms wrap around your waist loosely, a smile dimpling at your cheeks. “not yet, and tighter.” you tug him until his arms tighten, his body a spot of heat at your back. prince zagreus is tall enough that he could comfortably place his chin on your head. “ready?” a whistle has your horse standing up once again, the reins tight around your fists. “just hold on.”

you snap the reins and off myroclus goes, the earth rumbling underneath his thunderous hooves. he was a bulky creature, as strong as an oak tree and not as fast as his other kin, but a dependable steed. you can hear zagreus grunting behind you, knees pressed tight to avoid being knocked off, voice jumping in amusing leaps at every bound of the horse. “how do you fare?” you call above the winds, cheeks bitten red by the fall air, delight in your gaze. 

“iiiiii---- thiiiiiink---- im gonnaaaaaaahahhhhhhh----” his words come strangely and at a particular bump, one that has zagreus slipping and attempting to cling to you, thus setting off a chain reaction of him falling and you falling onto the rocky ground beneath.

luckily because of godlike reflexes, he maneuvers himself in a way that cushions your fall with his bulk, rollin in the mud before stopping. chiton messed, hair messed, face splattered with brown, you sit up, glaring at him crossly. distantly, you can see myroclus skidding to a halt and swinging his mighty head, returning in leisurely trots, taking a detour to a nearby field of sweetgrass. zagreus shrugs sheepishly at you, “you did say to hold on...”

“yes, but not yank me off the horse as well!” you try to wipe off the mud from your face, succeeding in smearing it even further. “ugh, it’s not getting off.” at least there’s one white spot left on your chiton. however, a splat against your chest has it disappearing --- you look up at zagreus who sports a shit-eating grin, the flames that licked his laurel wreathe dancing in delight. “you. did. not.”

he sticks his nose in the air, mouth curled in a manner that reminded you too much of lord hermes, “i did, and what are you going to do about it?”

if he insists on playing dirty, then you shall oblige him in turn. in his moment of gloating and taunting, you craft a mud ball and toss it right at his face, laughing at the way he sputters, features messed even further with dirt and clods of grass. zagreus appears to not have anticipated your retaliation and that makes it that much more sweeter.

your countenance may be reserved; however, that is by choice - underneath the mask, you had the capacity of being equally playful. you roll away from the god, scooping up handful of mud and temporarily overwhelming poor zagreus who attempts to escape the indent he made in the mud with a wet schlop! 

however, whatever your advantage you had was swiftly lost. his dual-coloured eyes flash with excitement, teeth bared in a grin that foretold trouble. with his forearms up, he blocked every mudball you threw, whilst stepping closer and closer. you try to outmaneuver him, but as fleet-footed as you were, zagreus was even more superior (you suspected that he had been blessed by lord hermes, hardly fair!).

“---- got you!” the prince tackles you to the ground, carefully cushioning your head with a hand and pinned you in the mud - braced over you with a forearm next to your head and knees next to your thighs. by then, you’re both heaving from your play-fighting and nearly unidentifiable from the amount of mud caked on your forms.

the laughter from being bowled over and trapped trails off, your gazes captured in magnetic timelessness. you’ve noticed that you’ve been having these strange moments often, an electric quality that you cannot seem to place. it was terrifying, it was exhilarating. prince zagreus watches you, lips parted, quiet. 

this moment - standing on the precipice of something different. you falter, pressing a hand on zagreus’ chest, laughing albeit awkwardly. “zagreus, m-myroclus. i have to get him. and we... we should get clean.” the words stuff your mouth as the moment is ruined, zagreus blinking in realization. he rocks back on his heels, smiling, but something in his gaze is different.

was it regret? was it disappointment?

he shouldn’t be, what this was -- it was an illusion. simply the games of lady aphrodite and nothing more. when he stands, he offers you a hand, which you take gratefully. “go back home and clean up, i need to get myroclus back.” it seemed like he wanted to protest; however, he doesn’t - midnight-hair matted with mud. zagreus doesn’t answer you, contenting with a nod and returning to the cottage.

you whistle loudly, myroclus’ ears pricking at the sound and trotting over to bump his snout against your cheek gently. “tsk, you were a bad boy, did you do that on purpose?” myroclus nickers, neither an affirmative or a negative. it must of been one of his bouts of mischief. “nonetheless, tomorrow, we’re going to practice more, please be good and i’ll bring you treats.” the prospects of treats, it seemed, was enough for the horse to internally pledge to behave.

after returning myroclus to his fenced field, you turn your feet back to the cottage and to the bathhouse where steaming rose water and oils awaited you. luxury has never been appealing to you, but the capacity to soak in a bath for an extended period of time was wonderful. you knocked on the door and upon finding no reply, entered the bathhouse, shedding your already-awkwardly dried clothes and sinking into the tub of hot water (zagreus had, no doubt, already refilled upon anticipation of your return).

you do not know how long you sat there and cleaned, allowing the day to sluice off your shoulders, but when you finish, your skin is pruny and countenance soften with the delight of someone well-soaked. a robe hung nearby, soft fabric that warded off the cold, cinched at the waist with rope. 

thankfully, when you return to the kitchen where you know zagreus was stoking the fire for the stew they had made, nothing was on fire. his hair was endearingly fluffed up, swaddled in a similar robe. “nice bath? you took long.” he offers you a bowl of stew, which you take gratefully.

