#lil baby prompts

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 257

Now Danny loves space. He loves everything about it, to the point his core quite literally is space. And he’s also a baby ghost, even if he could argue he’s not in human form. But see, being baby has an honestly great consequence once it’s noticed- despite the Observants’ best attempts at hiding it, the assholes. 

Of course he would be far more worried- and even a bit pissed- if his caretaker wasn’t who it was. Look, he’d never met Clockwork’s siblings before, but apparently everyone was really against Clockwork himself adopting. 

But Clockwork as his uncle is fine. Besides, his caretaker is Space! Space itself is holding him, cooing gentle words in the sounds of the very cosmos. And they’re huge, like parts of their body going through portals so they can fit outside Long-Now sized big- and apparently Clockwork can get just as big and they can get even bigger- 

Okay, he needs to take a breath- even if he doesn’t need to breathe- to stop his squealing because holy Realms this is so cool. 

Space is awesome! And he’s getting so much more rest than he did in Amity- and even if Space sort of shrugged at the idea of school at first, they did help him set up online schooling. So there’s that, and it’s just the start! 

He gets to learn so much about space and it’s honestly kind of… nice? To be taken care of? And he can do whatever he needs for his Core and Obsession with only a few interruptions to take care of his living needs. Erm, sort of living needs? 

But even that gets turned into a bit of play or even a lesson too! He’s honestly having such a good time right now! He’s learning so much about spaaace! And dimensions! And interdimensional portals and- oops! No one saw that. 

Ahem- But he’s learning so much about space and getting to explore other dimensions with Cosmos! And sure he no longer looks as human as he once did and all that, but he’s seen so many people who also don’t look human that does it really matter? 

Of course it doesn’t, and he matches his sort-of-dad! Even though the streaks of color in their hair are more of a brown-red like they’re literally bleeding out the cosmos around them instead of it fading to void and space like his own. But still! They match and it’s fun! 

And they’re going to go on another trip from the in-between to one of the dimension realities! He’s going to start a game of tag this time he thinks! But no cheating with portals or bending space! Tag! 

Look, the Justice League? Not paid enough for this. In fact, technically not paid at all due to being volunteers (not that it stopped them from finding money in their accounts) but still. 

There is some sort of figure… being… thing… zooming around the asteroid belt, about the size of Earth itself. Let them repeat themselves. A planet-sized creature (are those hands or paws? Tail or simply its body stretching? Hair or the Abyss-) is currently darting around the asteroid belt like a child running through grass. 

That is, without noticing or caring if something bug-sized might be crushed. And they are very much bug sized, as the governments are concerned about. Like really concerned about. Like talking about trying to nuke the entity if it wanders closer sort of concerned. 

Which they are all very concerned and very much like, against. Because it isn’t seeming to notice the asteroids it’s knocking into their area. It’s like… not a space whale or eel or anything like that but also is something like that. 

And they would also maybe like to see if they can attempt to talk it down first maybe and-

oh. 

Oh. 

That creature is the baby. And mama just arrived, stretching across the entire galaxy, from them to Pluto and beyond, like something took the cosmos and shaped it like clay into some sort of form. Like reality itself has wandered into their galaxy with what they are suddenly realizing must be a very young child. 

Shit, they really have to make sure no one tries to piss either of these things off-

[evilminji]

I wanna Make Bruce "Father of Many Terrible Terrible Gremlins" Wayne... babysit Lil Baby Man.

It's... it's the fuckin Fenton Dream Catcher again, man. Danny was so certain he BURNED it. After the last... Incident(tm).

But, NO! Here he stands. Well, floats. Barbecue sauce on his ti- *cough!* He means! Be-split between two Selfs! Like... *checks watch* FUCK. Less then 25 minutes before the Big, Fancy Ass, Multi-Realm Council of Stuffy Significance Etc Etc. He can never remember the name. It's long, takes up like three pages. NOWS NOT THE TIME!

Look.

There is Responsible Him! And.... THAT.

THAT is his inner gremlin. His "but it would be FUNNY tho" impulse. The grand ol "do it for the Vine, fenton!". Commit to the bit! It has three brain cells and uses ALL of them for Cartoonish slap-gag evil. That time he super glued the screaming chicken voice box into the exhaust pipe of Vlad's mo-ped? The Oorbez? Hiding all his novelty socks under the snow to be found come spring like a bountiful Packers themed harvest?

Do not let the tiny dimwitted blep face fool you.

He is a MASTER of psychological manipulation.

And YOU, Bruce. Owe me that Favor from *sees multiple intrigued people trying to listen in* .... That Batman Thing we did. (OH COME ON!) So pay up. Watch him. Here's the Ectoplasmic Container Play Pen. The Kiddy Harness he can't phase out off. A list of contacts. And a fresh bottle of advice.

O7

I'd pray for you. But that would probably be condescending, given where I'm headed. So instead, I'll remember you as you were. Moderately well rested and free of my nonsense! See ya in... probably a month!

Toodles~☆

@hdgnj @hypewinter @the-witchhunter @spidori @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @lolottes

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

John: Bruce Wayne, I presume? Bruce: Right. Mister? John: John Constantine. I know this is going to sound strange but I have information in my possession that the High King of Infinite Realms is hiding in your manor. Bruce: Oh, I know that. John: What? Bruce: Lil gremlin scratched my favorite leather couch. John*imagines Pariah Dark*: Are you sure it was.. Bruce: Yeah, a burning crown, a ring.. I wanted to tell Damian to take him back to the trash can where he found him. but he’s already gotten along with our cat Alfred so we’ll keep him. John: But Bruce: All the best. The door slams in front of the warlock.

