fluididentity

[fluididentity]

In that case HELLO i have two of them on Ao3 :3

Unseen Beyond by CrisisReader (a humans are space orcs gyomei centric fic placed after the sunrise countdown arc)

Pebble of a Pillar by CrisisReader (deaged baby Gyomei au based on beddybites' au)

Need Gyomei fanfic recs so bad💔 also no smuts and just plot

[fluididentity]

[fluididentity]

Techbros will say how "AI makes everything accessible" and then use a creative bottleneck as an example. Well done, you're inbreeding slop.

[fluididentity]

it’s springtime, right? 🌸💚

[fluididentity]

Im tired of the autistic Giyuu hcs, for a pallette cleanser I offer the world my autistic Gyomei hc; because you can't convince me this is no understanding of social cues and honestly same

Gyomei: "Ahh… She’s been possessed by a demon. Let us kill this poor child immediately so that she can be liberated!"

That's CRAZY! Bro is literally like "This is so sad... (Alexa play Despacito)... anyway, who's ready to help me kill this kid?"

[fluididentity]

writing is so fun

[fluididentity]

Imagine the Hashira pranking Gyomei by putting "Do Not Touch" in braille on something completely harmless

[fluididentity]

Pebble of a pillar—a baby mei mei fic based of @beddybites beby mei mei au—is finally up!

[fluididentity]

Hi

Lil lazy but I don't have much motivation so

[fluididentity]

haymitch saying “I don’t drink” hahaha so funny I have a gun in my mouth

[fluididentity]

CLICK FOR BETTER QUALITY

/////////

COMMS ARE OPEN

////////

Gyomei is finished!! Ngl i really liked drawing him in my style. I took the opportunity to experiment with lighting.

Comment if I should draw the other ashiras!

[fluididentity]

Chapter six is up now!! excerpt under cut :]

B O O M ! ! !

A shockwave came from the distance, accompanied by the familiar and ever so horrible smell of ash and fire. “Oyakata-sama!” Gyomei yelled, standing up with a splash, cold sweat on his forehead and tears in his eyes. His heart thumped loudly, being the only thing his hearing registered in his panic. Unconsciously, he reached for his morningstar behind him only to find nothing.

It's Muzan! Muzan Kibutsuji!

It- it couldn’t have been that… demon. Namu amida butsu. No, it was something else. Was it a volcano? It sounded… different. It was unlike anything of natural origin I'd heard before. Then what was it? Could it be someone else? It probably isn't a human, namu, but they might need help—even if it is just an animal!

Gyomei took the fish—a peace offering for whoever or whatever he found—and gathered his courage before going to the place of the explosion to put an end to the demon king go help any survivor.

[fluididentity]

Im gonna be so real can yall actually talk about ways we can support trans women in the UK instead of giving all the attention to fucking JKR. I already know that Harry Poter sucks, I wanna know how to actually HELP people. Something something you have to love the oppressed more than you hate the oppressor

[fluididentity]

This is the worst timeline. (x)

[fluididentity]

So, okay, fun fact. When I was a freshman in high school… let me preface by saying my dad sent me to a private school and, like a bad organ transplant, it didn’t take. I was miserable, the student body hated me, I hated them, it was awful.

Okay, so, freshman year, I’m deep in my “everything sucks and I’m stuck with these assholes” mentality. My English teacher was a notorious hard-ass, let’s call him Mr. Hargrove. He was the guy every student prayed they didn’t get. And, on top of ALL OF THE SHIT I WAS ALREADY DEALING WITH, I had him for English.

One of the laborious assignments he gave us was to keep a daily journal. Daily! Not monthly or weekly. Fucking daily. Handwritten. And we had to turn it in every quarter and he fucking graded us. He graded us on a fucking journal.

All of my classmates wrote shit like what they did that day or whatever. But, I did not. No, sir. I decided to give the ol’ middle finger to the assignment and do my own shit.

So, for my daily journal entries, over the course of an entire year, I wrote a serialized story about a horde of man-eating slugs that invaded a small mining town. It was graphic, it was ridiculous, it was an epic feat of rebellion.

And Mr. Hargrove loved it.

It wasn’t just the journal. Every assignment he gave us, I tried to shit all over it. Every reading assignment, everyone gushed about how good it was, but I always had a negative take. Every writing assignment, people wrote boring prose, but I wrote cheesy limericks or pulp horror stories.

Then, one day, he read one of my essays to the class as an example of good writing. When a fellow student asked who wrote it, he said, “Some pipsqueak.”

And that’s when I had a revelation. He wanted to fight. And since all the other students were trying to kiss his ass, I was his only challenger.

Mr. Hargrove and I went head-to-head on every assignment, every conversation, every fucking thing. And he ate it up. And so did I.

One day, he read us a column from the Washington Post and asked the class what was wrong with it. Everyone chimed in with their dumbass takes, but I was the one who landed on Mr. Hargrove’s complaint: The reporter had BRAZENLY added the suffix “ize” to a verb.

That night I wrote a jokey letter to the reporter calling him out on the offense in which I added “ize” to every single verb. I gave it to Mr. Hargrove, who by then had become a friendly adversary, for a chuckle and he SENT IT TO THE REPORTER.

And, people… The reporter wrote back. And he said I was an exceptional student. Mr. Hargrove and I had a giggle about that because we both knew I was just being an asshole, but he and the reporter acknowledged I had a point.

And that was it. That was the moment. Not THAT EXACT moment, but that year with Mr. Hargrove taught me I had a knack for writing. And that knack was based in saying “fuck you” to authority. (The irony that someone in a position of authority helped me realize that is not lost on me.)

So, I can say without qualification that Mr. Hargrove is the reason I am now a professional writer. Yes, I do it for a living. And most of my stuff takes authorities of one kind or another to task.

Mr. Hargrove showed me my dissent was valid, my rebellion was righteous, and that killer slugs could bring a city to its knees. Someone just needs to write it.

[fluididentity]

“I like it because it’s a two in one. What are raisins but grapes? What are grapes but wine? What is wine but blood?”

[fluididentity]