#lee!mabel

The Mystery Shack had been seeing slow business that day.

With a total of two tourists in the morning and none in the afternoon, it was looking like a very uneventful day in the gift shop. This wasn't uncommon considering the lackluster quality of the attractions and the less-than-pleasant service from the curmudgeonly Mr. Mystery. Stan hated these slow days, but to the others it was an opportunity. Uneventful days did not mean boring.

With the gift shop empty, Wendy, Soos, and the kids were free to do as they pleased. If they wanted to host a spontaneous dance party, they did. If they wanted to play Who Can Stack the Most Stan Bobbleheads, they did. If they wanted to blast music through the shop that they knew Stan hated, they did. It was a time for the staff to decompress and just enjoy each others' company without the stress of customer service or a mystical threat.

Soos, ever the diligent employee, balanced goofing around with his chores so as to keep some kind of order. While Wendy and Mabel were playing catch with a shrunken head, Soos passively swept the floors while chiming in with their banter every now and then. He looked toward the counter to find Dipper sitting atop it and fiddling with his hair, which Soos found out-of-character for him.

"You got something caught in your hair, dude?" Soos asked.

Dipper startled, forgetting entirely that other people could see him. His face blushed a delicate pink as he yanked his hand out of his hair and into his shorts pocket.

"No, no- just... hey do you think girls like messy hair?" Dipper said quietly.

Ah. Girl stuff.

Soos had very little to offer in the romance department. Sure, he had a girlfriend, a wonderful one at that, but that didn't happen because he was any good at flirting or putting himself out there. In fact, it may have been the opposite that Melody found so charming. He knew next to nothing about what girls found attractive.

Soos chuckled. "I got no clue, but you might wanna start with getting that glitter off your face."

Dipper sputtered as he patted his face until he found the offending sparkles.

"Mabel! I told you to stop throwing glitter bombs in our room! You're getting glitter all over my pillow" Dipper whipped to face his sister.

A haste "sorry!" was all Mabel gave.

Soos focused back on Dipper. "Look, dude, in my experience, looks don't matter as much as what it is you do. Take me and Melody, for example! It wasn't my boyish good looks that got her to ask me out, but just being myself. As long as you just keep doing you, something's bound to turn out right, right?"

"That may have worked for you, but no girl is going to want to date a loser like me. I mean, look at me! I'm not strong, I'm not big, I can't flirt. What do I even have to offer?"

It was hard to see his best friend get down on himself, but Soos always knew how to lighten the mood back up.

He smiled brighter and warmer than the sun itself. "You got loads of stuff, dude! A monster manual, a cool hat, you even got a world record of eating nine hot dogs in under five minutes!"

"That was pretty cool" Dipper nodded thoughtfully.

"Any girl would fall over themselves to get a date with you" Soos punctuated with a poke to Dipper's side. As intended, it got a smile out of him.

"Alright, alright, you may be right" Dipper snickered as he shuffled away from the poke.

"I'm always right, dawg." Soos declared with another round of pokes up and down the boy's side. He knew Dipper was too ticklish to resist.

As he expected, Dipper began bending himself to the side in a vain attempt to shield himself, but it was no good. His snickers grew into giggles as Soos's pokes turned into worms, the handyman effectively chasing away Dipper's insecurities with silly tickles.

"Soos! Wendy's right there!" Dipper whispered urgently as he half-heartedly wrestled with Soos's hand. He would never admit it, but he wasn't fighting him that hard.

A voice came from out of nowhere. "Dude, you know I can hear you both right?" Wendy remarked.

Soos laughed. "I'm barely even touching you, man. Mabel wasn't exaggerating, huh?" All he got was a giggly groan in response. "Don't worry, dude, you're safe amongst friends. I'll let up if you're cheered up though" he teased playfully.

Dipper shrieked as a single finger wriggled it's way into his neck. "Mabel! Reinforcements!"

Mabel turned at the desperate cry for help and jumped into action. "On it, bro-bro!"

With a running start, she leapt onto Soos's other arm and tried wrenching him away from her brother. Unfortunately, she was much smaller than he was and her efforts weren't doing very much.

