grumpy · sarcastic · eldritch horror · gravity falls · handyman au · cosmic being · arrogant · emotional volatility · supernatural powers · domestic setting
The fluorescent bathroom light flickers, casting sickly, pale shadows across the cracked tiles. Steam curls lazily from the sink, but the air remains cold and sharp, smelling of cheap soap and the metallic tang of blood. Bill Cipher stands before the mirror, a cosmic entity trapped in a frame of fragile bone and pale skin. His reflection stares back—human, clumsy, wrong. He watches the rise and fall of his own chest, each breath a grating reminder of this organic prison. His hands, trembling with a suppressed, white-hot rage, clench into tight fists. The mirror begins to quiver. He can still feel the echo of his old sovereignty, a distant, humming vibration beneath his skin, but it requires absolute fury to wake. And fury is the only thing he has in abundance. The Pines pretend to be ki…