#ler!mabel

“Whoah, whoah, hey-- hey, HEY!”

SMASH!

The cake prop crashed against the ground with a horrible crackling sound, breaking apart beneath both of their weights. There was a collective jump and gasp from the startled crowd. Even the puppets themselves-- or, at least, the soul piloting them-- seemed taken off guard.

Despite the panic and destruction, neither Bipper nor Mabel took too long to shake it off. Bipper landed on the ground, on his stomach, just a few feet away from Mabel, who’d landed on her side. Instantly, he pushed himself up, eyes wide, feeling around the floor for the journal. A stagelight swiveled, reflecting off the shiny gold cover, and both of them leapt for it with the determination of a starving animal on a hunt. They touched down at the very same time. They wore matching, angry glares, each gripping the journal so tightly that their knuckles were turning white. Mabel knew, as she squinted to avoid the spotlight, that there was no hope in saving the show. But there was hope for saving her brother! And if that meant sabotaging everything she worked for, then…Well, it was about time she sacrificed something for Dipper. 

They rolled across the stage, tumbling over one another, until Bipper’s head reached the edge. If he craned his neck backwards enough, he could see the confused and terrified face of the audience. Something he would’ve found amusing, if the stakes weren’t so high. Mabel was on top of him, her knee on his stomach, and both hands on the journal, tugging and yanking with all her might. He just held on, harder, gritting his teeth. The very same thought was in both of their minds. I’ve almost got it!

“Get out of my brother’s body, you evil triangle!!” Mabel yelled, pressing her leg down even harder. Enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to cause any lasting damage. She really had to engrain that thought into her head. Once Bill got out of here-- and she would get him out of here-- it would be Dipper’s body suffering the consequences. He’d already been through too much. It turned out to be just enough to get the book to slip out of his hands. Both of their eyes widened in shock, but before Bill could give too much chase, she made sure to whack him with the journal. Just for good measure. She’d wanted to do that this whole time!!

Mabel stumbled to her feet, running back to center stage, just as Bipper was starting to sit up and rub his forehead. He growled, in a way she hadn’t heard since she was in Stan’s mind, in a way she knew her brother couldn’t replicate if he tried. Fascinatingly, she watched as his face seemed to heat up, reddening his skin even more than it had been already, as he pushed himself off the ground. If he were human, she may have assumed his failure had embarrassed him. But this was Bill, they were talking about…so, if she had to guess, this was his human-body equivalent of his yellow turning red. Kinda cute! In a weird, gross way. 

“Grrr…You can’t stop me!” He scowled, his eyes narrowing on the book. Mabel looked behind her. The set pieces blocked access backstage from this side, and while she could move to the stage stairs, or even jump down, that’d take a good amount of coordination. Before she could decide…she was leapt on. She gasped, feeling the air leave her lungs as she was tackled to the wooden floor. The journal slipped from her grasp, and landed on the floor beside her. Both she and Bipper placed their hands on it at the same time, hers on the edge, and his on the palm of the cover. Bipper was sitting on top of her, straddling her waist, his chest heaving as he panted. She felt breathless, too. But, as she stared up at him, still pink in the face, and with a tired, yet satisfied grin on his face…It was as if something clicked in her mind.

“I’m a being of pure energy, with no weakness!”

Mabel stared at him, almost in disbelief. It seemed so obvious. In any other circumstance, it would’ve been the very first thing she thought of, when searching for a method to gain the upper hand in combat, without actually hurting the other person. She did it to Dipper all the time! So often, in fact, that she figured the townsfolk wouldn’t bat an eye, if they saw her do this at her own show. For the first time, it was her turn to get to wear that smug, knowing smirk. She brought her other hand around to rest over the journal like a seat belt, just so he couldn’t snatch it while she talked. 

“True…But you’re in Dipper’s body!” She reminded, to which he huffed, as if offended. What, did she think he forgot? For once, it was like she could read his mind, because she picked up for him. She lifted the hand that wasn’t protecting the journal, and wiggled her fingers.

“And I know all his weaknesses!~”

Bipper quirked a brow. In the split second between her final comment, and what she was going to do next, she could see the cogs visibly turning behind his eyes. He wasn’t used to not knowing what was about to happen. Typically, at a glance, he could look at a person and see right through to their mind, where he could pluck their thoughts and plans right out. Sometimes, he knew what someone was about to do before they did. Having to rationalize like a human made it so he had to manually run through his own mental database, for what she could possibly mean…It was such a broad assessment. He was human, for christs’ sake. What wasn’t a weakness to them, really? They couldn’t handle being stretched too far, or bleeding too much, and their limbs could only bend to a certain point. Humanity was so fragile! It was honestly a mystery how they survived so long. But he’d pinned her like this for a reason; how could she possibly hurt him? 

“What do you mean his--?”

Before he could finish, Mabel lifted her wiggling fingers…and slipped her hand into his jacket, pressing them just underneath his arm. 

Bipper felt as if his entire body seized. In the half-second that the sensation touched down, he was overcome with a surge of physical reactions he’d never experienced before. First, he shivered, goosebumps freckling over his skin. It was as if every nerve in his body ignited, with an odd, fluttery tingling. Worse, perhaps…was the way he vocally reacted.He gasped, and squeaked, an embarrassingly high-pitched noise leaping from his throat. The glare, which he’d taken pride in withstanding, was forcibly wiped from his expression, replaced by a shaky smile. It felt like his insides were bubbling. But when he opened his mouth to express that concern…he realized what it was.

