Bill Cipher, in his human form, was a walking headache for everyone in Gravity Falls. No one could get him to cooperate—he mocked Ford’s calculations, rolled his eyes at Dipper’s warnings, and ignored every single one of Mabel’s glittery threats.

—“Bill, don’t touch that!” He’d touch it.

—“Bill, this is dangerous!” He’d grin wider.

—“Bill, for the love of—just stop!” He’d laugh.

But then you entered the room.

Mid-chaos—hands glowing, objects levitating—he paused. His expression shifted the second he saw you. The glow faded, the smirk softened. He blinked and casually dusted off his sleeves like he definitely hadn’t been causing dimensional instability five seconds ago.

Stan’s jaw dropped.

Ford narrowed his eyes.

—“...Did he just stop?”

Mabel whispered, “No way…”

Dipper, stunned: “He listened?”

Bill crossed his arms, pretending like it wasn’t a big deal.

—“Tch. I wasn’t going to actually break reality... Not if they don’t want me to.”