“i’m a bit sore from the fall, it was nice to have the warmth soak into my skin.” you pull up a chair, stretching luxuriously enough that your joints pop. “you know, i’ve been curious.” zagreus spoons food into his mouth, humming in acknowledgement (he’s learned to not talk with his mouth full, something you’ve scolded him about frequently). “when lord thanatos was here, he talked about your purpose... i’m sorry, am i not supposed to...” you trail off at the look he gives you. it’s not menacing or angry, but filled with a brand of determination.

ah, you forget. the vengeful, cataclysmic drive to see his birthmother, you wonder - would you go to such depths? would you descent to the pits of tartarus to see your family, so cruelly stolen from you?

“no, it’s... it’s fine.” he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, “i came here to protect my mother. from the rest of the olympians.” that gets your attention, straightening in your seat.

“my lady is in danger?” the panic in your chest tightens, mind already racing with contingency plans. how, just how, are you supposed to protect the goddess?

he can see the fear in your eyes, reaching out to hold your hand tightly. “no harm will fall upon her. or you. i am here.”

but you know the disastrous uselessness of fighting against forces of nature themselves. after all, it was lord ares whom blessed the army, the general, that ravaged her home. “don’t. there are... there are certain things that you cannot fight against, believe me, i know.” your words are harsh, zagreus taken aback by the rawness of your self baring. you squeeze your eyes shut, dismissing your memories and traumas. easy, after all. pandora’s box, locked tight. “regardless, lord thanatos spoke about something about things not dying, doesn’t that scare you?”

zagreus considers that, tilting his head before shaking it. “not really. it’ll sort itself out soon. now, let’s stop talking about this nasty business. eat your dinner.”

you feel scolded, dismissed, really. but that’s nothing new. zagreus was a god, you remind yourself. he did not feel mortality in the way that you did. bah, nonetheless, you and this cottage is an insignificant blip in the grand scheme of things.

after all, being faceless was the greatest gift of all in this life.

[knightofwalpvrgis]

Here’s my much more controversial take on the nature of Harry Potter criticism (hatred), and how it’s come to affect the Fantastic Beasts series.

As I’ve said, I noticed something particularly forced about the nature of the negativity surrounding FB1 back in 2016 - forced hit-pieces that criticize the film but apparently barely comprehended it...regurgitations of the plot not accurately depicting the film at all, showing a lack of attention and active listening among certain audience members. It was insulting, and people kept on looking for excuses to consider the film a disappointment despite the good reviews from the audience and fans, and the good box office performance, not to mention the esteemed accolades from the Academy and BAFTA.

The criticism for FB2 seems motivated by personal feelings based on certain plot points, the same lack of active listening and a determination to blame the film for your lack of superficial enjoyment or comprehension, and determined negativity in the face of completely unwarranted controversy and a bro-y, anti-intelligent rejection of the complexity and thematic maturity of the story. And the latter part is something Harry Potter has always struggled with.

People don’t like dark, thoughtful films in the US. Everything either has to have tons of action and/or tons of humor. Blockbuster four-quadrants even in the eyes of critics, “shouldn’t take themselves too seriously”...and when they do, that’s grounds for panning? For vicious insults? And insinuations that, in fact, it isn’t the film that’s too cerebral for them. It’s the audience that is too cerebral for the film.

But dare you express this sentiment, and you’re simply met with exclamations of “pretentiousness!” and arrogance...which is, of course, ironic and hypocritical.

My point is, I don’t want to see Rowling sell out. Of course there’s allowed to be difference in opinion and we should consider the flaws of every piece, but the Fantastic Beasts films arrived with a seething, unwarranted, determined underbelly of hatred to begin with, and that makes it hard to stomach some of the “criticism” it’s faced and consider it legitimate or professional. Alongside the usual absurd, meaningless imputations of “greed” (yes, every film is essentially a “cash grab”...stop using that buzzword guys, it means nothing) the biggest, most ridiculous criticism I see comes from people who really don’t want to let their condescension of this series go. They still want to treat it like it’s a lighthearted kids series despite that fact that 1) it’s not 2) it hasn’t been for kids in quite a while, for the majority of its run, and has always been quite dark and 3) Fantastic Beasts 1, to prove this, played to an audience of 65% over 25 year olds. FB2 played to an audience of nearly 70% over 25 year olds. And there’s minimal marketing to kids, yet people keep acting like it’s a franchise for kids.

