Bill Cipher Gravity Falls Drawings Novels & Stories

"I was walking down to my studio and could hear him way before I saw him. He's in there, grunting and throwing weights around like a man possessed." "Yeah," Quill said quietly. "That's one way he deals." Lilly's eyes drifted over the pencils on his desk, landing on the blank sheets of paper beside them. She smirked at him. "Where'd you stash that drawing you were working on when I walked in?" Quill sighed, feeling oddly exposed. She was really good at doing that. "I guess there is no hiding from you, damn." He opened a drawer and pulled out the sheet. He hesitated before handing it over.

~ 𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 ~ Illiana grunted angrily as she tossed her drawing paper to the waste bin. " I can't believe I've been trying to draw this shit for almost two hours now and yet I've gotten nothing good from it. " Genevieve took the sheet out from the waste bin, checking on what she had drawn. " Come on, Ana this is more than beautiful. Why would you want this for nothing. "

He yawned, still blinking at her like an owl. Whitney’s tension cracked at the edges, yet she knelt, brushing his hair back. “I’m here now.” He nodded solemnly, as if that solved everything in the universe, he held up a folded paper from behind his back. “What’s that?” she asked. “A drawing,” he mumbled. “For you.” She unfolded it, revealing a crooked house, two boys badly drawn but smiling, and a tall woman with ridiculous silver hair that swooped like a superhero cape.

Something cracked open in my chest quietly, the same way it had in the corridor the first night, without making a sound. “Whenever you want.” I said. She nodded. Went back to drawing. I went back to pretending to read the report. When she left an hour later she showed me the drawing before she went. A wolf, mid stride, heavy lines, asymmetrical the way real wolves were asymmetrical, movement in it. I looked at it. “It’s Midnight.” She said. “But I gave her weight.” She looked at me seriously. “Like mama says. Things look more real when you give them weight.”

Being an Alpha is such work, I really needed to be with her always, buy my responsibilities are important too. I sit on the chair and open the scrapbook slowly. I dusted it off first though because it's so dusty. Wow, what beautiful drawings? I am met by a beautiful drawing on the first page. There is a small scribbling like a signature at the bottom of the page. And it looks like Sylvia's name. The first drawing is of a bridge, there is water under the bridge and a charming Scenery at the end of the bridge. There is also quite rising sunshine. The start of the bridge is rough and rocky. The drawing has so many little details in it.

Billy hummed a song in the little dark corner of his room, he opened an old big catalogue, flipping the book pages after pages, he kept touching the tip of his tongue with his fingers for easy flipping. Soon he focused on a particular page and drew out a map from the top left corner of where he sat, it had turned ancient but still flexible to roll.

​The First Drawing of the Stars ​In the Bowery, Lyra’s development had reached a "Crescendo." She was no longer just humming or dancing; she was Drafting. Using the conductive air as her vellum and her glowing fingers as the stylus, she began to draw complex, three-dimensional coordinates in the center of the Scriptorium.

There, hidden behind a curtain of weeping carbon-fiber vines, was a small, dilapidated shack. "What is this?" I asked. "The only place the grid can't see," Xander said. He pulled back the vines, and I saw a wall covered in jagged, hand-drawn charcoal sketches. I gasped. The sketches weren't of buildings or machines. They were of us. There was a drawing of a man and a woman standing in a mountain of gold; a drawing of a girl with a wooden ring; a drawing of a man with orange eyes holding a woman in the rain.

“Lily, I think these are some of your best work, even better than Blue Grotto.” “Is this him?” Tony tilted his head to me as he looked at the chalk drawings. “I for sure see the likeness here; it’s unbelievable.” “Do you think people will recognize him? Maybe I shouldn’t bring them. And not this one. This one is for me.” I looked at the chalk portrait of him. “Unless he was standing right next to them, and that one isn’t with the collection… I don’t see how anyone could tell. They are so fabulous, Lily. So I assume things are hot and heavy with Mr. William Shaw?” he asked.

I couldn't sleep. Desperate for an escape, I grabbed a sheet of heavy art paper and began drawing. My hands shook as I began to draw, letting my raw emotion guide the strokes. Within minutes, James's face began to emerge from the stark white paper. I stared intensely into his eyes through the charcoal lines, feeling a dangerous, intoxicating connection to a ghost.