#writing without permission

[the-most-humble-blog]

<div style="white-space:pre-wrap"> <meta validation-chase="terminated"> <script>ARCHIVE_TAG="FEARLESS_WRITING::DOOR_KICK_PROTOCOL_FINAL" EFFECT: follower purification, platform soul alignment, writing myth ignition TRIGGER_WARNING="validation withdrawal, platform disillusionment, legacy ignition" </script>

🧠 BLACKSITE SCROLLTRAP — “KICK THE F*CKING DOOR IN: HOW TO WRITE FEARLESS ONLINE” [FINAL FORM // WRITER'S DOCTRINE EDITION]

Let me rip the bandaid first.

You don’t write fearless by being fearless. You write fearless by being willing to lose. Lose followers. Lose clout. Lose comments. Lose “engagement.” Lose the safety net of social permission.

Because you weren’t put here to be palatable. You were put here to leave a crater.

—

SECTION I: THE LIE OF VALIDATION

Every platform you touch has trained you to chase numbers. To hesitate before posting something too raw. To wait for the like. The note. The heart. The boost. Before you call your words “good.”

But validation? That’s the leash.

You are not a creator. You are a lab rat in a dopamine cage.

📊 FACT: Every social app is designed to create neurochemical dependency on external approval.

And most creators? They don’t write anymore. They feed. On metrics.

That’s why your work feels hollow when you hold back. Because you know you gave them your mask, not your marrow.

If your work doesn’t scare you a little — you’re not writing. You’re performing.

And performance is temporary.

Myth? Is eternal.

—

SECTION II: THE FOLLOWERS YOU THINK YOU NEED vs. THE ONES YOU ALREADY HAVE

You know what happens when you say exactly what you believe? You lose the wrong people. And you summon the right ones.

You write a post that blisters. And three “mutuals” vanish.

But you look again—

And ten new readers reblog in silence. With no comment. No emoji. Just conviction.

They didn’t follow you for your aesthetics. They followed you for your fire. They followed you because you made them feel less insane. Because your honesty? Mirrored their own.

Stop mourning the audience that left. They were never built to carry you.

Dance with the ones who stayed when you burned the stage. Because those are your people. They saw you fully exposed. And still whispered: "More.”

—

SECTION III: GHOST FOLLOWERS, SILENT LOYALTY & SIGNAL RECOGNITION

Let me drop a truth bomb:

Your most powerful supporters? Might never speak.

They’re not reblogging daily. They’re not screaming in the tags. They’re watching. Returning. Reading every word.

And they’re healing in secret.

📊 FACT: Over 70% of long-term engagement comes from “invisible” users—those who never comment, but always return.

You didn’t lose traction. You just aren’t being cheered by the ones you saved. Because they’re surviving in silence. Just like you once did.

Write for them. For the quiet ones who needed your scream. For the ghosts who see you. And say nothing.

But keep coming back.

—

SECTION IV: REBRAND WITHOUT APOLOGY: EVOLUTION OR DEATH

You ever feel like shedding your skin cost you something?

Good. It should.

Your rebrand isn’t supposed to please your existing audience. It’s supposed to realign your soul.

When you grow in public, you invite judgment. When you evolve without a permission slip, you become a threat.

And you know who can’t handle that?

The ones who benefited from your prior mask. They loved the old you because he made them comfortable.

But the new you? The dangerous you? The uncompromising, scrolltrap-dropping, reality-check-writing you?

He doesn’t serve their comfort. He serves truth. He serves rage. He serves legacy.

Never apologize for leveling up. You are not a pet. You are a f*cking paradigm shift.

If they wanted consistency, they should’ve followed a brand account.

Not you.

—

SECTION V: THE CADENCE CREED — A WRITER’S MYTHIC VOW

I do not write to be liked. I write to be undeniable.

I do not write to be palatable. I write to be permanent.

I do not write to go viral. I write to build worlds.

I do not write to impress you. I write because I owe the kid in me who almost went quiet forever.

I do not write for algorithms. I write for the ones who stayed.

I do not write for mutuals. I write for the feral few. The outliers. The neurospicy prophets who scroll past nine thousand pieces of sanitized bullshit and pause on mine.