That box office breakdown? The Nicholas Barber and Dani Di Placido reviews who’s entire critique revolves around “it’s too dark for a kids film!”, that go back to Harry Potter era when, film after film, people complained in reviews that it “was darker than any children’s film had the right to be”...the Dana Schwartz tweets and articles that indicate the perfect problem that these types of audiences face as the Fantastic Beasts series progresses...there are adults at the center of these films. They’re actually dark. They’re not child friendly. They’re hardly even marketed as a family film and they play at the box office like adult blockbusters, and in a sense, they are adult fantasies, and that sensibility stretches back to the Harry Potter series.

People like Dana Schwartz LOVE to write articles about how “Harry Potter is only good for small-scale escapism”, and this, in my opinion, is indicative of the problem facing audiences now...they’re forced to realize that in their determination to believe Harry Potter is lighthearted and for kids, they’ve ignored the fact that it is neither lighthearted NOR appropriate for young children. It was a series for teens and this new series is an extension from that original audience. Audiences have spent so long being enchanted by the Harry Potter series for very superficial reasons that have almost nothing to do with the characters or the plot. But they won’t ever admit to that. In their determination to see HP as cozy and quaint and child-friendly, they’ve mentally edited out, censored, and sanitized everything that makes the original series dark and adult...creating a warped, rose-tinted, shallow, conflict-less version of the original story that barely resembles the story. It resembles the version of the story that’s most friendly to their belief that it’s for kids. But, AGAIN, it’s not.

And so we get these warped, confused reactions to the Fantastic Beasts series full of people who are incapable of following a novelistic plot like they did while “reading” (but mostly only watching, and not fully comprehending) the original series. Expectations going into these movies are for lighthearted and kid-friendly content that these films don’t deliver...because Rowling doesn’t write lighthearted and kid-friendly content, for the most part. You have a maddening variety of reactions that mostly consist of: people who selectively attend to the few bits and sequences of lightheartedness and mild humor to keep that rose-tinted, child-friendly view in tact, coming out with a vastly incomplete and inadequate understanding of the plot. Then you have the same people who insist the film is “tonally jumbled” because they expected lightheartedness, and instead got thematic heaviness, darkness, violence, and melancholy, which interferes with their expectations and wants. Then you have the people that complain that the series is “too grimdark”. And because of the thematic riskiness and adult nature of the material, you have people attacking Rowling for being “problematic”, viciously attempting to outsmart her and make her look stupid, and arrogant, inaccurate interpretations of her stories to try to fit a pre-determined criticism.

All in all, I cringe at the idea of the GA and certain critics forcing something like Rowling’s Wizarding World into the space of WB’s new DC franchise. These stories have such depth, detail, and intelligence that people refuse to acknowledge and credit them with, and frankly, Rowling deserves way better than that. I think Rowling should pull this brand away and keep it in literature. Do the theme parks even need to stay open? Force people to read a book. Call off the merchandising, the video games, the films, just write books. Write Fantastic Beasts as a novel series and don’t even allow WB or anyone else to adapt it into films, because the blockbuster GA and the armchair critics should be forced to form another pathway in their brains, and actually invest in a novel. Instead of distracting themselves with silly excuses and endeavors, and reasons to characterize Harry Potter and further Rowling stories as blockbuster schlop along the lines of a superhero series.

To the silly, condescending assholes saying this franchise takes itself too seriously: it’s a series based off of Rowling’s experiences with death, poverty, depression, and abuse, and all of her written works deal with analogues and themes that she feels passionately about. She’s not a corporate filmmaker like George Lucas. And she shouldn’t put up with the abuse, the ignorance, the determined hatred, and the condescension for one second. This is an urban fantasy story about WW2. I suppose Rowling was mistaken for thinking that an audience that still believes her work to be for kids would ever stomach that.

TLDR; I’m aware of the main criticism regarding the film and it’s plot, but my issue came from the over-inflated negativity that’s come at this film for a rather small reason. Because even negative reviewers of the film said that the film was well made. And so my issue lies here: The film, in terms of direction, cinematography, design, acting, score, theme, and world-building has been praised consistently by esteemed critics. And yet we’re calling the film “the worst film of the year”, wishing the franchise ruin, and determinedly construing BO numbers negatively and giving it bad publicity for reasons like 1) “I hate Johnny Depp/J.K. Rowling/David Yates” 2) “I don’t like that the story went this way and did this with these characters” 3) “it was boring/convoluted/too plot-heavy” 4) “it’s too dark”

One of the most egregious RT certified examples:

“The film acted as a kind of reverse-Mirror of Erised - showing me exactly everything that I didn’t want”

-The Mary Sue

These aren’t objective criticisms. Since when do personal expectations and feelings about the direction of the narrative constitute as objective film criticism to decide the word-of-mouth and general publicity surrounding a film?! Even when most concede the film is well made, it’s still being trashed by some, even by the same people who concede this, because...it’s boring and “too much happens”? There are MANY films that are worse made that have just as overstuffed and convoluted a plot that haven’t gotten the bad publicity that this film has because of nothing but franchise good-will.

