#i really don't know what to say (and i'm taken aback) ((in a good way)) other than thanku sm for this message this is so nice 🥺🥺..

[felassan]

thanku so much for this really lovely post, i'm just

Before we all leave the internet for good to go play this game, I want us all to give another HUGE shoutout and standing ovation for the one and only @felassan, who has not just been holding the fort for all those years in which the fandom was dormant and hope for Veilguard to ever come out seemed so slim, they've been a true cornerstone of the fandom throughout all of it, and of course this entire crazy marketing campaign, providing everyone with every information, minor or big, regarding BioWare and amazing analysis and summaries and I know I speak for everyone when I say THANK YOU SO MUCH, you're incredible and I hope you'll have a great time with Veilguard and that it is all you've wished for (and our favorite elf Felassan to make a glorious appearance of course!!! Seriously, there should be an entire questline or something dedicated to him just for you and what you've done for the fandom in all those years! 🙇🙇🙇) 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

[lkfarrout]

Birthday Gifts (Stan x fem!Reader)

Summary: You find yourself at a party at the Mystery Shack, where you learn a few secrets about the host. Takes place during Double Dipper.

Warnings: Just fluff today :) Some kissing, but nothing sexual. Alcohol mentioned.

This is a long one - 4 chapters. But I wrote it all in a day so I figured I'd just put it all in one post. If you're confused about it being Stan's birthday during Double Dipper, check out this post. It's actually cannon!

And if you're curious, the song I reference is Before He Cheats by Carrie Underwood.

Chapter 1

"Hey, watch it!" You grabbed your foot, wincing in pain.

The guy just shrugged at you and went back to dancing. If you could call it dancing? It was more like aggressively punching the air to the beat. As you made your way off the dancefloor, you could feel a lump rising in your throat and the tears began to flow. You looked for a door, any door. It had been a terrible night.

But for someone else, it had been a worse one. Stan Pines was alone in the kitchen, with two shots of liquor -- one in his hand, the other on the counter.

"Well, Stanford, here's to one more trip around the sun. I uh, I know I say every year that this'll be the last one I celebrate without ya, but this time I mean it." Stan clinked the glasses together, and downed his liquid courage. As he opened his eyes, he saw you come around the corner.

"Hey! Guests aren't allowed back here."

You jumped at the sound of his voice and began to frantically wipe your tears away, "Sorry, I'm leaving."

"Wait," his voice was softer now, "you okay?"

"Not really." You sniffled and stared at him. He was wearing a 70's disco outfit and a goofy fez. It was crooked, probably had to do with empty shot glass in his hand, you guessed.

"Ya wanna talk about it?" he asked, as he straightened his hat.

"It's nothing, I just. My friends ditched me tonight and its like, only teenagers here? And then this asshole stepped on my foot. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud."

He chuckled, "Well, sorry bout that, but if ya want to leave early, there's an exit fee."

You smiled a little at the joke, and then realized, "Oh, you must be Stan? Sorry I'm pretty new here and I still don't know everybody. I've heard of you though." You told him your name.

He took your hand and shook it firmly, "Good to meet ya."

"I see you're hiding the good stuff back here, huh?" You gestured to the liquor bottle, "Who's the other shot for?"

"Uh, nobody. You know what?" He slid it toward you, "You want it? Might make ya feel better."

You shook your head, "Oh, I was just making a joke. That stuff's pretty nasty."

"Okay, well, uh," he rubbed the back of his neck, "then, how about a dance?"

You were a little taken aback.

"With you?" You asked.

"Hey, I promise I won't step on your foot."

Chapter 2

The song wasn't exactly slow, but Stan pulled you into him and the two of you started to swing to the beat. You noticed then how big his arms were, and how well his white shirt fit him. It was lowcut, and he had on a gold chain poking through a bit of chest hair.

He was saying something, but you were too distracted to listen.

"Well, ya ready?"

