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.
I Met Human Teeth Guy Again, And Yes, He’s Still Mad That I Had To Call The Cops On Him.
This is 100% real and happened today, June 13th, 2025.
Long story long, I work at a printing and shipping company in a small town, and I run deliveries. I’m dropping off a box of envelopes we’ve printed and tell the guy he needs to sign the invoice. I’m jovial, he’s smiling, and he looks me dead in the eye.
“Do you recognize me?”
Uh…I’ve lived here a LONG time. I know a LOT of people.
I run down the list of people in my head he could be. Cashier? I haven’t been in a store since curbside became a thing. He looks vaguely like the guy who came to Evil Dead rehearsals drunk before the pandemic, but that’s not saying a lot. Probably a person I’ve done a project for at work.
He had a tight smile on his face and his fists were clenched as he offered the invoice back to me, so I assumed I’d had to give him bad news about a package at some point or I’d worked on a funeral poster for him.
“You look vaguely familiar,” I offered, “But I’m not super great with faces.”
“You called the cops on me.”
Holy.
Shit.
“Ah, I see.”
The two clients he was seeing when I walked in looked between the two of us as I snatched the invoice from his hand.
“Have a nice day.”
I book it to my car, because as soon as he said that, I remembered exactly who he was.
Human Teeth Guy.
Rewind to a year or so ago, this guy comes into my work with a box he wants to ship. It’s all normal, our new girl is practicing shipping and helps him out, no problems.
Until a little later when the whole office smells like weed.
PUNGENT. NAUSEATING. IMPROPERLY DISGUISED.
We have signage stating that we can look through suspicious packages. We have a shpiel we go through every time we take in a box.
“Does this contain alcohol, tobacco, firearms, illegal substances, exotic pets, small children, human remains, cash, or gift cards?”
We ask these things for a reason. Some things require special packing, some things you have to have a special license to send. Cash and gift cards aren’t insurable, so if they get stolen, there’s nothing we can do and I like to let people know.
Marijuana cannot be shipped through USPS. Some people think it’s fine because it’s legal in a lot of places now, but it’s not legal to ship through the post office.
So, I get myself in full view of the security camera and I pop the box to make sure that it’s not just a box that had weed in it at one point. There’s a bunch of random stuff, a shirt, some rolling papers, and a Sour Cream and Onion Pringles can with scotch tape on the lid.
Look, I hate this kind of thing. If you’re going to ship drugs, don’t ship them in something obvious. Peanut butter was classic for a reason.
I pull the tape off, because I have to lay eyes on it, and out plops into my hand a plastic bag filled with nugs…
And a bunch of human teeth.
At first, I thought they were just some weird rocks, I’ve shipped weirder stuff, but the bloodstained roots quickly corrected me.
So, look, I didn’t know what the legality was for shipping teeth at the time. All I knew what that I had a Pringles can FILLED with weed, pillow stuffing, and HUMAN TEETH.
I stopped my search at that point. I wasn’t going to mess with that. We have a pretty robust drug trade in our town, the boss’s rule is that if you find something that you’re not allowed to handle, you call the police to facilitate.
I’m not a fan of getting cops involved, when people try to ship things they’re not allowed to, I typically call them and have them come get their stuff. They’re not usually happy, but they’re happier than if I call the police.
Well, guess who gave us a fake number?
So, I call. I report the human teeth, the drugs, and the other paraphernalia, and I ask if they can deal with it because I certainly don’t want to. They say they’ll send an officer over to pick up the package.
A week passes. No cops. I’ve called twice since then. The place stinks and I have nowhere to put it that won’t spread.
I call again, I say I’ve had it a week, I’m unhappy, send someone to get the box.
“Okay, we have someone on the way.”
Great. I’ll believe it when I see it.
Minutes later, who comes in, scratching himself raw and baring his teeth at my poor girl at the counter, but human teeth guy?
God hates me.
He’s livid. His box was supposed to be there already. Why hasn’t it gotten there? Did we steal it? Did we steal his drugs?
She’s in tears, he sees his box on the holding shelf and starts having a fit.
Why do we still have it?! What the fuck is wrong with us?!
So, since I get to be the one who throws their weight around here, I send her to go calm down and explain.
No, we didn’t send it because it reeked and it was illegal to ship. No, we can’t give you back the package, the police have already been called, no I can’t let you behind the counter to just take it.
The girl who went to the back has called the non-emergency line again to tell them that Human Teeth Guy is here and he’s angry.
The cop is there in two minutes.
Human Teeth Guy is escorted out of the building, snarling and screaming that we have to give him back his stuff.
Cop talks to him outside.