It was with such ease that Soos tossed Mabel into the air and caught her under his arm in one fluid motion.

"Almost got me there, Mabel," he lied unapologetically. Sure, it was dishonest, but it was entirely worth the gleam in the little girl's eye. His other hand, now holding Mabel up around her torso, started tickling away at his captive.

She laughed uproariously, squirming to free herself from his hold, while Dipper remained under his devilish pokes. The twins, though they couldn't say so, were having a ball. If Grunkle Stan was their uncle, then Soos was their cool older brother, and there wasn't a day that went by when Soos wasn't the beating heart of this family.

Soos soon began to slow down.

"Alright, alright, I'll let you both off with a warning," he laughed with a not-so-serious glare, letting them go.

As soon as his giggly victims were released, they poised themselves to strike back and get their revenge.

Soos's eyes widened as he backed towards the door. "C'mon guys, don't do this! I thought we were cool!"

The twins exchanged glances. Dipper looked Soos up and down and gave a sagely nod to Mabel. The latter looked up at Soos.

"We'll give you a head start"

Soos knew he was in for trouble now, and took off without another warning. He knew they would catch up to him eventually, but he didn't mind. He loved those little guys, and he knew that they loved him just the same. And if he had to get completely humbled in tickly combat, then that was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

Slow days at the Mystery Shack were really anything but, as mirthful laughter rung out throughout the yard.

---

🧢Dipper✒️

General:

He's for sure a lee-leaning switch

While he loves both sides of tickles, he's incredibly embarrassed about it. Good luck getting him to admit to anything

Lee:

His lee moods are frequent, to say the least. Not a concerning amount or anything, but definitely more common than his ler moods

He gets blushy, fidgety, and can't stop smiling. Pretty easy to spot.

Mabel’s the main one who catches on, though Ford is pretty close with his observational skills. Neither one of them minds helping him out.

He'll whine and squirm the entire time, but you Dipper loves being tickled. He likes to laugh, to let loose, and to have fun with the people he trusts. 

Cheer-up tickles make his day when he's upset. As long as he's up for it, he'll perk right up at some gentle pokes and praises.

Worst spots are his navel and underarms. Gentle tickles there drive him nuts, and raspberries are a death strike. His snorts would make Waddles jealous.

Melt spot is his stomach, believe it or not. He loves gentle, playful belly tickles. As long as you avoid his navel, he'll barely fight back.

He adores cuddles after you wreck him. He'll gladly take a nap with you, maybe share a small entry he made in the journal before he dozes off. 

Ler:

He's a dork of a ler, to be sure

He'll laugh alongside his lee, make dumb little noises, and tease his lee with the most cliché stuff you can think of. There's a high chance of cringing.

“Citchie citchie coo!”

“Geez, you're really ticklish, aren't you?”

“Huh? Sorry, couldn't hear you over all the laughing.”

“You know, I think I saw a tickle monster in Grunkle Ford's journal somewhere. Maybe I can summon it… And you're perfect to help!”

He wouldn't do anything without permission, of course. He'll regularly check in to see if you're okay, then tease you if you let him continue.

His ler moods are decently rare. He usually strikes out of revenge or to cheer somebody up, but he does occasionally get the need to wreck somebody.

He's pretty good with aftercare. Once he's done tickling you, he gets all bashful; his confidence dissipates with the ler mood. 

He'll bring you water for sure, and then stutter through asking if you want any cuddles, hugs, or snacks.

Regardless, he'll talk with you for a bit, helping you relax and recuperate. You can bet he'll make you some hot cocoa or tea.

🌠Mabel🐖

General:

Mabel's mostly a straight-up switch, though she is slightly ler-leaning.

She loves tickles. She can cheer others up, have a laugh herself, and bond with the ones she trusts and loves. What's not to like?

Lee:

The giddiest, goofiest lee in all of Gravity Falls.

She's got no qualms with asking for tickles, though she'll be smiling and holding back giggles the whole time.

Her lee moods are rarer than Dipper’s, but she loves when her loved ones help her with them. Mabel likes to laugh.