"Yeah," you nodded, before realizing you had no idea what you'd agreed to, "wait, woah--"

Suddenly you were looking up into his eyes, and all your weight was supported by his arm. "See? I told ya, dipping is my specialty."

Your hand searched for something to grab onto, and settled on his ribcage. He pulled you back up, and you felt something under his shirt.

"Are you wearing a gir--"

"Bulletproof vest?" He cut you off, "Yeah." He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "When the shooting starts, get behind me."

You laughed at him, "Yeah right, Stan. If that's a bulletproof vest," you poked him on the exposed part of his chest, "you're definitely wearing it wrong."

He shrugged, "Hey it was worth a shot. And it made ya laugh, didn't it?"

You smiled, "Yeah, I guess it did."

A few of the party-goers were watching the two of you curiously, but he didn't seem to notice. You passed several more songs in Stan's arms, listening to his jokes and stories, and even enjoying yourself. Eventually, a song came on that you recognized.

"Oh, hey, this song's in 3/4," you commented. Stan raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry I'm kind of a music nerd," you laughed, "3/4 is my favorite time signature."

"Why's that?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Oh, just cuz, that's the one that you can waltz to."

"Oh, like the cotillion dances in The Dutchess Approves?" As soon as he said it, he started to laugh nervously, and his eyes darted to the ceiling, "I mean... what is that?"

You laughed at him, "YOU watch The Dutchess Approves?"

He was red now, "I... may have seen some clips of it."

You punched him playfully on the shoulder, "Don't worry Stan, I won't tell anyone your secret."

He smiled back, and the redness subsided.

Chapter 3:

"Uh, since you say that, ya wanna hear another secret? Ya can't tell anyone."

"Okay, what is it?"

He coughed, "Ah, y'know maybe not, its-- its dumb."

"Oh c'mon you have to tell me!"

He shrugged, "Alright, today's my birthday."

"Really? Oh, Stan, happy birthday!"

He shushed you and looked around the room, "Not so loud, okay? Nobody else knows."

"What? You threw a party on your own birthday and no one knows?"

"Yeah, and I wanna keep it that way."

You could tell he was getting a little uncomfortable, so you decided not to pry and instead opted for a joke to lighten things up.

"But, Stan, if no one knows, how will you get any gifts?"

"Oh please," he laughed, "I don't even remember the last time I got a birthday gift. I must've been a kid."

"Well that just won't do," you shook your head. "If I'm the only one who knows I guess its up to me to get you something."

"Oh, no, c'mon we just met, I--"

You kissed him on the cheek. Speechless, he rubbed a hand over the spot.

"There you go, Stan," you whispered. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks, I, uh--"

Suddenly the music cut out, and the DJ announced it was time for karaoke. His touch lingered on you a bit before he let go. You both decided to get a little closer to the stage and listen to the blonde girl who was singing. Before you knew it, the song was over and a girl in a sweater and big orange bow was up.

After just a few lines she yelled, "Now I'm gonna do a flip!" And faceplanted. She popped back up with a smile, and Stan yelled, "That's my girl!"

Before you could say anything about it, the DJ asked, "Any other brave dudes want to try for the party crown?"

Stan elbowed you, "Hey you said ya like music? Why don't you get up there?"

"Oh, really, I couldn't--"

"C'mon," he insisted, "If you sing half as good as ya dance, you'll do great."

"Fine, but only because it's your birthday."

You flipped through the catalogue, "That one."

The song started with a country guitar lick and low saxophone. You pulled the mic out of the stand.

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach blonde tramp

And she's probably gettin' frisky

Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink

Cuz she can't shoot whiskey

You watched Stan's eyes go wide. He was absolutely starstruck.

Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick

Showin' her how to shoot a combo

Oh, and he don't know

The crowd cheered as you started the chorus, and Stan whistled loudly. On a nearby beam, Dipper #8 sat unnoticed with a dollar on a fishing line. He shrugged, Stan seemed distracted enough.

As you decended the stage, several people complimented you, and Stan stood with his hands in his pockets and a crooked smile.