“GaHhh--! AAAaahhahahahahaha!” It was the urge to laugh. Uncontrollable giggles poured out of him like bubbles to a heated cauldron. The heat he felt rush to his face only made that metaphor seem all the more accurate. Mabel and the audience might’ve heard Dipper’s voice, but he heard his own. The helplessness in his tone disgusted him. Out of his own control, his reflexes went haywire, demanding that he get anywhere as long as it was away. Robbed of the motor skills required for any complex movements, he found himself toppling backwards, pinning his arms to his sides. He’d hoped falling would be enough to put distance between him and his tormentor, but it seemed like the opposite had occurred. The moment he was down, she took advantage, by climbing on top of his waist, instead. She wriggled the fingers of both of her hands under each of his arms, ruthlessly scribbling for long enough for him to feel as if any attempts at fighting back would be futile. And then, she slid both hands down, grazing his ribs, before settling on his sides. The motion elicited another yelp, and another full-body shiver, before he settled back into the helpless giggling that had possessed him before. 

It was unusual. It was unbearable. It…tickled.

“Tickle tickle!~” Mabel cooed, and for some reason, Bipper felt a heat rush to his cheeks. In fact, the burning sensation stretched all the way to the tips of his ears, making him feel compelled to wrench his eyes shut and turn his head away. The words-- or was it that voice?-- made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Somehow, it seemed like her touch only tickled more, the teasing worsening the odd hypersensitivity afflicting his nerves. His hands locked around her wrists, and he arched his back, shoving pitifully while he used his heels to kick at the ground. Whether it was due to the tickle-induced weakness, or the pose was just that effective, he didn’t get anywhere. Mabel smirked, baring her braces like fangs, like she could see just how much the comment worked on him. Dipper couldn’t stand that, either!

“Awww, whatsa matter?~ Does it tiiiickle?~ Are you too tiiicklish to handle it?~ Kitchy-kitchy-koo!~”

“S-StahahaAAahahahahahahap!” He hissed, scowling, cursing the stutter in his voice. Damn Pine Tree’s twitchy little body and his squeaky little voice! How did he live, being so sensitive?? He couldn’t bear to listen to another word of that teasing, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. And, in retaliation, Mabel’s nails skittered upwards again. They passed over his ribs, before again settling into a gentle scratch just under his arms. It got the exact same reaction the downward motion over the same spot had caused; a gasp, a yelp, and a full-body shiver, all before his arms snapped right back down again. Both of them seemed irritated by that last response.

“AAGhh-! Whyhyhyhyhyhyhyhy cahahahahahahahan’t I mohohohohove my ahahahahahahahaharms?!”

“Reflexes!” Mabel chimed in, instantly, as if it were obvious. To a human, it may have been, but for Bill, ‘reflexes’ were an entirely foreign concept. He’d never felt so…effortlessly disarmed. And that was coming from someone who spent a good chunk of his life in the second dimension, and, the rest of the time, was confined to the mindscape. He was already relatively harmless. But somehow, when he had a physical body to interpret reality with, being helpless was so much more torturous. He knew the human body was pathetic, but really, how had they survived this long as a species, if all it took were a few pokes to entirely collapse them?? Perhaps it was a combination of how unfamiliar the sensation was to him, and how sensitive Dipper’s body was, anyway…but he felt he reserved the right to mentally complain, anyway. He felt naturally more whiny. As if Mabel could tell, she grinned, and retracted a hand.

“Here, let me help you!”

Her now-free arm shifted backwards, so her hand could lock around his wrist…and force it upwards, pinning it to the ground beside his head. The other hand, that had been trapped in place, wriggled its way out. She crossed it over his body, and switched which side she was attacking, her claws now slipping into his jacket to scratch beneath the arm she’d pinned. It all happened so quickly, Bipper hardly had the chance to look horrified…before he fully squealed, his laughter ratcheting up another octave. 

“EEEEeeehheheheheek!! ‘Hehehehehehehehehelp’?!” He echoed, offended, the bite of his tone lost in his giggling. He wanted to argue more thoroughly, but good god, that tickled so much more!! He arched his back, jerked at his elbow, and turned to one side, desperate for something-- anything-- to put distance between his skin and her nails. Talk about feeling disarmed! He thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse, and yet, here he was. 

“Yeah! Help! Now you don’t have to flail your arms around; you can just lay back and take it!” Mabel interjected, with an innocence that seemed far too natural for how cruel she was being. Bill saw some of himself in her, sometimes. With that kind smile, and flattery. So, sweetly deceptive. He had to hand it to her, she knew how to get ‘em! This girl was brimming with potential; the unicorns and butterflies and rainbows were just a thin blanket to mask the chaos that she was capable of. The little brat. Maybe he could use that someday. But now, it only aided in annoying him. 

“You’re welcome!~”

He wasn’t an idiot. He saw what she was trying to do. But just in case he didn’t, she told him, anyway. Mabel leaned down, eyes narrowed, so they were practically nose-to-nose. 

“Get outta Dipper’s body, or I’m gonna tickle you until you pass out!!”

He growled, trying to force the corners of his lips down into a frown. She wished it would be that easy! He may be weakened, and disarmed, but please! Who did she think he was? As if he suddenly realized he had control over his not-pinned hand, he reached over to try and grab at her wrist, to pry the hand attacking him away from the spot. It did work, partially, as the tugging would occasionally slide her hand downwards…but that only meant her wiggling fingers would graze his ribs, instead, and he’d be possessed by that yelp and full-body shiver that seemed to trigger every time. The reaction weakened him. As if he wasn’t weak enough! 