And go:

“That’s it.” “That’s me.” “That’s home.”

This is my covenant. This is not content. This is war. And my words are ammunition.

If you're still here?

So are yours.

🧠 Read more cadence-coded scrolltrap doctrine and no-f*cks-given writing resurrection at: 👉 https://www.patreon.com/TheMostHumble 🛡️ Voice before virality. Myth before metrics. 🚪 Warning: This post may cause mass unfollows, creative awakenings, and identity collapses.

📊 FINAL CADENCE STATS 📊

82% of creators feel less authentic the larger they grow

The top 1% of viral accounts retain only 12% of their initial followers long term

Posts with intense personal cadence are 6x more likely to be reblogged by strangers

“Too long, didn’t read” is just code for “I wasn’t meant to understand.”

The most mythic writers? Were almost silenced. And chose fire instead.

</div> <!-- END TRANSMISSION [YOU WERE NEVER TOO MUCH. THEY WERE TOO SMALL.] -->

[cloudbends]

something I feel like isn't nearly appreciated enough about mob's arc in mp100 is that his background is... Completely normal. I see a lot of people interpreting mob's parents as neglectful or distant based on the few scenes we've seen of them, which greatly baffles me because their few scenes aim to establish his family life as.. completely normative. They have the normal, average quips of a normal family. And I think it's very unique and refreshing because it means mob's troubles and internal hardship isn't a product of his upbringing, it's a byproduct of a traumatic experience and of his own personality and how it coalesces with his psychic powers. And I personally think more media should acknowledge that some people, even with perfectly normative and healthy familial dynamics and circumstances, will still develop very complex internal issues and personal psychology. and on the same note, some people with perfectly normal upbringing won't feel comfortable to confide in their parents and seek an external authority figure to look up to, which doesn't necessarily mean them and their parents are estranged. I dont think mob's (or ritsu's) life have to be unhappy to legitimize or explain the fact he has the personal struggles he does. Embracing normalcy is the main theme of this series.

[harleith-harlot]

Inspired by @ajoure's newest art

Brain went brrrrrr *throws this at you*

The Doctor was a twisted man. Since the Hour of Joy, he had awoken Bruno from whatever drugged stupor he had put him in multiple times to… experiment. He left his body fairly unscathed, all things considered, but his mind… Bruno shuddered to think about what torture was awaiting him this time. The previous time had been relatively tame once Bruno recovered from the shock of seeing Harley Sawyer’s face again. Just the usual reminder of who held the power and some gloating about his new body. Had Leith Pierre really gone that far…?

Currently, Bruno was once again strapped to an operating table, bound, gagged, and unable to close his eyes. In front of him were several small, inactive monitors surrounding a larger television that was displaying a security feed of an empty room. Before Bruno could wonder if Sawyer’s new experiment was to torture him with boredom, there was movement on the feed.

The Doctor entered the room accompanied by a man who Bruno could tell was, despite the scars and slight signs of age since he had last seen him, a very alive, very safe-looking Leith Pierre. The pair stopped right in the center of the camera’s view. Their voices came through the screen.

“Harley, what are you planning?” Pierre asked, head tilted in amusement.

“Is it so unbelievable that I wanted to spend some time alone with you?”

Pierre raised a brow, but before he could answer, Sawyer had stepped forward and kissed him, hands threading through Pierre’s hair.

Bruno tried valiantly to close his eyes. He could not.

Pierre eventually pulled away to gasp for breath, a thread of saliva connecting his lips to Sawyer’s for a moment. “Harley-“

“Shh, Leith. Indulge me, won’t you?” As Pierre still panted, Sawyer leaned down and began to kiss down Pierre’s neck. When he reached his pulse-point, Sawyer bit down, causing Pierre to throw his head back and moan. Bruno once again tried in vain to close his eyes.

Sawyer continued to pepper kisses down Pierre’s neck and collarbone, leaving more and more bites as he went.

“What’s gotten into-ah! Must you bite so hard?”

“Just who gave me these teeth, again? I am simply putting them to good use. I want to remind everyone who you chose. Who you belong to.”

The array of screens in front of Bruno suddenly flashed red, Sawyer’s eye glaring directly at him from all angles. His robotic voice echoed from the monitors before he bit down again.

