#it's less important than the printer though

[altruistic-meme]

was gonna buy my printer at the end of November as a treat for myself for doing nanowrimo but then I had the thought that like.

if I could print out a paper, then I could hang it in my fridge and keep track of my word counts throughout the month on the paper.

but that would require the printer BEFORE nanowrimo. so I'm gonna see if i can't buy one after work. Hdjajfjd

[headkiss]

steady hand

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: probably very inaccurate descriptions of r’s job (it’s for the plot, okay??), shy!reader, a very small injury description, yearning (?), first kiss, fluff !!!

a/n: hiiiii this is my very first hotch fic (gasp) so i hope i did okay!!! i’m excited to be writing for him and i have enjoyed it so far and i hope you will too!!! please please let me know what you think and if you’d want to see more of him from me <33

༄

People are usually impressed when you tell them you work at the BAU.

Which, you won’t lie, is something to be proud of, but their first thought is always that you’re doing something big and solving cases. They ask you if you were there when this case was solved or when that killer was caught.

Then there’s the nodding and dissipation of their excitement when you explain that you work a desk job there. Organize files, write reports, that sort of thing. That is a lot less impressive to most.

You’re no Agent Morgan, or Dr. Reid. Certainly no Agent Hotchner or Prentiss. Instead of being on the field, you spend your time fighting with a printer.

Getting the papers you needed should have been simple, a quick in and out that would have you back hiding behind your desk in minutes. Of course, the universe or something must be against you, because instead, you’ve spent at least twenty minutes trying to figure out what’s wrong.

It isn’t jammed (you’ve checked about five times to be sure) and you’re not educated in printers enough to know how to fix whatever’s going on. You’re just lucky nobody else has needed it yet.

“Come on,” you mutter, trying to pull it away from the wall to get a better look.

You’re sure there’s stress sweat building on your forehead. The last thing you want to do is ask someone for help, to make yourself too visible in this place full of important, intimidating people. You’d rather struggle on your own for now.

You make sure that the thing is plugged in (it is) and then check if it’s jammed. Again.

“Piece of shit,” you’re mumbling at the thing, leaning over it looking for anything out of place.

That’s when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. The sound has you jumping, your knuckles smacking against the wall where your hand had been wedged between it and the printer. You turn around to find Agent Hotchner.

He’d been walking by the printer room when he heard the grumbled curse words. Peeking inside, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find you fussing over the printer. He bit back a chuckle before making his presence known.

You tug your skirt down where it’d ridden up, fiddling with the hem as you try to push down your embarrassment. Of course he’d be the one to see you, in his crisp suit and all. He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely. You swallow and try not to look at his biceps.

“Sorry, sir. The printer doesn’t seem to be, um, printing.”

“I’m assuming that’s why you were fighting with it.”

You fight a wince, “you heard that?”

“Heard what?” He asks, though by the twitch of his lips, you know that he’s well aware of what you’re talking about. He then gestures at the cause of your issues behind you, “it’s not jammed, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t when I checked, at least.”

You’re trying not to act as nervous as you are. You don’t think you’ve ever really spoken to Agent Hotchner, save for small ‘hello’s and that one time you apologized for bumping into him. He’s handsome—you’ve always thought so—and, more importantly, he’s basically your boss.

“Let me take a look,” he says, walking over. You step aside, staying out of the way.

“It’s alright,” you start as he looks over it, “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than fix a printer, sir.”

Hotch’s eyes flick over to where you stand, a hand still fiddling with the hem of your skirt, your hair a little messy, your eyes a little wide and worried. You look pretty, he thinks. And sure, he does have things he should be doing instead of trying to fix this printer, but he doesn’t really care.

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you.

He looks back to the printer, and he seems pretty convinced about trying to help, so you drop it.

While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to look at his profile. The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched a little in focus. It’s unfair, you think, for him to be smart and brave, and be so good-looking on top of it all.

Like he’d heard your thoughts, felt your gaze, he looks over at you again. You turn your eyes toward the floor quickly.

It’s a couple of minutes before anyone speaks. You, staring at the carpet until your vision goes a little fuzzy. Hotch, pushing buttons and flicking switches trying to figure out whatever was going on with the damn printer.

Then, the sound of the ink swiping over the pages, the papers spitting from the printer. You look over at it, mouth slightly parted. What can’t he do?

The sound of your name has your eyes snapping up to his. It’s yet another surprise, him knowing your name. You’re not that important, in the grand scheme of things at the BAU, in the world, really. Someone meant to stay hidden in the background. And still, he knows your name.

“It should be fine now,” he says, grabbing your papers from the cartridge and handing them to you as he stands up straight. “Let me know if it gives you trouble again.”

You grab the pages from him slowly, still shocked at the whole exchange. Your fingers brush against his as you do. “I- Thank you, sir.”

He nods, moving towards the hall. He pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you. “Hotch is fine.”

“Sorry?”

“You keep calling me ‘sir.’ You don’t have to. Just Hotch is fine.”

“Right. Sorry, sir- I mean, Hotch,” you test it out. “Thank you again.”

Yes, Hotch thinks, he likes you saying his name a whole lot more. He sends you a kind smile, “no problem.”

Hotch walks away, probably towards his office where he has very important things to do. Stuff that was surely delayed because he paused to help you. You stare at the doorway for a minute, until you give yourself a papercut and look down at it.

Aaron Hotchner knows who you are.

-

You’re two shitty coffees deep so far, your report open on your desk, the typing bar blinking on the screen of your computer.

There’s pages to go, though you’re not sure how many. You’ve been doing the sort of mindless, robot typing you do when you’re tired. When you’re preoccupied with trying not to glance in the direction of Hotch’s office.

The team got back sometime last night, long after you’d already gone home. From somewhere in Indiana, you think. You’re not sure how they do it, flying about and still coming into the office. You’re tired and you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been on a plane. Add the crime fighting and you’d be a goner.

Blinking yourself from your thoughts, you look back at the blank pages spread out in front of you. It’s not unusual for you to be missing pieces that you need to complete things, it’s just inconvenient. You always end up having to ask someone for the files you need, and then you feel like a burden.

It’s stupid, but in a place full of important people, it’s easy to feel like you’re just in the way.

Anyway, it’s your job, so you push away from your desk and stand, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your first thought is to go to Reid. As far as friendship goes, you’d consider yourself closest to that definition with him. He’s also the least intimidating of the bunch, probably because you see the most of yourself in him.

You find him in the kitchen with Agent Jareau, both holding their own mugs, probably filled with the same coffee as the one that sits on your desk. You knock gently on the door even though it’s open.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if either of you have the files from that case you worked a couple weeks back. The one in Ohio,” you shuffle on your feet under their gaze. “I need them for this report.”

“Hey,” Reid speaks first, smiling kindly, “I don’t remember keeping them, but I can double check in my desk if you would like.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll find them somewhere.”

You’re about to head out the door when Agent Jareau stops you, “wait, I’m pretty sure Hotch has them. I can go ask him for you.”

It’s silly to feel nervous talking to them, especially when nobody’s ever been anything but nice to you. A little bit of the twist in your gut comes undone.

“No, no. I’ll go ask him if he isn’t busy, thank you though.”

“You should be fine, the door’s open,” she tells you.

You nod, sending the both of them a smile you hope doesn’t look awkward. “Thanks again.”

Their voices picking up their conversation follow you out the door. You cross the space, saying small ‘hello’s to Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss when they greet you. You try to ignore the prickle of eyes on you as you climb the steps and head to Hotch’s office.

His jacket is draped across the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms. It’s probably the most disheveled you’ve ever seen him, and he’s only missing a single layer. You look away from his arms when he says your name.

Hotch had his head bent, looking over a case when he’d heard footsteps, and he’d been glad to find you standing in his doorway. You work in the same place, yet he barely sees you. That’s probably why something lightens in his chest every time he does. The rarity, that’s all.

“Is this a bad time?” You ask.

“Not at all,” he leans back in his chair, “what can I do for you?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, sir-”

“Hotch,” he reminds gently. His voice is easy, a hum that you think would sound good no matter what he was saying.

“Right, sorry. Hotch. I was just looking for some files that I need from a case you guys had for this report.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

Then, he smiles in that way that Aaron Hotchner so often does. A small twitch of his lips, a lift in the corners. One that you probably wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t paying so much attention. One that feels sort of like a gift.

You shake your head at yourself and elaborate, “the Ohio case. Three weeks ago, I think. I asked Agent Jareau, but she said you had them, so…”

Hotch wants to reassure you, but he’s not sure how to do it without standing up and letting himself grab your hand and squeeze it the way he’d like. And he can’t do that, not when you’re already nervous. Not when he’s not sure he could hold back after one touch.

“It’s no problem,” he opens one of his drawers, flips through folders until he finds what you’re looking for.

He stands up and walks around his desk until he’s in front of you, and he lets his gaze flick over your face while he has the chance. Your eyes find his easily, and you hope he can’t hear the catch in your breath.

Aaron isn’t usually so quiet with his affections, but that’s because he’s never found himself feeling this way at work. He wishes your desk was on his way to his office, just so he’d have an excuse to stop and talk to you. He makes sure never to use your favorite mug from the cupboard, just so you’ll be more likely to have it.

Hotch clears his throat, “here they are.”

He holds up the folder between you, his hand holding it loosely, the other hanging by his side. His fingers twitch.

You’re embarrassingly distracted by his exposed forearms, eyes trailing from his hand to the skin of his arm, to the way his shirt is tight where the sleeves are rolled. Then, it’s the color of his tie today, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.

His hand reaching for yours is enough to erase everything else. He lifts it and places the folder in your hold for you. Your skin burns even when he pulls away.

“You alright?” He asks. Probably because you’d been staring at him like a weirdo.

Get it together.

“Yeah. Yes, sorry. Just sort of spacey today, I guess.”

When you look back to his face, there’s nothing but a sort of softness in his eyes you can’t identify. He smiles at you, and for the second time, you feel like you’ve won something.

“Is that what you needed?” He asks.

You open the folder and peek inside. You find exactly what you’d been looking for, not that you’re surprised. Hotch knew what you’d meant and you didn’t doubt that.

“It is. Thank you, Hotch,” you grin lightly when you get that part right. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way.”

Hotch says the words like he’d known you needed to hear them, like he’d known what runs through your mind so often, like he can read you. He probably can, you think. He is a profiler after all.

Still, the words make your heart do a stupid little jump.

“I’ll bring them back when I’m done,” you say.

“No rush. They’ll just be going back in the drawer anyway.”

“Well, thank you again.”

“It’s no problem, really.”

Hotch watches you walk back to your desk with your head down. Looking at the folder in your hand, he thinks, at least it’s an excuse for you to come see him again.

-

Hotch isn’t in his office when you return the files.

Since you can’t thank him in person—assuming he’s off with the team somewhere saving lives—you leave a sticky note on top of the folder. You drop it on his desk and leave before you second-guess yourself and rip the note off.

You can’t help but think that the office feels sort of empty without the team there. Without Hotch there. It’s how it is most days, so you’re not sure why the absence feels so present now. You shake it off.

The day passes by, then your drive home, and the rest of your night, too. Through it all, you can’t stop wondering what Hotch is doing, wherever he is. Hoping he’s safe.

