have I ever mentioned that I love those randomly generated object oc sites
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Half-foots are highly discriminated against in the world of dungeon meshi.
They have a difficult time living in places outside of their own territories because places where larger races live aren’t built for their size and crowds can be dangerous.
they’re the least valued race by long lived races because their life spans are the shortest out of all the races. this means that they’re dehumanized and often considered disposable. their superior senses make other races use them as “lures” when hunting succubi/mermaids (usually dying in the process).
They’re often mistaken for/treated like children because of their appearances, and because of this they have a difficult time getting jobs because it’s assumed that they’re immature/can’t handle it.
Because of this, when living outside of Half-foot territories they’re forced to get money by any means necessary (often resorting to crime), so other races stereotype them as “cunning” “greedy” and “manipulative”.
On top of that, members of long lived races who tend to fetishize them.
Even the name “Half-foot” is discriminatory.
Ryoko Kui does a fantastic job at world building.
But even after all of that, im not gonna stop talking about how bad i wanna put Chi Chi in my pocket.
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cw: babies!!!! you’re also referred to as “ma” once
okay but like,,,,,first time dad Bakugou giving his baby their first bath after coming home!!! you’re fluttering around the kitchen, trying to make sure you have your daughters towel ready, her baby safe soap, a tiny washcloth, that her teeny tiny pajamas are in the dryer.
it’s only when you take a second to ask Bakugou something do you finally just—pause. your gaze instantly softens, a lovesick smile inching on your face as you watch your big buff pro hero husband hunch over the kitchen sink.
your daughter is resting in the baby bath seat, lilac colored and reclined back. she squirms when Bakugou lets the warm water run over her naked, fat little belly. her face scrunches at the new sensation, fists balling up against her chest. he coos at her, gentle,
“I know, ya little princess. Feels weird on ya, doesn’t it?” he asks her, voice so small under the running water. he cups his hand, holds a handful of water, tilts her fat cheek up to let it slide in her neck rolls that always smell like milk. she whines at that, sniffles and hiccups before she cries. you go to take a step forward, to console her, but Bakugou is so patient.
“It’s alright,” he kisses her tears away. “Daddy’s just tryna help you.” he runs the water all over her body, and paired with his softly spoken words, does she finally quiet after a few seconds. her little body trembles with the aftermath, pouty lips puffy and he can’t help but smooth his hand over the softness of her face.
“Yer a crybaby, just like your ma.” he whispers to her, grinning when that breaks you out of your stupor to smack him on the shoulder. you both laugh at that, and you finally feel the peace that is your little family. you lean against Bakugou’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his jaw before looking at your daughter again.
“You’re gonna be a great dad,” you mumble into his skin. he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his shuddering breath, and the calmness that blankets the rest of your house.
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Publishing has always been a fucking nightmare, but now it’s a layer of hell. It’s not enough that writers be good at what they do. Writers have to maintain an active social media presence and cultivate a following. Be available.
They have to be conventionally attractive enough to look good enough to see on a screen, aesthetically pleasing, kind, funny, up-to-date on trends, socially aware but not so controversial that they turn off a brand from California from slapping their discount code on a video promoting a book.
They have to do all of this with no media training, with little help from the companies that are supposed to be doing this for them.
Of course, a lot of this isn't possible for say, the 40-something mother of two who teaches English at a school and writes on the side. She’s boxed out of an already complex industry that already has enough walls.
On some level, I think authors have always marketed themselves a little, but we’ve reached such a crazy point where we’re demanding the author become the influencer. Accessibility in publishing has narrowed from an inch to a sliver. And that inch was hard enough to get in as is.
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