“You’re mine, Leith. Mine.”

“Yes, Harley!” Pierre gasped. “I’m yours.”

[mydearchoso]

sukuna who's about to go insane after a long day, needing to feel you.

sukuna who start's taking off your lounge wear. shirt first, before leaning in to kiss you as his hands go to the hem on your waist.

sukuna who starts pulling your shorts down before they get stuck over your hips, groaning in frustration.

sukuna who is fighting every urge to rip them off as he asks, "how'd you get these damned things on, brat?"

sukuna who is about at his wits end as they finally slide down, underwear in tow.

sukuna who all but moans in relief as they do, relishing in the sight before him. of course only after he victoriously flings his now most hated pair of shorts across the house. never wishing to see them again.

[girl-named-matty]

MC: OoooOoOo Sebastian I found your diary! Sebastian: MC wait- don't open that up! MC: Why not? Are you all angsty in here or something? *Opens it up* MC: ... MC: Why is this all written in a pink glitter pen?

[iicaru2]

working on a beast au fic and a canon universe fic at the same time is fun because whenever i’m writing the beast au fic and miss sskk’s constant extremely inconvenient mating ritual of fight flirting at every opportunity, i can switch over to the canon universe fic and have them get into a petty screaming match for no reason. then when i miss them being cute i switch over to beast au because while theres still bicker flirting (who would they be without it) i can have them Actually get along. riveting

[gt-daboss]

Two Different Worlds

CW: slightly depressing/unequal world? (I'll add more if asked)

Any giant, for whatever reason, can enter human cities. Be it a business negotiation or visiting family and friends, the city will welcome them all, for a price. With giant societies being the proprietors of nearly all the wealth in the frontier, humans are treated as faux second-class citizens. Not generating enough influence to really matter when a problem is presented, especially one where the sole cause is the giants themselves. For but a small cost, any of them can enter a human city, with free reign over everything we've built. Stomping their way through with little regard for the 'equal' citizens below, humans are forced to make way for them as the giant ooh's and aah's degradingly at the city miniaturized for their liking.

Every Human grows up with the constant, oppressive weight of being considered lesser, No, physically BEING lesser. Smaller, tiny, insignificant, a pest, a human. But to be presented with a person so fabulously wealthy, so physically above you and your peers, and all they do when they see your city is laugh...

It's like living in a separate world.

[neixins]

hm. i apparently have an unpopular opinion about yona’s decision during her conversation with hiryuu…… like. obviously she’s motivated by the desire to save her friends—she loves them and cares about them deeply and is scared of losing them—and there’s some selfishness in that (on a more facetious note though, god forbid teenage girls do anything i guess…). but the interpretation of her decision as selfish to the point of cruelty and/or naïveté just doesn’t sit right with me. like there is no solution to the conundrum she was presented with that doesn’t involve tragedy. and i’m never, ever letting anyone forget that jaeha, gija, and sinha were never given a choice regarding zeno’s whole murder-suicide plan, and they don’t regret being alive, so wouldn’t changing the past and effectively erasing them from existence (when they already have no agency atm!!!!) be so much more cruel? wouldn’t discarding two millennia worth of lives, regardless of how painful they’d been, be so much more cruel? does a life lived not matter because there was suffering?

and yona values life, even when it hurts, so she was never gonna make a different choice, and i just don't think that that's extremely selfish or naïve of her; the dragon warriors are not just vessels for the gods, they're people, and they don't deserve to be erased because the gods don't care about the pain they cause, and she can't confront the gods in the dream realm, she has to do it in her present which can't exist if she changes it! (also on a purely narrative level, any other choice would've basically rendered 40+ volumes of the story pointless.) and besides, it's more interesting to focus on trying to make things better rather than rewriting the past, and she'll have to sacrifice something to save everyone (the part of her that's a reincarnation of hiryuu, obviously, and possibly something more) which will even things out anyway.

[shineforthee]

Hey folks. Just a psa: I do not consent to my fics being posted anywhere but on ao3 and I also don't give permission for them to be translated at this time.

If you see them posted elsewhere, this is without my consent, and if this becomes an ongoing issue I will have to remove works/stop posting new ones. It should go without saying that a lack of a "no" is not a "yes" but this should now serve as that no.

