#ihaveatheoryonthat Gravity Falls

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

In honor of the new year/in the spirit of starting of with a clean slate, an incomplete list of projects that I still really want to tackle someday, but would like to go to bed without dwelling on:

That H.A.T.E. follow-up I’ve been wanting to write for literal years, and still refuse to give up on

Similarly, a proper Good Genes resolution, which, because I’m me, also delves into SAINW

The Great Crossover Conspiracy of 2017 (2k3/Static Shock)

2k3/Psychonauts crossover (aka “The One I’m Convinced Can Work”)

A comic take on 2k3/MSA. I once jokingly called it “Vivi’s Irregulars” to myself, and, unfortunately, I love it.

There’s a good chance “Vivi’s Irregulars” would be a series of crossovers, and not specifically the 2k3 one, but whatever.

A more horror/adventure-oriented 2k3/MSA crossover, because a friend and I had some great stuff going there.

I had some vague ideas about a follow-up to Some Time to Think it Over, and have some bits written that turned out really well

The Long Way Up, full stop.

The ‘The Eleventh Hour’ inspired MSA timeloop fic

The ‘Arms Outstretched’ inspired MSA oneshot/fic

Sleeping Dogs, holy cow, Blazy, what is wrong with you?

That genderfluid Lewis oneshot

A file in my Ghost Trick folder labelled “Satisfaction Brought it Back”

Likewise, “Shroedinger’s Catsitter”

GT/AA, because who hasn’t thought about it?

The one that goes to the tune of “There’s no freakin way RoR takes place 24 hours after Psychonauts”

This has since mutated into a handful of related oneshots, because it fit super well with a piece I wanted to do from Augustus’s POV.

Proposed titles include “Safe, Full Stop” and “Elephants Never Forget”, neither of which makes sense without context.

A mostly introspective oneshot on the nature of telepathy and clairvoyance

The ‘not your average PN/GF crossover’ and its followup, which actually features Dipper and Mabel.

A self-indulgent TSB AU/(semi)fixfic

A similar, yet very different DR1 (semi)AU/fixfic (in that order)

Another DR1 AU that involved timeloops

Another DR1 AU starting from an outside perspective of the killing game

Part of me wants to revamp We Could Be Like a Family, since it’s really not my best work.

I wanted to write about Alphys and Frisk for the entirety of 2018

A... kinda odd Team Sonic/Heroes fic that I’ve never said anything about because I was embarrassed. It’s strictly friendship/adventure, but still.

I don’t technically want to write this one, because I think it ran its course, but The Outline That Would Not Die gets an honorary mention for being 13,733 words long and featuring three separate diagrams.

Not gonna lie, the trans!WW Link concept wasn’t a story I was actively telling myself until the end of December, but it’s a concept from 2018 that I don’t want to give up on, so I’m adding it.

Maybe with all of this off my chest, I can finally focus on one thing at a time instead of being swamped by concepts I have just nebulously floating around.

Or maybe I can ignore all of it and immediately write something from a boat’s point of view, because apparently you can’t trust me with anything.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

I was never really in on the GF/P&F crossover while it was still a big thing, but have been seeing bits and pieces of it over the past few days and there are two big things I have to say:

a) “Phill” is hilarious as far as names go, but...

b) It’s even funnier if you try to corrupt Ferb’s name that way, because you’re left with either ‘Fill’ again (but in a way that looks more ridiculous) or, my personal favorite, Birb.

It’s impossible to take seriously, and if that isn’t the most perfect part...

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Pulled up one of the “Top Secret” PN/GF crossover documents-- my latest attempt-- because I was super bored and looking for something to occupy myself with. Found this and snorted:

“’Cool dude’?”/”…Mabel, are you trying to flirt via bracelet?”

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

As much as I love the nonsense that could come of certain Mystery Kids worlds interacting-- particularly Bill being from the Nightmare Realm/Mindscape/whatever and the potential connection to the Collective Unconscious-- and the fact that Bill messing with (up to and including possessing) Raz has become something of a staple, I feel like RoR changes the dynamic. Especially in that possession scenario.