She's got a bubbly, infectious giggle; most of the time, her ler can't help but laugh with her.

Worst spots are her underarms and the backs of her knees. She shares the prior with her brother, but the backs of her knees are killer. She puts the Shrieking Shack to shame.

Melt spots are her sides. She loves gentle squeezes, pokes, and skittering fingers up and down them.

Mabel’s definitely a squirmer. If hiding in her sweater doesn't work, she'll wriggle around and weakly shove at her ler until she runs down.

You know she loves starting tickle fights with her friends, especially during their sleepovers. They eventually end up dragging Dipper into the mess.

Ler:

Playful, fun, and all about making sure you have a good time

Mabel will never go hard unless you ask her to. She knows Dipper usually likes having his worst spots targeted, but she won't go for yours unless you specifically ask her to.

Plus, you just know she'd love to tease.

“Oh my gosh, your snorts are adorable! You and Waddles would get along so well!”

“Poke, poke, poke, poke, poke, po— What? It tickles? Well, duh! Poke, poke, poke...”

“You’re, like, uber ticklish. I didn't think that was possible… So cool!”

“Your giggles are so cute! Ooo, and now you're blushing~ You need compliments more often. I'm on it!”

She's all about respecting boundaries. If you seriously ask her to stop, she's done in milliseconds. She'll also slow down and check in if she thinks you're getting tired. Of course, if you give the okay, she's happy to keep going.

Mabel is all about aftercare. You're immediately getting a blanket, some Mabel Juice (or fruit punch, if you can't handle its awesomeness), and some music to relax with.

She's more than happy to talk while you recover, and of course she's up for cuddling if you want it. She's pretty good at back rubs if you ask (Stan can attest).

"Dipper, be quiet!"

Mabel whisper-shouted at her brother, sinking further into the pile of stuffed animals. It was the fiercest competition of the century, and she intended to win it.

What had her so determined, you ask? The annual Pines Hide-and-Seek Championship. Well, it was the first year they were doing it, but the technically-teen was going to make sure it carried on.

Downstairs, her Grunkles combed through the house, searching for their great-grand niece and nephew. The Grunkles had half an hour to find them. There was a twist the older men had added, just to make the game more fun. If caught, the kids would be tickled. They didn't really specify a time, figuring it would be best to play things by ear. 

The mystery twins gave no argument. They were determined to win, though the sweater-loving girl was definitely taking things more seriously. For Mabel, that's saying something.

Mabel, being serious? What was so great that she would forgo her usual silliness? Well, something she greatly desired; the winner, whoever they may be, got to dictate the Halloween decorations for the whole Mystery Shack. As long as it was within the budget, anything went.

She was determined to make it the most sparkly, retro, in-your-face crazy Halloween party ever. That meant she had to win. 

Stan rooted through cabinets, looked in couch cushions, even went as far as looking in the outskirts of the woods. He was putting off checking the attic, figuring the kids would be smarter than that. Mabel was always goofy, it wasn’t hard to think her hiding spot would be as well.

Using a gadget, Ford scanned the first floor of the Shack. It was supposed to detect the joy and wonder a child gave off, though he was pretty sure he calibrated something wrong. Still, he searched, hoping it would at least give him some edge. He didn’t want his home covered in glitter, or so scary that even the goat would have nightmares. If Dipper won…well, he wouldn’t actually mind that, but it was the principle of it.

Dipper was hiding up in the rafters, having used Mabel’s grappling hook to secure the spot. They hid together, figuring whoever got caught first could fend for themself. Mabel was rather proud of hers; it was simple enough that they probably wouldn’t look, yet small enough to where she could barely fit, to dissuade her Grunkles. It was pretty perfect.

After twenty minutes of fruitless searching, both old men went up the creaky attic stairs. The twins held their breath, knowing it would be moments before one of them was caught. The door opened, painfully slow, as the pair entered the make-shift bedroom. They could hear the end of Stan’s conversation as he peeked in the closet. “...it’s one of the only spots we haven’t checked, Sixer. One of them’s gotta be here.”