"Wow, Doll, if I knew ya had pipes like that--"

"Grunkle Stan, wasn't she amazing?" The girl from the song before popped up between you.

She turned to you, "You'll get the crown for sure!"

You patted her on the head, "That's okay, I don't want it. How about you go win it instead, huh?"

"I'm on it!" She ran back over to her friends.

The DJ's voice came back on over the mic, "Now we're gonna bring it down for a minute. Ladies, dudes, now's the time."

A slow song started to play and Stan pulled you back into his arms.

You laughed, "Okay, I have to know, what is a grunkle?"

Chapter 4:

The two of you continued to dance and talk for the rest of the party. He told you all about his neice and nephew, and pointed out a couple of employees. You only paused your conversation to cheer Mabel on for the party crown vote. After a while, guests started to file out and it was just you, Stan, the twins and their friends, and a few other stragglers.

"Do ya need to go?" he asked.

"Yeah, I probably should."

"Alright, I'll walk you out."

There was no one else outside. Stan leaned against the door of your car, "So, uh, about that birthday gift ya gave me..."

"What, you didn't like it?"

"No, I just feel bad," he shrugged. "I think I should give it back."

You couldn't hide your smile as he planted a kiss on your cheek.

You tried your best to look smug despite your blushing, "Well, good thing I have another one for you." You pulled him in by the collar and kissed him, this time on the mouth. His hands grabbed your waist and pulled you closer.

"I don't care how many you have, I'm just gonna give 'em back."

"Yeah?" you teased, "We'll see about that."

The two of you kissed several more times before Stan pulled away with a chuckle, "I think I lost track, can we start over?"

You were about to suggest a truce, when you heard Mabel yelling from the porch, "Grunkle Stan! My friends are sleeping over tonight!"

Stan sighed, and yelled back "Okay, sweetie!"

He turned back to you, and you commented, "That's too bad you have kids to watch, y'know, cuz I was gonna invite you to a sleepover at my house."

"Yeah?" he chuckled nervously.

"Oh wait! Before I go, I have a real gift for you!" Stan waited as you dug around in your glovebox.

"Here," you handed him a napkin with your number scribbled on it. "Happy birthday, Stan."

[amazingmsme]

Won’t You Stay? (Just a Little Bit Longer)

AN: FINALLY finished the last fic for tickletober! Sorry for the wait, I wanted to finish the other fics first & been pretty busy. This one was a blast to write, & I got to really dive into their relationship dynamic! Mark & Karen def picked Ted up at a bar lmaooo. Anyway, without further ado, here’s day 31!

No warnings, but things are insinuated. Nothing explicit, just some light bondage.

In Hatchetfield, the strange quickly becomes mundane. Having lived there all his life, Ted was not easily phased. He saw weird shit all the time and brushed it off with ease. Yet he was still taken aback when the notoriously prude-y, picture perfect couple that was Karen and Mark Chasity walked up to him at the bar of all places. He didn't even think they went to bars.  He thought uptight christian nut jobs like that fainted at the smell of booze, but apparently he was wrong. He was wrong about a lot of things, lately.

"So, what's the score?" Mark asked as he slid up to the bar, pointing at one of the numerous flat screens above shelves of liquor. "21 to six," he answered with a smirk, taking a swig of his beer. Mark let out a low whistle.

"Geez, they're getting creamed." Ted scoffed in amusement, looking him up and down.

"Don't tell me you're a fuckin' Cowboys fan," he taunted. He chuckled shyly, ducking his head.

"What can I say? I like to root for the underdogs."

Was he hallucinating, or did Mark just fucking wink at him? Wasn't his wife right there? Wait, where did she go? He could've sworn she had been clinging to his arm just a second ago-

"A piña colada please," Karen spoke up on his left. He nearly jumped out of his skin because when the hell did she sit down? And shouldn't she have at least sat on his other side? Maybe, I don't know, next to her husband?

