"Go to sleep, nerd."

I drew this a while back, but when I had went to make it digital, my Sketchbook app crashed and I lost the file. But with the new chapter for Maternity Falls almost (finally) completed, I got inspired to go back and do it again. As well as do some full render shading.

Context: Ford is about 6-7 months along, up late reading a maternity book on child care. The light cast from Stan's lamp keeps said brother from falling asleep. So he grumbles, complaining at Ford to turn the light off and get some sleep. (His head is resting against Ford's belly because 1, he's hugging him and 2, he's listening to his niece/nephew moving around)

#please don't tag as Stanc//t

My drawing of Mpreg Ford from @alextwdgf01 Maternity Falls AU! I think he's probably farther along then in fic, like 5 or 6 months.

I can assure you that his outfit is historically accurate. I have a picture of my Dad holding me as a baby in 1985 and he is wearing this same outfit, right down to the socks lol.

no tumblr i do not like these posts from ford pines mpreg

omegaverse world ned finds out that the children arent roberts because cerseis been omega faking for decades and they were actually both alphas and unable to have children jaime is unmasked as an omega on the kingsguard and thrown out in disgrace

SLAYYYYYY and its actually lyanna who was dressed up as rhaegar at the ruby ford getting her chest caved in by robert and it was RHAEGAR in the tower of joy having mpreg birth going promise me ned...

ford pines mpreg

draw ford mpreg

I'm not going to do that.

tag game: stranger things edition

I was tagged by @harringrovest :D

ride or die ship (your otp): Mungrove and WillBilly :3

most annoying ship: ElMike, honestly. They're 14. If I was still with the guy I dated at 14 I'd be MISERABLE.

second favourite ship: Harringroveson and Harringrove

favourite platonic relationship: Stobin

underrated ship: WIllBilly. Let the flayed boys be gay and commiserate together, dammit.

overrated ship: ElMike, again lol

one thing i would change in canon: Bring Billy and Eddie back. I understand the cost-cutting measures, but like. It sucks bricks.

something canon did right: Everything with Erica, and also putting Billy in that slutty red shirt.

a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom PLEASE BRAG ABOUT YOURSELF I WANT TO SEE/READ YOUR ART: I wrote a Mungrove Mpreg Fic that's 14k words in 12 days. I also made this WillBilly gif and it took me HOURS. Also this Steddilly (Metalsandwich) playlist

a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson

the character i relate to the most and why: Eddie Munson. I am a gay roleplaying metalhead as well so I imprinted on him IMMEDIATELY.

character i hate the most and why: I don't really hate any character, but I'm most dissatisfied with Jonathan and Mike in S4. Jonathan because he's lying to Nancy and Mike because he's just... dull as dishwater, and his obsession with El isn't healthy for either of them at their age. I know that makes me sound ancient but like. Buddy, chill, you're a freshman.

something i've learned from the fandom: The folks who hate Billy are OBSESSED with him, moreso than my gay ass is and that's saying something.

three tags i seek out on ao3: Billy Hargrove/Eddie Munson, AU, Canon Divergent (WHERE THEY LIVE GOD DAMMIT - or meet in the Upside Down)

song i strongly associate with my otp/favourite character: Eddie: Believer, by Ozzy Osbourne. Billy: Trapped Under Ice by Metallica Steddilly (Steve/Eddie/Billy - Metalsandwich): Kiss Me Deadly by Lita Ford

I'mma tag @pocketsizesatan, @343enderspark, and anyone else who wants to do it! (i need more mungrove/steddilly/billy/eddie moots lol)

Dean Winchester: Bisexual Disaster (33015 words) by piscesapplelady Chapters: 26/26 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester, Charlie Bradbury, Rufus Turner, Mildred Baker Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Brotherly Love, Bisexual Disaster Dean Winchester, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester Friendship, Mary Lives, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Questioning Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Idiots in Love, sam is 18, Cas is 30, POV Alternating, Slow Burn, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Not Beta Read, Post Mpreg Summary: Dean is straight. As straight as they come. Sure, he has guy crushes, who doesn't (Dr. Sexy and Harrison Ford amiright?)? Until he meets Castiel, the new mathematics teacher. Dean begins feeling things that he's not used to feeling…like longing. After a day of no blockers, the two men realize they're True Mates. But Dean isn't gay. He's not. Right? Enter internet quizzes, denial, best friends, denial, talking, denial…did I mention denial? But then there's acceptance…and love.

is it like mpreg? mario anon syndromes are upon u

It's 100% mpreg.

Every single time it happens I am both Karl Jacobs as he would be in real life, (working for MrBeast, doing 128,974,280 projects at once, hanging with other streamers (though I've never recorded a Banter episode during a dream lol)) and I am also a pregnant cisgender man with no explanation as to how it works.

Also the father changes every time - one time it was Dream, one time it was Sapnap, and another time it was my ex for some reason. Also the setting and location change each time.