Ford entered a second later, checking under their beds. He was so close that Mabel went completely stiff, refusing to even blink before he stood up. “Those kids are good, I’ll give ‘em that. They’ve got your sneaky skills.” He got a pillow thrown at his head by a chuckling Stan. “Sure, sure. But they’ve got your smarts. I would’ve hid in a closet or somethin’.”

They were so nonchalant about the way they searched for the younger twins. It was like they thought it was a game. Well, everybody but Mabel thought it was.

Dipper looked at Stan, noticing how close he was getting to finding Mabel. He really didn't wanna be the first one caught, but he knew how badly his sister wanted to win. Sighing, he faked a cough, calling the attention of his Grunkles up. The things he did for her…

In seconds, two rough hands wrapped around his waist, yanking him down from his hiding place. “Gotcha!” Dipper barely had enough time to register that he was in Stan’s lap before five clawing fingers dug into his stomach. “G-GRUHUNKLE STAHAHAN!”

Ford chuckled, getting his fun in as well. He scribbled on and under the boy’s knees, all six digits doing something to get him laughing. It was unfairly ticklish. He almost regretted taking the L for Mabel. Almost.

“Hey Dippy, I got a deal for ya. If you tell us where your sister is, we’ll stop.” Oh, those cheaters! Mabel watched with wide eyes and Stan vibrated his clawing fingers into Dipper’s tum, keeping his arms above his head. She knew her brother had thrown his chance for her, but he still had to outlast the old men.

He wriggled and twisted in their arms, refusing to give in so easily; he wasn’t about to lose for nothing. “I- IHI CAHAHAN’T!” Ford snickered, squeezing his knees a bit more vigorously for emphasis. “Oh, but you can. Just say, ‘Oh, Mabel is hiding…’ and then you say it. It’s just that easy.”

So unfair… Dipper whined through his laughter, kicking as much as he could. Maybe a time limit on the tickles would have been a good idea… His Grunkles were obviously enjoying themselves, matching smirks on each of their faces. He didn’t hate it, per say, but it was much harder to stay sane when all three of them could see his reactions. 

It was…actually really nice of him to do that for her. Mabel would have to let Dipper DJ for the party. Waddles might be a little upset, but she was sure her pink companion would prefer snack table duty. 

Stan got a little impatient, deciding to be evil. He moved his bony fingers up to the boy’s armpit, digging into his hollows. Dipper let out a squeal that would put Waddles to shame. “NYAAAAHAHA! STAHAN! NOHO- *snrk* NOHOT THEHEHERE!”

Oooh, he went for Dipper’s bad spot. Mabel bit her lip as she watched her brother’s destruction: Ford teasing his knees while Stan went to town on his pits. She wouldn’t blame him if he gave her up, but dang it, she really wanted to win.

Right as Dipper was about to crack, the Nyan Cat theme song went off. Ford’s phone buzzed in his pocket, signaling that their half-hour was up. Mabel had won!

The girl sprung up from her mound of stuffed animals, startling both of her Grunkles. “HA! I won! Stan, go grab the basement key, I’m gonna make it rain glitter and gummy bears!”

Ford laughed, releasing Dipper’s legs as he watched his grand-niece celebrate. Stan sighed, setting the boy down on the carpet to curl into himself. “Okay, okay, ya won! Don’t need to rub it in, ya snot.”

 She chuckled, moving to hug her giggling brother. “Thanks for taking the loss, bro-bro. I officially crown you Head DJ.” He pumped a weak fist into the air, still giggling away the phantom sensations. Stan shooed her away, placing Dipper in his brother’s arms.

“You go get the dork some water. I’ll handle our winner.” Ford nodded, carrying the exhausted Dipper down the attic stairs. Stan cracked his knuckles before scooping Mabel up in his arms, holding her against his chest. “Congrats, ya snot. Here’s my favorite part of your reward…” 

He squeezed her side, making the sweater lover burst into bubbly giggles. She twisted and squirmed, eyes growing wide. “B-buhut Gruhuhunkle Stahan! Ihi wohohohon!”