Because RoR was all about being a floating consciousness playing with and changing the world around you. And-- even ignoring the mental worlds/astral projecting-- the original game had a similar scenario. As much as a smartass as Raz is, that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Like,

"Oh, great. I'm a disembodied consciousness who can’t communicate with anyone around me. Wow. Never heard that one before."

or

"You could at least put some more effort into it-- right now you're being as creative as a literal rock. Except the rock kept me from using my powers."/"I mean, Coach made me sneeze my brain out! How cool is that? This is just... boring."

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Okay. It just occurred to me that, in any Mystery Kids scenario combining Gravity Falls and Psychonauts, there’s gonna be some confusion as far as ‘responsible authority figures’ go. And I’m not talking about the Stans.

We seem to have two Fords without any problem letting preteens run amuck wherever they happen to be spending the summer. Heck, we have two Fords who actively sent said preteens on missions that fully trained adults couldn’t complete.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

In the Valley (Part 2)

An MSA/Gravity Falls crossover continued from here.

(This chapter is primarily GF, since the last was establishing what was going on with the MSA portion of our program.)

Dipper didn't ask for much, he felt. A puzzle here, a quiet moment there, the knowledge necessary to unravel the vast conspiracy surrounding Gravity Falls-- he was a simple guy, and it didn't take much to make him happy.

Right now, all he wanted was to finish his book.

That wasn't happening anytime soon, to his immense disappointment.

No, The Ghost Patrol would have to wait, because he had to research actual ghosts. Again. All because Toby Determined was convinced that his printing press was haunted. Dipper was going to prove-- once and for all-- that the moving standees were not the work of the undead.

Their soulless cardboard eyes were scarier than any ghost could hope to be, anyway.

On the other side of the room, Mabel fell over a stack of unclaimed newspapers and sent a plume of dust flying into the air. Dipper tried to ignore the way she'd angled herself to trip directly into the cutout of some washed-up pop star and the one-sided conversation that followed.

He buried his nose in the journal to more effectively block out his sister’s inanity, and, therefore, didn't notice when something hovered behind him, squinting ineffectually at the book.

What finally clued him in was the flurry of movement as that ‘something’ was whisked away from where it had been hovering, almost over his shoulder.

His head snapped up. Mabel stopped punching the standee long enough to follow suit, leaving Dipper to assume that their relationship hadn't gone the way she'd planned.

"He spits his gum at fans." She said by way of explanation. "And he's mildewing."

Dipper made the executive decision not to acknowledge that verbal detour. "Did you see something just now?"

His sister shrugged and climbed to her feet. After a great deal of deliberation, she reluctantly stood her latest ex back up against the wall. "I definitely don't see what Toby sees in these."

"Enough about those guys." Dipper groaned. "Seriously, did you see something a second ago? I'm pretty sure there was something behind me."

"The last time you said that, you backed into a spider-web and started screaming." She put in, keeping a straight face long enough to at least sound like she had a point. Mabel broke into sputtering laughter a second after the fact, though, ruining the effect. "Nope, didn't see anything, 'cept for the tentacle-y shadow monster on the wall over there."

Dipper only processed the poorly restrained giggling after he'd already whirled around to face the wall, and tossed one hand up in exasperation as Mabel crowed, "Kidding!"

"C'mon, Mabel! Toby's already paranoid enough without you making stuff up. If you keep talking like that, he's going to stop complaining about ghosts in his printing press and start… I don't know, saying that 'Edwardian horrors' are taking over his cutouts instead. That's not something anybody needs, least of all me." With a slow shake of his head, Dipper snapped the journal shut and turned to give Mabel a sideways look. "Are we okay to head back to the shack, or is some kind of cardboard paparazzi going to give you grief for the Penicillin Pop-sensation over there?"

Mabel tapped at her chin twice, temporarily lost in thought, before offering an enthusiastic 'no' that sent her hair flying in all conceivable directions. "Nah, if they see I'm with bonafide super sleuth they aren't gonna try anything! What if they make you mad and you track down the recycling plant their wood pulp came from?"

Dipper stopped after wrenching the door open; the foremost reason had been to let Mabel go ahead of him, but it served a dual purpose in providing a dramatic pause. "You're right, if something like that got out, they'd be done for. They'd never be able to look Gideon's billboard in the eye again."

His commentary was rewarded with the snort he'd been looking for, followed by a raspberry and the sudden theft of the journal's weight as they stepped into fresh air. Just as abruptly, Mabel was five paces ahead of him, holding the book above her head as she bolted in the Mystery Shack's general direction.