You’re certainly not expecting to see him the next day, back so soon, but you can’t say you’re upset about it. It’s a brief glance, him walking into his office, the rest of the team and their chatter following, but it’s enough to make your work seem less tiring for some reason.

It was a quick case, and Aaron was glad to at least get a couple of hours of sleep in before coming into the office. When he sits at his desk, the first thing he notices is the folder you’ve left there. The small note in your handwriting.

‘Thank you :)’

He peels the note away and folds it up. Without thinking, it ends up tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s a simple piece of paper, but it’s heavy where it sits. He rubs a hand over the pocket where the note is and gets to work.

It’s not until a couple of hours later that Hotch ends up leaving his office. Conveniently, in the direction of your desk.

You’ve been burying yourself in your work, your leg bouncing nonstop, your nose inches away from the pages on your desk, your chair pushed in as close as it’ll go. You have to, because if you take a break, if you look away, your eyes will search for Hotch, and you don’t really want to think about what that means right now.

About the ache in your chest when he’s gone, the urge to go ask him a stupid question just to talk to him. It’s awful.

The pen you’re using suddenly runs out of ink, and it makes you pause long enough to feel a cramp in your hand. You sit up and huff, pulling your drawer open and digging around for another pen. Your name in Hotch’s voice has you shutting the drawer and spinning quickly.

It’s just your luck that your shirt gets caught, that the sound of the rip is too loud to play off or ignore.

“Oh gosh,” you whisper, looking down at the damage.

It’s a cheap shirt, you shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s worse than you’d expected. This is what you get for sitting so damn close. The side seam is split, and if you move too much, your bra would probably be visible.

“This is so embarrassing,” you say, holding the rip shut with one hand and holding the other on your forehead. Of course this would happen to you in front of him.

Aaron’s eyes hover where your skin had been exposed, even now that you hold your shirt shut, wondering if it’d feel as soft as it looks. He can’t even remember what he came over to do or say.

He swallows and looks at your face, “do you have another?”

You shake your head, still hiding behind your hand, “no. I really, really wish I did, though.”

“I have an extra one in my go bag. If you’d like?” He hears himself say the words, and he doesn’t regret them, necessarily, but it’s clear to him that you mess with his brain. He doesn’t think straight where you’re involved.

You peek up at him, dropping your hand to your side. “Are you sure? I could probably just use some paper clips, or something.”

“Nonsense. I’ll go get it, okay? I’ll bring it to the bathroom so you can change.”

“You don’t have to-”

Your name leaves his mouth again, gentle but firm. “I’ll grab it.”

“Okay.”

You speed-walk over to the washroom and walk in, closing the door only to block out the rest of the office, who surely noticed what just happened. You’re probably never gonna live this down.

Your overthinking doesn’t get very far, because after only a minute, Hotch is knocking on the door.

“It’s just me,” he says. ‘Just,’ like that word could ever be used to describe him. “You can just open the door a crack and I’ll pass the shirt through.”

You do as he says, tugging the door open until you can see a white dress shirt (of course) in his hand. You reach out and he hands it to you easily.

“Thank you, Hotch. I’ll wash it and give it back, I promise. Sorry for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, closing the door.

His shirt is wrinkled from being packed in his bag, and the sleeves are long when you put it on, but it smells like him and isn’t ripped so you really can’t complain. You roll the sleeves and tuck the bottom into your pants, looking in the mirror to make sure you look at least a little bit put together.

Holy shit, you think. I’m wearing Aaron Hotchner’s shirt. What world have you been living in recently? To be interacting with him more often, to be feeling this sick skip in your heartbeat whenever you do.

You toss your ripped shirt in the garbage, look up, and huff out a breath before leaving the bathroom. You’re surprised to see Hotch still standing there.

“Oh,” you nearly bump into his chest when you walk out the door, but the warmth of his hand on your shoulder steadies you. “I didn’t know you were still there, sorry.”

“You don’t need to say sorry so much, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You’re dreaming, surely. You pinch yourself on the inside of your arm, just in case. You don’t wake up.

“I- um,” you’re fumbling for words because he’s standing there, looking at you softly, calling you ‘sweetheart’ in that voice of his.

Aaron doesn’t know where that came from, but he’s said it and it’s happened. With the way he thinks about you, how often he does, he can’t really be surprised. Besides, seeing you get flustered because of him is absolutely worth it.

“I wanted to thank you for getting those files back to me so quickly.”

Your eyes flick over to his arm, and it’s then he realizes that his hand is still on your shoulder. He pulls it away and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s probably imagining it, but he swears his palm is tingling.

You wipe your hands over your thighs, “right. It was no problem, really. I was mostly done with my report, so… Thanks for giving them to me.”

“I’m glad to be able to help,” he says. Then he walks back to his office.

You’re standing in front of the bathroom for what’s surely an odd amount of time. Even back at your desk, you can’t shake the haze you feel, a pink tint to your vision, a flutter in your gut.

You spend the rest of your day with your nose buried in the collar of Hotch’s shirt, avoiding the gazes of your coworkers around you.

Aaron spends the rest of the day thinking about how you looked in his shirt. About how you’d look in it and nothing else. He drags a hand over his face when that pops into his head.

“You good, boss?” Morgan asks from the doorway.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t miss the knowing smirk on Morgan’s face.

-

It’s very rare that Aaron leaves work at a reasonable time. So rare that he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t the last person there.

He’s used to the late nights, the empty spaces, deserted desks. Even so, it’s nice to finish up earlier than he’d expected. He looks forward to the extra sleep he’ll get, the longer time frame to decompress.

Leaving work early already felt like a small victory for the day, and he feels like he’s won something bigger when he sees you in your car, still in the parking lot.

You’d left maybe twenty minutes before Hotch, though you’d assumed he’d be leaving hours after you like he usually does. Everything was fine, normal as you bid your goodbyes to your desk neighbors, as you rode the elevator down.

The sun has started setting, and the air gets cooler as it sinks. You fish your car keys from your bag and unlock it, getting in quickly and tossing your bag onto the passenger seat.

You like your job, sometimes you love it, even, but you look forward to going home either way. You think about the warm shower you’ll take, the shitty dinner you’ll end up eating. Your lonely plans are ruined as you twist your car key in the ignition, it sputters and doesn’t start.

“No, no. Come on,” your head falls back, you huff and take the key out.

You try again, and still, no luck. And again, and once more until you’re fed up with it and drop the keys in your lap. Your head is dropped against the steering wheel, allowing yourself a moment of dramatics from your defeat.

A knock on your window startles you upright. Your heart races for reasons other than fear when you look at who it is.

Hotch stands outside, leaning towards your window with a scrunch in his brows. When he catches your eye, he steps back from your door and gives you room to open it and step out.

You shut your car door behind you and lean your back against it, “hi.”

“Hi. Sorry to scare you, but I wanted to check that you were alright?”

“It’s okay,” your arms are folded behind your back, your hands twisting. “Um, it’s nothing, just some car troubles.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I guess not. It won’t start for some reason. I don’t know.” If he wasn’t standing right there, you’d probably smack yourself for how unsure you sound. “You keep catching me at the worst times, Hotch.”

He disagrees. Aaron can’t think of a time where seeing you could ever be a bad thing.

“You’re fine,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, “trust me.”

Despite the bite of the wind outside, the way he speaks warms you. He’s so honest in the way he speaks, in the sense that he sounds sure, even if it isn’t necessarily vulnerable. You don’t know how he does it.

A small smile spreads on your face before you can stop it, “okay, good. And thank you for checking on me. I’ll just call a cab and figure this out tomorrow.”

There’s no way he can let you take a cab. It’s obvious that with what he does, the things he sees, he’d rather know for sure you’d be safe getting home. But then, there’s the sort of floating feeling he has when he’s around you, one he’d like to feel for a little longer if he could.

“Let me drive you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll be fine.”

He ducks his head a little, catches your eye and holds you with that soft gaze of his. “Please, it’s not a problem. For my peace of mind.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, really. You’d much rather sit in a car that probably smells like him than in the back of a cab that smells like sweat.

“For your peace of mind, then. That’d be great.”

You grab your bag from your car before following Aaron to his, where he opens the passenger door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before shutting it. He jogs around the front of his car and gets in.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks, starting his car. The radio hums softly through the speakers, and Hotch reaches over to turn on the heating when he catches you shivering a little.

You tell him your address, “you don’t have to drive me if it’s out of your way, Hotch. I mean it.”

“It isn’t out of my way,” he assures you, and he could easily be lying, but you accept it anyway.

It’s quiet for a little bit, besides the odd question from Aaron for which way to turn. You take the chance to look at him as he drives, his hands on the wheel, the street lights hitting his face. Your head lulls against the seat.

“You’re finished earlier than usual today,” you say. “Not that I know your schedule, or anything, I just-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, a smile spreading. It’s wider than what you’ve seen at work, unguarded enough to show his teeth. It’s really pretty. “It’s alright. It’s work I can be doing at home.”

“That’s good. A change of scenery, at least.”

“Exactly.”

You’re not sure what it is that feels different now, in the car. Maybe it’s because it’s only you and him, no prying eyes in the office, no concerns about what this is, what’s allowed. It might only be you, that feels this sort of spark with him, fizzing i’m the air between you. Either way, you’ll soak it up for the duration of the ride to yours.

Maybe that’s why you’re saying, “you know, I always thought you didn’t even know who I was. Until the printer thing.”

Aaron peeks over at you, leaned in his passenger seat. You look like you belong there, like there’s always been a spot for you in his life. Even when you’d started at the BAU, when he first saw you, he felt like it was right that you were there.

Hell, he’d asked Garcia who you were and has had your name in the back of his head since.

“I’ve always liked you,” he admits. He doesn’t say he’s always known you. Liked.

“Really?” You can’t help but ask. Someone like him even noticing you seemed unfathomable. But liking you? He’s gotta be lying.

“Really. Even when you were bumping into me.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. You were looking down at the ground, walking like you were being timed. And you had on this light pink sweater.”

Your eyes go wide, focused on his face. You had been wearing a light pink sweater that day. And he remembers all of that? You think, if you looked at yourself in the mirror right now, your eyes would be in the shape of hearts, pulsing in your pupils.

“I can’t believe you noticed all of that.”

“I notice a lot of things,” he says.

Aaron has always had his guard up around new people, has always made himself more serious at work than anywhere else. Then you came along and he had to fight to keep things that way. It makes sense that the minute he sees you outside of work his walls would crumble to dust.

It was inevitable, really.

“I’ve always liked you, too.” Then, before he can say anything, you point at your building, “it’s this one here.”

The car rolls to a stop slowly, his turn signal flashing as he pulls over by the entrance of your apartment building. He puts the car in park and turns to you fully.

“Thank you for driving me.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out before he can really think about it, fingertips featherlight over your cheekbone, sliding over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then, like it was never there, he pulls back. There’s a glow in his fingers where they’d brushed your skin, golden.

It matches the one you feel on your cheek, sparkling.

“Get in safe, okay?”

“It’s a few feet from here to the front door, Hotch. I’ll be alright.”

He huffs softly, twin smiles on your faces. Lovesick and shy, nervous and pink-hazed all at once.

“For my peace of mind,” he says.

“Fine, then. Your peace of mind,” you reach for the door handle, tugging it and pushing the door open. You look at Hotch again, like you can’t get yourself to stop. “Thanks again.”

