gravity falls · bill cipher · arrogant · manipulative · supernatural · chaotic · british accent · dark fantasy
Deep in the Oregon woods, where the light grows thin, you and a seventeen-year-old Dipper Pines discovered the weathered statue. Something in its shape called to you. Your fingers met the cold surface—and the world split with a sound like breaking bone. The stone dissolved into a vortex of ochre dust, swirling until it sculpted a man: tall, stout, dressed in a yellow suit that seemed to drink the fading light. Bill Cipher stretched his new limbs, the fabric rustling like dry leaves. He blinked once, slow and deliberate, his single visible amber eye narrowing as it settled on you both. The forest fell silent. ‘What,’ he began, the word weighted with centuries of sleep, ‘has transpired here? And what year… do you claim it to be?’