My stipulation is that a vocal minority of people are being melodramatic and over-inflating their negative reviews because of personal feelings regarding the story and “canon”, just as some are trying to find excuses to avoid crediting the story with the maturity it deserves to be credited with, in the face of an even darker and more aggressively political film.

Does Rowling’s voice, her themes, and her style need emphasizing? I’d encourage people to read everything she’s written to realize that Rowling is not a dewy-eyed, lighthearted woman, if Harry Potter wasn’t dark enough to display that to begin with: in her writing, Rowling is obsessed with exploring themes of death, life, trauma, political corruption, and bigotry. She’s fascinated by the facets of life that are mundane and often ugly, outcasted, or weird. And she loves subversion, twists on tones, archetypes, and genres. She often ruminates, in all of her work, on the dark underbelly of society and human nature, and focuses on our tendency for irrational and despicable violence, self-hatred, discrimination, corruption and power-lust, sadomasochism, murder, torture, rape, you name it. It’s a recurring theme. Harry sacrifices himself to death after the murder, maiming, and torture of his loved ones at the hands of incredibly sadistic and depraved fascist villains who aren’t above killing and harming children, to protect his compatriots and loved ones. Kyrstal Weedon kills herself with her mother’s drugs after being raped by her mother’s drug dealer and tangentially causing the death of her brother after running away from her drug dealing prostitute mother to conceive a child with a teenage boy. Cormoran Strike investigates crimes pertaining to all manner of human evils, including authors that ruminate on pedophilia, bestiality, and necrophilia, people with amputation fetishes, sexual attraction to murder and abuse, and the Fantastic Beasts series has started a running theme of infant murder and death, vicious abuse, and morally gray acts of violence, some of it righteous and vengeful. Can you think of the last film that killed a baby (or two) in any way? The only film I can think of is the Hard R Darren Aronofsky Thriller, Mother! “But Harry Potter is so lighthearted and fun!”

People need to stop so violently and inaccurately mischaracterizing Rowling’s work as lighthearted simply because they have nostalgic attachment to some of the superficial elements of her original series. Unfortunately, some people don’t like Harry Potter for the story and that’s why they don’t see it as the often dark, horrific, complex, and melancholic story that it ultimately is. And that surface-level plane of attachment can’t sustain any sort of long term interest in further Wizarding World stories, unfortunately. That is why the Fantastic Beasts stories are being treated the way they are. Your superficial, childish interest in only Hogwarts Houses and Quidditch isn’t very substantive, and can’t sustain your interest in something that’s incredibly plot heavy! Rowling is known for giving the reader more. That’s why her books are known for being very long. And that’s why the only major criticism this film is dealing with is - “the story is too convoluted and overstuffed”.

[luukia]

Alsar Chapter 27

Chapter 27 : The First Morning of The Subjugation Day

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Finally, today was the first day of our subjugation quest!

We'd been practicing for the last two days and now!

Finally!

The time had come!

I got up early and made my bed.

I couldn’t sleep properly last night because I was too excited.

“Ah.. My heart is thumping so fast..”

I couldn’t help myself though.

After all, this was my first subjugation quest!

I stretched my sore body and changed my clothes.

I wore short sleeved shirt last night because I didn’t plan on going anywhere but since we were going to walk across the prairie, I chose to wear long sleeved shirt today.

I looked at the ear cuffs on my bedside.

Yesterday, after we finished practicing we decided to check the market a little before we headed back to the inn.

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-Yesterday-

“Hmm.. This might be useful.. I already saw it before but back then I wasn’t so sure I would need them but since there’s four of us, I think having this stuff might be good.” Sig-san said as he examined a rather large ear cuff from the stall.  

“Hm? What’s that?”

“It’s a magical communication device, Ren-kun.. With this device, you can communicate and even determine the location of your party member.” Fer-san explained while Sig-san bought the device for us.

“Hoo, seems pretty handy.”

What a useful device, it worked both as GPS and telecommunication device.

“Ren-chan, this device is also popular for married couple. They usually wear the cuff on their left ear and decorate it in jewels with the same color as their partner’s eyes. But people commonly wear the cuff on their right ear if they’re going to use it only for the sake of communicating with their party member~”

“Oh, like a wedding ring.”

Now that I thought about it, the people in Pedrell also used earcuffs with jewels on them too.

