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OMG I found it
The jmart.
#yes I'm still in an alternate reality but trust me this is more important
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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.
[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.
TL;DR: if you are incapable of receiving constructive or negative criticism of your written works, you are not ready to be published. If you go ahead with publishing despite knowing you cannot handle criticism, it is your responsibility to blacklist all relevant terms regarding your work, and not seek out or interact with reviews of *any kind* until you can regulate your emotions in a responsible, professional manner.
— @tstoker-londonfog
[The archives were always quiet at this time of night. Martin had told Jon when he’d be leaving a few hours after their whole makeout session, and he hadn’t seen Erik or Tim since the former had been kicked out of the romantic moment and the latter had stormed off, which meant he’d been plunged in the quiet for quite some time. As usual, Jon had stayed late to do extra work, but now he had the extra burden of trying to stop a certain somebody from getting himself killed. Inevitably, he jumped in shock when he heard something crashing in the archives after quite some time alone, a mumbled curse following the sound.]
“Fffucken’..” [He could barely hear a voice that sounded like Tim’s but significantly more slurred through the closed door of his office, followed by the sound of something else seemingly being stumbled right into.]
(Jon crosses his office and opened the door to the archives. After only a moment, he found Tim. Christ, he looked like shit. It’s not like Jon looked much better but still.) Tim? What are you still doing here?
this poll is for beings who need image descriptions and/or plain texts. this is not for beings who do not need those. if you do not need one or both of those then please don't vote, thank you.
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
when someone makes an ID/PT, do you prefer they write out what an emoji is, or just put the emoji? (like writing [bat emoji] vs 🦇)
needs IDs, i prefer they write it out
needs IDs, i prefer they put the emoji
needs IDs, i dont mind
needs IDs, it depends (please say in notes if you'd like)
needs PTs, i prefer they write it out
needs PTs, i prefer they put the emoji
needs PTs, i dont mind
needs PTs, it depends (please say in notes if you'd like)
needs both, i prefer they write it out
needs both, i prefer they put the emoji
needs both i dont mind
needs both, it depends (please say in notes if you'd like)
— @tstoker-londonfog
[The romantic moment was cut short by a loud slamming noise coming from the entrance of the house. A few more were heard, accompanied by muffled cussing, before the door was forced open and slammed against the wall. The sound of the footsteps that followed jolted both of them upright and out of their stunned silence, panicked at the thought that the situation might be getting worse, until they heard a familiar voice shouting from somewhere else in the house.]
“WHAT THE F-“
[Some stumbling could be heard, and a few moments later the door to the bedroom they were in flew open to reveal a sweaty, out of breath Tim still holding the handle.]
“Oh great you’re all here too.” [He huffed sarcastically] “Would anyone tell me what the everloving fuck is happening?! Why is Erik tied up in the kitchen?!” [Tim’s voice was a mix of anger and confusion as he shouted his questions. They were lucky that he even searched the house first before interacting with Alealani.]
"Ti- Tim?!" [Martin jolted back from Jon, red-faced.]
"What are you doing here?? What-"
[He took a deep breath.]
"That's not- Erik... Uh. Well, not exactly? Different- different Erik. Anyways, that one is dangerous so he's tied up. That's- Why are you here, Tim?"
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- @wakeful-nightly -
Saturday had finally arrived, and Noxie was an absolute ball of nerves from the moment he woke up. This - given his recent habits - was only an hour or two before he had to leave, but that was still plenty of time to be anxious.
He'd made sure he was looking presentable, wearing one of his favourite turtlenecks and opting for his nice coat rather than the puffer jacket he'd worn previously. He'd made sure to get a clean shave, and almost missed the Lioness because he'd been fixing his hair in Carpender's Park Station.
What Noxie didn't quite understand was... why this felt kind of important to him. Sure, he'd been looking forwards to it and was probably slightly overcompensating for their awkward encounter the week before, but there was something else there.
...
Was he developing a crush on her?
He pushed these thoughts from his mind as he stepped off of the 245 and made his way up Barn Rise. It was around 3:45 PM by the time he arrived at their discussed meeting place.
[Alealani arrived a bit early on purpose. She had a habit of running late otherwise, and being early was objectively better.]
[She also couldn't help but be a bit fancy, wearing a long plaid coat and a cream sweater dress accessorized with her favorite pearl necklace and some stockings. The pearls were probably a bit too much for normal people, but by the gods, she did not scour the ocean floor for those pearls just to never wear them.]
[When she spotted Noah coming her way, she waved him over with a friendly grin.]
"Noah! You made it! Hey!"
[She applauded herself for memorizing the poor guy's name. Oh fuck, please tell me his name is actually Noah and I didn't just spontaneously replace his name with someone else's name-]
Around early afternoon, an unfamiliar man came by the black walls of the temple. He wasn't hard to spot, dressed in a pair of loose, brown pants and a very noticeable, yellow linen shirt. It was cut simply, with long, wide sleeves and the bottom hem ending under his stomach. A simple material backpack hing over his shoulder. He was barefoot, seemingly not bothered by the harsh terrain as he inspected the cracking stone. He put a hand to it, the touch gentle. He'd decided to go somewhere else for his walk this weekend, and it looked like he'd struck gold.
"Sweet."
- @mushrooms-called
[Why is it that they never seem to notice when Sǫppr Kunungh is right behind them? It must be the natural camouflage that comes with being covered in rot in the middle of the woods. Still, you'd think they'd notice the smell of rotten wood.]
[Kunungh placed his hand upon Ethan's shoulder.] "Why, thank you. It's such an old temple, though we do try our best to maintain it..."
[Kunungh eyed the discoloration on Ethan's skin, and noted the white lines that traveled across it.] "I take it you've come to join us?"
((Doing the starter like this to let anyone respond.))
[Everyone had gathered around in the living/dining room to hear Erik recite his adventures. Once Erik caught everyone up on all the logistics of multiverse travel, and everything that had happened, he added on,] "Oh yeah. And I have cat ears now."
[Erik pulled down his hoodie and two curly-furred maine coon ears popped out.] "One of the anons gave them to me. I dunno how long they'll last, but they're cute, right?"