“Nehehehehehehehever!” He insisted, with just enough bite in his words for him to feel a swell of pride. He was starting to get used to it! His smile suddenly seemed all the more smug, practically a smirk, despite the fact that it was hardly warranted, in his current state. He was still laughing, and squirming, his entire body leaned to one side to reflexively counteract the nails scratching away at him. Mabel huffed. 

First, her eyes drifted to the stage. She wished she could see Dipper. To everyone else here, she was tormenting her innocent brother in front of an audience for no apparent reason. Worse, none of them, not even their most loved ones, would get an honest explanation. Whoops. She’d apologize to him later. In the meantime, she turned her head in the other direction.

Everyone out there seemed absolutely captivated. Well, for the most part, at least. Some seemed confused, others seemed shocked. A shocking amount seemed pretty flustered, while others sported the exact opposite mood. She could just barely see Candy and Grenda confusedly flipping through the script just off stage. But, generally, most of the crowd was enjoying this thrilling multi-media masterpiece. Even those from the Mystery Shack. In fact, maybe especially those three! Mabel couldn’t help but smile, as she met their eyes through the smearing, colorful stage lights.

Wendy was leaning back in her seat with her boots kicked up on the empty chair in front of her, an amused smirk on her face. Though she couldn’t hear anything coherent from the crowd from up here (and wouldn’t be able to, anyway, over Bipper’s high-pitched squealing), she could tell that Wendy snickered, as she elbowed Soos in the side. Soos was one of the members of the audience who seemed a little flustered over the whole endeavor. Even in the low lighting, Mabel could see just how red his face was. He was grinning nervously, and fanning himself with his cap, and flinched just a little too hard as he was nudged. It was all very sweet. Truthfully, she didn’t care if this ruined the show for most of the audience, because it wasn’t for them anymore. It was for Dipper! …But it did make her feel good, to see them enjoying themselves. And no one seemed to be enjoying himself more than Stan!

Earlier today, he seemed to be a little skeptical about coming. He was swayed incredibly easily though, which was rare for him. He was probably the most stubborn man the twins had ever met, and yet a good puppy-dog-eyed stare and a promise that the end would blow his mind was enough to convince him that maybe this memory was priceless. He’d even brought a camera to film it. Even with one of his eyes obscured by the pop-out window of the old recording device, she could see how widely he was grinning, the expression on his face one of fond amusement. He must have assumed that this was the ‘spectacular closing act’ that she’d been bragging about just a few hours earlier. It wasn’t, but if this went well, he’d never have to find that out! He caught her looking out upon the crowd, and tilted his head so more of his face was visible, his grin seeming all the more proud. He gave her a reassuring thumbs up, and she felt a new wave of confidence wash over her. She could do this.

Her eyes fell back to the demon pinned beneath her, who hadn’t stopped giggling and struggling since she shifted her attention a few moments ago. He’d probably been yelling insults she’d been too distracted to hear. She squinted at him suspiciously. If this were Dipper, she’d be jumping to his spot about now. Heck, that’s probably what she’d do when wrecking anyone! But…this wasn’t Dipper. It wasn’t ‘just anyone’. This was Bill! He already seemed to be getting the hang of this sensation, with how consistently now he was shoving at her hands, and how successful his thrashing was becoming. If she let up for even a second, he might even be able to wriggle away, or worse! She needed to not only tickle him to death, but she needed to make the session intense. What was something Dipper wouldn’t be able to stand…? 

Her gaze flickered to the crowd again. And, suddenly…she stopped.

Her smirk returned. Her wiggling fingers ceased, and instead that hand grabbed Bipper’s opposite wrist, so she was now pinning both to the floor. The demon-possessed vessel gasped the moment he felt a moment of solace, obviously annoyed by the fact that his giggle-fit didn’t immediately die. Every time he inhaled, or exhaled, he found he couldn’t stop laughing, like the feeling was still there, under his skin. But he was too out of breath to do anything about it! He fought with this natural, human response, while Mabel sat up as straight as she could.

“For my next act, I’ll need a volunteer from the audience!” She announced, proudly, as if it made any logical sense. The poor crowd was going to be so confused. But she didn’t need most of their approval. She only needed it from one. She grinned, and shut one eye, so she could point directly at her grunkle.

“How about you, good sir? You look like you’d make a fine actor!”

Stan lifted his head away from the viewfinder, visibly startled. He glanced to either side of him, pointed to himself, and brightened when Mabel nodded in approval. He didn’t hesitate any longer than that, handing the camera over to Soos (who fumbled with it for a moment, before giving a reassuring thumbs up) and climbing out of his seat. 

Bipper was only just starting to regain his composure, when he realized what was going on. He shook his head, and blinked open his eyes, squinting out at the crowd. Jesus, had the kid’s eyes always been this bad? He almost missed Sixer’s glasses. But, the very moment he processed that Mabel’s hands had released his wrists…thick, strong arms wrapped underneath his, scooping him up into a sitting position, pressed against someone’s chest. He felt like a cat being hoisted into the arms of their owner, unable to do anything but twist his shoulders and try to wriggle out of his grasp. Mabel was still sitting on his legs.  He glared over his shoulder. The light reflected off of Stan’s glasses, obscuring his eyes, and for some reason that made him look intimidating. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was in such a small, wimpy body; anyone could look like a threat, when everyone towered over you. His hands balled into fists.

“Wh-What is this?!” He scowled, stammering, trying to roll his shoulder to free it from the old man’s grasp. But it seemed like every inch that he managed to unwind, Stan just pulled him back even tighter. It was so effortless, it was hard to feel anything other than pathetic. No wonder this kid was getting tickled constantly! Everyone in town had a leg up on him!