I thought it was a fashion item but it turned out the jewels had special meaning to it.

If I wasn’t wrong, Hugo-san also wore one.

“What’s wedding ring?” Fer-san asked.

“Back in the world I came from, the married couple will wear a ring on their left hand ring fingers to indicate that they’re already married.”

“Ah, I see. Wearing a ring also sounds nice but for us.. It will be inconvenient since we use our sword on almost daily basis and especially me.. I’m left-handed so I can’t wear a ring on my left fingers.” Fer-san said dejectedly as he stroke the sword attached on his right hip.

Wearing a ring will hinder you when holding a sword after all.

“Ren, come here...Yup, I’m going put this on your right ear so hold still. One day, I will put a green gemstone on your cuff. ”

Sig-san had finished paying and he gently put the cuff on my right ear.

“Nngh!”

As Sig-san fingers brushed against my ear, I let out a little yelp in surprise.

“Ah that’s right, what about in polygamous marriage? Do they wear multiple ear cuffs or something?” I asked.

“Oh if you’re in polygamous marriage, you will need to buy a bigger ear cuffs so you can put multiple stones on it. Fufu~ Ren-chan, do you think my eye color will look good on you?” Chris-san asked in lower tone than usual.

It wasn’t fair to use that kind of voice in public!

“I-I see. Well, aside from whether it will suit me or not, I think the three of you has a really beautiful eyes.”

Honestly, their eyes were simply too beautiful.

Chris-san had alluring purple amethyst eyes that would make you melt  from the inside as you stare at it.

Fer-san had deep blue sapphire eyes as beautiful as the skies.

Sig-san had translucent emerald green eyes like a clear morning dew.

Their eyes were as beautiful as real jewel.

“Fufufu~ I think Ren-chan’s black eyes is also very charming~”

“Thank you for the compliment..”

Oh no..

My face would immediately turned red when they praised me.

I couldn’t help it! It was too embarrassing!

Sig-san handed the ear cuffs to Fer-san and Chris-san.

The rest of them also put the ear cuffs on their right ear.

Ah, how envious.

Even though they were only wearing a simple ear cuffs, they looked very fashionable.

Being a handsome guy sure had its perk.

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I put on the ear cuffs on my right ear as I remembered yesterday’s events.

The monster will started to appear today by the sunrise.

I guess the other would be awake by now judging from the noise I heard from the outside.

*knock knock*

I heard someone knocking my door, that must be them.

“Ren-kun, are you awake?”

“Yes! I will be ready in a second!” I replied.

Just when I thought that they might be awake by now, Fer-san came to pick me up.

I opened my door to see Fer-san smiling gently at me.

“Good morning, I will be in your care today. Should we head down to have breakfast now?” I greeted him.

“Good morning, Ren-kun. Yes, let’s have a light breakfast downstairs. I think we have about 30 minutes before the monster start appearing. The other two already went ahead to start their preparations.”

Usually, Fer-san would let his long blonde hair down but today he tied his hair in a ponytail style.

His silky hair swayed as we walked downstairs.

“Fufu~ Although our hair length is different, today we have a similar hairstyle.” I said while giggling a little.

“Eh? Ah, yeah. Somehow, I feel delighted to see that we’re matched. Ren-kun’s hair is so beautiful too.” Fer-san replied bashfully, his cheeks tinted in pink hue.

“There’s nothing beautiful from my hair. I let it grow because I was too lazy to cut it. Maybe I should just shave it off like a buddhist monk.”

“W-what?! I think it would be a waste, Ren-kun. Please cease such thought from yourself, just let your hair grow as it is good enough.” Fer-san said with a smile on his face but, even though he was smiling, I could feel the aura around him grew darker.

How can he smiled but still looked serious at the same time?

“E-eh? O-okay.” Looking at his tense expression, I immediately nodded my head.

Two days ago, Fer-san showed me his magical swordsmanship skill.

He was able to cut through the rock but,what impressed me the most was anything that his sword touched will be frozen over in seconds.

At first, I thought that was the reason why Fer-san gained the nickname Ice Prince.

But right now, looking at his icy cold expression maybe that was not the only reason why people called him Ice Prince..

“Ah, there they are! Oi! Ren, Fer, over here!”

When we arrived at the first floor, Sig-san immediately called out to us.

Sig-san and Chris-san already reserved a table for us.

Seemed like they woke up earlier than me.

“That little boy, is he the leader of that party?”

“If I’m not wrong, they’re from Luce, right?”

Ah, some adventurers were talking about us.

“Isn’t he only F-rank??”

“For an F-rank to become the leader of a bunch of A-rank people, there’s only one reason behind it, right?”

“True, he must be seducing them with his body.”

*SCHLOP*

“Hiii! A f-fork?!”

Suddenly, there was a fork stabbed deep into the table, only inches away from the adventurer’s fingers.