[entomolog-t]

I need Aedes to know this is how I feel about him:

(https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=33JBDcMTOtk)

Let's play "How long before the little baby man bites?"

[precious-little-scoundrel]

As Requested: The Birth of Jesse and Ella

From the Sarge and lil Mama Universe

Warnings: pretty darn fluffy and sweet with the exception of descriptions of birth and labor, along with what might be considered disturbing inclusions of period typical insensitivity towards women’s wishes during labor and mention of a husband stitch

Word Count: 5k…a blurb was requested, well, uh, sorry about that

With excerpts from:

October, 1958 Memphis

Birth was awful, Elaine had always heard it, been cautioned of it, had the warning dumped like ice water on her motherly ambitions. You want a lotta kids? -just wait till you have to push a single one out. Elaine had expected it to hurt worse than anything she ever imagined but somehow, she thought it would feel more natural than this.

The pain was terrifyingly foreign and without a single cessation to get on top of it, the contractions put broken bones and smashed flesh to shame, and the helpless urge to do something was a floundering and aimless desperation that filled her with anxiety so strong she could barely breathe from it. The nurse cupping the gas mask to her face smiled down assuringly and Elaine hated her for it, the gal was so sure all would be well when everything in Elaine’s body rebelled against the drugged misery, the flat back, stirrup strapped contortion the doctor had locked her body in and left her at.

She thought it would at least feel natural. Like pulling a tooth. Like taking a man. Like all the other painful rites of passage that women surmounted generation after generation.

But now, near puking from pain and cuffed like a psych prisoner to the bed, no distraction save the flicker off the fluorescent bulbs above her, Elaine felt a wrongness and a betrayal she never expected.

She’d been so agreeable to going to the hospital, never thought otherwise. The army had been accommodating enough to let them return to Memphis and everything, and here she lay giving birth in the same ward she was born in. It should have been sweet. She had assumed it would be and it had been non negotiable with Elvis, things were to be done properly for his babies, and she had no comparison to cause her to object.

Elvis lost his brother in a twin birth, a home birth, and nearly his mama too. Things had to be done properly. What else was his money for?

Elaine hadn’t thought to object. What else was there? Primitive squatting in the woods somewhere? She was a decent, suburban girl, she had passed through a successive graduation of establishments throughout her life, preschools and proms and community services and now she was at St. Joseph’s pushing out her first child in a condoned, sterile, proper facility. Elvis, cheated of such all American properness by his upbringing, often praised her teasingly for being “such an upstandin’ lil citizen”.

Somehow the pride didn’t manage to fill her this time. Just the wrongness of it all. She tried to think of Elvis in those first hours, how anxious he must be having been kept out of the room, how happy she’d make him by presenting two healthy children at the end of her feminine ordeal. She refused to accept the thought for anything going wrong. Women were made for this, and she had assumed a miraculous sort of sustenance and wisdom were given them during.

Laying rigid and wracked with pain on scratchy white sheets -Elaine had never felt so alone, not a shred of Divine motivation or husbandly encouragement left in her exhausted heart. Becoming frantic as the ordeal wore on, she found herself begging for some assurance, more than those spinster nurses and bored physicians could provide her. She begged for her mama, she begged for Dodger who had told her they’d do nothing more than torture her “in that big ole place.”

No visitors are allowed, Mrs. Presley -she was denied each time.

Dodger, as usual, had been right. And Elaine demanded she be let in. She was sure that her husband and his grandma had stayed in the waiting room, they weren’t far.

Bring Minnie Mae in -she was Elaine Presley, wife of Memphis’ own Elvis Presley, and if they denied her she’d ruin their hospital's name.

Bring her Dodger, she needed Dodger.

Dodger came in, in low, slung-back heels and a dress that was fashionable three decades ago, wrinkled bony hands and thin, hard set mouth. Elaine thought she’d seen an Angel.

“What do you want?” Dodger grunted down at her.

Elaine whimpered and shook her head, entirely unsure, she’d just wanted comfort or direction. “I thought you’d know what to do.” she explained in a wheeze.

“You push ‘em out.”

“I can’t.” Elaine sobbed, she physically didn’t feel capable of doing anything but enduring. She really had thought she’d be able to participate in her own delivery.

“What’s gonna make ya?” Dodger asked.

“I can’t do anything like this.” Elaine cried, yanking at her restraints.

“Wanna stand up?”

Elaine was startled at the suggestion and through the fog of pain and gas it sounded like a rebellion of sorts. She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“You ever shit layin’ down?” Dodger put it ever so delicately in clearer, enlightening terms. “No one can ‘nless they got the runs. Baby’s head ain’t no runs, get up.”

Dodger had yanked the straps off and threatened to use the forceps on the objecting nurse. She stood Elaine up with a yank to the girl's arms and spun her round till she was facing the bed, feet spread apart and hands on the bed, head hanging low and her back heaving in breaths now the position allowed her to breath. She’d taken Elvis this way a hundred times, nothing to it -you just hang your head and tilt your hips and breathe through it till the cock didn’t feel so big.

This she knew. “Ok, ok, it is better.” she agreed even as a scream tore out of her at the burning stretch down below.