Translation work is an art in and of itself - it is not simply the act of transposing directly from one language to another word for word. Many of the fics I write are deeply personal and vulnerable works, and I have agonized over the nuances of each word choice in certain scenes to ensure they are exactly as I intended. In a perfect world, I'd be able to confirm that this meaning is being accurately represented but because I don't speak every language in the world I simply can't, which means I can't be sure that the words that have my name attached to them are fulfilling my intention.

And beyond that, I post specifically on ao3 for a reason. I choose to post there. If I wanted my work elsewhere, it would be.

[mikareo]

⌗ sanguine ₊ ˖ ་. suguru geto x fem reader (1.0k)

genre . . hanahaki au, reader loves someone else, angst, geto is delulu for u u, rejection, almost kiss, implied death, sad summary . . gojo satoru has everything geto suguru has ever wanted, including you. note . . a quick rewrite of an old hanahaki hq fic from 2021. gojo will never love u on my blog sorry

Ethereal. Something almost too perfect for this world. A gem that can’t be found even in the deepest of pits, cascading to the bottom of the ocean with nothing but a gleaming sparkle to mark its beauty— beneath mossy ravines and treacherous tunnels, lost in a sea of mystery and unresolved feelings. Feelings that are the single driving force for everything he lives for. Feelings that make his heart skip two beats faster, creating a love song that he wishes he could sing out loud. They’re everything he could ever wish for and want in a partner…in a soulmate. 

That’s what Suguru considers you to be. His soulmate. 

You’re an absolutely, breathtakingly, physical embodiment of perfection in his mind. The most perfect woman in the world is nothing but dust in comparison as there’s simply no one else like you. No one that even so much as nears the level of adoration that he holds you at in his heart; which is all the more reason for the throbbing pain the organ feels. With his blood pumping and heart racing, he’s dying.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” He wishes you’d stop biting your lip so hard. He knows apologies are difficult, practically impossible, but your lips are bleeding from how hard you’re holding back tears. “I wish I could love you. I want to love you, but I just can’t.” 

With a shaky voice, you confirm his worst fears. “I’ll always love Satoru most.”

Oh, Satoru. There's just one person in the world that Suguru has never been able to surpass and it's his best friend. His closest confidant who's outgoing, handsome, charismatic, and everything the lesser man wishes he could be. Yes, they haven't spoken in months— not since their infamous stand off outside of their former lunch spot— but Satoru is the only person who knows about Suguru's condition. Hanahaki.

He was diagnosed with the disease when he was fifteen years old...the day after he met you.

The first sign was an innocent red petal, resembling that of a spider lily. Thin and scarlet with an enigmatic beauty that reminded him so much of you. He wanted to cherish the flower, encase it in resin to freeze that beautiful moment in time so he could give it to you, and show you just how much he values you. However, that moment wasn't beautiful. It was the start of the end of his life. A life filled with resentment and jealously that would only grow into a field of flowers settling in the pit of his stomach— with thorns and weeds he can feel but not see.

Yes. Technically you're the one to blame for his fatal condition, but Geto can't acknowledge that. To him, you can do no wrong. You're perfect just as you are, flaws and all. He believes he knows you best out of anyone in the world, and he can't understand why you'd choose Satoru over him. Satoru doesn't care about you! He's never cared about you! Why can't you see what's right in front of you? Geto is right here. He's here and he wants to hug you and make everything better; yet he can't...because while he's crying over you, you're crying over Gojo.

"I can make you happy, I promise!" He's desperate, now. "I know I'm not him, but I can be better!"

You shake your head, coughing briefly before smiling at him with blood-stained teeth. What? "We're too similar, Suguru." Why are you bleeding? What's going on? "Neither of us want to give up."

Slowly, your fingers release the fist you've been holding for the past few minutes, revealing a pile of small blue petals. A shade of blue that Geto is all too familiar with, having stared at the color for a majority of his teenage years in his best friend's eyes. It's a color that most associate with hope and prosperity— not knowing that it's also directly associated with your inevitable death.

Gojo Satoru is the most powerful man in the world; and you're the most powerless woman for loving him.