In one dream (the one where Dream was the father) we were holding a raffle for fans to be reincarnated into the baby, and in another one I accidentally sent my ex bf abstract furry art of the MrBeast logo while trying to get child support, and in a third Harrison Ford was the president and he was giving me a medal for winning The Hunger Games.

So like if Mario Anon did mushrooms and then decided to write a fanfiction lmao

currently thinking about mpreg ford…

A sketch I've been meaning to draw I finally did.

Been discussing with friends on Discord the scene for this and it would be during Stan and Ford's birthday (making Ford around 6 months along). After enjoying some delicious (but slightly burnt) cake, they went for a little walk in the woods.

They wound up taking a break resting against a tree and Bun was kicking.

#please don't tag as Stanc//t

Wolf Bros!

I got a request from @alextwdgf01 to draw an alternate version of it’s Mpreg Ford story where both brothers are werewolf and cuddling together. That’s why Ford’s belly is swelling and huge.

Hope you like!

Please don’t tag as Sancest!

Omega!Shy!Stan/w baby bump and some family bonding time!!

All The Pretty Little Ponies

Chapter 2 (of 2)

“Do you think I could cancel?” Dick asks, only half-joking, jingling the keys in his hands but making no move to open the car door. They’d spent most of the day working on the Mustang, apart from an afternoon nap, and had decided that while it would need an entire new engine sooner rather than later, it was safe enough to drive to the Manor and back. Show it off a bit before Dick gets it up on the lifts and starts taking it apart.

“If you miss your own birthday, you better have a pretty ironclad excuse.”

“I could say I’m sick?”

“If you of all people say you’re too sick to go to your own party, you’re going to have Alfred and probably Bruce here in thirty minutes with a thermometer.”

Dick chuckles. “Probably Damian too.”

Jason switches to an unerring imitation of Damian’s voice, slight accent and all. “Grayson, I demand to know which proletarian germ has vanquished your laughably ineffective immune system so that I may annihilate it with medically necessary cuddles.”

read more on AO3

Start with with first chapter

Check out the whole series: “The Last of the Duke Street Kings”

Do you still accept mpreg propts?

Could you write something where Barba has become softer lately so he initially thinks he ate more because of stress but as time goes on he suspects his bigger belly may hints something else?

Barba doesn't even try to fit into his Tom Ford jeans. All of his pants are sitting a bit tight lately and he doesn't want to feel uncomfortable today.

"You know you could be more casual," Sonny comments when he looks at Rafael wearing yet again a suit.

Rafael wants to reply that it's Sonny's cooking that made him gain a pound or two. But something makes him stop short.

Yes, work has been stressful and Sonny made it a habit to stop by for lunch for homemade food in Tupperware.

But isn't work always stressful? He was doing the same amount of stress eating before.

And to be fair, Sonny's food is much healthier than hot dogs, wantans and whatever fastfood he was usually eating.

Could it be...?

"What is it?"

Surprised Barba looks up and finds Sonny watching him.

"You seem thoughtful," Sonny explains.

Barba just shakes his head and adds one of his smiles so that Sonny is too charmed to ask further.

Indeed, Sonny leans forward to give Barba a kiss and touches his hips.

Could it be...?

Notes: The desire to do a Kill Bill inspired Starker fic has been in my head for as long as I can remember. It’s one of my favorite movies, so here’s a little thing that I wrote. I’d like to expand on it and make it a proper fic, but since I haven’t put out any content in a while, I thought I’d give a little teaser. I’m leaving it untitled for now, because Kill Tony doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Warning(s): Incest (Implied), Underage, A/B/O Dynamics, MPreg _______________________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, there was a little boy. A little boy with wide, brown eyes. He liked to watch his Papa play with samurai swords, how his body would flow like water and the blade with it. The boy would sit on his mat and watch, hands on his knees, which were tucked under his body, his feet bare and toes wiggling with unspent energy. He would sit for what felt like hours watching his father cut through air, the sword whistling as he did. His Papa called it practice.

“For what, Papa?” the boy asked one day, milk dribbling down his chin.

His Papa had smiled, eyes crinkling around the edges. He dabbed at his son’s chin with a napkin, the press of it light and tender. “Someday, you’ll understand.”

Someday came sooner than he realized, and when it did, it was his beloved Papa at the end of his blade. ____________

It was a respectable little chapel out in the Nevada desert. A tiny place surrounded by barren dirt and a horizon that stretched for miles. Peter didn’t have any reason to believe that they weren’t safe. He sat in one of the pews, next to his husband-to-be, a hand resting against the swell of his stomach. The baby inside of him moved, and he smiled. Quentin turned his head to look at him and met his eyes. The alpha laughed and leaned in to kiss the boy’s cheek, whispering to him how he was so excited that in twenty-four hours’ time, they’d be getting married.

“So am I.”