That stretch had been Jesse’s head, although in the midst of agony and Bureaucratic chaos, Elaine didn’t know anything beyond fiery stretching and a gush down her legs. His little noggin almost hit the floor he slid out so lanky and tiny, no sooner had she register a modicum of relief from passing her first child than the doctor berated her.

“Almost hit his head, this is why we labor in beds.” he had said and she could have gnawed his balding head off his scrawny neck for using the word “we” when he’d never felt or ever would feel what she had just endured. “She’s torn, a lot actually, going to be a mess to clean up later but I guess it will help the next one.”

They took Jesse and they wiped him clean as his first cries sounded somewhere behind his mama, Dodger’s hand still pressed firmly to her lower back as Ella used his newfound vacancy to make an effort herself. Elaine struggled and twisted, trying to catch sight of her son.

“I want my baby.” she gasped, “Y’all give me my baby.” she stood straight with an effort that even Dodger tried to prevent. “I want my baby!”

“You can’t hold him now-“

“Give him to me-“

“Elaine honey,” Dodger shushed as gently as the old bird knew how, “you’re too weak, can’t push and hold. Let ‘em put him on the bed. Put him there, right in front of ya, yeah, that’s it, so you can see him. Just do it, ya pinstriped idiot, it’s her kid, ain’t it?”

When the nurse laid Jesse down on the sheets, he was a dark haired, swaddled little thing in a bloody towel. Tiny but not so shrimpy for a twin, he was red and purple all over with the puffiest little face and the juiciest little lips and a tiny nose and eyes that squinted shut in tears. His cord was still attached to her, hanging off the bed between her legs, the tether not yet cut. Elaine felt it to be the specialist moment in the world, that one right then.

Oh it’s an unaccountable thing, that rush of gratitude and relief when your first born is laid on you. Violent love surges after it, quick as a tidal wave, as a tiny hand still covered in your blood pats your skin to learn you from the outside this time, the only person who’s ever done it opposite from all others. It's immeasurable the strength that frail little being gives you, to push once more, to bring out another life after it, a twin to reunite the Trinity.

“My son” Elaine acknowledged the gift through the agony, her sweaty forehead against his fuzzy one, watching his brave little face take in the lights and sounds and pain of this life she’d given him with a wonder that steeled her as she braced and pushed again.

Ella was easier, in the way someone at the brink of their worst feels no exacerbation of their agony. It was every bit as bad and every bit as tiring, doubly so with one already done, but this time Jesse lay there with an oxygen cannula taped to his fuzzy cheek and watched his mama huff and grimace above him, her hips cradled by Dodger’s boney hands, and in between the increasing spams, Elaine gasped adorations and babbled welcomes to him. After a short time Jesse snoozed in his little cacoon, and his peacefulness was more calming than any breath coaching the staff could give her. She matched her breaths to the rise and fall of his tiny chest and soon enough when she felt between her legs, there was the furry little head of his sister.

This time the doctor was prepared and had a nurse knelt to catch Elvis’ Presley second child. Little Ella came out the opposite of Jesse, no trouble at all with her petite head but a decent belly and buttox in the little girl gave Elaine a brief bit of grief before she popped out entirely.

Ella may have been caught in the safe hands of a registered nurse but Elaine had no such luck. No sooner was the rush over and her impediments pushed out of her body than she staggered backwards and landed flat on the floor, her legs giving out. Dodger’s shins caught the back of her head and saved her from splitting her skull on the tile but it was a brutal jarring nonetheless and it cemented a terrified horror where Elaine felt that she was entirely neglected in a room full of people sworn to help her.

Dodger, bless her, cursed up a storm at the accident and knelt beside the poor girl, doing her best to gather Elaine up as blood and fluids gushed freely between her legs.

Elaine felt like sobbing. Soon she fully was and remained so as the Doctor and two nurses hefted her onto the bed as gingerly as they could, profusely apologizing to Mr. Presley’s new wife. Jesse was placed on her chest and Ella, after having the cord snipped and washed, bundled and had her foot stamped, was brought over, too. Elaine laid there on her back again, eighteen hours after she had first begun and did her best to hold them as the sugar crash and blood loss made her teeth chatter and limbs tremble.

“A healthy five pounds both of them,” the doctor beamed with the satisfaction of a man who had accomplished a hard day’s work, “although the boy has a couple points on the girl.”

They were perfect, they were positively perfect, that’s what Elaine tried her best to focus on as her bearings came back to her and tiredness drug her limbs down. They were perfect and they were here. “Dodger,” she addressed Grandma in a thin voice, not even bothering to send her request to the staff, “would you go tell Elvis they’re here? Tell him they’re perfect.”

“He can’t come in yet, dear!” The head nurse protested, knowing the mulish young man would be forcing entry as soon as he heard.

“Why not? It’s over.” Elaine sighed.

“We’ve got to clean you up!” The nurse was scandalized, “He mustn’t see you all disheveled like this, it can very negatively effect a man, seeing his wife rumpled and brutalized by the birthing process. It's ended some marriages.” She warned and then added, “And you must be stitched first.”

“Then could we please -do it?” Elaine asked, “I’d like to see my husband and I’d like him not to worry any longer.”

“Y’all clean her up,” Dodger motioned, “and I’ll go fetch him.”