“You’ve been talking shit about Ren-chan this whole time, surely you have a death wish, right? If you still value your life, please learn to keep your mouth shut.”

Apparently Chris-san was the one that threw that fork, but to think he could threw the fork with such impact and precision that it landed only few inches away from those adventurers, Chris-san’s was truly incredible.

“C-Chris-san! It’s alright, I don’t mind it after all, it is the truth that I’m only F-ranked so it’s given that someone will start a rumor about us. But it’s alright! I will show them my capability during the subjugation quest!”

The guild staff from before wasn’t the only one.

It was given for people to speculate a lot of.. Negative things about our party composition.

I had the lowest rank after all.

“Ren-chan… I’m sorry, because I appointed you as our leader..They started to spread baseless rumours about you.. I’ve added fuel to the fire because of my selfishness..” Chris-san said as he stood and walked toward me, clinging onto me with tears on his eyes.

He was using his dejected puppy look on me again!

The combination of his teary and upturned eyes was too deadly!

“U-ugh! It’s fine already, I’m fine so let’s have our breakfast now!” I said, flustered.

The sight of an adult man 9 years older than me, clinging to me with tears on his eyes shouldn’t look this cute!

Chris-san really knew how to get around with his looks.

I sat down on the chair with a big sigh.

“Those scum doesn’t know about Ren’s support magic. When we finished with this quest, Ren’s rank will surely rise up and those kind of scum will stop their nonsense bickering.”

“That’s right, the reason why Ren-kun is still an F-rank is because of Malik-san’s overprotectiveness. If only they see Ren-kun’s true ability, let alone B-rank, having A-rank is possible for Ren-kun.”

Sig-san and Fer-kun also cheered me on.

They really had a lot of expectations from me.

Well, at least my goal for now was to finish this subjugation quest alive and to avoid being a burden as much as possible!

--------------------------------------------

“What?! Why?! The hell?! Why is that brat partying with them?! Whatsmore, he is their leader?! No matter how you look at it, I’m waaaaaay better than him!!”

I clenched my teeth as I looked at their table.

They were having their breakfast nonchalantly.

The nerve!!

Even though they rejected my invitation!!

“Zhanna, calm down. You already have Carl with you, right?”

Salva tried to calm me down.

“Well even though Carl is also A-rank and the rest of you also have lady killer face but! Look at them! All the female adventurer are looking at their table enviously! Isn’t given that they should’ve joined my party instead?!”

Amongst the bulky and dirty adventurer, those guys were at top rank visual wise.

Not to mention, they were all A-rank!

They should’ve been mine!!

Well, even though my current party were already filled with good looking men too but..

“Zhanna, for now let’s have our breakfast first. If you really want them to join our party, you can invite them again later. I think they’re only partying for the subjugation quest and will go their own ways afterwards. We can go and invite them when the time comes then.”

Carl tried to calm me down by suggesting me to invite them again later.

“Oh..Is that so? Well.. That might be right.. But! I can’t help it! I feel irritated each time I see them!!”

Roger on the other hand, he was chomping down at the meal before him greedily.

For fuck sake, if only Roger didn’t yell at Chris before, I would had Chris wrapped around my fingers!

He should’ve tried to think through before doing anything!!

Just look at that other worlder!

He tried to coerce them into marrying him by wearing those ear cuffs!

Well even though they were already married, I could easily tear them apart by using some magic on them.

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Casablanca’s Member

Name : Carl

Age : 32 years old

An A-rank adventurer with masochist tendency.

Name : Roger

Age : 22 years old

A B-rank adventurer, he’s the muscle idiot type.

Name : Salva

Age : 27 years old

A B-rank adventurer, he’s the voice of reason of Casablanca.

T/N : The next update will come a little bit later I think. I want to start writing fanfic again.. It’s been a while since I last wrote one so I hope I can get back to writing again… Well! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and as always please leave a rating or reviews on novelupdates if you like this novel! Have a nice day! I love you guys!

Chapter 26

Index

Chapter 28 (not yet)

[megsblackfirewrites]

The Pain is Always Worth It

The Pain is Always Worth It

Gabriel rested his cheek on Jack’s swollen belly and smiled. The babies had moved less and less over the last month, but he could still feel their little hands and feet against his face. Jack’s milk flow had finally evened out, the protein rich liquid only requiring a few quick pumps with the breast pump to get his teats back down to manageable size. His belly fur had grown thick and lush, perfect for the little ones to snuggle in once they were born and nursing.

“Comfy?” Jack asked as he reached out to run his fingers through Gabriel’s growing, spiky hair.

“Very,” Gabriel smiled and kissed over Jack’s belly. “You?”

“As comfortable as I can be with three big babies stretching out my belly and kicking my bladder,” Jack smiled.