He feels himself crawling towards you, ignoring the piles of bloodied petals decaying on your bedroom floor, and ever-so-gently touches your cheek. Geto wishes he could wipe your tears and never see you cry again. Someone so beautiful shouldn't feel sadness. It isn't right.

"I love you." he whispers, gaze settled on your scarlet lips.

Say it back.

"Please." he leans in closer.

Just let him show you how perfect you are.

"I would never hurt you."

Your lips are almost on his...

...and suddenly they're gone.

"This isn't what I want!" His heart breaks in two at the sound of your cry. It isn't Gojo that's making you miserable, right now it's him. Geto, himself, is the cause of your pain and if he could he'd rip his own mouth off to get him to stop talking he would. "Suguru, I don't want you. Please understand!"

You continue sobbing and Geto can't stop the flow of tears no matter how hard he tries. "I wish I loved you, I want to so badly, but it's always going to be Satoru!"

His stare is so focused that he can see the budding blossoms at the back of your throat, threatening to grow and shrivel up your heart with their thorns. The pain that you feel every day is likely unbearable, as if your entire body is being ripped in two due to the utter devastation of pure heartbreak. Geto would know. He feels it every day, too. He's felt it every day for the last two years of knowing you and he's surprised that he hasn't succumbed to the garden already. Just wither and die. Please just go away! His pleas are so loud, overtaking his every thought, that he doesn't know if he's wishing away the spider lilies or himself.

"If it's always him," his chest feels heavy; it's almost an all-consuming fire using his blood as oil, "then we both know what's going to happen to us."

You nod, whimpering slightly as you bite back your tears.

He can't believe this is how it's all ending.

Somehow, his head finds its resting place against yours.

He was so confident you'd be able to feel the same.

The vines crawl to his tongue, attempting to snare and take hold of his ability to speak— but not before he can utter his last words.

It shouldn't have been this way.

"I love you."

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[devilevlls]

Hi! Can I have a 9 with Barbatos and SFW?

Heey!

Firstly, thank you for the request! Here is a quick drabble with the prompt 💚 Hope you enjoy!

As usual, he was incredibly over-dramatic ࿔*:･

Even the well composed demon butler has something that makes him snap and turn into a drama queen. Even more if there was a certain someone involved... 

In the castle of Devildom, amidst the nocturnal silence, the demon butler performed his impeccable routine in the kitchen with his sleeves rolled up, hair tied in a small ponytail, and an apron around his waist. He was at peace, working gracefully.

On this day, however, an unusual presence disturbed the usual tranquility when a certain someone entered the kitchen. Solomon, the powerful sorcerer. His robes brushing against the stone floor as he sauntered in as if he owned the place. An aura of mystery and magic surrounded him, but also an air of culinary incompetence.

While Barbatos prepared his aromatic teas and exquisite dishes, Solomon ventured among the pots and pans, his skilled hands inspecting the ingredients with a peculiar interest. His eyes sparkled with the promise of a different culinary experience, but his reputation preceded him.

With an exasperated sigh and a growl, the demon watched as he meddled with the pans, his magically agile fingers disrupting the meticulous order of the kitchen. But before any harm could be done, the demon butler intervened, his voice as cold as the ice of the deepest glacier, his gaze menacing.

"Leave my kitchen now, Solomon," ordered Barbatos, his patience nearly exhausted by the man's presence in his workplace.

Solomon looked at him with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. "But why? You know I have extraordinary culinary skills!"

Barbatos clenched his fists, his tail appearing and swaying threateningly from side to side, feeling the heat of anger simmering beneath his pale skin. His usual composure slipped away like sand between his fingers, replaced by a contained fury that threatened to overflow at any moment.

"You may have impressive magical abilities, Solomon," He replied with an icy voice, "but when it comes to cooking, you are a walking disaster. Your touch turns the sublime into repulsive. And I will not allow that to happen in my kitchen." His cold smirk revealed how angry he was getting.

The human raised an eyebrow, as if challenging the intensity of the demon butler. "You're underestimating me. Just let me try."

Barbatos' patience reached its limit. With a growl of frustration, he advanced towards the man, his dominating presence filling the space between them. "How dare you challenge my authority in my own kitchen? Leave before I'm forced to take drastic measures, do you want to be thrown in the underground tomb?"