"No wood product will ever be safe when I'm around! Catch me if you can, Detective Dipping sauce!"

And, while Dipper protested to the form of teasing-- "Mabel! Not in public! What if someone sees it?!"-- it was something of a relief to hand the book off… temporarily, at least. It went without saying that something would come up and require more research, but if Mabel felt like holding onto it in the meantime, that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world; he trusted her not to do anything too far up the 'scale of Mabel' with something so precious.

Besides, if she was keeping an eye on the journal, Dipper was free to divert his attention as he saw fit-- and there was a book in the attic with his name on it.

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

Okay, but what if the ‘Pines family fishing hats’ and joke book were turnovers from when the Stans were young? It can’t be much later than that, because Grunkle Stan claims that he’s never had fishing buddies and immediately references the fishing lodge. It’s doubtful that Author Stan would have been too interested in fishing for anything other than the paranormal inhabitants of the lake. 

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

In the Valley (Part 1)

Here's the first part of a MSA/Gravity Falls crossover because I'm getting excited about it. Also because I want to see if I can finish it before 'Not What He Seems' airs and josses absolutely everything I'm working with.

When the mansion faded, it took everything the ghost had built with it.

With nothing but a handful of wandering spirits following in his wake, he drifted. It was a pitiful existence; with no past and no purpose,what was he to do? The wisps-- Deadbeats, they called themselves-- hummed encouragement and ushered him along, never stagnating in one place long enoughfor him to dwell on it. It was humiliating to think that he couldn't even take care of himself after death, but they never seemed to think of him as a burden-- or worse: a failure.

He tried not to think about his first haunt. There was only so much that he had left to hold onto, though, and it was one of those things; he found himself revisiting it frequently.

The ghost wasn't sure how, but the Deadbeats always managed to find out when he felt himself slipping. It was funny how well a sextuplet of minor spirits could help when one started to question himself.

As they wandered, he learned small, almost inconsequential things about himself. He had an ear for music and a singing voice to match. The heavy scent of mixed spices helped calm him. He was afraid of heights.

When he was weak, his reflection betrayed him as someone else.

He did his best to keep his energy up and avoid such surfaces; seeing himself reflected as a human was unnerving and, more often than not, led him into another episode. If he had to walk among the living wearing that face, so be it, just as long as he didn't have to confront it himself.

With time, he came to realize that the benefits outweighed the cost, though. Masquerading as a human, he could weave, unnoticed, amongst the crowds and feel like he was a part of something; he could speak with them if he so pleased, could learn stories to entertain himself with and music to share with the Deadbeats. It wasn't that he disliked humans, just the reminder of how much he'd lost; he was afraid that, somehow, humanity would find a way to take what little he had left.

That was how he came to take up leadership of their ghostly band and steer them onwards.

That was also how they came to find themselves in a dreary, forested town in the middle of nowhere. The ghost had intended to follow the set routine: see where they'd wandered, explore if it was interesting enough, take a few hours to rest and then move on.

Before their small procession had even passed through the woods surrounding one 'Gravity Falls', the ghost found himself accosted by a foreign, powerful presence.

"Say hello to the bleeding heart of my dreams."

He started and the Deadbeats scattered-- though, within a matter of seconds, they found their way behind him, peering out from behind his legs, over his shoulder or anywhere they could feasibly weasel their way around.

With a nasal laugh, reality shifted as the speaker materialized.

It was a triangle. A living triangle. With a single eye and a top hat.

The ghost felt mildly hypocritical for questioning its appearance, but at least he made it obvious what he was. The triangle was watching him expectantly, and, for lack of anything better to say, he found himself uttering, "I… beg your pardon?"

"Bleeding heart-- but don't you worry about it, kid; you're new in town, so I'll cut you some slack." It tapped a single finger below its eye in mockery of thought. "Guess that makes me the welcoming committee, doesn't it? Looks like you lucked out! I know everything about this place-- everything."

Neither of them made any move for several seconds, both waiting to see what the other would do. The stand-off was broken by another bout of laughter from the triangle.