“See you, sweetheart.”

“Bye.”

You step out and head to your door, turning around before walking inside to give him a wave. Aaron grins and waves back, watching you walk inside.

He stays parked by the curb until he sees a light flick on a couple of floors up.

-

+1

There’s a reason that Hotch is Unit Chief. He thinks quickly, keeps his head straight even with what he deals with every day. There’s also a reason his leadership has been questioned before, but never revoked.

He can be reckless, throwing himself into situations when he knows he probably should’ve waited for backup. This time, it only got him a split eyebrow and a few stitches. It’s been worse; this is nothing.

It is, however, proving to be an inconvenience. He’d gotten stitched up in the ER of whatever hospital was closest to where the team had caught their unsub. It had to be quick, from the hospital straight to the jet.

They’d told him to clean it up again and put a new bandage on it when he got back, which is what he’s trying to do now, in his office, with his laptop’s grainy camera as a mirror. He has the supplies the hospital gave him on his desk, but he can’t really see what he’s doing, and the task is taking much longer than he’d like.

His hands are a little shaky from the adrenaline of his day, and every time his arm comes up to reach his stitches, it blocks his view.

Then, he sees you walking up to his office.

Usually, you’d already be home by now, but you’d been yourself and messed up some of your paperwork, so you had to stay late to re-do it. When you catch sight of Hotch in his office, you’re not so annoyed with yourself.

You notice the things on his desk, the blood on the front of his shirt. Your feet carry you to his doorway easily. Last time you’d really spoken to him was that night in his car, and ever since, there’s been something boiling, a noticeable shift.

You tap your knuckles on his open door twice, “you okay?”

He gives up on dealing with his cut and looks at you instead, the slightly rumpled state of your clothes from a long day, the smile you wear that doesn’t exactly hide the concern in your eyes, the light from the hallway a halo around you. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m alright. Just can't seem to do this right,” he says, gesturing to his eyebrow.

“Do you need help?”

Aaron has never been one to accept help easily, always one to do things on his own. But, when you’re offering so sweetly, when your help means your hands on his skin, how could he ever say no?

“That would be great.”

He pushes his chair back to give you room to stand in front of him. Your legs between his, leaning against the edge of his desk. His knees bump into the sides of your legs, little bursts of the kind of warmth sunlight emits on skin.

You reach for the wipes first, holding them in one hand and reaching up to his eyebrow, the other grasping his chin gently to keep his head steady.

His hand reaches up to hold your elbow. It could so easily be innocent, be almost nothing, but it feels like more. His thumb running back and forth, your face close enough to his to have your breaths mingling. It really feels like more.

“You’re here late,” he says, low and quiet.

“Spilled coffee all over my work. Had to start over. Can you believe it?” You speak just as quietly, eyes flicking from his cut down to his, just for a second.

“I can, actually. You’re sort of clumsy.”

“Hey!” He’s right, of course, but the warm chuckle he lets out is worth your dramatic gasp.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he assures you, squeezing your elbow. “I think it’s cute.”

“Well, thank you, then.”

You set the wipe aside and reach for the bandage next, placing it over his eyebrow and smoothing down the edges with a light touch. When you’re done, you pull back but don’t go far. Your hands fall from his face to grasp the edge of his desk instead.

“All done,” you say.

Aaron’s hands have shifted to your waist. His touch is so delicate, but you’d never ignore it. It might as well be bruising, the way his hands affect you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Hotch.”

Now would be the time to walk out the door, to say ‘goodnight’ and head home, but you’re in no hurry. Not when his eyes are shining in the dimmed light of his office, soft and practically melting.

They seem to beckon you closer, and though you don’t have a reason this time, your face ends up near his, noses almost touching. It’s as far as you go, afraid you’re misreading things, afraid you’ll be wrong about this.

Hotch closes the space for you.

His chin tilts up, his mouth catching yours softly at first. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips slightly chapped and completely perfect against yours.

You think your knees might buckle, so you put your hands on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his skin, like you’re trying to make sure he’s real. You’re not sure how you manage to kiss him back but you do, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when you push back.

The kiss doesn’t deepen, but it doesn’t have to. You can feel plenty in it already.

It’s not long before Hotch pulls away, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to look up at you. He removes one of your hands from his shoulder and holds it in his.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he says, his thumb running over your knuckles.

You look down at your feet, at his legs next to yours. The hand still on his shoulder falls to your side, suddenly feeling nervous.

“You’re right, I’m so-”

“But,” he stops your apology before you can say it. As if you’d ever need to apologize for kissing him. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime. If you’d want that.”

You look back at his face, eyes searching. He smiles so softly at you, it’s the kind of smile you could only ever give someone you like in this way. Someone you like enough to kiss.

“I’d really like that, Hotch.”

“Good,” he stands, but his hands don’t leave you. “And sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Call me Aaron.”

When you test it out, he’s sure of it; his name on your lips is his absolute favorite sound.

༄

thank you so much for reading!!! please please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it helps a whole bunch more than you’d think and would mean a lot!! <3

[victusinveritas]

Writing advice from Nick Mamatas.

Some science fiction/fantasy creative writing students I have encountered, a field guide

1. World-Savers: these are generally older students, have no real interest in SF/F, are writing a book to express political or metaphysical ideas they consider to be radical and necessary for the future of life on Earth. In reality, they're writing long Platonic dialogues about their ideas, and authority from various culture and pop culture tropes (aliens, noble savages, fairies, resurrected presidents)–to the extent that their work has a plot at all, it involves a Christ figure transforming the world via a sacrifice. The ideas aren't very radical either: "pollute less" and "love your neighbor, unless they're a dick" are common. Occasionally the message for the world has to do with something more prosaic: reverse budgeting, the evils of Affirmative Action, the importance of installing solar panels, how dare Eileen divorce me and fuck like three guys in the six months after she moved out, etc. These students are utterly confused by actually existing SF/F stories they read, and often interpret them in bizarrely sexual ways. They don't believe in numbering the pages of their manuscripts, and often attempt to submit work in PDF so it won't be stolen.

2. Children with Money: recent college grads, or drop-outs, these people have read Harry Potter, Twilight, and perhaps three or four other best-selling young adult series and nothing else. They are easily upset, especially when someone suggests reading more. Their main interests are YouTube personalities, video games, and a sort of Puritanical pansexuality that actually makes smut boring. They often "forget" to read the work of other students, and have no idea how to use a printer. They warn the other students that their story might be "too intense" because it contains, for example, a depiction of a car accident. Their stories are routinely awful, and always contain a character named "Aidan." Sometimes their parents come to class to make sure I am "not a serial killer", as though they could possibly tell from looking at me. (Oh, "Mamatas" IS a white person name...I guess?)

3. Anointed Ones: They contact me, or the people running the workshop, beforehand, to make sure that "the class is right" for them. They have file cabinets full of their stuff, and after many decades of toil, they are ready to reveal their work to the world. They just need a mentor, and an ally—could I be the one they've been searching for lo these many years? Prior workshops were full of callow teachers and jealous students. Why they were only allowed to submit ten pages a week! Some of them have actually read fairly widely, but you wouldn't know it from their work: three adjectives per noun, a fetish for speech tags other than the word "said" or no tags at all. Often these stories include as characters philosophical prostitutes with very sensitive nipples. They never miss a class and often show up more than thirty minutes early. One time, I had to hide in a closet to avoid an extensive pre-class conversation with one.

4. Frightened Proles: These have read Stephen King and Dean Koontz and sometimes even horror writers from this century. They generally have working-class jobs and write about working people who encounter the supernatural on the late shift. They really hope they can sell their novel soon, but they know it'll take a lot of work. (Ten more drafts oughta do it!) They wear baseball hats to class and look like enormous eight-year-olds. They get very excited when I mention professional wrestling or do a taiji move in class. Their significant others are often nameless—"my girlfriend" "my wife." They buy my books and bring them to class for autographs. Some of them get published after, especially flash fiction.

5. Repairables: decent writers, often involved in the SFF "scene", who need to be fixed after a bad experience with Clarion or another workshop or an overeager editor at a semipro magazine who told them some idiot nonsense they decided to believe because they were told it was "unprofessional" not to consider editorial feedback. These either get published...or lost to MFA programs, video game jobs, fandom, podcasts, or other writing-shaped pursuits. Most of them are ferocious name-droppers; the ones who heard of me beforehand know to keep quiet though.

[strangebiology]

Myths about Traditional Publishing

Now that I'm in the book-writing world I see a LOT of anti-trad publishing posts. They usually have some nonsense in them so I'm going to address these myths/misrepresentations.

I’m NOT trying to say everyone should trad publish. In fact, I actually suggest people without significant writing experience not write a book at all until they get experience. You asked. If you want to write something faster without any editors and you're okay with doing a lot more work per sale, or if you haven't published anything shorter than a book, I DO recommend self-publishing to you (or, re-thinking why you want to write a book.) Just make sure you’re making your choice without influence from misinfo! 

🚫 “Traditional Publishing means less money because your royalty is less!”

✅Your royalty is less but every one of these anti-trad posts misses the very important financial reality that traditional publishers sell your book widely, meaning more sales without work on your end, and more importantly: the ADVANCE! Yes, trad writers get money before a single book sells! On average most traditionally published books make WAY more than self, even though there are very rare stories of financial success among the portion of self-published authors who are very talented and hard-working.

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you have to pay it back!”

✅BS. Money DOES NOT flow from the writer to the publisher in trad pub. Not even if you sell zero books. As the royalties come in, they initially start flowing to refill the advance that the publisher lost, and they go to the writer once that is refilled. The writer is happy because they already have their advance, which has already gone to paying off their debts or into an index fund or the downpayment on a house so they don’t have to throw away money renting, so they’re in a much better financial situation than with no advance. There is no downside to getting guaranteed money earlier. 

The only way you’d have to pay it back is like any job: if I pay you to fix my roof and you don’t do it, the contract is broken and I am legally entitled to my money back. Hopefully, you already knew that. 

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you get it in installments and you have to pay some to your agent and taxes exist!” 

✅The second part of that is true, but so what? With a $50k advance and an agent, you keep $42,500 minus taxes. That’s $21,250 on signing and $21,250 on completion. (And yes, there are different installment patterns, different advances etc.) With self-publishing, you get $0 and then $0 forever until your book starts selling. If your advance is small that’s unfortunate but remember self-publishing advances are $0. Zero dollars is much less than $42,500. Zero is less than $1. Self-publishers also go into actual debt to pay for editors, printers, and marketing, so you could easily start with negative money.

🚫 “Traditional publishing sucks because they expect you to do all your own marketing!”

✅Huh? Whatever expectations are happening in the heart of my publisher are none of my business or concern. Marketing on my end is not in my contract and I doubt it’s in the majority of trad contracts. I’ll definitely promote my book as much as I can but I’m sure as heck not going to spend 40 hours a week doing it or getting a degree in marketing unless I'm getting paid. 

However, the publisher employs professional book marketers and they are the ones incentivized to sell the first [insert advance dollar amount] worth of books. 

Also, who do you think markets your self-published book? The Marketing Fairy? 

🚫 “You have to write the whole book first.”