Apparently, she wasn't done with her order, feeling the need to specify, "And make it dirty." She was looking directly at him when she said that, twirling a lock of hair around her finger as she bit her lip.

Ted was extremely confused. If he didn't know any better, he'd say they were coming onto him. But that was impossible! There's no way in hell that they would be looking for a third, and especially not someone like him.

They were nothing but pure vanilla, as pristine as the driven snow. He was like a muddy puddle. This was just a coincidence. A really, really weird coincidence.

"I'll have a Jim Beam, on the rocks. Actually, make that two."

Okay, maybe they were trying to take him home.

"That's okay, I'm fine with a beer," he tried to decline, but Mark insisted.

"We all deserve a taste of the finer things in life."

Ted felt a blush creep to his cheeks, and not just from the alcohol. He couldn't remember the last time a sexual advancement had made him this flustered.

"Don't you agree?" Mark prompted when Ted didn't answer. He shook himself out of it and nodded vigorously.

"It's what separates us from the animals," he said, trying to sound smart.

"Well I couldn't agree more," Karen added, looking past Ted to her husband. And just like that, they found their third.

~~~

Things were admittedly a little awkward and stiff at first, but they quickly found their groove. They both were surprisingly kinky, not that Ted was complaining. It was just... so unexpected coming from them.

It felt nice being in on their dirty little secret. Or was he the secret in question?

Oh well. He supposed it didn't matter. Not when things were this good.

Ted flopped back on the bed, lying between the pair with a relaxed smile on his face. Karen snuggled closer to his right side, Mark lacing their fingers together on his left.

"That was really fun," Karen purred, walking her fingers up his chest.

"I'll say," Mark chimed in, offering a quick peck to Ted's cheek. He leaned across him so he could reach Karen, kissing her cheek.

"Yeah, you guys are amazing," he said, still breathless and dazed. "Same time again next week?" he asked, only half joking.

"Hey, there's no need to rush off again," Mark assured.

"Yeah, who are you? Cinderella?" she teased, the wine making her giggle at her own joke. Tipsy Karen was absolutely adorable. "Stay for a while," she insisted softly.

"That's okay, I don't wanna overstay my welcome," he shot back playfully. But what was meant as a lighthearted joke clearly struck a chord with each of them.

"After everything, you don't think you're welcome to just relax in our home? You're not just our lover, you're our guest. Stay; have a snack, watch some TV, whatever you wanna do." And didn't that sound nice...

But Ted Spankoffski never really had nice things. Or if he did, they didn't stick around for long.

"You sure? 'Cause if you're busy, I can get outta your hair," he offered, nervous butterflies fluttering about in the pit of his stomach. He's used to being the bootycall; to showing up on a whim for some casual sex, and getting kicked back out on the streets once they were done with him. But they actually wanted him to stay, which was why it was too good to be true.

"Oh I can be busy, if that's what you want," Mark growled, rolling over to straddle Ted's waist. He leaned down to plant a kiss to his lips, lingering with a gentle bite. Ted hummed, melting into the bed.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Chasity," Ted smirked.

"I try," he shot him a wink, allowing his hand to roam Ted's chest.

"So why don't you ever want to stay?" Karen asked, with an exaggerated pout. The question caught him off guard, so he answered honestly.

"I want to stay, just... still not really used to the idea of you guys wanting that too," he admitted. Normally, he's never allow himself to be so vulnerable and bold with his emotions. But Mark and Karen were different. They didn't judge people, even people like him who should be judged, and they were nice. Like, genuinely nice. When he was with them, he felt seen and heard. He had spent nearly his whole life trying to run away from his emotions, but with them, he could finally relax.

"Oh Ted... Of course we want that," Karen spoke barely above a whisper, carding her fingers through his hair. Ted looked between them hopefully.