"Nothing? Really? How 'bout this: name for a name. You got one'a those, bleeding heart?" Its question was met from a stony silence, which seemed to be all the answer it needed. "Bleeding heart it is, then. Not much of a talker, are you? Had a friend like that for a few days; never saw him again…"

The three brave Deadbeats that had been watching with the ghost hummed nervously as they drew back, first behind him and then into the safety of his hollow chest to join their kin. He didn't mind; if it kept them safe, he was all for it.

The triangle rattled on, unfazed by the wisps' reaction. "So what brings you to Gravity Falls? Wandering spirit looking to set up a haunt? I know a guy who can give you a hand-- doesn't even charge one in return!"

"No." He said evenly, folding his arms over his chest. After a second's thought, he added, "Thank you. Just passing through."

"Tourist, eh?" It scoffed, "Yeah, we'll see how long that lasts. You wouldn't believe the community we supernatural types have going here, but, hey, let's let you see for yourself. If you ever want to know more, just call ol' Bill Cipher."

And, with that, it vanished, leaving the ghost feeling like he'd just encountered the afterlife's version of a sales pitch. Somehow, it was much more unnerving than the mortal variant, and he silently pledged that he would not be calling 'ol' Bill Cipher' for any reason. Maybe it was unfair, but he had the distinct impression that he'd encountered someone-- or something-- like Cipher before, and it made him reluctant to pursue any further contact with him.

What was definitely unfair was that he had no idea where the feeling came from, and, resigned, he chalked it up as something else he'd lost.

There was a shy hum from inside his projection and he narrowed his eyes in what might have been a smile. Releasing his heart from a grip he hadn't realized he'd held on it, he crooned gently to the Deadbeats, "We're safe now. We'll just have to make this stop short."

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

This was the first version of the Psychonauts/Gravity Falls crossover-- a more traditional one in the sense that it was actually set in Gravity Falls. Not gonna lie, I definitely prefer the Whispering Rock version.

This one's a lot choppier, too.

Razputin had been having a pretty good week. He'd finallygotten the latest acrobatic routine down, earning himself something of a reprieve from the extra hours of practice he usually had to do, and had gotten away with using telekinesis to finish his chores without his dad finding out. Usually, one of his siblings caught him and either ratted him out or accidentally let it slip in excitement, but, this time, he'd managed to go completely unnoticed.

Of course, invisibility may have helped, somewhat. Why that hadn't occurred to him earlier was another matter entirely.

But. But, in addition to having a relatively incident-free week at home, he got to go on a mission at the end of that week. How cool was that? He wasn't a full-time Psychonaut, true, but he could live with being a Psychonaut-in-training. Especially when his 'teacher' happened to be Sasha.

As though he'd overheard this thought-- though, logically, Raz knew he couldn't have-- the man in question gave his charge a dry glance. Raz grinned and countered with a mock-salute.

Since his family's circus had set up camp in western Washington, the trip to Oregon wasn't overly long. Still, the young telepath wouldn't have minded an excuse to use the jet again. That had been fun. Travelling by train, and then car, hadn't been bad, though-- at least, it hadn't proved to be bad yet, and they were almost there. Since he was used to (and completely sick of) caravan rides, Raz was always happy to try a new type of transportation... except maybe boats. He hadn't given those a shot, just yet, and wasn't particularly keen on the idea. He started to shake his head, ridding himself of the thought, but froze halfway through the gesture and abandoned it. It was just an association, he reminded himself; it was entirely possible to clear one's mind without a physical gesture.

He risked a look over at Sasha, hoping he hadn't noticed. Fortunately, the older telepath seemed focused on navigating the tree-lined road between the rental place and their destination. Crisis averted.

Not daring to breathe a sigh of relief, Raz propped his chin up on his palm, staring out the passenger side window. The sheer number of trees-- and the shadows they cast-- kind of reminded him of his unsanctioned trip to Whispering Rock. Minus the hitchhiking. And riding The World's Smallest Pony. And being mistaken for a lake monster.

Okay, so it wasn't anything like the trip to Whispering Rock, but he liked to think that it was.