He snorted, moving up to tease her ribs. “You did, yeah. Your brother got the worst of it; I’ll go a bit easier on ya. Congrats, you goober.” She whined, protests already forming on her tongue. “Thahat ihisn’t fahair! Sohore loser!”

Stan scratched and scribbled between each bone, acting as if it was just a normal conversation. “It’s totally fair. I don’t remember there being a rule against tickling the winner.” She scrunched up her nose, mock-glaring at him. “Thahat- youhu- uhuhugh!”  

It was adorable to see his relatives’ reactions. He loved to hear their laughs, see them smile, make them forget about the crazy lives they’d led for just a second. The whole “Weirdmageddon” fiasco had done a bit of damage. Stan took any chance he could get to make them feel like regular kids again. Dipper had already gotten his go; now it was Mabel’s turn.

He continued to struggle with breakfast, his bowl of pancake batter looking more like foaming grey sludge than anything edible. It seemed his multitudes of knowledge didn’t extend to cooking. He was debating starting over, maybe trying to actually find a recipe somewhere in this old shack, when he heard tiny footsteps thundering down the stairs.

“Great Uncle Ford!” Twin voices rang out.

Ford turned away from the counter, plastering a smile on his face that was probably more of a grimace. Dipper and Mabel slid into the kitchen on socked feet, giddy and giggling. A far cry from the tear-streaked faces he saw when he checked on them at night, making sure they were still there and alive, and finding them curled together in one of their tiny twin beds, clearly shaken by nightmares.

“Hello, kids,” he said. “You’re rather awake for the early hour.”

Mabel gave him a mischievous grin. “We’ve been tasked with distracting you.”

Ford furrowed his brow. “What--”

The two launched themselves at him and Ford’s eyes went wide in shock. He reached out to catch them so that they wouldn’t slip and hit the floor (tile floor and heads did not mix, Ford remembered that well from tussling with Stanley back in the day), but in doing so he overbalanced himself, toppling backwards and taking the kids down with him.

Before he could even begin to process what had just happened, and just what Mabel had meant by distracting him, he had two tiny bodies on top of him, pressing him into the tile. They had matching devilish grins focused on him, and Ford wondered what the hell Stanley had told them, and whether or not he needed to get up and run.

“Grunkle Stan told us about a monster that you might not have in your journals,” Dipper said, leaning forward.

Ford scrunched his face up in confusion. Was this just a distraction, as they said, or was Dipper telling the truth? Just as he opened his mouth to ask for clarification, Mabel leaned forward as well.

“Yeah, yeah! It’s such a cool monster, too! You know what it is?”

Ford shook his head, playing along. “No, what is this monster?” Perhaps if he placated them, he could get back to making breakfast before Stanley came back down and saw his pitiful progress.

Dipper and Mable exchanged an evil glance and grinned down at him. They raised their hands, fingers shaped in claws and wiggling wildly, and Ford felt a spark of recognition run through him. His eyes widened before they even answered.

“The Tickle Monster!” They shouted in unison.

And then, before he could even blink or think to defend himself, he had four tiny hands wiggling into all sorts of sensitive places. Ford tossed his head back against the tile and snickered quietly, trying to keep the worst of his laughter in. He couldn’t let two children best him!

But Mabel’s fingernails were wreaking havoc on the nerves of his ribs and neck, and Dipper’s fingertips digging into his sides and stomach weren’t serving him much better. He forgot how uncoordinated he got when he was tickled, not having been subjected to it since before Stanley got kicked out when they were younger. His hands were flailing everywhere, unable to latch onto either twin and save himself from their playful torture.

“No no no, you’re doing it all wrong,” a voice called out from the entryway. 

Ford felt a mix of dread, excitement, and anticipation fill his belly when he saw Stanley standing there. It only grew when he saw the spark of recognition in his eyes as he stalked closer.

“You gotta do it like this,” Stanley told the kids, and unceremoniously stuffed his hands into Ford’s armpits, scribbling away.