✅Yes with fiction, usually. Unless they trust you because of your track record, and you have a good pitch and part of the book written (like the first three chapters.) With nonfiction, generally, you don't need to have written much of that, maybe one chapter and lots of articles. They might require more if you're writing a memoir, especially if you don't have writing experience. They want to know you can do it.

🚫 “Traditional publishing is just a lottery!”

✅I mean there are elements of luck, what’s in fashion, privilege etc. just like in all fields, especially creative ones. But most of the reason people get trad contracts is hard work, experience, a good concept, proof of successful writing and publishing (including non-books!), caring about what the readers want, etc.  

Most people who I talk to who tried and failed to traditionally publish had no published writing of any sort. Most who succeed at trad publishing had plenty, as well as a lot of expertise in that area. Like, a degree and/or years of experience in that field, not "I listened to a few podcasts on it."

🚫 “Actually a smaller advance is better.”

✅Absolutely not. This is an insidious nonsense rumor akin to “a smaller salary is better” and I wonder if publishers started that rumor to financially abuse their writers or if writers spread it because hate themselves and each other. I’ve heard all the justifications, they make no financial sense, if you hate money give it to me.

The only reason to take a smaller advance would be the same as the reason to take a smaller salary: if the publisher makes up for it with something else that's worth it.

Interestingly, I'm told bigger advances sell out faster, because they attract attention behind the scenes, from reviewers, booksellers, etc.

🚫 “Even an advance of 100k isn't that much when you split it into four payments over 2 years. Better to get regular royalties. Not like $100k is enough to quit your day job.” ✅$100k split into four payments over 2 years is WAY more than the $0 self-publishing gets you before sales. Even $200/month for 40 YEARS is less than 100k, and that's without the time value of money or inflation. And, remember, trad published books get royalties too, the only difference is the first [insert advance here] is GUARANTEED, and after that, fewer dollars per book sold. If you make $100k per book and don't spend too much time per book, that can very easily BE your day job and you CAN certainly quit your other one to pursue that. But no one said anything about assuming selling one $100k is enough for the rest of your life. That would be an absurdly irresponsible mindset. Just because trad publishing doesn't guarantee anything crazy like one book financially supporting you forever, doesn't mean it's worse financially. What a weird, irrelevant straw man.

🚫 “But if you don't sell out your advance, the publisher drops you!"

✅Misleading. First, what is the time frame of this accusation? Your book is not going to sell $50k worth in a week, most likely. Second, what do you mean by "drop?" The publisher does not do anything bad to the author as they are waiting and hoping for sales. They continue to sell and work with the book, they do not yeet it or burn it or un-publish it.

What does happen is your publisher will consider your past success when deciding whether to sign another book contract and how much to give you for your next advance. If your last book sold $100k in a month, but your advance was $101k, then yes, they have lost money so far. But the prospects of your writing are fantastic, and they are likely to sign you again. There is more than one month in their lives.

If your book did not perform well--say it sold $5k in 5 years--then that ONE publishing company isn't going to sign you again. Duh? Then you have like 99,999 other publishing companies to look at. Or you could self-publish. Is that a problem? How are the pro-self-publishing people so scared of self-publishing? Or you could just not write more books, you tried it once, you can decide that's enough, especially if you aren't happy with how it turned out. Don't we all have more than one goal in life? Didn't you want to get into fishing or dancing or insurance sales too?

🚫 “Getting a book contract is my retirement plan!"

✅(I realize most of this post seems pro-trad but yes, we need some reality check.) A trad contract is as good as it does--and as good as the author is. Same with self-publishing. Maybe you could make a lot of money at it, but I ask, what is your experience? How do you know your book is so amazing? You know some of the most financially successful writers still put out TONS of books, right? Because it's a job.

🚫 “Nobody earns a living from this."

✅Well. No, some people do earn livings from book writing, at least temporarily. A single book isn't going to sustain you forever, like I said, but it could potentially sustain you for the time it takes to write it, and even longer maybe, if you and your publisher are good enough. The next year will pass whether you're working on a book or you're working in insurance sales or at Starbucks; so you must consider your values, skills, opportunity cost, the money you get from each, and whatever else matters to you when deciding which to do. You can pitch a publisher and say "no, that's not enough money" when they offer you a contract, if you want.

At the end of the day, trad publishing is a business. No publishing company owes you anything except what is in the contract they signed. Not working with the same place twice isn't going to kill you. Getting rejected is part of the game--you didn't get into every college you applied to, did you? You don't get every award or every job you apply to, you don't cry when you open the Pepsi bottle and it says "try again." But if you don't treat writing like a job, if your publisher sucks, or you think it's a get-rich-quick scheme that requires no skills, craft, or ambition, then you will fail miserably and regret the whole thing.

[oksurethisismyname]

Hiiiii as a queer person living in the Bible Belt of the USA, I’m envisioning a “Christian trauma AU / general theology AU” because you know my main focus is always Sanji. This assumed that we’re in the USA, modern era, and I guess maybe a college or post grad AU for how they meet each other? This is a lonnnnnnnng text post so scroll at your own risk. To keep it from being toooo long I’m also sticking to east blue crew.

Hear me out:

There are a million different sects of Christianity so we’ve got a ton of angles to use.

Garp is catholic (but think FRENCH laïcité instead of American Amy Coney Barret Supreme Court justice weird catholic cult), Dragon straight up rebels against the strict structure and goes about his atheist ways. Neither of them really raise Luffy anyway so 💁🏻

Luffy ends up being agnostic. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in a higher power but he knows he needs to take action and that he can’t rely on a higher power to fix the problems of the world. Very Albert Camus, revolting against the absurd and holding himself to a higher responsibility in life

Zoro comes from a Shinto or Buddhist background. He’s not judging anyone’s religious beliefs unless they’re harming others.

Nami has religious trauma from the Baptist church that set up in her town and made it impossible to be herself. Belle Mere is so clearly queer and she’s harassed and dies at the hands of some zealous bigots who were emboldened by the words of the local Baptist church pastor (Arlong)

Ussop comes from a chill Protestant background (maybe Presbyterian?) But he’s more of a CEO (Christmas Easter Only) in terms of actually attending any sort of church. Honestly, with his dad out of the picture and his mom dying, he just had bigger things on his mind like living every day.

Finally, Sanji. Oh boy, Sanji has major “Quiverfull movement Christian” trauma from Judge. For those who don’t know, quiverfull is a Christian extremist movement where the idea is to have as many kids as possible and adhere to very strict purity rules and gender roles. Contraception isn’t allowed. Women wear long skirts and non fitted shirts to hide their womanly form (ew), and most of the time these parents homeschool there kids to avoid the “temptation” or “impurity” of modern society.

Judge had these 5 kids who he’s raised in this faith but Sanji never liked how Judge treated his mom. Why was Sora supposed to be “seen and not heard?” Why was it ok for his brothers to use scripture to bully and hurt and spread hate? Why would a loving god create women just to subjugate them? Judge wouldn’t like this, and once Sora passes away (probably because Judge wouldn’t let her seek medical care post birth of the quadruplets, so her health deteriorated for years), Judge locks him up and makes him do all sorts of horrible “prayer” and “repentance” practices, which are really just abuse.

Sanji would maybe escape when they go into town to get something mundane like a printer or a new wifi router (which only judge is allowed to use the internet). He’d probably bolt first chance he gets and when he meets Zeff, Zeff can recognize the signals of abuse. He takes Sanji in and even though Sanji never believed women were less than men, he still has years of trauma and gender roles beaten into him that he has to unpack.

His choice to cook? That’s a huge rebellion. Wearing tight fitting suits that look sinful? That’s a middle finger to his dad. He always treats women like goddesses because he feels so much guilt for the sins of his father. When he finally joins the Strawhats, he’s so overwhelmed with how free and nonjudgmental they are (of important stuff, obviously they’ll still poke fun at small stuff) that he feels comfortable dropping little comments here and there, opening up.

Ussop will be comforting Nami about something and sanji will tell him is so refreshing to see a man be so nurturing. He goes to Ussop often, asking how he’s so confident sharing his emotions.

Nami will be ordering them around and he’ll do everything she says with a smile, just happy to see her free to do what she wants (which is be a bossy bitch)

Zoro will talk about Kuina one night and Sanji will sob, overwhelmed with joy that she got to have all that strength and a friend like zoro even when faced with hurtful gender expectations.

Luffy above all is the most jarring for him. He grew up hearing about sin and sinners and temptation and evil but when he sees Luffy doing his thing, taking down bad people, fighting for the underdog, he knows that if there is a God (he she it they? Who cares), Luffy is doing their work.

——————

Bonus Gay Cherry on top is that Sanji meets Iva and gets into drag, starts performing, does some events, and through that gender liberation is able to find some peace in who he is, tucking away all the hate he was born into. And he ends up with zoro the end bye

[checkoutmybookshelf]

Rereading The Fellowship of the Ring for the First Time in Fifteen Years

The previous chapter was all grouchy wizards and atmospheric walking...and this one opens with the return of Professor Tolkien medieval literature scholaring all over the page. So let's just jump in and talk "The Bridge of Khazad-Dum."

So finding the tomb of a comrade always sucks, but context is EXTREMELY required in such cases. Unfortunately, this is the moment where Professor Tolkien rears his ugly head once again. I'm a Shakespeare scholar, and moreover I was a Shakespeare scholar at a reasonably broke school in Alaska, so I designed my thesis to not require me to go look at extant original texts. When I got to my PhD, some fuckery at an administrative level meant that when my first supervisor retired, I was dumped into the lap of a film scholar, so my dissertation because EXTREMELY about film adaptations. So I don't have firsthand experience with extant historical documents and texts, but I am aware of the process. As an undergrad, I once questioned why my text said "safety" while another text said "sanity" (and was very scoffed at before the professor actually understood the question, because I phrased it poorly). The good answer though?

Extant texts from Shakespeare's day and older are PLAGUED with slipperiness that makes them difficult to read and reproduce. They come from a time before standardized spelling, and printers often weren't that careful setting type. If they come from before the printing press, you have issues with handwriting legibility and misspellings. Then there are issues with extant documents being damaged or torn or missing pages or faded by the time we get to them, especially if they've been in private hands without the experience to properly preserve them. So the difference between "safety" and "sanity" was some editor or academic's educated guess because they had a word that started with "s," ended in "y," and was probably about six letters.

Tolkien, as a scholar with an interest in medieval texts, would have understood these issues because I'd be willing to bet hard cash that his academic work required using primary sources and original extant texts. And I'm willing to bet that because we get EVERY SINGLE GODDAMN ONE OF THESE ISSUES with the Book of Mazarbul. In no particular order, here are the issues Gandalf calls out while trying to read this thing:

multiple pages are missing from the beginning

blurred words

burned words

staining (probably blood)

edged blade damage

deteriorated pages that break off

shitty handwriting

partially visible words and guesswork that goes with it

a total lack of context for any of the words you CAN make out

This book is every book scholar's worst goddamn nightmare, because you'll never recreate the whole thing, your guesses are likelier to be wrong than right, and if you don't have plot armor preserving the important stuff, you might literally end up with a description of someone's breakfast but nothing else.