Reigning his wandering thoughts back in line, Raz reconsidered today's mission. It was hardly an adventure-- they were just supposed to find and confiscate some artifact-- but it was still interesting. They were hunting down a pendant that afforded its wearer psychic abilities-- telekinesis and pyrokinesis, at the very least, though nobody seemed to know anything concrete. The little acrobat found the concept intriguing; he'd always been aware of his abilities (sometimes painfully aware of them), so he had to wonder what it would be like for a 'normal' person to use the amulet. Would they be psychic one minute and not the next? How would that even work? It would be completely bizarre. And what if somebody who was already psychic got their hands on it? He could understand where someone who wasn't the greatest at telekinesis or pyrokinesis could benefit from using the trinket, but would it be worthless in the hands of an experienced psychic?

He'd already tried asking these questions and more. For awhile, Sasha had answered him, but then they'd gotten into the questions that couldn't be answered at this point. And, not long after that, the German just stopped trying.

"Oh, c'mon Dipper! It's a family on vacation!"

He looked at his sister incredulously. "They don't even look alike."

"Do we look like Grunkle Stan?"

"The kid calls the adults by their names!"

"Grunkle Stan."

He sighed through his nose, still staring at Mabel. "Who would come to Gravity Falls on vacation by choice?"

Finally, she didn't respond.

"Now I remember!"

One brow raised skeptically, Mabel looked at him.

"The kid that threw the shrunken heads at me!"

Without saying a word, she rolled her eyes and turned back to her knitting.

"Come on, Mabel, listen to me! That kid was mad because we didn't have the latest issue of his comic book, right? But we did have it! They just published a different story before the one he wanted!" He waited until his sister looked back up at him, still looking unconvinced.

"Dipper, I don't think this kid had anything to do with that kid. Even if they both like that psychic comic."

"That's not what I was saying, though! I had to go through the stock to figure out what was going on, so I remember what issue it was. It was-- oh, come on…" // "True Psychic Tales issue 239, special edition, 'The World's Youngest Psychonaut'!"

Mabel blinked at him blankly, needles never faltering.

"There's not really a connection between the kid we saw earlier and the shrunken head kid."

This did very little to lessen the confused stare he was on the receiving end of.

With a longsuffering sigh, Dipper continued. "The kid from earlier looked just like the one on that comic's cover; that's why I recognized him. I mean, he's probably just a really devoted fan, but--"

After a second of even more staring, Mabel suddenly dropped her entire project and clapped her hands to her cheeks. "We met the World's Youngest Psychonaut?"

"Okay, one, we don't even know what that's supposed to mean. Two, we didn't meet anyone, and three, it's just some kid dressed like--"

"We met a World's Youngest Psychonaut cosplayer?"

Dipper tossed up his hands in exasperation. "Yes, Mabel. That's exactly what happened."

For several long seconds, Sasha stared at the building, eyes lingering over the damaged sign. Finally, he turned away, studied his charge over the rim of his glasses, and asked, "Why? Haven't you already had enough of this nonsense?"

"I live in a circus, Sasha, not a freak show."

The older telepath rolled his eyes. "That's debatable."

Raz was a second away from arguing, but stopped suddenly, brow furrowed in consideration. "Yeah, okay. But I just want to make sure my sisters aren't any freakier than the other freaks."

"If you must." Irritation rolling off him in waves, Sasha held his hands up in half-hearted defeat. Catching on to the younger psychic's clear intentions, he added, "There is absolutely nothing you can do that will make me go in there, Razputin. Don't bother."

Raz was already at the half-way point between Sasha and the shack, but paused at the comment and turned around. His progress didn't stop as he pulled a ridiculous face at his mentor, though it did when he tripped over the house's front steps. Walking backwards in an unfamiliar area might not have been the best idea.

Sasha didn't say anything, but Raz wasn't entirely sure whether that was a good sign or not. Without turning his back again, he got back to his feet and successfully navigated the porch.

"He's wearing a sweater, a jacket, and a scarf. And gloves. In the middle of summer."

"...I like him."

"Aww, lookit! He's wearing a friendship bracelet! So cute!"

"I like your hat." She said brightly, tapping at one of his goggles' lenses, "It's kind of awesome."

He couldn't even remember the number of times that Sasha had said "Focus, Raz" today alone... which kind of explained why older telepath had been saying it in the first place.

Nobody said a word when they finally came across the coordinates specified.

Sasha rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and Milla pressed her lips into a thin line, unable to decide whether to laugh or not.

As per usual, Raz found a way to break the silence.