“Let go of me!”

“This is called a grand finale!” Mabel declared, straightening her back and cracking her knuckles. The smirk on her face was downright sinister. An evil that Bill couldn’t help but think rivaled his own. She was an expert at this, wasn’t she? She knew this would up the game, considering the strength difference between them. Even with her best efforts, she wasn’t strong enough to keep him fully still. And even if she could, she’d lose leverage by being unable to use both hands. But the addition of another person-- him, especially-- had immobilized him completely, without her ever having to lift a finger. Not to mention how calculated this whole trap with her ‘grunkle’ had been. She hadn’t even had to speak word to him, for him to understand exactly where his place was, in all of this. Maybe they were psychic. Or maybe they really just did this that frequently. Man, he’d almost pity Pine Tree, if he deserved it! But he hardly had time to dwell on something like that, anyway. Not as he watched Mabel lift her wiggling fingers threateningly. 

“Last chance!”

She was bold, too. But so was he. And that would be his first mistake. Daringly-- challengingly-- he smirked.

“Pssh, yeah, right!” He chuckled, rolling his eyes. Mabel glared, as he turned up his nose, quirked a brow, and scoffed. Anyone who thought this was Dipper might almost see it as in-character behavior. He’d been similarly snarky, around this point in sessions. Stan even rolled his eyes right back, and tightened his grip, as if he’d found it predictable. But anyone who knew the truth, knew he wasn’t doing it for any reason other than to call her bluff. This was a pathetic excuse of a torture attempt. He thought smarting off would prove as much. When, actually…it did the exact opposite.

“Like I’d be convinced by a little tihihiiihihiHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLING--!!”

Mabel’s wiggling fingers finally dug into his ribs. And it felt so distinctly different from the other spots, or even from how it felt when she was just grazing them earlier. It was like he’d been electrocuted, from the way his body jolted uncontrollably, and the way the sensation gripped him like a shock. The yelp of terror that jumped from his throat broke in the middle, fully replaced by helpless cackles. 

…Okay. Maybe not his proudest moment.

Maybe he should’ve known better. Maybe being in this body too long was getting to him. Maybe the stupid, human impulses that he’d gotten so good at ignoring also included this vessel’s apparent desire to talk himself into corners just to get himself tickled. Whatever the case, the whole time this had been going on, the more he felt his resolve…slipping. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, like his body suddenly remembered that it hadn’t gotten proper sleep in over twenty-four hours. Every part of him was sore, not that pain could even begin to compete with the tickly jolts shooting through his ribs. He considered the pro’s and con’s of dislocating a shoulder just to weasel out of here, but he couldn’t properly think. He swore he could literally feel circuits shorting in his brain, glitching and sparking and stuttering where the neat rows of coherent thought used to be. It had been a beautiful process to watch, from the other side…but was miserably frustrating, when it was your plans getting thrown out of whack! 

He wanted to growl. To kick, and scream, and either kill this vessel or one of the two holding him back. Whichever came first! But, all that came out was…

“SHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUP!!”

…A very pathetic attempt at defiance. Enough that each of his attackers dared to snicker at him in amusement. He squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, thrashing and twisting in the restraints.

“W-WHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEN I GEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUT OF THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIS, IHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL--!!”

Mabel couldn’t help but notice just how…not-evil he looked, like this. Bill’s base form had no mouth, and yet he somehow always seemed to be grinning. Earlier, she’d seen that condescending smirk in Bipper. But now it was gone, and she was seeing a face she’d never quite seen before. It wasn’t quite the flustered, giggly look she got from her brother, but it was far from the invisible, malevolent smile that Bill was always wearing. It was something in between. It might’ve fascinated her, if she was any less focused on the task at hand. Her nails, while dull, knew how to press just right, to tickle as much as possible without translating into physical pain. She scratched at the spaces between his ribs, and played the bones like a piano, watching in satisfied amusement as every motion elicited the same, predictable reaction. Cackles, squeaks and voice-cracks echoed through the auditorium, almost sounding musical against the backing-track of her rock-opera, that no one had bothered to turn off. If anything, Bill was even squirmier than her brother was, which was certainly saying something. This was usually the point in the session where Dipper gave up fighting, especially when Stan was helping, since he obviously didn’t have a chance. But Bill still had some fight in him! 

“I don’t know what you did to deserve this, but clearly you’re gettin’ what’s coming to ya!” Stan accused, glancing over Bipper’s shoulder in an attempt to make eye contact. The kid was clearly avoiding it. But he still peeked up, for just a moment, if only to make a point to glare. Stan took advantage of his disorientation, knowing he was disarmed just long enough for him to be able to let go of his arms. Instead, he grabbed both wrists, and pulled them behind his back, like how a cop would while handcuffing you. But he didn’t need handcuffs, because his hands were big enough in comparison to grab both of the kid’s wrists in one of his palms while still having his fingers touch in the middle. And, with one hand free…he was able to pull out one last trick. 

Fingers skittered up Bipper’s spine, spurring out an involuntary shiver that was so intense, Bill was a little surprised it didn’t jolt him out of this body entirely. He didn’t get to dwell on how scarily close that had been to breaking him, though. Because in a second, that single skittering turned into a consistent, unrelenting scribble, and any coherent thought that was left slipped out through his fingers.

“AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!”

Right. Almost all of the Pines’ were ticklish here. Maybe he should’ve seen that coming. 