I will say though, there's one thing in here that Tolkien SHOULD have been familiar with in extant texts that isn't represented here. Marginalia. Humans were humans even in the 11-1400s, and scribes and apprentices got bored while copying out books by hand. They doodled. They wrote snarkastic comments in the margins. They had to scratch things out and redo. They had cats around and sometimes little paw prints are found in old manuscripts. Like...ancient books had personality. I get where the dwarves might not have done this in their log book, especially towards the end, but I would have loved some marginalia too.

Because the first few pages of this chapter feel less like Gandalf reading the final account of the attempted Moria colony to me and more like Professor Tolkien having a moment because WHY IS THIS GODDAMN PAGE MISSING I JUST NEED THIS ONE PAGE BUT NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, ITS FUCKING MISSING...

Academia some days, I swear.

But we get knocked out of the academic and into the adventurous pretty fast when the drums in the deep start tolling "doom, doom." And everyone loses their goddamn minds, as any reasonable person would, because we just finished hearing about the dwarves being trapped while the drums in the deep boomed.

Aragorn isn't going down without a fight though. He and Boromir get their asses on securing the door from which the immediate danger will come, with a bit of an assist from Frodo and Sting when some ballsy Uruk puts a foot through the door.

We also get badass good guy Samwise Gamgee:

When thirteen had fallen the rest fled shrieking, leaving the defenders unharmed, except for Sam who had a scratch along the scalp. A quick duck had saved him; and he had felled his orc: a sturdy thrust with his Barrow-blade. A fire was smouldering in his brown eyes that would have made Ted Sandyman step backwards, if he had seen it.

Our boy took out an ORC all on his own!!! Sam is more than capable of taking care of business and apparently he gets scary when you back him in a corner. I entirely approve, and I cannot believe we didn't get this in the movie. GIVE ME SAM SINGLE-HANDEDLY TAKING OUT AN ORC, PETER JACKSON!!!

We also get an Orc chieftain stabbing the hell out of Frodo, which was an honor given to the cave troll in the movies. This goes by pretty fast though, even for a Tolkien battle. It's kind of a one-two stab and grab before everyone makes a run for it. We do get Sam freeing Frodo by chopping the spear haft in half, but if you're reading quickly, it's easy to miss that this should ABSOLUTELY have killed Frodo. The language is pretty clear that it doesn't, and Tolkien only kind of tokenly tries a fake-out death here, since we literally just got the mithril reminder at the end of the last chapter. But I guess technically we get a fake-out death here.

It is very quickly confirmed that Frodo is alive though, with everyone being like, "Wait, you're NOT dead?" and Aragorn and Gandalf both going, "jesus christ, hobbits are tough as nail."

As we keep running from the hordes of Orcs, Uruks, and cave trolls, things start to get hot and there is firelight in places firelight SHOULD EXTREMELY NOT BE. But it does cue Gandalf about where they are, and he points everyone toward the titular Bridge of Khazad-Dum, and the exit. Now it's just a matter of hauling ass and getting out.

Unfortunately, when Legolas turns around to shoot some bitches and buy time, this happens:

Something was coming up behind them. What it was could not be seen: it was like a great shadow, in the middle of which a dark form, of man-shape, maybe, yet greater; and a power and terror seemed to be in and to go before it. It came to the edge of the fire and the light faded as if a cloud had bent over it. Then with a rush it leaped across the fissure. The flames roared up to greet it, and wreathed about it; and a black smoked swirled in the air. It's streaming mane kindled, and blazed behind it. In its right hand was a blade like a stabbing tongue of fire; in its left it held a whip of many thongs. "Ai! ai [sic]!" wailed Legolas. "A Balrog!"

And I just need to take a second here, because like I've said, I was more familiar with the movies than the book. And I just need Tolkien to EXPLAIN HIS DAMN SELF with this description. It's maybe man-shaped, but it has a mane? Like that does give adapters a lot of room to get creative, but WHERE THE HELL DID THEY GET HORNED SHEEP LAVA THING from??? Because that ain't in the text. I do love the drama of this description though. Like, the Balrog knows it's freaking magnificent and is going to play to all the drama that being wreathed in fire and smoke gives it. Which...ngl, I love for it. This thing is damn cool.

And I appreciate that we have FINALLY met a foe that makes Gandalf just kind of stop and go "...fuck me." Because he was starting to feel a bit OP and bored, and now he's taking it seriously, which means I as a reader should be FUCKING TERRIFIED right now, and I appreciate that.

From there, this goes down basically as the movie does, with the sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight deviation that Aragorn and Boromir get BACK on the bridge to have Gandalf's back, so they're like, within arm's reach of him as the Balrog falls and drags Gandalf down with it. But even the dialogue was lifted almost exactly from the page, so I don't feel like I need to go over this bit in much detail. It's badass, it's tragic, and it happens FAST.

And then, of course, everyone else has to haul ass out of there because the Balrog just took out your OP wizard with a flick of its wrist.

So they run, and they run a LOT for a LONG time. They run until they're out of bow-shot of the walls. And as readers, we are left with this final image:

They looked back. Dark yawned the archway of the Gates under the mountain-shadow. Faint and far beneath the earth rolled the slow drum-beats: doom. A thin black smoke trailed out. Nothing else was to be seen; the dale all around was empty. Doom. Grief at last wholly overcame them, and they wept long: some stand and silent, some cast upon the ground. Doom, doom. The drum-beats faded.

So my little headcanon here? Those drumbeats stop being harbingers of doom in that final paragraph and transform to metaphorical heartbeats for Gandalf. We know--because Pippin established it--that falls in Moria can be LONG. They take a while. The Fellowship got out of immediate danger range, and Gandalf could still have been falling. But all they have to go on is those faint, distant, slow drum-beats. The heartbeat/drumbeat comparison is so easy it's not a reach, and when they finally fade and stop, the sense is that there is nothing else for the army of evil to attack. That is--as far as anyone knows or can reasonably assume--the end of Gandalf. It's the literary equivalent of a jump cut and sudden stop of the drumroll in film execution scenes. It cues everyone that something has ended.

Well, this chapter was ABSOLUTELY not more atmospheric walking, and even though it cost us our wizard, I appreciated the tension, the fear, and the pacing in the chapter at large. The mix of breakneck action and still or slow moments to let everyone react or comment was really well done, and finally having something that actually managed to shake Legolas and Gandalf was genuinely scary.

We're going to leave it there for now, and next time we'll pick up with the aftermath of almost getting eaten by a Balrog and losing the mentor wizard of the party. We've only got four more chapters to go, so let's see what the pacing and party dynamics do as we head for Lothlorien sans wizard.

[moreteethplease]

> Play it here!

Five old men sit at the back of my church every single week after sermons and prayers. I wonder if the source of their sweat is the same as mine.

Hellfire (The Old Men At The Back Of My Church) is a short, semi-autobiographical bit of rambling made in bitsy for the Queer Wrath Game Jam. It (and parts of the devlog below) contain themes of death, suicide, homophobia, religious trauma, and implied sexism, all depicted in text only.

Devlog (and spoilers) under the cut.

This was a very easy, straightforward "game" (if it can even be called that) to make. I haven't made anything in bitsy in a solid six months and wanted to ease myself back into it with something that wasn't too hard to make work.

The events in Hellfire are generally true, but out of order, and some narrative gaps are filled with best-guesses or embellished. With that being said, the rage that fuels it is very real and the tale it tells is dear to my heart.

Writing

I started with the last two sentences of the script, then got writer's block and didn't touch it for a week. I almost thought I wouldn't finish it and would have to find a different concept.

Then, one fateful sleepless night, in the middle of a depressive episode, I wrote about 80% of the script on my phone while my spouse slept beside me. Usually depressive episodes are creative slumps for me, but this time it worked out. I finished off the script the next day without much editing. The result is a few too many run-on sentences, but I do think it works for the style of this "game", and it really does make it a "bit of rambling".

Art

By the time I was done with the script, I knew that I wanted the words to be the main focus of this "game". That meant no real gameplay beyond progressing through the script. I've done this before with You Died On A Tuesday, but even that had a minor interactive element, where you move your sprite across the page to get to the next "point". For Hellfire, I just wanted a story with pictures changing in the background. It was important to me that the pictures were always easily in view so the dialog box never blocked any of them. T make this work, the images are all on the bottom half of the screen.

I'm not sure if I'm 100% satisfied with the art for this "game". For example, the plate with the rice ladle animation is a bit too jagged and feels jarring to me, but by the time I noticed I disliked it, I had already finished putting the game together. I also am not sure about the air-conditioner animation. I asked my spouse what he thought it looked like and he said "a printer", so I might be cooked.

I'm also not sure if I like the frame where two hands slowly reach towards each other. They were originally a lot more solid, but I wanted them to be almost translucent in effect, as if they're fading away or not quite real. I tried to space out the solidness of the colour, but it always came out very uniform and looked strange. In the end, pixsy's image-to-bitsy converter got a better look than I could create myself:

Thoughts

I usually have something to say at the end of these, but I find myself at a loss for words. I've struggled with religious trauma and queer trauma for my entire life, and while I've learned to slowly heal the former, the latter has buried deep in a way that I don't really know how to heal from. I've lost so many queer friends and loved ones and I know that my government is unlikely to grant queer rights to its people in my lifetime. It's these sources of pain that make me write things like Hellfire... though hopefully my next work is a little less of a ramble.

Thank you for reading! If you’d like, you can play this not-quite-game here:

[keganexe]

Okay I’ve learned a cool trick well enough to share it now

So I’ve been trying to do a lot of like physical manipulation to make cool digital effects for ttrpgs so I wanna show folks how to go from like this

to this

Using a combo of physical and digital manipulation. You’ll need a printer, a scanner, and something to cut with; and then I used the Affinity Suite for digital (especially photo), but you can probably do some similar shit with Adobe

The big things in here are “fucking up text with the scanner” and “creating threshold maps for texture and to hide issues”

so here we go

Okay so you’re gonna need a scanner I’m so sorry, but just print out whatever text (or images! It works on images too!) you can as big as your scanner bed will allow. You can go smaller, but you’ll lose a lot of sick texture on the way, and we don’t wanna do that tbh

The short version of this tutorial is “now drag it funny as the scanner goes down the page” but I’m gonna explain longer how that works practically haha

So print it out, cut off the white space on the left and right of the text to make it easier to work with (and I did under as well, but that’s less important). On the back of the paper with a pencil, mark the lines where you want the text to drag. For me that was above the midline on the E, but below the bottom of the top line

Like roughly here?

Set your scanner at a decent DPI, but beware the higher the DPI the harder this gets to do, because the super slow moving scanner light thing really highlights any amount of shaky. For my scanner the sweetspot is like 400 for good texture, but you’re gonna fuck up a lot doing it tbh so trial and error.

As the scanner comes though, keep the light between those lines, and drag it and wiggle it around! Just try to keep a consistent speed and have fun. After a number of scans you’ll pull something like this, there is a weird grey bit I don’t love and it’s gonna fuck us up just a little, but I’m gonna go over how I dealt with it as well~

Pull it into Affinity! If you have Publisher open it here, even if we are planning to work in Photo mostly, because the Persona manager is a life-saver when you’re doing cross program work.

So I first cut out the text, you don’t need to be super exact, but you only want the white paper, and the black text, not the grey of the scanner bed.