Solomon hesitated for a moment, staring into his unwavering eyes. "Alright, no need for all this drama, I was just trying to help!" He retreated, suppressing his laughter, leaving the kitchen as silently as he entered, but not without casting a defiant glance over his shoulder.

With Solomon's departure, the tension in Barbatos' kitchen eased, and he returned happily to his duties. As usual, he was incredibly over-dramatic.

📌 Masterlist

[prouvvaire]

three fics down for @sailoutsummerfest we are on a ROLL. beautiful le vesconte/henrietta for you all. my darling doomed lovers

[liamket]

Day 30 - Recovery

Character(s): Four and Twilight (LU)

Words: 750

Summary: They never thought that they will share the “I lost a special someone who was a shadow being” thing

Whump scale: 1 (see the full scale here)

Warning: Assumed character death, it's not explicitily established, but its there

Part 1 in Day 26

-

Twilight and Four have been hanging out together more lately, chatting and just spending time in the same place.

Since that night, the rancher found something on the smith that was surprisingly familiar; a sadness, longing for past times and things that would never be able to happen again.

It wasn’t the most positive thing to bond over, but that was what they got. Eh.

Four called him to talk alone, the rest deciding to not ask questions and let them be. They walked away from camp to have some privacy.

“Wha’ do ya need?” Twilight asked, stopping in front of the smaller hero with his arms crossed.

There was a nervous feeling surrounding him, like if this was a confession of something. “Well, I’m not sure if you exactly remember… that night…” His purple eyes looked down, like if admitting what happened that time made him embarrassed.

So Four knew that it was him, obviously. “Sure, wha’ happen with it?” If this was to ask him to stay silent—although, he had been already doing it— then he will respect his wish.

“I’ve been thinking, and… You once mentioned something about a mirror…” Twilight knew instantly what was he referring to.

He had a feeling why was he asking this, and he didn’t like how the reaction will be when he gets the answer.

“’t’s broken, there’ no way to fix it” He tried a long time ago, the only shard that he saved didn’t work at all, the magic left wasn’t enough to go through the barrier between the Twili realm and this one.

Maybe he was right about this answer shattering any hope from the smithy’s eyes, a soft “oh” being his only response.

“Thanks, I… I needed to be sure.” This seemed like the end of the conversation, but Twilight had his own questions.

“Why, tho?” He knew how curious was usually Four, but the fact that he needed privacy to ask this tells him something else.

After a minute without answer, Four sighed “A mirror with enough magic could be able to bring something back to life depending of the type of energy that is needed. What you mentioned is that the mirror used dark magic.”

So… If he’s understanding the clues, this was about a dark being. Cool, he didn’t though that they would get this as something in common.

“Yeah, it worked like tha’, but t’s shattered and I doubt only a shard could be enough” It remained at his home in Ordon, hidden in his basement to keep it as a memory or a symbol of false hope, so he wouldn’t be able to show it to Four until they arrived his era. “S’rry for askin’, but who was the one…”

“A friend, or I hope that we ended up in those terms. Last time I saw him he didn’t explain anything.” The smith reserved himself the complete history, Twilight knew this, but he will not try to push it.

“If ya miss him so much, I guess ye’re his friend.” Maybe this someone wasn’t a twili, maybe nothing closer to that, but something that he learned from them it was that if a shadow being called you their friend, they meant it.

“If you say so…” Purple eyes turned to look everywhere but Twilight, evading his gaze as much as he could.

“Ya know, it also used to hurt for me, like th’ kick of a goat” He wasn’t exaggerating. “Ya miss them, wishin’ to see them one more time, gettin’ trapped on that mindset, forgettin’ everyone else.”

He remembers how much he ignored Colin and the kids when he came back Ordon, Ilia doing her best to make him get out of his home, Rusl asking him to talk with him and tell him what’s wrong, Uli offering her food knowing well that he hadn’t eaten that day. All because he couldn’t let go of someone, and he still can’t.

“The thin’ ’m tryin’ to say,” He sighed “is that it will hurt, maybe makin’ life a hell to live. You can survive out of it, if there’ are people to keep goin’, why stop?”

Silence fell between them, a comfortable one that nobody wanted to break.