Cop comes back inside.
“You called us about drugs?”
“I called because we can’t legally dispose of his drugs and I couldn’t get ahold of him, but also because there are teeth in the Pringles can.”
“Teeth?”
Cop looks at the teeth.
“Yep, those are human teeth alright.”
Human Teeth Guy didn’t look like he was missing any teeth and these didn’t look or feel fake.
“So…what do you want to do here?”
“I don’t want to cause problems, he didn’t do anything to make me want to press charges of any kind, but he made my employee feel unsafe.”
“Got it. I’ll tell him he’s not allowed back and if he does come back, charges will be pressed.”
I hand the box with all of its contents to the officer.
“Good luck to you.”
Cop leaves. We watch Human Teeth Guy walk away from the building. Cop comes back inside, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
“He doesn’t know where he got the teeth from.”
“What?”
“He says he doesn’t know where the teeth are from.”
Cop looks at me.
I look at him.
“If you see him around here, call us, okay?”
And that was the end, or so I thought.
It would hardly be worth commenting on this at all, we have seen a lot of WILD shit come through here, if it weren’t for where I saw him today.
Friends, tumblrs, countryfolks.
HE WORKS AT THE LOCAL FUNERAL HOME.
I guess I know where the teeth came from now.
But I have SO MANY MORE QUESTIONS.
And yeah, he’s still mad at me, which is exciting.
The situation with the wedding and Discord is soooooo good bc like, yeah if I was the main six and I found out my shy friend who is known to be a bit of a push over was getting married to someone who had been hiding their true identity and was actually a chaos god who tried to take over the world and put me and my friends through Hell, I’d not be happy either and probably think they did smth to my friend! And if they didn’t? I’d feel betrayed bc what do you MEAN you’re just gonna get with this guy who caused us all Hell and (since Twi doesn’t have wings here) was never pardoned of his crimes or apologized?! Girl he is an active danger! Did you KNOW that was him?! If not then why are you getting with someone who lied to you, if so bro again that’s a dangerous criminal god who mentally tormented all of us!
But all Fluttershy sees is her friends not being happy that she’s happy, so doesn’t see how BAD it looks from an outside view or how just because SHE forgave Discord doesn’t mean any of her friends have. She technically got off easy, Discord had to force her to be discorded, everyone else got manipulated into it and Twilight, who hung on the longest, had what were her first and closest friends ripped away from her and twisted into jackasses while the world was ending, and would’ve gone the same way if not for those letters.
If I were Twilight and I knew Fluttershy knew it was Discord and didn’t tell me, especially after the events of Canterlot Wedding if that happened in this canon, I’d be pissed and probably be having flashbacks to the time my brother almost married an evil bug queen impersonating my old foal sitter and no one believed me and I got trapped in a cave.
The anti social horse girls need to communicate damnit!
Perspectives are a funny thing, they change your entire worldview when you look at things through someone else's eyes.
Thalia grew up with soldiers, guards, gods as caretakers and is known to be quite stern, aware of all the dangers in the world, so became incredibly clever. A leader must be strong and do everything that she must for her followers even if it meant someone would hate you in the end. Seeing your own brother, being eaten alive by treacherous shifting locusts from a world unknown from your own, changes your worldview on things and makes you constantly on guard. She deals with her own curse, of being unable to fully express her feelings, never quite being...punctual, mayhap the queen ate it as punishment for her suspicions. Of course she'd feel weary over seeing the shifting waves of a man...? woman...? winged? horned? both? that never quite stays the same, woo your softest soldier.
However, Florence never experienced the beckoning of chaos, she simply admired the statue garden, the peaceful little butterflies and the delightful chaos that inhabited the maze. Admittedly a guilty pleasure, seeing oddities in nature made her wide eyed like a child with a new discovery. Unknowing of the prying eyes behind her, whispering untruths, doubts in her mind...that miraculously she ignored. A terrible understanding struck the god, no matter what'd they do, it would never even scratch the surface of her already clouded stormy mind, whatever they'd say, she'd already said it to herself, perhaps even in a worse way.
The sun and the moon were unaware of their escape, they laid low. Quiet. There was never a second event of unraveling madness, the sickness never started again. They didn't wish to be trapped again, so they never schemed up a plan for revenge, just made a funny labyrinth in the midst of nowhere, some come in sensible, some come out funnier. That was enough for the trickster, start an argument here, a sprinkle of shame there, a touch of greed, just enough to really make a bad day.