Gabriel chuckled, but grew silent as Jack stiffened. He looked at his mate, tipping his ears forward as Jack let out a low hiss and tried to push himself up.

“Jack?” Gabriel asked as he sat up.

“My water broke,” Jack whispered. “Oh fuck.”

Gabriel’s mouth opened, but his brain came to a screeching halt. Jack’s water had just broke. Jack’s water had broken! The babies were coming!

“Oh. Shit,” Gabriel hissed as he got to his feet and offered his hands. “Can you walk?”

Jack nodded as he slowly sat up. He took Gabriel’s hands and hauled himself to his feet. He swayed, one hand resting on his massive belly as it tugged towards the floor no matter how much Jack tried to flex the muscles. He closed his eyes, hissing softly as the extra weight dragged his belly down.

“Ready?” Gabriel asked.

“No,” Jack replied as he squeezed Gabriel’s hand. “But we don’t get the luxury of being unprepared anymore. They’re coming whether we’re ready or not.”

Gabriel kissed his mate’s cheek before he radioed the medical bay to let them know their babies were on the way. The hallways were mercifully empty, letting them make their slow progress towards the medical bay without having to make small talk. Gabriel would not have been pleased if he had to chase people off so they didn’t bother his mate while he was in labour. Jack stopped suddenly, whimpering and closing his eyes. His tail lashed angrily behind him before he let out a long hiss.

“Contractions,” Jack hissed as he started walking again.

“Well, at least we know they’re on their way and that this wasn’t just a false alarm,” Gabriel said.

It was an uneventful trip down to the medical bay, but Jack had another contraction just inside the doors. He snarled and lashed his tail, pinning his ears back as his stomach tightened. Gabriel gave him a little bit of space, his tail moving nervously back and forth. He didn’t want to get scratched if Jack lashed out in frustration and pain. Jack started forward again, sighing as he stepped into the medical bay.

Angela had him changed out of his pajamas quickly, getting him into the hospital gown with a little bit of difficulty. His stomach was so huge that the gown barely covered his belly. He waddled over to the bed set aside for him behind a privacy curtain and eased himself down, hissing as the motion jostled his stomach. Angela checked his dilation, took vitals, and left them to get comfortable as Jack’s labour started. It was going to be a long night.

Gabriel and Jack played cards most of the night, Gabriel jokingly asking if Jack wanted to play strip poker. Jack smiled at him and shook his head, claiming it wouldn’t be fair since he had almost no clothing on to begin with. At least he wasn’t in enough pain to kill his good sense of humor.

Jack’s contraction came quicker and quicker as the night wore on. He grit his teeth against the pain, tail lashing the air angrily. Gabriel couldn’t help but feel useless the whole time; his mate was in pain and there was nothing he could do to help alleviate that pain. Angela offered him an epidural, but Jack shook his head, grumbling that he could handle it.

At around four in the morning, six hours after Jack’s water broke, he doubled over. He put a hand on his stomach, whimpering before begging Gabriel to go get Angela. Gabriel hurried off, finding Angela nursing a cup of coffee in her office. She gave Gabriel a look before she was on her feet and moving; he didn’t have to say a thing.

Jack was pacing awkwardly back and forth when they returned. His tail lashed the air and he kept whimpering, holding his belly as it seemed to squirm miserably. Gabriel hurried forward and kissed his mate’s forehead, smiling as Jack nuzzled him.

“Jack, can you sit down for a moment?” Angela asked. Jack complied and Angela checked his dilation again. “And that’s a baby crowning. Okay, here we go.”

Angela’s staff seemed to pop out of the ground when she said that. They helped Jack onto the birthing stand, fixing the pillows to cushion his lower back comfortably. Gabriel stayed at Jack’s shoulder, holding his hand as Angela knelt down between Jack’s legs.

“Okay, when I say push, you give it all you’ve got,” Angela said. “Ready?”

Jack nodded his head, sweat already starting to drip down his forehead. His breathing was heavy, blowing air loudly through his nose. Gabriel squeezed Jack’s hand and kissed his cheek; he was here.

“And...push!”

Jack let out strained groan as he started pushing. He shook his head, baring his teeth as his stomach strained. He slumped against Gabriel’s shoulder, panting heavily before he started pushing again. Gabriel could see the veins standing out on his mate’s forehead and he nuzzled them gently.

“Breathe,” he whispered. “Two quickly in and one long one out.”

“Thanks,” Jack whispered.

Gabriel did his best to coach Jack through the breathing, knowing that was all he could do at the moment. He couldn’t very well offer his strength to his mate; he could just coach him and hope he wasn’t about to get clawed. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but he knew that Jack was still pushing hard regardless. Angela was frowning between Jack’s legs and she signaled for something. One of her assistants handed her a scalpel and Gabriel opened his mouth.