"Really?"

She offered a sweet, radiant smile. "Really."

"You're not just saying that to cheer me up?" he asked playfully.

"No, if we wanted to cheer you up, we'd do this!" Without warning, Mark began scribbling over his sides, drawing out a surprised giggly shriek.

"Hehehey wahahahait! D-dohon't!" he whined, flopping around uselessly on the bed.

"Why not? Is someone a little bit tiiiiiicklish?" Karen chimed in, using her long nails to flutter under his chin. He snorted and slammed his neck against his shoulder for protection.

"Noho!" he denied, a giddy, nervous grin plastered to his face.

"Uh oh honey, looks like we've got ourselves a liar," Mark taunted from above. His hands continued to knead the slight pudge around his middle, drawing out a few deeper laughs.

"Oh no, what should we do?" she asked, feigning innocence.

"I think..." Mark trailed off for dramatic effect, smirking when he heard Ted whine. "We should get the cuffs." The way Ted's eyes snapped open to look at them was priceless.

"What?" he screeched, excitement bubbling up inside him.

"That's the punishment for dirty rotten liars," Karen purred,  leaning over the side of the bed to rummage through their box of toys. She popped back up, showing off a pair of fuzzy, leopard print cuffs.

"Ihihi wasn't-" he began to protest, but Mark shushed him by placing a finger to his smiling lips.

"Don't try to back out now," Mark said, cocking his head to the side. "Arms up, tough guy."

"Why don't you make mehehe!" his defiant protest melted away into giggles. He didn't bother holding back his laughter; he doubted he could even if he wanted to.

Even through his delirium, he knew they were doing this for him. To make him relax, to show him they really cared... And to tease the living hell out of him.

God, they knew him so well.

He didn't resist when Mark slowly raised his arms above his head, snapping the cuffs into place, looping the short chain around the headboard. Ted gave his arms a weak tug, just for show. He squirmed in anticipation, a giddy smile plastered on his face from the threat of what was to come.

"You're gonna stay right there until we decide you can go. Got that?" Karen asked, cocking her head expectantly. Her tone was halfway between stern and caring.

"Yehes ma'am!" he agreed, arching his back when she slowly scribbled along his bare waistline.

"And we won't stop until you admit to yourself that we want you around for more than just sex," Mark added pointedly. Ted couldn't help but smirk at the new caveat.

"Well in that case, we'd be here ahahall nihihight! Ihihit was just ahaha joke!"

"Our love is no laughing matter!" Karen chastised through her own giggles, the fucking hypocrite.

“Oh, I got a joke for ya! What’s a pirate’s favorite letter of the alphabet?” Mark asked, barely able to finish his sentence before Ted answered.

“Ihihit’s R!”

“Ooo, close, but no.”

“What?” he screeched in shock before it took on a higher pitch as Mark dug into his ribs. Apparently, answering wrong had consequences.

“A pirate’s favorite letter is C! Get it? ‘Cause they sail the seas!”

“Thahat fuckin’ suhuhucks! No no wahahait, I’m sohohorry!” Ted apologized the moment he began vibrating his clawed hands against his ribcage.

“Language! You’re lucky I don’t wash your mouth out with soap instead,” Karen teased, kneading into his soft tummy. He snorted and bucked his hips, unable to dislodge the hands attacking his torso.

“Ihihi’m aha grown ass mahahan, I-I cahan say whatehehever I wahahant!”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me with that laugh of yours,” Mark taunted, enjoying the blush spreading across Ted’s cheeks.

“Hehehey!” he whined exaggeratedly.

“Oh Mark, be nice,” she mock scolded her husband, shooting him a contradictory wink. He smirked back.

“I am being nice. He’s not even screaming yet.”

“Mark!” Ted yelped at the playful threat.

“What? I’m just kidding!” he chuckled, crawling his fingers higher to scratch inside his exposed pits. He leaned in close to growl directly in Ted’s ear, ensuring he could be heard over his hysterics. “Or am I?”

Ted didn’t know what he did to deserve this. He didn’t know what he did to deserve them. They were kind, and cruel, and everything Ted could ever ask for, and he was grateful they chose him.