And relieved. Peter was relieved. Once he was married and mated to Quentin, he could put the ordeal with his Papa behind him. He could put the mating mark on his gland behind him. It would be erased with this new alpha’s teeth, and his daughter would never know the murderous bastard that her father was. Quentin was a nice man. He lived nearby, worked at a local bar that didn’t see too many customers aside from locals and the odd person or two passing through. Everything about Goodsprings was just that — good, down to its name. The locals were kind and ready to lend a helping hand. They didn’t get too many male omegas in these parts, so Peter was beloved by all.

It was a welcome change, given the life he’d led up until this point.

“Now, when it comes time for you to kiss the bride, Quentin — you be real nice, y’hear? Don’t go stickin’ your tongue down his throat in front of everybody.”

The alpha laughed, his entire face lighting up with it. His cheeks turned a little pink and Peter smiled, leaning into the man. He reached out and fiddled with Quentin’s collar, where his tie was loose and draped around his neck. Quentin’s hand came up and settled over his, giving his fingers a squeeze. The man’s hands were soft, much softer than his Papa’s, and gave way to a gentleness that his Papa would never have understood. It was one of the first things that he’d noticed about Quentin.

Behind them, MJ and Ned were snickering to each other, muttering things that Peter couldn’t hear. The omega was having a tough time keeping a straight face. “We’ll try not to put on a show,” he promised, and he looked over his shoulder to wink at them. A little off to the side, May was watching him. She sighed and shook her head, but there was a warm smile on her face.

May had all but adopted him the minute he’d tried to make a home in Goodsprings. He came into town three months pregnant, tear tracks running down his face and his bags too big for him to carry through the Nevada heat. She’d insisted he come inside the Pioneer Saloon, an old restaurant she owned. To Peter, it looked like an old barn. When he stepped foot inside, it felt like a barn — no air conditioning, just giant ceiling fans sweeping dust all over the place. But she sat him at the bar and fixed him up a burger and fries that were so good he didn’t give a damn about its appearance. It was his Papa who cared about those sorts of things.

Now, for his wedding rehearsal, she sat behind him. She would be the only one on his side of the chapel, which was why he’d asked if they could let everyone sit together. Peter tried not to call attention to the fact that he was so alone. He made up a good front. That he was a kid escaping an abusive relationship, that his alpha had abused him and knocked him up, left him abandoned. Not long after that, he’d bumped into Quentin at the diner. Quentin was a local. He owned a ranch a little ways north of Goodsprings, but made frequent trips into town.

May said the frequency increased since Peter had shown his face.

“Are you sure you don’t have anyone you could bring with you, Peter?” The reverend’s question wasn’t meant to be unkind, but his smile faded. “It’d be good to have somebody come for you. You know, as a sign of faith before God. You don’t have any family?”

Peter’s spine straightened, “No — I mean, I’ve got May. She’s all the family I need, until…” He looked down at his belly and smiled. Despite the circumstances of her creation, he loved his peanut. She was so precious to him, had been since the moment that stick turned blue at the worst time of his life.

“We’ll make sure he isn’t lonely,” May piped up, her tone a little disgruntled and defensive.

It went without saying that the reverend didn’t approve for one reason or another. “I’m going to get some air, baby.” Peter kissed Quentin’s cheek, and the alpha got to his feet to make it easier for Peter to step around his legs. His bump always got in the way now.

As he began to walk towards the door to the chapel, which was open (another place with no central air that couldn’t stand the Nevada heat), Peter could almost hear the sounds of his Papa’s bamboo flute. He smiled as he looked down at his belly, rubbing it fondly. If there was one thing he did miss about the alpha, it was that flute. How many times had he fallen asleep to its sound? It was like a whisper on the wind. But as the wind blew and dust danced over his sandaled feet, it brought with it a warm, musky scent. Something metallic that wanted to be blood but wasn’t quite there yet.

It was his Papa’s scent. He’d know it anywhere.

Peter stopped in his tracks, the air sucked right from his lungs. His fingers went to the pendant he wore around his neck, a silver charm of a puppy with ruby red eyes. Thinking that maybe he was fooling himself, Peter found the urge to carry on. He took a step, and yet another, until he was outside the doors of the chapel.

As soon as he was outside, his Papa’s scent deepened. The sound of the flute was louder out here, and he didn’t have to look to his left to know he’d see the man sitting there in the rickety old bench outside the chapel. Peter’s mouth felt dry, like he’d swallowed sand. He turned his head because, no matter what he told himself (it varied most of the time, but often involved a mantra of, “I don’t need him. I don’t want him. He’s ruined my life. He’ll ruin my baby’s life.”), he missed his Papa. What was the harm in seeing him one last time?

The alpha was sitting there, flute in hand, playing a note. Peter’s heart thrummed in his chest as he took in the sight of the man. It had been months, that was all, but he thought he saw a few more grey hairs on his Papa’s head. The man’s goatee was perfectly groomed, as always. He looked immaculate in his suit, and stuck out like a sore thumb in this tiny town. Tom Ford didn’t belong in the desert.

His Papa’s note cut off, and he raised his head to meet Peter’s eyes. “Ciao, cucciolo.”