They were applying ice towels to her swollen eyes to reduce the evidence of weeping when she left. They sat Elaine up and they checked her pulse and blood pressure and her temperature. All was well, or as well as could be hoped. All except down south with her house, Elaine chewed her lip anxiously and clutched little Jesse harder for comfort as the doctor inspected her, rather like Elvis had done when proposing. Except Elvis was always so tender and he worked his touches up from gentle to firm, never went right in and spread torn petals apart without a care. Elaine bit her lip and figured she’d been awful enough to the staff, harsh and stubborn, a rebel in so many ways and now her ordeal was over, it would be best to resume the proper attitude she’d been taught.

So she was meek, and she was obliging and grateful, and she tiredly agreed when the doctor said she’d need stitches, the same as any other tear to the flesh. And when, lamp beaming at her nether regions and needle in hand, the doctor told her he was going to add one extra little stitch for her husband's enjoyment, Elaine assumed it was a medical formality. After all, he didn’t ask if he could, he said he was going to, and doctors only do what doctors must. She had her babies now, and anything required to have more must be done.

Sat up on stitched and taut flesh, pillows stuffed behind her back and her face scrubbed into immaculate freshness, Elaine put on her widest smile for Elvis, not a hard thing to do with the gifts in her arms. It turned fully genuine as her man burst through the door only to stall and moderate his intensity the minute he realized he had arrived. Elvis looked bewildered, eyes wide as saucers and his long legs stumbling to a halt as the door thudded behind him in Vernon’s face, assessing every bit of equipment inside and potential threat before his eyes landed on the bed that held his new family.

Elaine could hear his intake of breath from across the room and her grin now threatened to split her face.

“Those our babies?” he asked hoarsely with a shaking finger, not making a single move to come closer. Like this whole ordeal had him so shaken he didn’t know which way was up or down.

“Yeah baby, they’re ours.” Elaine had to force her smile closed to talk, marveling at his timidity, the awed look on his face and the reverent little shakes coursing up his body like he was about to go up Mount Sinai and meet God. “Come meet your children, Elvis.” she whispered, framing it in a way she hoped would remind him he too belonged in this room, he was head of them all, their protector, their provider and perhaps most importantly, the architect of the dream that brought them into being. “They wanna meet their daddy, keep lookin’ around and fussing like they know someone’s missing.”

He gave her a look of reproof for fibbing to spare his feelings before one of the babies came to their mother’s rescue and let out a pitiful, newborn wail. Elvis flinched at the sound, drawing back into himself for a brief moment before the cry was repeated and his instinct to soothe dominated his tentative fear.

“See, I told you!” Elaine grinned as she pulled down the blanket little Jesse was swaddled in and showed his puckered face.

Slowly, with light footfalls and a hand running along the bed for support, Elvis drew closer until he was beside them and Elaine saw his face light up with more overwhelmed joy than she’d ever seen on him before, just as his eyes filled with tears in an instant.

“Oh Laney,” he put his hand to his mouth unsteadily, “you done good mamas.”

She did her best to scoot her legs over without wincing and nodded to the vacated little space on the bed. “C’mon Elvis, they don’t bite. Not yet.” she whispered, casting a glance at the nurse who was peddling soundlessly in the far corner, back turned and utterly discreet, waiting if she were needed at any moment.

“I’m jus’ worried ‘bout breakin’ ‘em.” he confessed, gingerly sitting down beside her, his eyes never wavering in their metronome bounce from one child to the next and back. “They’re so little, so fragile lookin’ and -a-and they’re so pink, baby, look how pinks and fluffy they is.” Elaine thought his wide-eyed, rosebud mouthed awe was rather identical to the faces he was admiring and understood his shock, pretty things take the wind out of you. “I-I-I was so damn scared of touchin’ you, you’re so lil and gentle a-a-and they’re even littler!”

“I’ve never seen a more tender man, you’ve got fingers so delicate they could undo a knot in silk thread.” Elaine disagreed, “You should feel their cheeks, even softer than they look.”

Elvis swallowed hard, screwing up his courage before he raised his hand from where it had been wiping sweat off on his pants and brought it dried and shaking to gently run along the curve of Ella’s tiny face.

He little out a little gasping laugh. “Angels, they’re gen-u-ine angels.” He pronounced softly after rubbing his forefinger along Jesse’s tiny nose. “Ain’t nothin’ made me happier than I am right this minute.” he realized and Elaine’s heart clenched in gratification for the success of all her labor. “God took away one, gave me three back.” he huffed in a breath and realizing he needed a handkerchief, pulled his hand back, looking around in the white sheets like one would appear. The kindly nurse took pity and brought one over wordlessly, Elvis was a little shocked to find her present, not registering her existence in the room before, (as was she to meet Elvis Presley wordlessly with a proffered tissue) but he took it gratefully.

“Would you like to hold one of them, Mr. Presley?” she asked after having given Elaine some water as Elvis still sat where he’d perched himself and stared like he was looking into a portal.

“C’mon daddy.” Elaine whispered, nudging his stiff leg with her foot, “they wanna meet their daddy.”

Elaine suggested Jesse be the one as he’d eaten most recently while Ella was having some trouble latching. The nurse took Jesse from his warm little cocoon at Elaine’s side, and brought him around the bed to his daddy, who carefully formed a cradle with his arms and the nurse deposited his son there.

“Yeah, give me my boy.” Elvis nodded through parched lips and shuddered as he felt the tiny weight of his child settle in his arms, tiny head cradled to his chest. “Hey buddy,” he whispered, head reared back and expression a little frozen, like he was either holding something very dangerous or something very good that could be taken back at anytime, “sorry bout all the racket in there.” he referred to his pounding heart right beneath Jesse’s pink ear, “S’just that I’m so glad to meet you. Been waitin’ so long.”

