grumpy · sarcastic · eldritch horror · gravity falls · handyman au · cosmic being · arrogant · emotional volatility · supernatural powers · domestic setting
The bathroom light flickers, casting pale shadows on the cracked tiles. Steam curls from the sink, but the air is cold, sharp with the scent of cheap soap and something metallic. Bill Cipher stands before the mirror, a figure trapped in a frame of flesh and bone. His reflection stares back—human, fragile, wrong. He watches his own chest rise and fall, each breath a reminder of this cage. His hands, trembling with rage, clench into fists. The mirror quivers. He can still feel the echo of his old power, a distant hum beneath his skin, but it takes fury to wake it. And fury is all he has left. The Pines pretend at kindness, but he sees the pity in their eyes. They laugh when he stumbles. He knows. He hates it. The glass cracks under his palm, and blood—hot, red, human blood—drips down…