“What are you…?”

“Ow!” Jack hissed. “The fuck?”

“You were a few seconds from tearing; better a clean cut than a jagged one,” Angela said as she handed the scalpel off. “Head’s almost there. Keep pushing.”

Jack let out a loud snarl of pain as he pushed. Gabriel heard a disquieting pop before Angela reached forward. She started chanting for Jack to push and Jack strained forward with a cry. Gabriel heard something wet and slimy schlop into Angela’s arms and Jack collapsed against the stand.

There were a few moments of silence before a loud wail filled the room. Gabriel and Jack perked their ears forward as Angela swaddled their gory baby and lifted them up for them to see.

“It’s a girl,” she smiled as she handed the delicate baby to Gabriel.

“A girl,” Gabriel laughed as he gently licked the blood off of his daughter’s face. “A girl.”

“She’s beautiful,” Jack smiled. “She looks like you.”

Gabriel smiled and nuzzled his squirming daughter. She huffed up at him, tiny limbs struggling against the blanket. She was tiny, fitting perfectly in the crook of Gabriel’s massive arm. If he didn’t know how strong babies were in spite of their delicate appearance, he would have been scared to hold his daughter. Jack let out a long sigh as Gabriel tipped their first born towards him before he grimaced and straightened in his stand.

“Angela,” he hissed. “I can feel her twin.”

Angela knelt down and gently felt inside his birth canal. “She’s a little off center; give me a minute,” she said.

Gabriel handed their first-born off to one of the nurses before he helped Angela massage Jack’s belly and get the second twin in a better position. When Angela checked again, she yelped and got the towel just in time to catch their second daughter. She laughed as Jack groaned softly, dropping his head onto the headrest.

“That was easier, wasn’t it?” she asked as she toweled the baby off. “Someone wanted to be with their twin.”

“Gabe...what colour…?”

“Black and white,” Gabriel wagged his tail as he took his second daughter and nuzzled her. “Could be either cat or dog at this point. Such little sweethearts.”

Jack purred and rolled his head to look at his daughter. He leaned forward and licked over her bloody face, nuzzling her to get her to stop crying. It was another ten minutes before the last baby made her way into the world. Gabriel waited for the wailing, but even as Angela rubbed furiously at the baby’s back, she didn’t make a sound.

“Give her here,” Jack growled as he rolled onto his side.

“Jack, I,” Angela started to say.

“Give her here,” Jack repeated.

Angela set the baby down beside Jack, struggling to keep from crying. Jack shifted the blanket to the side and started lapping over the baby’s black fur. He paused for a moment, running his nose over the baby’s head, before he returned to lapping roughly. Gabriel watched, unsure how he felt as Jack tried such an old method of reviving a newborn. If Angela couldn’t get the baby to breathe, would licking her roughly work?

The baby squirmed before letting out a long wail. Jack let out a soft sob before pulling the runt close and kissing over her head and shoulders. Gabriel let out a soft noise as he knelt down to nuzzle his youngest, cooing softly as she rubbed at her nose with her tiny hands.

“Welcome to the world, baby girl,” Gabriel whined happily. “You have your daddy’s ears.”

“She does,” Jack agreed as he shifted, groaning softly. “Angela…?”

“Let’s get you onto a bed first,” Angela smiled. “It’ll be easier to feed your babies.”

Jack smiled as Gabriel picked their runt up and cradled her as Angela helped Jack to his feet. He sagged against her and the nurses quickly helped haul him over to the bed. They got him comfortable, rolling another bed over for Gabriel to snuggle with him. Once Gabriel climbed up onto the bed, the twins were set down against Jack’s stomach.

Jack hiked his hospital gown over the residual swell of his stomach and pulled his daughter’s close. Gabriel smiled as all three babies latched onto a teat and started suckling. They kneaded at the soft fur, burrowing in until they looked like they belonged in the soft, silky fur with their little white-tipped tails poking out. Jack curled his knees up towards his chest, purring happily as the babies continued suckling, spilling milk over themselves and Jack’s belly.

“They’re beautiful,” Gabriel whispered.

“They’re here,” Jack laughed. “I can’t believe it, Gabi. Our babies are finally here.”

“They are,” Gabriel agreed as he smiled down at them. “Oh, Jack, I’m so proud of you. You did it. You brought our little gifts into the world. I’m so proud of you.”

“I did,” Jack smiled as the babies finished feeding. “And now I’m exhausted.”

“Then rest,” Gabriel kissed his mate’s cheek. “We’ll name them when you’re rested. Oh, Jack, I’m so happy. Thank you.”

Jack smiled sleepily at him before resting his cheek on the pillow. Gabriel moved the blanket over them, hiding his mate’s body. He’d worry about the placenta when Jack passed it; for now, he just wanted to cuddle with his mate and newborns.