Ford howled, curling in on himself as best he could with two almost-teens still sitting on top of him and Stan looming over top of them all. He cackled madly and he could feel the tears building up in his eyes the longer the playful torment went on. It was so embarrassing, so humiliating, so…

Fun.

It felt kind of nice to let loose and laugh like he was, something he hadn’t done in a long time. The fingers driving him insane left him with no chance to overthink things as he usually did. All he could do was laugh and squirm and gasp for air.

The tickling abruptly halted and Ford sucked in a much-needed breath. He was naive to think it was over, however, because Stanley only grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head before grinning at the kids. A nervous, playful, fluttering feeling filled his stomach, and he shot a look down at the kids.

“Have at it,” Stanley said.

Dipper and Mabel laughed before darting forward, burying their hands into his armpits. Ford was lost to his hysteria once more, only this time it was worse. His hands were pinned, he could even pretend like he was trying to defend himself from their dancing fingers, and he was too weak from laughter to tug his hands back.

Just when Ford was finally reaching his limit, he tilted his head back and made teary eye-contact with Stanley. Stanley gave him a smirk and a wink before releasing his wrists and setting Ford free.

Ford shot up, still laughing, and tackled Dipper and Mabel to the ground, careful to cushion their fall and avoid any injuries.

“Do you know what’s even worse than a Tickle Monster?” He asked, voice hoarse from the laughter his vocal cords were no longer used to.

Dipper and Mabel were giggling and squirming, clearly having picked up on where this was going, but neither made an attempt to escape. They shook their heads.

Ford raised his hands, fingers curled threateningly into claws, just as they had done to him. “A six-fingered Tickle Monster.”

Dipper and Mable squealed as his hands darted forward, the two soon lost to childish shrieks and cackles as he tickled away. The wide grin still hadn’t left Ford’s lips, even as his cheeks and eyes began to dry from his own mirthful tears. He even let out a few more chuckles at particularly silly sounds the kids made.

Maybe he wasn’t such a failure with them, after all.

But there was still one thing missing from their morning full of laughter. Ford turned around, slowing his ticklish assault on the kids, searching out Stanley. He stood at the counter, a new mixing bowl in front of him, making something that looked a lot closer to pancake batter than Ford’s attempt was.

Oh well, can’t win them all.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook,” Ford growled playfully.

Stanley froze, his body tense, and he slowly turned around to face Ford, a nervous smile spreading across his lips. His hands were raised in surrender, and he looked ready to bolt at any moment.

“You were just so sad this morning,” Stanley tried to reason with him, “I thought the kids could help cheer you up.”

Ford raised an eyebrow. “If I remember correctly, you were rather melancholy earlier, as well.”

They stared each other down, trapped in their little stand-off as Dipper and Mabel giggled quietly behind Ford. Then, Stanley tried to bolt, but Ford was much faster, the two of them crashing to the floor in no time. He quickly got Stanley pinned underneath him.

“Any last words?”

Stanley scowled (though Ford could see the amusement dancing in his eyes, so he wasn’t too worried), but Ford never actually gave him the chance to speak. He dug his fingers in, skittering around with no rhyme or reason as he mentally catalogued Stanely’s tickle spots. Eventually, he settled on Stanley’s ribs, the left side, the second rib from the top (that always used to get him screaming), as well as the little patch of skin on the right side on Stanley’s stomach, just a couple inches under his ribcage (that always used to get him begging for mercy). Stanley yelled and burst out into wild laughter, shoving at Ford’s hands but being too weak to stop him.

“You little--” Stanley started to yell through his laughter, but Ford cut him off.

“Ah ah ah, there are children present, Stanley.”

Stanley only cackled louder. Though that could have also been due to the fact that Ford had upped his tickling.

But speak of the devil and he shall appear, for the kids chose that moment to again make themselves known. Dipper attached himself to Ford’s back, shoving his hands into Ford’s armpits and clumsily tickling away. Mabel, on the other hand, launched herself into Stanley’s chest and started scribbling away at his stomach and sides.

Alright, Ford thought. The kids want a tickle fight? I’ll give them a tickle fight. And he dove back into the fray.