IT IS THE END.

I call this trash heap my blog. It's not much, but it's home.

I'm in my 30s and I post whatever I want. I'd prefer that you not follow me if you're under 18, but I'm not your dad. You'll know if I don't want you following me because I'll happily block you. Just know it's nothing personal, really.

I mostly post fandom stuff, but there's no real theme around here. You'll be able to figure out pretty quickly what my current obsession is. At the time of writing, my main fandom is M*A*S*H, but you'll probably see a fair amount of Gravity Falls, Star Trek, Trigun, and Devil May Cry. On occasion, you may see my older fandoms like Marvel.

I write fanfiction and, once in a blue moon, also make fanart. I can be found on Ao3 under the same username.

I'm what the kids call a proshipper and I don't care if you have an issue with that. I ship what I ship and I will not argue about it. Block me if you see fit; it won't hurt my feelings. I do my best to tag triggering content, as well as most fandoms and ships (mostly for the purposes of organization). I recommend blocking the following if you don't want to see incest content from me: Stancest, Plantcest, Plantwood, Spardacest.

Mabel was just as loud as ever, even now that she was getting closer and closer to 30, and it was a sort of blessing in disguise since it gave them warning before anyone came barrelling into the room and finding them in bed together.

Soos was dozing, a sort of heated and weighted blanket made just for Stan, but he roused when Stan shook his shoulder. He smiled up at Stan in the dim light of their room and kissed between Stan's tits. 

“Sorry, dude. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you.”

“It's fine, but we're about to have company.”

“Anyone home?” Dipper's voice echoed through the Shack as if he'd heard Stan's comment.

Soos grinned sheepishly. “I forgot their flight was changed. I was gonna tell you.”

Carding his fingers through Soos's hair, Stan smiled at him more tenderly than he would admit to at gunpoint. “It's fine, gumdrop, but we'd better get dressed or they’ll get an eyeful.”

After a quick kiss, Stan extricated himself from under the larger man and started rifling through their clothes, tossing Soos's things onto the bed. It would have been easier with the lights on or with his glasses, but there were already footsteps coming up the stairs and Stan knew they didn't have much time. 

His boxers squished uncomfortably as he pulled them on, but Stan could imagine far worse than having Soos's jizz leaking into the gusset while he walked, especially if it saved them the embarrassment of being caught with their pants down.

“Ready or not, here we come!” Mabel had already made it up the stairs, and Stan grabbed his shirt and began tugging it over his head, struggling when his A shirt fought with him.

“Uh, dude?” Soos said from outside of the shirt that was stuck over Stan's face.

“Can it, Soos! Just get your clothes on!”

Just as Stan's head popped out of the neckhole of the shirt, the door opened.

“Hey kids!” Stan said, trying his best to sound nonchalant as he fumbled a hand on the night stand for his glasses. “I was just uh… fixing a lightbulb with Soos.”

“A lightbulb?” Dipper's voice was practically dripping with doubt.

“Yeah! Why else would the lights be off, dude?” Soos answered helpfully from where he was standing behind Stan. “It's not like we were in bed together or anything.”

Maybe calling him helpful was a step too far.

Dipper flicked the light switch. He and Mabel stared at them like one of the Shack's exhibits. 

“Changing a light bulb?” Dipper asked.

“Yep!” Stan answered.

“Both of you together?” Mabel inquired.

“Well, Mr. Pines is getting older. I don't trust him to get on ladders without me or Dr. Pines around.”

Stan was going to get Soos if it was the last thing he did.

“Changing a light bulb,” Dipper scratched the little tuft of scruff he called a beard. “I could believe that, couldn't  you, Mabel?”

Mabel beamed, and Stan knew—he knew—he'd be getting the two of them once he was done dealing with Soos.

“I could, bro-bro. I believe that one hundred percent! I just have one tiny, itty bitty question.”

“I suspect I have the same question,” Dipper replied. He spun to face Stan directly, pointing a finger at him. “Why would you need to wear each other's clothes to change a light bulb?”

Stan looked down. 

Soos’s old staff shirt hung from his body, the fabric warped from years of wear but still visibly Soos’s question mark symbol on the front. Stan turned and found Soos wearing Stan’s A shirt, the two-sizes-too-small garment turning into a crop top that left his lower belly exposed. 

Stan ignored the flare of heat that attempted to burn through him at the sight of Soos’s belly looking so ready to be ravished, instead turning back to glare at Dipper and Mabel. 

“Okay, fine. We were fucking. Alright?” 

It had been long enough since they found out about Stan and Soos’s relationship that neither of them even blinked at Stan’s vulgarity. Their knowing smiles only got wider. 

“Maybe we should find Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper said, grinning at his sister. “Will he have his clothes on, Grunkle Stan?” 

They ran out of the room, giggling like the pair of twelve year olds they were not so long ago, before he could think of a good response. 

Stan glared at the door as it swung shut behind them, even as Soos came up and rested a big hand on his shoulder. 

“You okay, dude?” 

“Get back into bed,” Stan growled. 

“Huh?”