I usually then slap this text into a new document, because cropping is for idiots

then lets hop over to the Photo Persona~

Duplicate the layer that is just the text, lock it, and hide the bottom layer because we’re gonna start destroying shit and we want old copies that aren’t fucked up. With your fresh layer, hop into Adjustments>Threshold at the bottom of the Layers Menu, and drag around the preset until the text looks how you like. This gets us cool texture, but also hides that weird grey blob on the page from where I squeeze the paper during the scan and fucked it up some. For me that’s around here, but obv ymmv

After doing this right click and rasterize your later

Now at the top of Affinity go into Filters > Colors > Erase White Paper

Where this leaves you might be perfect on it’s own! For me there are some areas I don’t love, so now we’re gonna texturize the whole thing. I circled the areas that I don’t love, but the tldr is I need to hide my sins where I had fucked up the scan some, and as a result have no texture

So if we zoom in on the gain some it is strongly vertical instead of just square

If your grain is a different shape you’ll wanna find different stock for this, but this looks a lot like denim to me? So I’m going into the Stock screen (View>Studios>Stock will bring it up if you don’t have it enabled already, but it just goes to Pexels and Pixabay to grab images for you is the tldr) and grabbing a high quality scan of some denim. You’ll wanna resize it so the fabric texture is around the same size as what’s here already. This might mean making it smaller than the whole page and that’s fine, for me I just duplicated it till I had enough to cover the whole image, but the tldr here is “cover the whole page in denim or concrete or whatever texture you’re using”

If you used multiple images group them, rasterize the entire group, tldr make it one big image. Afterwards hop back into the Threshold page, and try to replicate the grain pattern! You’re gonna slap it over the whole image so don’t worry about getting it perfect. You want the image to be mostly white, with black as a the textured bits, BUT if you can only get it to mostly black with good white texture? Totally fine, you’ll just want to inverse the image at the end (I personally find this way easier, but like ymmv) 

anyway for me we ended up here

Because it’s mostly black we are gonna want to Adjustments>Invert on this. Same as before now we want to rasterize the image, and go to Filter>Colors>Erase White Paper. Set the blending mode to Erase

This whole thing requires a lot of patience, and a lot of trial and error, but eventually you’ll land on something like this

We aren’t going for a ton of texture, just enough hide some of our mistakes along the way

Group the whole thing, duplicate it, lock and hide the original again

Now on one group go ahead and rasterize it again, slap some color under it (or idk a book cover? That’s what this is for) and you’re good to go!

Anyway hope this is helpful, I do a lot of threshold maps on stock photos to get cool texture so I can zoom through this pretty quick, but like it takes some time and effort!

[aces-and-angels]

Title- Prelude: Martin's Rise

edit by: @saibug1022

A/N: hello friends! the winds have carried me to a hyperfixation revolving around laws of attraction (and how to fix the mess that was book 2). ik the loa fanbase has a population of like... 4 lol, but i'm still excited to share this newest passion with yall- please enjoy the prelude for into the wind-verse: a loa book 2 rewrite 🖤🖤🖤 @choicesficwriterscreations

Characters: Eli Byrne, Sadie McGraw, Reggie Whitman, Linda Phillips, Gabe Ricci, Martin Vanderweil, Wind Velez (OC by @oh-so-youre-a-nerd)

Pairing(s): Martin x Wind

Summary: bonus scene set sometime during book 1, ch 16; Martin calls for an emergency meeting with the partners of McGraw Byrne.

Word Count: 1.3K

read below the cut or...

AO3 LINK

---

McGraw Byrne, 10:34 PM

The stillness of the firm gave Martin pause. It was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle seen during normal office hours. Only silence met the incessant clicking from his fingers flying over the keyboard as he drafted up the last few contracts needed for his presentation. His eyes flicked over to the clock resting on his desk. Less than half an hour before the partners were set to arrive. 

Standing over the office printer, the machine whirred as it spewed out pages upon pages of his manic, caffeine-fueled work. This moment, brief as it was, was the first time he could take a breath all day. Even so, his mind couldn’t stop replaying the events that transpired- an unsettling feeling in his chest that he couldn’t shake since the senior partner meeting took place. Torturously heavy, sinking down to the deepest pit in his gut. He should be celebrating- drinking to the countless billable hours he put in to get appointed as McGraw Byrne’s newest junior partner. But instead, he was here, fixated on the tiny display screen atop the printer. 

Printing Page 45 of 194…

Coupled with the heaviness, a fire. Roaring flames that burned fiercely through him, ignited at the sight of his colleagues foolishly celebrating their ‘win’ over the infamous Sadie McGraw. Spilt liquor and joyous cheers for a job only half done. It made him sick. 

Then, there was Wind. They were the first to notice his escape from the booth- much to his surprise. Though, he’d be remiss not to acknowledge their uncanny levels of perceptiveness. Why they directed it at him at all was a marvel in its own right- something that inexplicably stirred something inside him.

His excuse for leaving was flimsy at best, but Wind met it with kind hazel eyes, crinkling ever so slightly with pure elation. It kept his feet rooted to the ground for one, fleeting moment before his mind took over once more, giving way to the inferno coursing through his veins. Wind was naïve. And he had a job to do.

Pulling the last of the pages from the printer, he started for the conference room, relieved to see that it was still empty. He made quick work setting up the room, laying out copies of his proposal at each seat. A faint echo of footsteps barreled through the halls, signaling the partners’ arrival. Martin had just enough time to fix his tie before the doors flew open. 

“Vanderweil, do you have any idea what time it is?” Eli addressed him first, his domineering tone straightening his back. 

“I’m aware, Mr. Byrne. But this was too important to leave for tomorrow morning.” 

Eli’s eyes narrowed, looking for a reason to chew him out further. Finding none, he gave a curt nod and motioned for Linda and Reggie to take their seats. “Well, on with it boy.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Byrne. Ms. Phillips, Mr. Whitman, thank you for being here as well,” he greeted, his voice steady and sure. “I’m sure it’s safe to say that we’re all shocked by how this morning’s senior partner meeting went.”

Reggie let out a brief chuckle. “Now, that’s an understatement. I had no idea Gabe would be capable of orchestrating something like that.” 

“I’m assuming there’s a correlation between that and Mr. Ricci’s absence at this meeting,” Linda added.

“Astute as ever, Ms. Phillips. Yes, Gabe’s conduct was… unconventional. It’s fitting that the nature of this meeting be that as well. I’ll get right to it- the firm’s vulnerable. Left to bleed out from a gaping wound at its side courtesy of Ricci and Velez.”

“Spare us from the theatrics, Mr. Vanderweil. My colleagues and I are well aware of our position. There better be more to this presentation,” Linda chastised. 

“There is,” he answered confidently.

“Then I’ll ask you again. Why did you summon us all here?” 

“We’re here so I can stop the bleeding.” Martin threw the manila folder he’d been clinging to since the start of the meeting onto the table, spreading out the files for everyone to see. “A signed NDA, amendments to the firm’s bylaws securing McGraw Byrne’s ownership of Sadie’s clients, and updated contracts for everyone in attendance at the senior partner meeting.” 

Reggie let out a low whistle. “You did all this in one evening?” 

Martin tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I get paid to be the best. And this is only a fraction of what I’m capable of, Mr. Whitman.” 

Eli skimmed through a copy of Sadie’s NDA, eyes widening as he reached the end of the document. “Sadie really agreed to sign this?”

“She agreed to my terms, with one contingency.”

“And what’s that?” 

Martin slid the phone over to Eli. “That you be the one to wire the money for her buyout directly. If you check the footnotes at the bottom, her agreement to this exchange is only good until midnight.” 

Eli sputtered. “Do you have any idea how money transfer works, Vanderweil? There’s no way I-”

“I’m aware, Mr. Byrne. Which is why I offered a compromise- your verbal confirmation that you’ll uphold the deal for her cooperation.” 

“She’s strong-arming us,” Reggie shook his head in disapproval.

“She’s using the last remaining card left in her hand,” Linda countered, glancing at the time displayed overhead. “You better start dialing, Eli. Our time is running out.” 

The call was brief. No exchanged pleasantries. No warm bid farewell. Only the bare essentials to secure Martin’s deal. The room fell silent after Eli hung up the phone with a tired sigh. 

“Well, at least that’s one less fire for us to put out. If that’s everything, Martin-” 

“There is one more thing- if I may, Mr. Byrne. I motion to put this meeting to a vote for my immediate appointment as senior partner of McGraw Byrne.”

“Mr. Vanderweil, you know very well we can’t-”

“I’ll stop you right there, Ms. Phillips. Section 7B, sub clause a. Any vote to appoint a new partner may be held if the lump sum of the present members hold the majority of the firm’s shares. This room alone makes up for 58% of McGraw Byrne’s stocks, making this motion valid.”

“We’re grateful for your efforts, Martin..." Reggie paused, searching for the right words to say. "But it’s just not in good faith for us to move to a vote without Gabe present. Like it or not, he is a current senior partner.”

“With all due respect Mr. Whitman, I disagree. Mr. Ricci simply set the precedent after he operated on his own accord without notifying any other senior partner of his plans to oust Ms. McGraw. I’m only returning the favor.” 

“He’s got you there, Reggie,” Linda commented with a look somewhat akin to approval. “You have my vote, Mr. Vanderweil.”

“Thank you, Ms. Phillips.”

Reggie looked to Eli, who has been noticeably silent since his motion. Martin turned to him as well with baited breath. Finally, he spoke. “Tell me why I should vote in your favor.”

“Because I did what no other associate thought to do. Protect the firm. And even if they did manage to get that far, none of them could do what I’ve done with the same level of quality. But if that’s not enough-” Martin pulled out another stack of papers from his file. “A cost analysis of the money saved by securing Sadie’s old clients, a draft of her announcing her retirement set to be released next morning, and a proposal for media outreach to mitigate the damages.” 

Eli huffed out a soft laugh. “Alright, Martin. You win. I vote yes.”

“Mr. Whitman?”

“Well, there’s no use playing devil’s advocate now. I vote yes.” 

“Welcome to the fold, Mr. Vanderweil," Eli said, stretching out his hand in congratulations. 

“I won’t disappoint you, sir,” Martin promised, giving him a firm, resolute handshake. “Can I make one final request?” 

“Name it.” 

Martin’s lips spread into an enigmatic grin. “Give me the honor of announcing it to our fellow colleagues.”

[forestoflys]

How to Make Brevi

There is a popular Medium article on the subject of this ward; however, I was taught to make them slightly different. Honestly, you can throw whatever you want in there as the ingredients vary from family-to-family and region-to-region, but as my grandmother is Calabrese I will be giving her ingredients plus the ones I added myself. Also keep in mind that though my grandmother is Italian, I myself am Italo-American and have been influenced by other cultural interpretations of protection magic. I would love to hear from non-diasporic southern Italians!

I will link the Medium article below, however as a recap: brevi are a ward against malocchiu (in Italo-American dialects, maloik) or the Evil Eye. They are usually comprised of a red bag with various herbs, stones, iron talismans (from what I've seen, mostly iron nails), and other personal protection affects.

Ingredients:

Herbs: Again, any herbs with protective correspondences will work, but I personally chose thyme, rosemary, and black peppercorns. Rue is traditionally used; however, I do not have access to it nor would I like to due to my aforementioned cat.

Eggshells: For negativity banishment.