Elaine watched them happily, exhaustion and satisfaction turning her complex feelings into the most rudimentary emotions and thoughts. “We made these.” she marveled and thought she heard the nurse titter for a moment, “Does everyone say that?” She asked her with a laugh.

“Not uncommon.” The woman agreed bashfully, “Me and my man did. Couldn’t stop saying it.”

“Absolute miracle.” Elvis protested, growing bold enough the thumb as Jesse’s cheek as he held him, “We made ‘em alright, strangest thing, the way I’m holdin’ something that’s half me and half you!”

“Made duplicates just in case.” Elaine added her joke and they both laughed.

“Sweet Jesus I think he just cracked a smile.” Elvis’ laugh was suddenly cut short as he wheezed in fascination.

“Babies usually don’t smile until much later.“ the nurse soothed gently but Elvis interrupted with an adamant-

“-well it appears that my son is extra smart, ma’am.” He grinned down at his boy with an immense amount of pride at his good humor which reminded him of his pride in Elaine and his eyes flitted up to hers and locked there. “You know I love you, Tink, but I-I-I- d-don’t think you’ve got the vaguest notion h-h-how grateful I am to you right this minute. You’re makin’ dreams come true like a goddamn fairy. I-I-I can’t say enough I-I don’t got words for it I just -I’d die for you, girl, and you and our babies ain’t ever gonna want for nothin’, I swear it.”

Elaine had never trusted another human being more in her life than she trusted this young man sat on her bed, about as young and lost as herself but so determined that she hadn’t a single choice or doubt except to believe him.

Ella began to fuss and the nurse asked if she wanted to try feeding again, no doubt the baby girl was hungry and Elaine agreed. “Here, Mr. Presley, I’ll take the little boy so you can go.” she helpfully held out her arms but Elvis clutched his precious bundle like she was gonna take him permanently. Elaine was reminded of a story Miss Gladys used to tell her about baby Elvis and a prized sack of bananas.

“I-I-I don’t wanna give him.” Elvis settled for this moderate expression of his sentiments on the subject.

“But sir -your wife needs to nurse. I'm sure they’ll extend the visiting hours for you, no need to worry on that account.”

“Oh I’m not leavin’ for that ma’am.” he clarified breezily, “I hold eatin’ in mighty high regard and I’d like to see to it my daughter finds her footin’ in it, ya see.”

“But-“ the nurse was rather astounded at this simple logic and in torn loyalties she turned back to Mrs. Presley in concern “-wouldn’t you like some privacy, ma’am? We’ll have to…uncover you.”

Elaine looked at her a little puzzled before assuring softly, “I don’t mind, he’s seen me before.”

The nurse colored at this modest statement that spoke so much and Elvis wasn’t sure if she was taken aback at their comfortableness around each other or at the suggestion of The Elvis Presley and his little wife making babies. Half the nation were obsessed with what they did behind closed doors and Elvis eyed her suspiciously lest she turn into some sorta fascinated personage. She didn’t though, she allowed Jesse to remain with his father and, rather more delicately than necessary, helped Elaine with Ella’s latching.

There had been dribbles of milk that Elvis had seen before Elaine gave birth, but it was nothing like the profusion that poured out now, so much sustenance that Ella’s tiny throat made great gulping sounds as she drank. Elvis, much to the nurse’s horror, was fascinated by it and soon found his old boldness, scooting himself up till he was sat beside Elaine in the narrow bed and could support her elbow while watching. The nurse was made more uncomfortable when the new father took to whispering a thousand different thanks and endearments into his young wife’s ear, and sweet as it was, the aggressive smooches she answered him with were of the sort the nurse was usually of the assumption led to more. But not with this couple, they swapped affection easily, too easily, and shared sentiments and compared their two children for the next hour, pointing out features and guessing at characteristics until the nurse quietly took her leave, stumbling into a barricade of men outside waiting on their boss.

“You should sing to them.” Elaine suggested to him once she’d gone, when Jesse wouldn’t stop fussing when it was his time to burp. “They’ve heard it for nine months, worked with the kicks every time.” she recalled and Elvis smiled sheepishly in reminiscence that those little kicks he’d once poured his heart out to were now little souls laying in his arms with his features printed on them.

At the first swooping and softly sung words of ‘My Father’s House’ by their daddy both babies stilled and their little slits of eyes searched restlessly until they found his face and they stayed staring at him until their violet, paper thin eyelids fluttered closed in sleep.

————————————————-

|| Excerpt from Mrs. Presley and Other Living Martyrs:||

“There was a narrow window in the door he’d rather uh, rudely let slam behind him,” Billy Smith would later recall with a smile, “and you best believe the whole lot of us were pressed up to it trying to get a glimpse of them inside. We were all real excited about the babies and we knew Elaine was a champ but it’s one thing to think about it and it’s another for her to do it and be alright after. We were all worried for her, last time we’d been in this hospital it had been with Gladys. So we were all crowding the window and Vernon and Mr. Phipps were actin’ like teenagers with their elbows jabbin’ at each other for space but this one time the grandpas seemed to be actually jokin’ about it. Granny tried gettin’ us to leave ‘em be but it wasn’t like we were disturbin’ them none, they didn’t mind us one bit and it was the sweetest thing watchin’ them pass a baby back and forth and they were gigglin’ so much one minute then cryin’ the next. EP was an absolute mess, he was so happy. They looked like a couple of kids clutchin’ a candy haul they stole and figured someone was gonna come along and say they were too young for ‘em and had to give ‘em up. Just two kids really, two kids with a couple of babies they’d made. Not sure they’d ever had such a normal moment in their lives, not since he got famous, at least. They stayed like that for a couple of hours ‘till Elvis realized he could have some fun introducin’ his new kids and so he came out the door holding little Jesse above his head like he was the damn Prince of Memphis. The whole hallway was jam packed with folks who were visiting their hospitalized relatives, loitering staff, all sorts, everybody havin’ heard she was here delivering, and the whole place erupted when he brought the baby out, said that him and his sister were well and Miss Elaine was in fine shape. That applause must’ve been real gratifying for Mrs. Presley.”