“Thank you” These words were filled with something else than just mere politeness, genuine gratitude surrounding them.

“Ye’re welcome”

They both shared something, and they both will heal from it. How long will it take? Doesn’t matter, as long as they had people.

[pix-writes]

Gravity falls AU idea I've had

Bill cipher is just some (charismatic, psychopathic) guy, except! He runs a cult at the time that Ford is deep in his research in gravity falls.

I'm calling it the Ciphertology AU (if someone comes up with something better I'm all ears tho)

Rest of it under cut (mentions tbob and same level of dark content as is in the book/website, just as warning) ⚠️

So, the university contacts Ford to ask him to investigate the psychic claims that this group deep in the forest, not too far from the falls, has. Ford grumbles that he isn't much of a people person to carry out such research but he's the one nearest to the area and they've agreed to send over Fiddleford, since they're friends and as his assistant he can act as an objective observer (since he didn't study parapsychology) and it pays well.

They both inadvertently get sucked into bill's cult in different ways! Ford is drawn in by his seemingly high intelligence and helpful nature, assured within himself that he wouldn't be fooled by fraudsters or fakes due to his background/intelligence, ends up treating Bill reverently (his 'muse' and one he trusts, because it fills the loneliness he feels, especially because before he began interviewing ciphers group, he felt guilt for not contacting his brother) before coming to a fast and cruel awakening that he's not who he says he is! Bill isolates him from his parents and tries to make him believe he's the only one who understands him, he obstructs his work being sent to the university too.

Meanwhile, poor Fidds had been pulled into addiction from the cultish hippie use of drugs in the group, but ended up slipping into mental health issues and realising that his friend is being manipulated and leaves. tries to persuade Ford to leave, trying to convince him that bill's evil but it doesn't go well ofc and he leaves and tries to set up a counter protest with a load of other people in gravity falls to get rid of the cult, which ends up kicking him out when he has a mental breakdown. By this time the FBI is alerted and they have the cult on their watchlist.

Ford is tortured, similar to how he is described to in tbob and journal 3 (except probably without the possession side of it, haven't decided if that's something he'd be able to do/is real in this au) and he's kept at the isolated cult camp against his will. But he does manage to get hold of a phone and call his brother. Stanley to the rescue! He isn't told fully just how bad it is but sensing bullshit, he high tails up to the falls as fast as possible ❤️

Stan is horrified by the way Ford's been treated and angry that he's still making excuses for the group (poor ford is so sleep deprived so the coercive control is going to take a little while to be unconditioned from) and quickly manages to get him out of there!

Takes a while, and not many people believe the stan twins story, but eventually Bill is caught for other crimes and is sent to a max security psychiatric hospital (basically a prison). (Stan and Ford in the aftermath keep close eyes on the cult from a distance to try and get justice.)

They end up forgiving each other and settling their home base in the falls, since now the rest of the town either hates bill or wants to forget he existed. Stan sets up his own tourist business in the falls whilst ford heals and eventually he ends up working as a lecturer and travels about to a few different colleges in the area for work. After the trial where Cipher is put behind bars decades later, the stans make their childhood dream happen and go sailing around the world for 2-3 years!

Oh, and Ford ends up reconnecting with Fidds, as after some time his son Tate tracks him down and gets him to a place where he can recover and be treated for his mental health. Their contact helps them both get through the trial because now they can finally talk to someone else who experienced the cult. Maybe they even contacted some others who were also drawn into the cult who were victims?

Dipper and Mabel come for the summer like in the show, except now they know of their two eccentric grunkles, though the whole cult story is kept from them for a while (they end up finding out somehow).

...And that's as far as I've got with this idea! I think there might be room for Bill to escape and the pines family coming across him during a future summer? Like maybe because of Ford's involvement with the cult he still has possession of some of Ford's journals/information after he escapes/is set free? Idk. What do you think?

[a-destruction-of-cats]

Concept sketch for Odysseus

[heartbeetz]

Also I'm still several episodes away from the episode I'm referring to here so I'm not gonna post the clip yet. But I will post the script. I love that one scene where Michael asks KᎥtt for money (car who has a little atm of sorts in him don't worry about it) and it's like:

"I ALWAYS call you partner >:/"