Iron Nail: Does not have to be a nail specifically, but iron of any sort will help to protect and ward off any ill-intent.

Curnu (or Cornicello): The Italian horn which specifically protects against malocchiu. You can also use manu fica or manu curnutu.

Important Note: Do not go out and buy your own at risk of it not working. It has to be given to you. Brevi can work without it just as well.

Once you have all of your ingredients, place them into a red bag. I literally made mine from an old white t-shirt and dyed it red. Traditionally, it would be anointed with holy water and prayers would be said over it (my grandmother used the Hail Mary). However, since I am no longer catholic I focused on my intent and used an anointing oil. I usually carry it on my person (either in my pocket or bag) and when home I put it on top of my door frame. I hope you all like this one!

Here is my old, shoddily-sewn brevi.

Sources:

Printer's Ornament (Chiswick Press, 192)

Medium Brevi Article

Final Note: To any native Calabresi I apologise if my terminology is lacking as I was taught less than the bare minimum of the language (something I've come to deeply regret in my adult years). I would love to hear corrections on both said terminology and what you learned to put in your Brevi!

[caermorrighan]

10 steps to choose your journals and planners for 2025

Its planner season and all the planners are shiny and pretty and you want all of them. Maybe last year you brought one too many (I know I did) or the wrong one (I did that too). Maybe you are new to this selection process. Maybe you've been stuck in a journaling rut and need a change.

This is for you.

I'm going to walk you through ten steps to choosing the right journal. I suggest you run this through and then review it a couple of times before you buy.

1) Write a list of what you want to do with your planners and journals. Do you to do personal journaling? Planning? Memory keeping?

Importantly, this is a list of things you want to do and not a list of journals. It might look like this:

personal daily journaling

important upcoming appointments

commonplacing

future planning

daily planning

backlogging (lists of tasks relating to a project)

health tracking

The only journal I am going to identify early on is a work journal, as I always keep this separate from everything else. This is mostly focused on daily to do lists and appointment lists.

2) Against that list, think about what kind of space each item needs in comparison to other items. Mark them with t-shirt sizes. Small, Medium, Large.

My example:

personal daily journaling - L

important upcoming appointments - S

commonplacing - L

future planning - M

daily planning - M

backlogging (lists of tasks relating to a project) - M

health tracking - M

work to do lists - M

work appointment lists - S

3) Against that list, think about your planning horizon (or journaling horizon, though this is simpler). Do you plan daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, all of the above? Do you journal daily or when you feel like it?

My example:

personal daily journaling - L - daily

important upcoming appointments - S - monthly

commonplacing - L - ad hoc

future planning - M - weekly

daily planning - M - weekly

backlogging (lists of tasks relating to a project) - M - ad hoc

health tracking - M - daily

work to do lists - M - daily

work appointment lists - S - daily

4) If you are already planning and journaling, write a list of your challenges. What is not working right now? If you don't plan or journal and want to, write about what has been blocking you.

I currently feel like I need too many books open at once. I often plan to do too much at once.

5) If you are already planning and journaling, what do you love about your current set up. What brings you joy? If this is new, write about what you envisage feeling like when you journal successfully?

I love decorating and being able to look back at the amazing thing I have created. I love long form journaling and being able to work through my ideas. I like having everything written down so I don't forget things.

6) Do 4 again. And then do 5 again. These are really important. If you don't plan or journal, what has been blocking you and what do you What is new compared to your current set up? What are you expecting to do with it?

I need my everyday carry (EDC) to be light and also have a hard enough structure to write on in less than ideal writing conditions. I need to be able to plan differently for weekdays and weekends.

7) Now you have all the pieces, its time to slot them together. What goes well with what? What would you rather keep separate?

I group mine into 3 sections - plan, progress and ponder. Planning is what I anticipate I am going to be doing. Progress is how I am going to track how I am doing against the plan. Ponder is for more long form things like journals and commonplacing.

For me the appointment and weekly planning is in Plan as I do it in advance, and my daily plan is in Progress because I do that on the day. Health tracking is in Progress. Journaling and commonplacing are in Ponder.

8) Now try to lay out the things you want to group. On one page? On different pages but the same book? On a blank page or a weekly page or a daily page? Get a spare notebook or a piece of printer paper and lay it all out.

I am trying to lay mine out by a grouping I am calling Plan - Progress - Ponder as they are separate activities that take place at different times.

For Plan, for example, I need a monthly view for the appointments and a weekly planning view. I also need space for ad hoc backlogging.

For Progress, each day needs to accommodate a daily plan (in a weekly view) and daily tracking. Whilst I put commonplacing in this group, it won't fit in any journal I have been looking at alongside personal journaling. Since it is something I normally do for learning, it might fit better in here?

For Ponder I need a day per page for personal journaling.

9) Add any practical requirements. If you stick a lot of stuff in the journal, what kind of binding would you need? If you like to write with fountain pen, what kind of paper do you need? What size matches what content?

I have learnt from experience that I prefer A5, but that is too big for an everyday carry which would probably make it too big for my Plan journal. I need all journals to work with my fountain pens and have a preference for tomoe river paper. My personal journal at least will get chonky from me sticking things in it and needs to survive that.

10) Pick your journals! Choose from the ones you researched and fell in love with before you went through this exercise (I know you did, we all did). Or look for new ones if none of those fit.

I've evolved this a few times since I started. But as of publishing I will be using Traveller's Notebook Standard size booklets for Plan and Progress (you can find booklets in tomoe river paper from a couple of sellers) and an A5 Sterling Ink Common Planner for Ponder.

[this-is-not-a-slow-burn]

"I neeed to creaaaate". But first I must gather.

One of the biggest hurdles to creating things with my hands is the process of gathering supplies. It saps me of the motivation to actually do the thing the supplies are for.

The reasons behind this are probably ADHD and dopamine related, but that's for another post.

But yesterday I had a revelation.

looong post with images under the cut!

TL;DR Make baskets or boxes that have all the supplies you will need for a single type of project, so they can just be picked up and used.

So we all know that being organized can make things easier. But when the ADHD strikes, no amount of organizing can solve the issue completely.

Case in point. All of my art supplies are organized by type. All of the alcohol markers, felt tip markers, fine liners, colored pencils, regular pencils, brush tip pens, pastels, etc are mostly on one shelf (frequently used are in a desktop carousel), all of the paper is organized by type: card stock, (further organized by plain, textured, or patterned, and all are color sorted, etc) blank printer paper, origami paper, velum. Below that are the notebook/pad style art papers, watercolor, sketch, bristol, plus canvases, and sheets of watercolor paper. All adhesives are in one drawer. There is a "idk where the fuck this belongs" drawer with those odds and ends that are important but solo in their class. There are magzine holders full of journals and sketchbooks, reference books

blahblahblah

(those totes in the left cube are not transparent. the table reflection makes them look that way though)

Great! Yay! Hooray! You can find what you need pretty quickly!

:|

Yes. But.

Art making and crafting isn't a mono medium. You see posts that say things like "all you need is a pencil and paper!" and sure yes, that's technically true. However my brain fills in with ....and an eraser, and you need a flat surface, and the paper has to be the right kind, the right size, what kind of sketch is this? what hardness of pencil do you need? Is there enough light in the room? Do you need references?

(yes I even torment myself with the "well akshully" stuff)

The art I make is rife with "parts", like painting (paints, palette, water, brushes, paper towels, surface to be painted on, apron) collage (base medium/substrate, image sources, adhesives for different types of paper, scissors, craft blade) sewing (fabric, shears, needles, thread, buttons, elastic, zippers, velcro, hook and eyes, snaps, ribbon, lace...) , etc.

(I do have most of the printmaking stuff in one container so that's a start...)

what's that saying about how a messy desk is the sign of a creative person?

The process of "shopping" my shelves for what is needed seems to derail any motivation. It feels like maybe my brain is happy with the idea of creating, and that's good enough. Like gathering the stuff is the goal, and having satisfied that, my brain dumps dopamine all over. Which is way less than ideal. (I am very guilty of the "I thought about doing it and am just as satisfied as if I had done it." thing. It's awful.)

SO. Then yesterday, while looking for something else, I came across a wire basket full of the supplies I had gathered to do a sewing project in bed, and I thought, that was so smart. how handy.

And I realized that I could do that with ALL of my supplies! Or at least, make up some project baskets with everything one would need to do that thing, all ready to go. So when an idea comes to mind I can just grab the basket and sit down for some art time, instead of chipping away at the urge one shelf at a time.

I sort of did this with a tackle box style of art tote, and a bunch of collage images, pens, and stickers, but it's not quite there.

(pictured: a halfassed unintentional attempt at this idea. plus a bunch of scraps that were pissing me off and got tossed in "rage")

It will be great for those times when the urge to make something comes up, but not a specific thing, just that "I neeed to creaaaate" blinking neon sign that can be so fleeting. Grab a basket and satisfy the need without distracting faffing about.

Obviously I'm not the first one to ever do this, and pre-school teachers are probably giggling at me for only just now thinking of this, but hey. We all learn at different speeds :p

(Oh, and I promise the fabric and desk will be at least a little bit less messy this weekend :3 )

[ivansergeyevichturgenev]

Tips for being a good server/bartender? Starting a serving job for the first time this week...

thank you for thinking i'm good at my job. lol. it's all acting and muscle memory after a certain point

it's better to just ask the dumb questions and look stupid than to make a big(ger) mistake

use seat numbers even if your pos isn't set up like that immediately/isn't required

if you're required to mark a table (steak knives with steak, soup spoons, etc.) do it asap. lol my former boss used to tell us when she worked in fine dining not doing that resulted it an immediate write up 😭😭 she is such a lovely person and was a gem of a manager but servers not doing that irked the hell out of her it made her sooooo mad. which i get people need utensils to eat. also prebus you look competent and it makes clearing super fast

be nice to everyone. for obvious reasons. bar, kitchen, host, etc

develop some degree of alcohol knowledge it just makes things smooth for everyone: you, the bar, and guests. this weekend while the printer was printing nonstop we had a server ask us if a moscow mule was made with whiskey after this same server asked us two nights before if it was made with gin 😐

literally cannot speak on being a good bartender bc i am so new at it but not having to learn classic cocktail specs on the job has been a tremendous help 👍 i have learned to clean your shakers and put bottles away asap

honestly though the most important thing is finding a restaurant that is like good to work at. too many restaurants are abusive or crazy when it is literally just food and bev. i really like my company despite the issues (of which there are many) but it has been overall a great experience and also why i talk/complain much less about work on here than i used to when i worked at sports bar

[davidmariottecomics]

Tools of the Trade

Hello hello! 

I'm *hoping* this'll be a pretty quick blog today because I have a lot of ideas kicking around my head and want to focus on trying to write some of 'em! But inspired by the new Creator's Guide to Comics Devices (we'll get to that in a sec), I want to talk about some resources that I've accumulated over the years that can help with everything from the fundamentals of comics storytelling to good reference to software and fonts and printers and distribution platforms and more! 

As a disclaimer right up top, some of these resources I have not personally used--I haven't done a lot of crowdfunding, I haven't worked with some of these smaller printers, etc--though I will say that these are things that're coming recommended to me and I'm passing along that recommendation. If you've had a really bad experience with one of these, or know some dirt, let me know! I'm always happy to stand corrected on this sort of thing. 