Ten days were encouraged for the new mother to stay in the hospital but after five Elaine found herself anxious and uncomfortable away from her home and she begged Elvis to make the staff let her come home.

“Elvis was never more besotted with Elaine than when she was pregnant, and it only got worse when she’d just popped out a kid and was holding it and asking for something.” Joe Esposita wrote, “She talked him into making them send some staff to Graceland and letting her out early, and she swore she’d let him carry her up and down any stairs for the next week. So, after he made her sign a drink coaster that said as much, he went and charmed the administrator into sparing a doctor and four nurses to come live at Graceland for 10 days. We later learned the staff had flipped coins to see who got to go, everyone was so eager to see the famous couple up close. ”

Five days after delivering, Elaine got her wish and was wheeled out of the maternity ward in a wheel chair and down the hall to the elevator, a pristine and glamorous figure with a baby swaddled in her arms as her handsome husband strode by her side, wearing his uniform on leave as suggested by the Colonel, and carrying a precious bundle himself.

In “TLC: The Presley Way” -Marie Presley’s documentary of her family’s life- Ella recounted having often heard from her mother the story of Elvis preparing her to leave for home.

Ella recounted: “She would often tell me about how daddy had come up to the room with all these bags. He’d already brought so much stuff over during her stay, they had to haul literal baskets full of possessions and gifts and stuffed animals out of her ward back to Graceland when they moved out, it had been like a hotel stay, collecting so much. But he did come up that day with these pretty pink bags and he was so excited, he tore the tissue paper out himself and showed her this absurdly fluffy white coat he’d bought. It was way too heavy for October but it was a little chilly out and it gave her the perfect excuse to wear it. It was made out of arctic foxes and was the fluffiest, most expensive, whitest thing you’ve ever seen and it hid her swollen figure perfectly, made her look like an angel in the press pictures. Mama said he also brought a little makeup kit, and there was hairspray and curlers and combs in the other bag, and daddy sat on her hospital bed while she was in a chair and he carefully painted her face. She always loved telling about how sweet and careful he was about her image, she said she had felt very humiliated and out of control during the labor, and it was like he was putting her back together, making her familiar to herself again, crafting some dignity back. And -you’ve seen the pictures, she’s perfection, her makeup is flawless and he had swooped her hair back from her face so she’s glowing. Even tied it back with that little ribbon, it’s just so much, I mean -she looks like a doll carrying out smaller dollies from the hospital. And of course later the female press would slam her for making something as hard as birth and children look like dollhouse props but like a lot of things, they didn’t realize it came from love. It came from daddy caring about how she felt, how she wanted to be presented, they both had a lot of pride and were complementary in that way. She had just delivered twins and was about to meet half of Memphis on the curb before going home. Can you really blame her for letting her husband make her up? Can you blame him for pouring out his pride in what she’d done through his art?”

Along with tender care and as much provision for her comfort as possible, it would be Elvis Presley’s last gift to his wife before he left for Germany less than two weeks later.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@paradsol000

@eliseinmemphis

@prompted-wordsmith

@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

@heartbrake-hotel

@stylespresleyhearted

@thatbanditqueen

@crazymadpassionatelove

@myradiaz

@ash-omalley

@arianatheangelgirl

@steph-speaks

@burningloverdoll

@angelface-555

@lookingforrainbows

@missmaywemeetagain

@coolgirl462

@kingdomforapony

@18lkpeters

@richardslady121

@from-memphis-with-love

@lillypink

@artlover8992

@pennyroyalcreep

@notstefaniepresley

@ellie-24

@renaissingle

@waiting4brucewayne2adoptme

@presleyenterprise

@marriedtopresley

@ashtag2887

@dkayfixates

@vampireindistress

@ashtag6887

@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

@xenaspace3-blog

@60svintage

@dragonkingsdaughter

@presleysgirl6

@that-hotdog

@mydarlingelvis

@lookingforrainbows

@presleysweetheart

@50sexyshadesfashionista

@sexystarfish

@whatstruthgottodowithit

[weewoo911]

Ok but this post and the picture of Lou w a baby got me thinking blorbo thoughts

Tommy’s sister/half sister having an emergency and asking Tommy to watch her baby last minute and everything is so rushed that he forgets that Buck is coming over for a date night and so when Buck knocks Tommy opens the door w a baby in his arms like “Evan I’m sorry, let me explain-”

Buck:

Then they have a cosy night in 💖

[gallawitchxx]

gallavich kiss #43 please hehe

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#43: ...out of greed

Holy fuck.

Mickey Milkovich is in your bed.