This...creature, intrigued them. Untouchable, unable to breach into her already loud pitiful mind. So they changed, first to a statue, then to a bush, to a harmless little butterfly, to only sit on her shadow, and rise as a woman, and speak to them, in this "Tacky little labyrinth! Filled with tacky statues! But by far, she was the tackiest thing there..."
With time passing, a mutual fascination grew...
Florencia did not pass the fact that there were now several people in her life that wanted to "chat", all different, but spoke in that same suspicious passive aggression, she thought, possibly a changeling perusing through the town she threw testing questions that only a previous stranger would know. It would only confirm that it was indeed, a little trickster that grew fond of the Winged Belle. With even more time passing discovering a more surprising truth...a god of chaos, struck with the arrow of Eros, cursed to love a mere honeysuckle in a sea of wildflowers.
The harmony guardians were unaware of such beast, Nightmares and Locusts sure, but the blood of chaos was so foreign to them. They just knew that their soft, admittedly miserable friend...was disappearing more than usual, didn't speak to them for days at a time, and came back happier...scarily wittier, and sharp-tongued. With a flush on her pale face, oh gods, she was in love. The taste of freedom, changed her to an unknown person. To her, it was everything, to them? It was eerie...admittedly suspicious.
Everyone had their good intentions, but no one spoke to each other, because...how could you? How could you possibly explain to your troupe that barely knows you, that you fell for a god.
Worse, that a god, fell for a sad little thing, like you.
There's something I'm interested about how in manga introduction section and every official data never state Shiba as Kunishige's or Rokuhira family's 'friend', 'guardian', 'bodyguard' or anything specific, but use 'close', 'associated', '付き合い' (old acquaintance, a long-standing relationship) instead.
付き合い (tsukiai) is flexible and layered word. It means to hangout, to keep company, to associate, or even to date/being in a relationship. They aren't wrong, it's neutral word but why use them when Chihiro already confirms he's Kunishige's old friend (古い友人) in chapter 1?
It's even more sus because Azami is 旧友 (old friend) of Kunishige and Shiba. This is very straightforward and clearly says they're friends. While for Shiba towards Kunishige and Chihiro, they use broader and more ambiguous term.
This could mean for Rokuhira's family, Shiba may not be just a family's friend, hence more flexible term for him. He could be a friend, uncle, father figure, guardian, family member, etc. As his relationship with the Rokuhiras have layers like friendship, loyalty, guilt, devotion, maybe love too, reducing it to 'friend' feels too shallow.
I get what autism is and how it can work but only really on a superficial level, I don't get it really cause I don't have it.
Autism is a consistent mismatch between how you mean to come across, and how you actually come across.
Autism is knowing and understanding every single cringe thing you've ever done, but only months after the fact.
Autism is finding out at 34 that expectations of eye contact doesn't mean stare directly and only into their eyes.
Autism is the fact that for every specific struggle an aspie has, there is another who excels at it, which only gets used to excuse why you deserve no compassion for your struggle.
Its the consistent self doubt related to every social interaction because you can't tell where lines are or why/when people are allowed to cross them.
Until you just flip flop between holding everybody at arms length so that you don't get in trouble for accidentally-ing a boundary and feeling so isolated watching other people figure out how and when to dip into more familiar/friendly territory with others and deciding to say fuck it to the anxious thoughts and randomly stumbling upon a friend who you can finally connect with on more than a superficial level in the mist of 5 people who are now creeped out by you and are trying to convince said friend to ostracize you.
But on a more literal level, Autism is a brain whos subconscious operates purely on flood gates.
Emotional situations will trigger seemingly no emotional reaction, unless the neurochemical strength hits past a threshold, and then it triggers all the emotional reaction.
Even the ability to read somebody else, some part of you sees the facial signs, but the signals produce no response, until they hit past a threshold, then they trigger a full and sometimes overwhelming response.
And because we can't read other people, we don't see what people can read into us, correctly or incorrect, which often gets us into trouble.
tl;dr: Imagine if your subconscious could only whisper so quiet you can't hear anything or scream so loud you can't hear anything else.
a bit of a personal ramble because fuck it, i’m posting whatever i want on here:
the past couple years have been some of the most difficult of my life. my mom being unexpectedly hospitalized twice, the worst creative burnout of my career, the grief of reading the news about palestine every day, deep rooted anxieties about not being good enough resurfacing at an all time high, and realizing i was unhappy around people i thought i’d love forever. without getting too dark, i’d never felt more hopeless.
but even through all of that, even with the state of the world right now and the impending doom of waking up each day, i think this might be the most fearless i’ve felt in a very long time.
i just want to be alive and create and build community and share a space where we all still feel hope for our world. and that’s what i’m going to do, through the fear, through all the shit of life, i’ll be here.