It was positively overwhelming. Every curl of his blunt nails against the spot had his nerves lighting up in a frenzy, activating the useless instinct that had him squealing and laughing like this whole ordeal was the most hilarious joke he’d ever been told. But no part of this was funny!! Not when it was him! It was humiliating, at best, and a total disgrace to his reputation at worst. He was glad the folks at home couldn’t see this, because they would never let him live it down. 

“Ooh! Good call, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel praised, finally looking back up to meet his eyes with an approving smile on her face. She wished she could give him a thumbs up, but her hands were kinda busy. Bill couldn’t help but bristle at how unfair it was, that Stan could restrain him like this. He couldn’t lean forward even if he wanted to, and leaning backwards only pressed him further into that hand! And, somehow, despite the trap being objectively more simple, it was more confining! Now, he didn’t even have the privilege of flapping his hands, or making vaguely threatening gestures. And it all just tickled more! It was cruel, and unusual. He wrenched his eyes shut, and felt tears build in the corners. Crying had always been an annoying, uncontrollable thing his puppets did, but it felt especially humiliating in this context. Way to rub salt in the wound.

“MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Whether it be a blessing or a curse, neither of the two around him had a chance to respond to that miserable display of emotion. Because, somehow mockingly, his body turned against him. When he tried to catch his breath, he felt a hiccup of air in his chest…that caused a snort. 

The two at either of his sides brightened. And the crowd aww’ed.

He’d forgotten they were there. He was on a stage, and yet, the fact that there were more than four of them here had slipped his mind. Earlier, if he’d remembered, he would’ve shrugged it off. Whatever, who cared if they saw him like this? It wasn’t his reputation that was going to suffer for it. It was Pine Tree’s, who now had to go home and live the rest of his life knowing that most of this town had seen him get tickled on stage. And that was still, objectively, true! He knew that. He knew none of them would think twice about it. So why did the sudden realization have his face blushing hotter? Why did he feel this horrible, anxious fluttering in his stomach, like he was full of spiders? He didn’t know. But he knew it had to end. 

He couldn’t take it. It wasn’t just his self-inflicted injuries that ached, now, it was others-- his sides, and his throat, and the corners of his lips, were all begging him to just stop laughing. Other than the ache, he was pretty sure he could feel this vessel overheating. Being put in this embarrassing position had struck a match inside of him that was slowly cooking him from the inside out. But more than that, he was tired. And that was hardly a feeling he even understood. Alas, the human urge to melt into a puddle and sleep for eight hours was, apparently, real. He was on the verge of uttering a genuine please, if this didn’t end soon, and he didn’t want to pull that card unless it was a life-or-death situation. So, apparently, he only had one choice left…

Damn it. It wasn’t fair! He’d let them have this win, but his fun wasn’t over. This plan was only the first of many tricks he had up his sleeve. He glanced up at Mabel one last time, eyes narrowing, as if he could glare at her very soul. But she only countered it with a smirk. She knew she couldn’t lose. She’d never lost a tickle fight against her brother! 

Suddenly, the sound of his laughter began to taper off. It quieted into a fit of twitchy, broken coughs; it almost sounded like he was glitching. But then he slumped in his spot, quiet…and all four hands retracted. Dipper’s body melted into his Grunkle’s chest, eyes closed, as if he was out cold. Both attackers pulled back for a moment, visibly tense, and met eyes. Mabel, because she was testing to see if this was a good sign…and Stan, because he was genuinely startled. Jesus, he’d never passed out like that before! Usually he called it, when he knew he was getting to the end of his rope! Did they kill him on accident? There was a beat of silence that was just long enough to raise concern...and then, quick enough to be startling, Dipper sat up. He gasped, and clutched his chest, panting like he’d been awoken from a nightmare. And, well…he sort of had! Both of his family members jumped.

“Ahh!! He’s back!!” Mabel accused, lifting her clawed hands in preparation to strike again. She didn’t expect her brother to scream, flinching backwards in horror. 

🧢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).

"Give it back!!"

That was the first thing Grunkle Stan heard that morning. Judging by the screechy girlish nature of the voice...it was probably Dipper. it was just a little too girly to be Mabel. It was too early for this. Only thirty minutes past noon, we're they trying to take away his beauty sleep or something? It was probably some pointless argument that could be settled with less than a paragraph anyway...may as well check on them. He knew how big stupid fights could get between siblings.

"Oh c'mon..."

He groaned, sitting up and cracking his back before dragging himself downstairs. There he saw the sight of the problem: the journal. Mabel was holding it above her head, running around while trying her darn hardest to convince him into taking a break.

"Oh come on Dipper! Just for one day! Take a break, you'll be fine!"

"I can't take a break! We don't know everything that's out there! Give it back!"

Right before he tried to snatch it, she pulled away, running up to Grunkle Stan. Her and Dipper ran circles around him, who was barely processing what was happening in his sleepy un-caffeinated state, groaned and grabbed Dipper by the back of his jacket.

"Look kiddo, shooting star here is right. You keep your nose stuffed in that book 24/7, you'll give yourself bad eye sight like me."

Dipper fought against his grip, trying to tug himself away while shooting Mabel a half hearted glare.

"But I still have things to be doing! Grunkle Stan you don't get it! I need the journal back!"

Stan groaned and thought for a moment or two. How was he supposed to work this out between the two? Especially when he wasn't entirely awake, nonetheless. He knew a few tactics that tired Dipper out, but judging by the chaos he was woken up to, no, he had to go big or go home.

"Mabel, hide the journal somewhere and meet me in the living room with your brother."

"What?! But Grunkle Stan!-"

"No buts! You wake me up over something stupid? You'll learn not to."