"A wannabe circus tent? That's gotta be a good omen." He folded his arms over his chest and huffed in irritation, never allowing his stare to waver from the 'Tent of Telepathy'. With a bit more venom than strictly necessary, he added, "Bet they wouldn't know telepathy if it lit 'em on fire-- those kinda people never do."

There was a moment of silence as they stared after the orange wrecking ball and its rider.

"Sasha--"

"Don't."

[ihaveatheoryonthat]

This is something I wrote relatively recently, but there's no way I'm going to get around to doing anything else with it. It's not a full-blown Mystery Kids fic; just a Psychonauts/Gravity Falls crossover, but I liked where it was going. 

It just figured that Stan would get himself into trouble mere days before the twins were scheduled to come down for the summer. No, it wasn't like they had longstanding plans or anything. It wasn't like Dipper had carefully allotted his time for the summer-- with regularly scheduled breaks for freak accidents-- and, after hours of brainstorming, finally reached a tentative final draft.

No.

But it had happened. If nothing else, Stan hadn't been arrested this time, he just needed to prepare for an 'inspection' of the Mystery Shack… which, apparently, would take a good week prior to the inspection itself. That would have been fine; it didn't seem any worse than the numerous 'family bonding' exercises, but Stan inexplicably refused to have Mabel and Dipper anywhere on the premises while the preparations were taking place.

So they scrambled to find a plan B… which showed up in the form of a pamphlet from a friend of a friend of a friend of Mabel's.

Knowing his sister, Dipper wouldn't have been surprised if it came from the weirdo in the park who always seemed to be handing the things out.

A summer camp was a summer camp, though, and it was hard to argue against something that would only use up the week they had to kill. It was even harder to argue against one that allowed kids to enroll just a day before it was scheduled to take place.

So that meant that it was off to week one of 'Whispering Rock Psychic Summer Camp'.

Suffice to say, Dipper did not have a good feeling about the scenario that was playing out.

His glowering out the window was rudely interrupted by a finger to the cheek-- and, when he turned prematurely, a finger to the eye. Mabel didn't even have the decency to look abashed at her mistake, stifling a giggle behind her non-weaponized hand as Dipper rubbed at his eye and gave her a dry look with the one he had left.

With the same hand she'd used to maim him, Mabel pointed out the bus's front window, propped up on her knees to gesture above the mass of orange hair occupying the seat in front of them. "Lookit, Dipper! That's the place!"

Obediently, Dipper leaned into her personal space and peered past the twelfth wonder of the world. Sure enough, there was a sign declaring the place 'Whispering Rock', the same title emblazoned on the shirt Mabel had long since tugged over today's sweater.

The minor din that had been buzzing around inside the bus blew into a full-scale cacophony as they pulled into the rounded parking lot. Other kids tossed around a lot of "This year"s and "last year"s and so on and so forth. Some tossed around the garbage unearthed by an earlier game of bus seat treasure hunt. There was a lot of throwing things going on, either way, until the bus driver snapped at them to stop it before she set someone on fire.

The threat didn't have any effect. Probably because they all knew it was bunk.

There had to be some gimmick for this particular camp to stand out from the rest, and that was perfectly fine… but, after dealing with Gideon, Dipper wasn't putting much stock in psychic abilities. He was plenty worried about the paranormal artifacts behind the phenomena, but that was something else entirely.

The low-flying orange cloud in front of them said something-- something derogatory by the sound of it--but Dipper honestly didn't have any idea what it was; he mentally corrected his earlier assessment: make that a low-flying orange cloud with a speech impediment.

He caught a brief look at the kid attached to it as the bus slowly emptied, but was tugged to his feet a second later and only just had enough time to grab his bag before Mabel hauled him out into the campground.

Distantly, Dipper wondered what it was about this camp that had her so excited, but then he remembered that it was in reference to his sister, and dropped it before he could go any further.

Someone behind them scoffed and Dipper immediately whirled around, automatically on the defensive. Who he found wasn't exactly the Pacifica 2.0 he'd been expecting. Despite the laughter, the girl it came from was actually smiling-- or, well sort of smiling. Half smiling. Maybe smiling a little. Okay, so she wasn't really smiling at all, but, in spite of that, she didn't have the 'mean girl' aura that Pacifica radiated, and seemed legitimately amused by Mabel's wild gesticulating. Dipper recognized her as being one of the kids everyone was leaving a wide berth around on the bus, until some kid in a tinfoil hat had hopped up onto the seat beside her.