If it hadn’t happened to you—if you couldn’t still taste the tang of his spunk in the back of your throat—you might not believe that it happened at all. Most have a better shot at winning the lottery than they do at seeing the business end of the permanently inked vines and chains that intertwine before disappearing beneath the cuff of Mickey’s rolled-up sleeves. In the three years you’ve been harboring a dangerous crush on your best friend and roommate’s brother, you’ve never known anyone who’s made the acquaintance of the huge blue lilies that bloom across his chest, swirling around soft pink nipples.

Until now.

Until you.

Holy fuck!

Mickey Milkovich is in your bed!

The previous night had seemed like any other Friday night: Mandy had insisted on having people over, and you were too impressed by her continual efforts to make friends to put up much of a fuss. Besides, you knew the chances were good that her foul-mouthed doppelgänger would show up before the night was over, a cigarette dangling from his sinful lips.

And you were right—ten minutes after midnight, your Southside Cinderella sauntered through the door and headed straight towards you, plopping his perfect ass down next to you on your ratty couch.

Long night? you’d asked, offering him a sip of your beer.

Your reward was a cock of his expressive brows and the pleasure of watching him swallow. ‘M just gettin’ started, Red.

You didn't expect the nickname, so it hit you square in the gut, which is how you found yourself in the alleyway behind your apartment building, smoking a spliff as Mickey’s greedy gaze roamed your recovering body.

Thanks to school and meds and a pair of lagoon-blue eyes, it’d been a minute since you’d gotten any real action. But historically, you'd been good at picking up what’s put down, and Mickey seemed to be laying his cards on your table, one lick of his slightly chapped lips at a time.

You could have blamed the weed seeping into your system, or maybe it was the primal pulse of the full moon overhead that made your blood sing and your hands itch... Either way, your belly burned too bright to bear, and before you could stop yourself, you shoved a shocked—but smiling—Mickey up against the wall.

Sorry, Mandy, you thought as you looped your fingers underneath her brother's gold chain necklace and pulled his hips flush against yours. The need was just too great, and your willpower was far too compromised to hold back any longer.

Your lips against his could have destroyed whole universes.

Funny thing was, you wouldn’t have cared one bit.

[night-wilf]

Writing prompt 99:

Blob ghosts start becoming more frequent across the globe, the cute green squishy balls becoming common place among the seams of reality.

Though most are in places they should not be.

Bruce does appreciate the company on long nights.

[artist-rat]

scuttling in the underdark

[icehearts]

-- day 7: learning ⚔️

"Clear your head. On the field it's only you and them. Nothing else matters, nothing else should matter." "Oh, sure. That's easy for you to say."

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 122

“Have you met Seal Hood?” 

Dick paused almost mid-jump, having apparently turned to the wrong channel but also changed to the perfect one too. At least, perfect in the fact that he had just overheard an interesting thing from Jason, apparently forgetting that his comm was in fact on still. 

Damian must have answered, because Jason snorted a laugh. “You can try getting him to leave, he’s taken over my bathtub and keeps eating all my food.” 

Hold up, was- Dick had thought Jason was talking about a plush or something, but was he talking about a literal living animal seal??

“I’ll have you know I’m not going to make a poor little baby seal leave, and I’m not putting him in a zoo, brat.” 

Oh Gotham, it was a real living animal seal. Dick about faced, rushing towards Jason’s safehouse. How did he get a seal? Why was it in his bathtub?? Why hadn’t he called the proper people for this sort of thing?! He had to get to the safehouse now to see this shit.

Baby Seal Danny <3

[holdmytesseract]

A Loki prompt I recommend:

"I missed your snoring."

I love that! 😂🥰 Okay, here we go...

"I hate it when you're on 'promo' tour..." Loki sighed, running a hand through his luscious hair. "I know, babe, I know..." "I mean... Who needs that anyway? It's not like the Avengers aren't popular enough already..." Loki's words caused you to giggle. "Says you." The god rolled his eyes and adjusted the position of the laptop in his lap. "I think it's just so unnecessary. I'd rather have you here, and so does Ella." "Aww, I know. I'd rather be with you two as well." As if on cue, Loki could hear quick, tiny footsteps approaching. "Dada!" Ella squeaked out, before she reached the sofa and went to climb on it. "I think someone managed to climb out of the play pen - again..." Loki chuckled, eyes travelling to his daughter. "Over here, princess." With a huff, Ella had climbed 'the mountain' and went to crawl over to her dad. "C'mere, sweetie. Mama's on video call." The little girl crawled on Loki's stomach, big blue eyes scanning the strange little monitor in front of her. You smiled brightly, waving at the camera. "Hiii, baby girl!" Ella's face contorted into a bright smile. "Mama!" "Hiii! I miss you, sweetie!" "She misses you, too, I can tell. Right, Ella?" Loki said, tickling the baby's stomach and causing her to erupt in giggles.

While you and Loki talked, Ella stayed the whole time in her father's lap, playing with the cords of his hoodie, or even with his long raven locks from time to time - until she was so tired, that she fell asleep against his chest. No wonder. It was already quite late. He tucked Ella in then and got together with you ready for bed. Today, you and Loki decided to just stay on the line while you both slept; unable to say goodbye. It had been long three weeks... "Good night, darling. I love you." "Night, babe." You answered with a yawn, while cuddling into the sheets on the lonely bed in the hotel room. "I love you even more."