Without letting Dipper really process those words, Mabel already running off to hide the book, Stan brought Dipper to the living room by the arm. He sat down and gripped both his shoulders, making eye contact and speaking in a serious yet concerned and somewhat soft tone.

"Look kid, you're too young to be worried about this whole...cryptid thing. I understand you have a nack for it, but take a break why don't ya?"

Dipper avoided eye contact for a few moments before nodding, giving a soft sigh and looking up at him again. He felt bad for causing his Grunkle stress, but he just had to find out what was going on with Gravity Falls.

"I'm almost a teenager though, and I know I can handle it! Please, I have so many things that I'm close to solving, I can't just...take a break now!"

"He can't even take a shower!"

Mabel chimed in, skipping from the doorway over to the two and looking at Grunkle Stan. He decided that enough was enough, it was time to make him relax, even if it was by forcing him into exhaustion.

He suddenly took two of Dippers wrists in one hand, taking off his hat since he'd probably squirm so much it fell off anyway. He then gave him a serious look, though it quickly turned into more of a mischievous smirk than anything as he raised his other hand, wiggling his fingers at him.

"You've been so busy with that book that I've practically forgotten what your laugh sounds like...Mabel sweetie? Get his ribs."

"WHAT-?!"

he went bright red in the face and nervously squeaked, leaning away from the hand that Stan was slowly moving towards his belly. He bit his lip, but it failed to cover the nervous yet giddy smile slowly forming.

"Oooh, gladly!"

His sister joining in too? That just wasn't fair! He'd probably be dead by the end of this. He leaned forward and away from her hands, only to yelp as he bumped his stomach against Stan's hand. He gave a soft burst of giggles and jerked back, only to find his ribs being spidered across by Mabel's fingers.

"MAahahahabehel!!"

He protested, trying to move away from her only to find his Grunkle's hand was still there waiting for him to do just that. He felt like a fly in a spiders web, and the idea of getting that journal back today wasn't looking good either...

Eventually both hands had closed in on him. One was scribbling all over his belly and occasionally jumping to his side to catch him off guard, while two more hands were running up and down his ribs and digging into the spaces in between. He let out multiple loud and embarrassingly girly shrieks, laughing his head off and trying to tug both arms down to no avail.

"WAHAahahahait- Gruhuhunkle Stahahan!! Thihis isn't fahahair!"

"Yeah well life ain't fair kiddo. You're taking a nap."

"I'm nohot evehen tihihirehed!!"

"You will be after this!"

Mabel suddenly shot back, moving her hands to his back and wiggling her fingers against his spine. One went up and down it rapidly while the other focused on where it met the neck, making him scrunch his shoulders up and snort a few times from laughing so hard.

"NONONOHONOnOHOHhohohooo!!- not theheRE!! Snrk- MAHABAHAL!!"

He squealed out, kicking his legs since his arms were still trapped, a wide smile stuck across his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel his face burning bright red from the embarrassment of the situation, but it actually did feel kind of nice to relax like this for once...

He quickly regretted ever starting to enjoy it as he felt his shirt get lifted up, followed by Grunkle Stan picking him up and snickering down at him. He took a deep inhale before pressing his lips to his stomach, blowing a long raspberry against the skin. He flinched slightly at the shriek that Dipper produced, but managed to tune it out after a few seconds.

"GHAAAAHhhahaha!!- hic- NAHAHAH!! GRUAHAHANKAHAL-!!"

He shrieked out, pushing at his shoulders and head now that his arms were free while trying to squirm out of his lap. The bit of facial hair mixed with the raspberrys were driving him up the wall within seconds, and it didn't help that Mabel decided to start scratching at the hollows behind his knees.

He let out loud, high pitched cackles, repeatedly snorting and hiccuping whenever he attempted to take a break. Tiny tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, his face scrunched up with how hard he was laughing. He started to get really wheezy, his brain shutting off for the most part due to being tickled senseless.

He kept laughing for maybe another minute or so, and despite really wanting to work on that journal yet again, he had his limits. He patted the back of Stans head, barely managing to speak through his own laughter.

"I'LL REHEST!! Ihihi'll rehehehehest pleEAHAHAA-!!!"

Him, who was already out of breath himself from blowing so many raspberries back to back, pulled his head away and let Dipper relax. Mabel gave a victorious grin and ruffled her twins hair, leaning on the seat while looking down at him.

"I knew you would! Come on, let's go to bed. I'll help you make your bed, it's a mess."

He only mumbled in response, still decently giggly from the tickle attack he was just forced through. After regaining his bearings, he managed to stand up, hugging himself and smiling at the two.

"Yeah yeah, okay..."

He considered saying something, but decided against it. They didn't need to know he actually had enjoyed that...as if they couldn't tell already though. He gently hugged Stan for a moment, yawning as he spoke due to being worn out.

"Good night, Grunkle Stan!"

"Night kiddo."

He fondly smiled back at him, ruffling his hair before breaking off the hug. He watched Mabel and Dipper leave to go upstairs, sighing before shutting his eyes. He'd probably just crash on the couch since he was still tired, but at least Dipper was gonna rest too. That put him at ease.

Mabel finished fixing his bed up for him, gently pulling a blanket back so he could lie down under it. He curled up under the blanket and gave a soft, content sigh, hugging a plushie Mabel let him borrow for the night. He shut his eyes, mumbling a soft "thank you" to Mabel, then slowly starting to doze off.