The girl noticed him as soon as he'd turned around and shot Dipper a challenging look before marching on, ahead of the others. Dipper would have returned the look if he hadn't been distracted by one minor detail:

She wasn't carrying her bag. It was hovering several inches behind her shoulder.

Belatedly, he realized what, exactly, Mabel was getting excited about. All over the parking lot, there were similar hijinks afoot: kids balancing precariously on neon balls or making exaggerated movements that corresponded with inexplicable glowing hands. The kid in the tinfoil hat seemed to be holding a one-sided conversation with a nearby squirrel.

But there were some that, like him, were staring blankly at the chaos they'd plunged into.

He didn't turn, but smelled the exhaust as the bus started back up, and heard it pull out of the parking lot.

This was going to be an interesting one.

It was, if nothing else, interesting.

The campers were interesting, the councilors were interesting, the welcome speech was interesting… really, the entire premise was interesting. But, for the time being, Dipper's attention was focused on the 'welcome speech' part. He tried to ignore Mabel's nudge when the speech touched upon 'outcasts and loners', but couldn't resist giving her a returning shove when that was quickly followed by 'circus freak'. She giggled and bumped him again, coincidentally corresponding with 'They make you a hero'.

Orange hair grumbled something about a pamphlet.

Admittedly, that part of the speech had sounded familiar; maybe someone decided to recycle material.

Dipper shook it off and continued surveying the three figures onstage.

Oddly, his attention didn't immediately turn towards the speaker, but, rather, the pair standing several feet away. The woman-- 'Agent' Milla Vodello's-- choice of clothes would have been enough to grab his attention anyway, but there was something about her demeanor that made her seem exhausted; he couldn't identify any physical signs, so it was hard to figure out where the impression came from, but it persisted as the speech wore on. The man beside her was far harder to get a read on, and after thirty seconds of trying, several of the surrounding kids started laughing.

Someone physically turned his head back towards the speaker, and, after a second, Dipper realized it was the same girl he'd seen earlier.

"Stop staring, you goob. You don't want to get on Sasha's bad side this early in camp." She hissed, "You'll have plenty of time to do that later."

"Wait, you were laughing at me?"

Lili rolled her eyes. "Not at you. You were so excited about coming to camp-- you just reminded me of my best friend, that's all."

"Uh-huh." He said slowly, following her line of sight. "And you keep looking at the trees because…?"

Her lips turned down and hooded eyes drooped back down to half-mast. "My friend likes to hide in them and scare everyone after Oleander's welcome speech. It's kind of like a tradition for him. Don't worry about it, you wouldn't understand."

He hesitated for a second, "Pine-- wait… yeah, Cadets Pines and Pines, right? I heard Benny thinking very loudly about the new new kids. On a completely unrelated note, I'd stay away from cabin number three tomorrow if I were you."

"You heard about us?" Mabel asked excitedly. "In some kid's head?"

"Sh--" He stopped abruptly, going back over her choice of words, and let out a bark of laughter. "Sure have! It's more like I heard it in his thoughts than his head, though. Believe it or not, there's a difference."

Dipper groaned, recognizing Mabel's starry-eyed expression, and Lili spared her a short look before snorting derisively.

"Yeah. Good luck with that."

"Sir, Agent Aquato is being possessed by a manic, triangular demon of mass destruction."

Sasha continued to stare at him for several seconds and finally made an odd noise-- something that might have been the precursor to laughter. "I'm sorry to break this to you, Cadet, but that's just the way he is."

"Oh, Shaky Claim," Bill shook his host's head in mock-regret. "You've seen better days, haven't you? Used to be that all you had to put up with were the townsfolk spontaneously developing psychic powers-- now look at what you've got running around. Children."

With a good, solid, psychic-boosted tug, the lake hut's roof obediently came crashing down, forcing Bill to jump out of the way. It went less to plan when he chose to lurch lake-ward instead of towards the mainland… and the plan went even further off the rails when that decision occurred to the 'regulars'.

Despite the distance between her and the twins, Milla gasped audibly and rushed towards the docks, Lili just a pace behind her yelling, "Why are you all idiots?"