#plain text

The jmart.

[plain text: Friends, I cannot emphasize enough to you that the ability to accept criticism without flying off the handle is *critical* to your ability to be a published author. End plain text.]

If you cannot accept constructive criticism on your drafts, you are not ready to be published.

If you cannot accept negative reviews, you are not ready to be published.

If you cannot accept negative reviews without claiming that anyone who critiques your book is doing the equivalent of actively trying to suicide-bait you...

You are not ready to be published.

[Plain text: you are not ready to be published. End plain text]

If you cannot handle constructive criticism or negative reviews, and you still want to go ahead with publishing, you need to, at minimum:

* Use a penname completely unattatched to your person

* blacklist every. single. variation, acronym, character name, world setting name, author penname etc assosciated with your work on every single browser extension possible so you cannot come across critique of your work unless it is the most vaugely-worded post in the world.

* Completely get rid of / stay off of all social media for at least a few months after you publish your work

* do not look at reviews or discussions about your work

* if you want to get feedback but can't handle it directly, get a trusted friend, or hire someone to aggregate common compliments or complaints about the work that they can present to you in a calm, friendly setting, while you have something on hand to help you regulate your emotions.

* Legitimately: seek therapy to help you regulate your emotions, especially if you have (or suspect you have) autism, ADHD, BPD, NPD, etc that can make it harder to regulate your emotions, as our nervous systems tends to overreact *drastically* to negative feedback, and can make it feel like the whole world is crashing and burning down around your ears simply because someone left a review that *doesn't* view your work as some variation of god's gift to mankind perfection.

* If your first instinct to seeing critique of your published work is to immediately and publicly proclaim that anyone who thinks poorly of your work is

"Just [racist, queerphobic, ableist, xenophobic, etc] Because I, the author, am [insert minority here], and I included [ insert minority here] characters in my work!!!!! And also they want me to *dieeeeeee!* "

... you are not ready to be published.

He has charmed me with his feral vibe and love of poisons. I'm going to teach him about mushrooms and advise him on which ones you could have plausible deniability serving as food.

[When Alealani decided to go shopping for appropriate clothing for her date, she didn’t think she’d get interrupted in the store by someone tumbling out of a yellow door-that-wasn’t-supposed-to-be-there elevated onto the wall and straight into the clothing racks. The man let out a hiss of pain followed by a groan as he struggled at pulling himself up out of the now dishevelled clothing he was stuck between.]

“Argh- really?” [Are the actually coherent noises that came out of his mouth.]

[Somehow, Alealani ended up recognizing her friend in odder situation every time they met up.]

"Tim??" Alealani blinked in surprise, then glanced back at the door that hadn't been there before.

"What on Earth are you doing- here?? You know- In the clothing racks, but also- y'know- in this reality??"

[It had been a few days since Tim had had any interaction with his coworkers beyond a few shared glances when he arrived in the morning, which made it so he was minding his own business and doing some extra research when he felt his reality shatter. Literally. It started with a feeling of losing his balance and falling in place, before it turned into feeling like a massive vacuum was pulling at him from the inside and sucking him through the fabric of the world. The feeling got more and more intense it culminated in his falling through what felt like the walls themselves into a slim hallway with a singular yellow door at the end of it.]

“Eurgh- what the..” [Tim mumbled as he doubled over and tried to stop himself from throwing up from the shock of whatever the hell he had just experienced. Based on how Erik had described it, he assumed that he had just fallen into another dimension. Despite his better judgement, and since there was nothing else to do in this hallway, he got up and leaned against the wall to not fall back over, calling out towards the door.]

“Hello? Michael? Or uh, Helen, was it?”

With no response from any spindly figure, the yellow door creaked open. The sound dragged out and seemed to echo far too much for how narrow the hallway was.

- @engineered-desire

((This RP will be suggestive and/or NSFW. Highly suggestive or NSFW content will be below a cut.))

Rainbow took a seat on the examination table without addressing or acknowledging Micah in the slightest.

reblogs are much appreciated for reach, so feel free to reblog even if you don't need IDs/PTs!

ID = image description

PT = plain text

(That was until he finished reading a statement and looked over to the shelf next to his desk and spotted a spider. Of course, he decided he was going to kill it. He grabbed the closest thing to him— a stapler— as his weapon. Next thing he knew, the wall collapsed and he was running.)

(Thankfully, he made it to the storage room with only minor injuries.) Shit…

@head-archivist-jsims

((Badass Erik AU))

After a few minutes, Erik ended up rushing into the storage room as well, arms full of sustenance items he'd kept clutched close to his chest, chanting a stream of, "What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-" until he noticed Jon.

"Mr. Sims! You're alive! Are- are you okay?" He blinked a couple times to get used to the dark.

"Let me check you for worms. I don't think I was in there long enough to get any on me, but I'll check my legs too."