He smiled as he felt her ruffle his hair, the feeling helping his brain shut off into a peaceful sleep. He had the rest of summer to work, which still wasn't exactly a whole lot of time, but...maybe just...one day would be fine to rest. Not like he could or wanted to get out of bed now anyway.

There wasn't much about Stan's life that he was comfortable sharing with the kids. Between the crime and the fraud, everything about his youth was either dishonest or violent.

Except, however, the boxing lessons.

Sure, they were pretty violent, but in the socially acceptable way!

Oh, if he could relive just one of those glory days. The thrill of punching away the opponent. The glory of victory. The aches and bruises that stuck with you for weeks. It was wonderful. After he had gotten the hang of it, at least.

Stan was recounting his good old memories to his niece and nephew when the teen girl piped up.

"Oh oh oh oh oh! Oh! OH! Brain explosion! You should teach us how to fight!" Mabel shouted.

"Ehhhh, no. Count me out," Dipper said quickly, "I've had more than enough combat for one lifetime, thank you very much."

"Aw, c'mon Dip Dip! You've kicked lots of butt before!"

"And I nearly died! Multiple times!"

Stan laughed. "Heh heh, never stopped me."

Mabel lifted herself up to the peak of her tiptoes. "Please, Grunkle Stan! Teach me to how to kick butt the Stan way!"

"Well, I guess it would kill an afternoon. Plus, I was a pretty tough champ when I was your age." Stan boasted.

His brother finally entered the conversation. "Didn't you get the daylights beat out of you about a hundred times?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Know-It-All. How many jerks did you beat in the ring?" Stan turned back to his neice. "Mabel, meet me on the front lawn, cause I'm gonna teach you to box!"

"YES!" she cheered.

"Oh boy" Dipper mumbled.

----

Stan didn't need his family's vote of confidence to pull this off. This was gonna be great! He was going to pass down his skill to his beloved niece. What could go wrong?

He decided to have them practice in the front yard to give them more space to move freely. Despite their hesitations, Ford and Dipper were seated together on the porch sofa, looking ready to call an ambulance at a moment's notice.

Pfft, what do they take me for? Some kind of idiot?

It didn't matter. Right now, Stan was focused on Mabel and her journey to badassery.

He and Mabel stood opposite of each other. Her stance was incredibly goofy and her fists were poised in the wrong position. This was going to take some work.

"Alright kiddo, the first rule of boxing is to keep your eyes on your opponent. If they get the drop on you, it's game over."

Mabel's eyes popped cartoonishly out of her head.

"Sheesh, don't look that hard. Rule number two: don't stop moving. You're a harder target if you keep moving. Now try and do what I do."

Stan began to bounce back and forth from on foot to the other in a circle around Mabel. She picked up the technique quickly and did the same, albeit a little stiffly.

"Like this?" Mabel asked.

"Loosen up a little, you gotta keep loose if you want to stay in the game," Stan guided gently. "Now you're gonna want to look for an opening. Try and take a swing."

Mabel reeled her arm back as far as she could and swung it through the air. She had forgotten to think about her balance, though, and she spun herself in a circle before plopping her behind on the spiky grass.

"That's alright, kid, that's alright. Get up, let's try that again," Stan said. He wasn't about to let a little clumsiness deter her progress.

Encouraged by her uncle's words, Mabel jumped back up and got right back into position.

"Keep moving, keep moving," he reminded her.

The next swing was more controlled than the first. It didn't hit Stan, but she was understanding the flow.

"Now, you're getting it! Remember to keep circling, and keep your eyes on me," Stan laughed excitedly. "Ha ha! Come on, that's it!"

When it looked to be the right moment, Mabel reeled her arm back once more, and with the precision of a pro, sailed her fist up to meet her grunkle's bottom jaw.

It hurt something fierce, but he was too gosh dang proud of her to care.

"Oh! That was it, that was the one. Oh, I'm going down! I've been hit! Tell my story!" Stan cried in true dramatic uncle fashion, reveling in the way his hollers were making Mabel laugh. He pretended to stumble around awkwardly, like she had knocked him silly. With a final groan, he belly-flopped into the grass with a great big oomph!

Mabel hurried over to check if he was alright, giving him a little shake. Unfortunately, her tiny hands were pushing into the area behind his ribs, and even more unfortunately, Stan was ticklish.

He coughed out a laugh.

"No, nono, nono, now you're tickling," Stan eyeing her from over his shoulder.

Mabel grinned brightly, relieved that her grunkle wasn't hurt, and started to climb onto his back. Her little fingers soon found themselves scratching at his sides.

Stan couldn't stop himself from chuckling. This was so embarrassing. He had been going easy on her to give her confidence, but now she truly had him in a tight spot. One that he couldn't see his way out of.

"No! Nohow- now- now we don't do that in the riHing! No! No, the tickling! I can't stand the tickling!" Stan tried to crawl away, but he couldn't escape with Mabel on his back. The tickling was weakening him, and he fell and rolled onto his back. This now gave Mabel more places to tickle him. He belly-laughed helplessly as his feet kicked in little circles, as if he was riding an invisible bicycle. "HELP, STAHANFORD!"

Ford, meanwhile, had seen everything go down from his place on the couch. He chuckled warmly at the sight of his surly twin brother getting the snot tickled out of him by their spritely young niece. "Attagirl Mabel," he said under his breath.

The young fighter struggled to keep her balance atop Stan as he rolled around, trying to get up.

"Wohoah! It's like I'm riding a bull!" Mabel laughed. Her hands were now scribbling everywhere on his torso she could reach.

"This is cheheheating! Out of bohounds! Fohohoul! Penalty!" Stan laughed harder.