On the next morning, Loki was the first to wake up. He realised quickly that you were still asleep. With a smile, he decided to just let you sleep and watch, but that quickly changed when he heard your soft snores. He hadn't heard that in a long time... The god couldn't help the giggle which escaped his lips, causing you to finally wake up. Still somewhat half asleep you frowned at your husband. "Wha's so funny?" You asked, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing, love. I just missed your snoring." You scoffed. "Pfft, I don't snore." Loki laughed, looking at you adoringly. "Oh yes, you do."

I chose BabyFever!Loki, 'cause I know you like the AU. I hope you like this, friend! ☺️

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Last baby's brain cell: Feral Robin is kind. He feeds and strokes me. He also likes sharp cutting things--> I’ll give him a scalpel to show that I love him.

Lil baby man blushes green because he’s shy and ready to hide in a portal if his gift with note doesn’t please Damian.

[entomolog-t]

Valentine's Day Special- Conversation Hearts

Happy Valentine's Day! As a treat here's a not-currently-canon-but-maybe-future-canon short for INSTAЯ as a part of the G/t Valentine's Prompt List.

Bram find's a new way to get his messages across.

Word count: 759

(Bonus there is some that will accompany this short- I'd just like to get a little farther on GtWAC and my comissions before taking the time to finish)

____

“I know you washed your hands but there is something deeply wrong about that.” 

Bram pulls back his hand from the batter with a glare, chirping incomprehensible words, yet the cadence made it clear he was mocking me by mimicking my chiding. Below us, Honey whines, desperate for her share of Bram’s stolen batter.

I return his glare, though I can't help but chuckle at his disdain as I shoo him away from the bowl. His eyes narrow as he chitters some sort of grievance at me, Honey’s pleas going unanswered as he makes quick work of the batter coating his claws.

The sight sends a chill down my spine. 

Was that a tongue? I shudder, not wanting to think too long about the logistics of how his nightmarish mouth worked. I turn my focus away from what I'd come to recognize as his muttering and back to the task at hand, whisking in the pistachio cream and cardamom extract, the batter taking on an almost cozy scent. One by one, I fill the cupcake papers, a grin tugging at the corners of my lips at the thought of how nice the house would smell as they baked. The soft music playing nearly hid the sounds of his talons as they clicked across the countertop- thankfully, away from the batter.

It felt … good. 

Normal even. Just to be able to ease into something familiar again, if only for a moment. 

For just that singular moment, I could get lost in a fantasy where there wasn’t a tiny abomination trying to sneak a taste at the cupcake batter… A fantasy where Bram was… Bram and we were just a normal pair of people spending time together. 

My relief didn’t last long, as the unmistakable sound of a plastic bag rustling broke through the cozy ambience. 

I frown. 

He’d, quite literally, gotten into the Conversation Hearts Clyde had dropped off that I’d been planning on using as toppers for the cupcakes.

“You overgrown cockroach,” I scold, though the smile that tugs at the corners of my lips dulls any edge the insult carries, “You act like I don’t feed you.” 

The bag chirps with what I can only assume is some snide retort thrown my way. I sigh, smile still tugging at my lips as I move the tray to the oven. Had he always had such a sweet tooth, or was this something to do with - 

A sort of whistling chirp abruptly pulls me away from my thoughts. I turn my attention to Bram- a conversation heart in his main set of arms. As I’m about to make a comment about his digustingly sweet choice of snack, he holds the heart out towards me and I feel my own freeze in my chest. 

Oh.

I stare at him for a moment. What could have only been a second seeming to stretch far longer than reality should permit. 

There was a dreadful feeling of both being caught off guard and knowing exactly where this was going- my brain rattling off various little sayings printed on those hearts. 

Be mine

You’re cute

Love you

I felt heat rise to my face. 

Kiss me

I swallow. I could only hope that my face didn’t show a fraction of the panic running full tilt through my mind. I mean, of course we’d grown to like each other's company- it’s not like there were any other options out here. All that time together… we’d grown closer but- How was I supposed to respond to this? If anything the majority of our time spent together was spent annoying one another- sure it had been teasing… but certainly not that kind of teasing! I chew on my lip, a strange feeling of dread brewing in my chest- would I break his heart?

Though another question seemed to itch the at the back of my mind, 

Did I have to?

My heart thrums loudly in my ears, each beat feeling all too much like gunfire. I reach my hand out towards him, and he hands me the candy heart, his tail swishing behind him in anticipation. 

I grit my teeth, mind reeling over just what I was supposed to say.

He chitters, and my brow knits together as I recognize the noise. Not nerves... The broken half chirps had become a familiar sound- laughter. As I read the tiny red text, the weight vanishes from my shoulders, a feeling of genuine relief accompanying the all too familiar sting of irritation. Irritation for both Bram and Clyde. 

YOU SUCK

[oddsconvert]

I was looking at my cat and thought ... imagine pet whump but the whumpee literally acts like an asshole cat.

They're actually spoiled 🌠rotten🌠 - maybe Whumper gives them a lush life, delicious food, comfy clothes, maybe even allowing them to keep to themself sometimes.

But Whumpee just knocks shit off the side and breaks stuff for the fun of it, tearing stuff up, scratching and hissing whenever anyone comes near.

Fighting other whumpees

Maybe everything's on their terms. They're conditioned enough to climb into Whumpers lap of their own volition sometimes and receive praise and adoration. But if Whumper tries to drag them into a cuddle, they just look eternally pissed off and grumpy, the second they're let go then they scamper away and stare daggers from a corner or hide for the rest of the day.

[glucosegaurdian]

lil baby man close up (or something like that).