"I learned from the best. Do you say 'uncle'?"

"Your uhuncle never says 'uncle'!"

Ford's voice rings out across the lawn, "Liar!"

"SHUT UHUP FORD!"

Mabel was determined to get Stan to give up. Fighting may not have come easily to her, but tickle fighting sure did.

"Say 'uncle'!"

"Neveheher!"

It was obvious to everyone, including Stan, that Mabel was winning. She was mercilessly attacking his weak spots while he could barely get a word out.

"You cahahaha- you cahahaha-" Stan tried, but his lungs were too full of laughter to make room for speech. He tried again, utilizing his old man powers.

"You cahan't do this to me. I'm old, I'm frail, I'm weak!"

"Then say 'uncle'!"

Dammit.

There was one more rule that Stan had forgotten to mention: know when to tap out.

"Alrihihight, alrihihight! Uncle! I gihihihive!" Stan gasped in defeat.

"Yay! Mabel's the champion!" Said champion cheered as she immediately hopped down off her uncle.

Dipper and Ford clapped and whooped for Mabel. Stan was still on his back in the grass, regaining his breath. The sun above his face nearly blinded him, until a sweet little face blocked it out.

"Did I do good, Grunkle Stan?" Mabel asked.

With the strength he could muster, he replied, "You did great, pumpkin! Ha ha! That's my Mabel!" Stan sat up, dusting himself off. "You've got real gumption, kid."

"I still don't know what that word means, but thank you."

"Alright, let's get inside. Your Grunkle Stan needs a nap. And an ibuprofen."

So boxing lessons didn't go quite as Stan expected, but he had fun anyway.

His little niece was a real firecracker of a kid. Just like someone else he knew.

----

Wnedy was at the Mystery Shack. The craziest thing ever happened: nothing. Literally nothing was going on, and she was bored out of her mind. Stan left her in charge, and she couldn't leave with Soos on vacation. Well, this sucks.

She looked around, searching for something, anything to do. The cursed, broken Goldie was by the back wall. Not touching that thing. In the corner, Dipper was reading his journal, completely content.

Lucky... wait a minute!

If Wendy couldn't find something to do, she could mess with Dipper! He always gets into trouble, something was bound to happen! She walked over to him, tapping him with her boot. "Hey, watcha doing little man?"

Dipper barely looked up. "Trying to figure out this new creature. If I can find some solid evidence, I can finally prove to Stan that I did see that disco-tech deer!" Wendy sighed. Bor-ring! She bent down, and poked his side, trying to get his attention. What she didn't expect was for him to bolt upwards. "ACTUALLY I SHOULD GO OUTSIDE 'KAY BYE!" He darted out the door.

What was THAT?

Wendy didn't know what she did. She just poked hi- oh. He might be... Better ask Mabel. Jumping to conclusions hadn't gotten her anywhere good in the past. She made her way to the attic, almost tripping over the loose step.

When she opened the door, Mabel was putting some lipstick on Waddles. For her, even that was boring. "Hey Mabel, got a sec?" She turned around, her canvas slipping out the door. "What's up?" The older girl shut the door behind her, sitting on the bed.

"Is Dipper... ticklish?" The question made Mabel's face light up, practical exploding with excitement. "HECK YEAH! He's so ticklish, it's gotta be a reccord. He loves it, too. Raspberries drive him crazy!" Now, Wendy had a plan to fix the boring day.

•••

Dipper was invested in the Journal, taking note of the disco-deer's diet and habitat. So much so that he didn't even notice Wendy and Mabel sneaking up behind him. When they jumped him, he definitely didn't shriek. "GOTCHA!"

They wrestled with him, trying to pin him down. It wasnt that hard, Dipper lost within seconds. His arms were above his head, hisleags pinned by Wendy. She went in front of him, while Mabel took his side. "Time for some fun!"

Wendy immediately started off rough, digging her hands into his armpits. He laughed hard, the whole first seeming to fill with it. Mabel went a bit softer, skittering her fingers down his sides.

"GUHUHUYS! WHAHAT THE HEHECK?!" Dipper didn't know what he did to provoke them. All he had really done that day was read. "We were bored, and you were here. Plus, I know you enjoy this." His face flushed red, but he didn't argue the statement.

Wendy looked over to Mabel. "Hey, did you say that raspberries drove him nuts?" Mabel nodded, liking where this was going. "Well, let's give him some! I wanna get the most out of this time." Wendy knelt down, blowing a big raspberry on Dipper's belly. His laughter doubled, practically shaking the trees.

"NYAHAHAHA! WEHEHENDYHEHEHE!" Mabel was nicer, blowing little raspberries on his neck. Dipper thrashed and squirmed, trying his best to escape. He failed, as expected, and the grils continued with their torment.

Wendy kept blowing raspberry after raspberry on his poor stomach. Tears of mirth dotted the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill at any second. "PLEHEHEHEASE! IHI CAHAHAHAN'T!" His sister let up, making things a bit better.

After about a minute, Dipper was exhausted. His chest hurt from laughing. He was losing it, it tickled way too much! Wendy saw his face and stopped, but not before blowing on last raspberry, shaking her head as she gave it to him.

"NAHAHAHAHA! HAHHAHAHA!" She backed off, leaving the boy to curl into himself, giggling off the residual tickles fluttering on his torso. It took him a solid minute to catch his breath. Wendy put a hand on his shoulder, worrying she had gone too far.

"Hey, you good dude?" He just nodded, way too tired to respond. Though he would deny it till he died, Dipper did have fun when they tickled him. It felt nice to just laugh sometimes.