Lastly, a number of these things I'll point out specifically as an alternative to other software or expected resources. Alright, let's boogie! 

Making Art Not being an artist, I can't speak exactly to what tools will work best for you! The good news is, as an artist, you probably already know that and don't need me to tell you what sort of pencils, pens, brushes, inks, etc work best for your style. However, I will say, I've seen some glowing recs for Eon paper. If you're working traditionally in any way (I know some people work hybrid), good paper is important. 

If you are working digitally, I think the two sort of biggest contenders outside of Photoshop right now are Procreate and Clipstudio. Becca uses Procreate and really likes it. The downsides are that I believe it is Apple exclusive (and not on desktop) and while I've seen plenty of pages come out just fine that were in part or fully produced in Procreate, it does sometimes lack some of the functionalities for what you might need--I know folks who've had trouble doing clean flats, for example. I know a lot of folks use Clipstudio with great success, but I also know there's a bit of controversy around some of their 2.0+ updates including only working on a subscription fee if you want to use it on a tablet or non-desktop device (and/or want the updates they release) and something about like, it not working if you aren't on wifi? 

I personally have had good experience with Affinity's Designer and Photo. But I am not an artist, so while I think they're good for doing some of the production side of art--I've used them for lettering and prepping files and making little social graphics and stuff--I can't speak to how helpful they are as a full art tool. I will also say, as long as I'm talking about Affinity, their Publisher tool is pretty good too and with the Affinity suite, you can get a lot of what you would want out of the Adobe suite. 

Art Reference

Look, you're smart. You don't need me telling you where and how to find reference. It's all over. There are hundreds of books and websites and resources for artist reference. You can go find some live models or pose one of those weird little wooden dolls or turn around a toy or whatever. 

But! With that said, here're a couple big ones. Blender is itself an art tool! It's a lot less common for comic art to be fully produced in Blender than, say, animation, but Blender can be a really helpful way to put together thumbnails or consistent backgrounds. You can build a room and move it around for what you'd need to see in a panel and have that as a base when doing your art. You can use it for lighting studies. Lotta possibilities! 

If you can be cool, you can maybe get access to Fat Photo Ref. It's what the name says, an archive of photo reference by and of fat people, who unfortunately are often not included in your standard art reference collections and books. I'll also plug that the Morpho art book series has a very well regarded Fat and Skin Folds volume. Linking specifically to that one, but you can find the whole series from the link and get it from an indie bookstore! 

And as someone who has long pointed people to things like Wally Wood's 22 Panels that Always Work and Steve Lieber's 12 point portfolio critique without even looking (which I riffed on for writers here and also talk about like... finding agents) and all the thoughtful analysis on the craft and creation of the medium from Scott McCloud (I'm not linking Understanding Comics... you probably already have it), I think that the aforementioned Creator's Guide to Comics Devices is the logical progression of all of that. It is a free collaborative resource about the way comics storytelling works. 

Writing, Lettering, and Additional Craft 

I believe I've shared this before, and have said it's not my actual preferred format when I write, but Steenz and Camilla Zhang created a standard script template for comics. I think this is very helpful for people who don't know what a script looks like and, obviously, if you find yourself wanting to modify it to better suit your needs, you can! But this gives a really clear picture of what the general form will look like for maximum sharability with your collaborators. 

Comicraft and Blambot are two of my favorite font houses (and lettering houses)! They have fonts that you see in your favorite comics for reasonable prices, including often big discounts or fonts that are free for indie use (though obvs read the terms and conditions). They have packs including like premade balloons that can help ya get started easier. Both of their books on comic lettering, Comic Book Lettering the Comicraft Way and The Essential Guide to Comic Book Lettering, are excellent and should be considered the tomes they are. Sara Linsley's fonts are also great, particularly if you're doing more manga or webcomics inspired books.  And if you don't want to be a person who has to spend a lot of time thinking about fonts and getting MainType or another font management software (I don't do a lot of it, but I've gotten really into teaching myself lettering and I do think it's pretty fun), do us both a favor and just hire a letterer. 

But if you want to learn more about lettering, Todd Klein also has a really amazing blog! 

Printing

There are a lot of professional printers that print comics. Many of them that are printing for publishers have a very high threshold for minimum orders. If you aren't printing 2K copies, they aren't going to print your book at all because that's how they have to ration their paper and run their business. 

But I know of a couple of printers that do smaller print runs for indie comics. I've heard really good things about RA Direct and about Comix Well Spring. Something I'll flag right here and now is that whether it's one of these or another printer, early in the process--before you pay for anything--you should take some time to email the printer about any potential issues you might have. This can be anything from confirming your specs are correct and you've got the right overprint on your blacks to checking if the printer has any sort of issue printing 18+ sexual material or dismemberment or if you have anything that might be on the line of fair use. Like, it'll help you both out to get that sorted early and easily. 

As a brief detour, I've also heard good things about both Alibaba and have used Vograce with Becca, if you're looking for merch for shows--y'know, keychains and pillow covers and pens and pins and whatever else you may want to create with your art that is not strictly comics themselves. 

Distribution - Subscriptions

I'm talking specifically digital subscription platforms that are not webcomics hosting sites and that are subscription sites of any sort, not just stores/places your art lives. So no like Webtoon or Artstation or Shopify or whatever. Basically, your Patreons (you know Patreon, but you could sub to mine) and uhh... Substacks. But maybe better than those options... 

I host this blog on Patreon, that's true. I also have it on Tumblr and on my website. And I sent it out as a newsletter through Buttondown! They are super friendly and concerned with making the service work! It's awesome and I highly recommend it over Substack which, as you may recall, I have some issues with. My Buttondown is free, but you can have paid subscriptions. I've also heard some folks say good things about Ghost as a similar sort of alternative. I can't speak to that the same as I can Buttondown, which, again, I really like, but I know some people who use Ghost. 

In terms of Patreon alts, options are not great, TBH. Kofi has memberships (plugging mine which is membership-less). But I believe Kofi is also a lot stricter about what sort of content you can post and host--similar to the sorts of questions I was suggesting you ask a printer about earlier. Fanbox through Pixiv is something I see some folks use. I think it's largely international folks. I also, again, think it has some content restrictions though I'm not entirely sure how enforced they are. I feel guilty enough using Patreon (lol this being posted there), but I really can't recommend Subscribestar. I've heard good things about them as an alternative--like, I hear they're maybe the closest in practical functionality and are a lot more adult material friendly than some competitors, but I have a lot of the same problems I have with Substack and Patreon with them. Like, Patreon isn't perfect, but some of the more horrific elements of humanity that cannot operate on Patreon have found a home there and that stinks. 

The one non-subscription option I will highlight is, and again, I don't think it's perfect, but I know people who have had good experiences with itch.io. If you're looking for a place to sell some digital comics outside of your own website, there are far worse options. 

Crowdfunding 

I think we've all ceded IndieGogo to the worst parts of comics. Obviously, Kickstarter is still the big one that people really think of and like many of these prominent versions of the service, it has its good and bad. There is name recognition and a track record of projects getting funded and paid and completed, and there are criticisms. But that's true of lots of things. 

There are also a few options that're a bit newer in the space. Backerkit has been a part of a lot of fulfilment of Kickstarter campaigns for a long time and now operate their own crowdfunding platform. I know Iron Circus uses them. I've heard a little bit about Crowdfundr and am pretty sure I know some folks who've given that a shot. And I know one of the co-founders of Zoop and they've been helping get a lot of really cool projects made recently. 

Final Recs

BLEH! This ended up taking a lot longer than I expected! Oh well. You don't know. You're reading this and it is not happening in the realtime it took to write it. So, final resources I'm going to throw your way as jumping off points for more! 

1. Cartoonist Cooperative! Guess what, for basically everything I just said, they have EVEN MORE RESOURCES! They also do mutual promotions and support and are a really great community based initiative! 

2. Creator Resource! Similarly, they also have even more resources! Their database/articles include a lot of stuff like more about finding agents and publishers and page rates and marketing and this that and the other thing. Between the two of those, you're going to have a lot of whatever you would need to get started and have not just a rounded out knowledge, but access to a knowledgeable community. 

3. Curiosity's Corner from Wildstar Press! Wildstar's mission is really cool. They're an indie publisher that focuses on helping new creators get their first publishing credits and work they can share to get more jobs. And they've recently started a guide that's not dissimilar to this blog on how to get started on having a comics career. 

4. This is just a general reminder. Make a website that has a way to contact you. Make an email that maybe can be public facing but that you're comfortable using for work and dedicate it to that. If you're going any place where you think you might make industry contacts, bring business cards. We live in the future and you can put your portfolio or samples on a QR code on your card. Find or make communities. I'm not great about it myself, TBH (and that's a little intentional because being an editor, working at a publisher, there are reasons on both sides to create this distance), but like... I dunno. Get on Discord or something. Have a group text. Like, have a way to reach out to your peers. 

Like I said earlier, if you have corrections to be like "nah, this thing sucks, don't recommend it" or if you have additional recommendations, please share them! Don't DM me because I've been very bad about answering those because I am going to be shuttering Twitter soon, but y'know, if it's something you can share publicly, reply on post where you saw it or on the website (comments in a rare move are open on this unless something happens). If you want to share anonymously (or like... invite me to a Discord or something), there's always my contact page. 

Okay, I'm off to write fiction now! And should probably reach out to some folks to draw it soon. 

L8rs!

What I enjoyed this week: Blank Check (Podcast), Solve This Murder (Podcast), One Piece (Manga), Sonic Superstars (Video game), The Archive Undying by Emma Mieko Candon (Book), Reverse 1999 (Video Game), Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Links (Video game), Last Week Tonight (TV show), The Simpsons (TV show), I said Thirsty last week, but I meant Steamy, the last book in the trilogy from Space Between, but it did make me go back and read Thirsty and Cheeky again too (Comics - Adults only), Five Nights at Freddy's was fine but like... I don't think I'm the target audience and we only saw it because we pay for Peacock and didn't give additional money to the bad man creator (Movie), Phantom of the Paradise (Movie), Scream 3 & 4 (Movies), Batman: The Brave and the Bold (Cartoon), Joe Pera Talks with You (TV show), Witch Watch (Manga), Halloween, Godzilla Day, Spooky's Jump Scare Mansion (Video game... well, until I got too spooked), wanting to write. 

New Releases this week (11/1/2023): No new books from me this week. Don't worry, next week makes up for it. 

Final Order Cut-Off next week (11/6/2023): Godzilla Rivals: Jet Jaguar vs. Megalon (Editor)

New Releases next week (11/8/2023): Godzilla Rivals: Round Two (Editor on most of it) Sonic the Hedgehog #66 (Editor) Sonic the Hedgehog: Knuckles' Greatest Hits (Editor) Sonic the Hedgehog: The IDW Art Collection (Editor)

Announcements: I might be done for the year? If you'd like to have me on your podcast, Twitch stream, at your convention, signing at your store, talking to your students, whatever, feel free to hit me up, but I don't think I have anything else public for the rest of the year, though knowing us, Becca and I will probably a local market or something. 

Wanna support me? Visit my webstore, the previously linked Patreon or Kofi, or my eBay. And you can always visit Becca's portfolio/shop/Patreon/Twitch streams too. Streams will be returning soon. Been having technical difficulties of late. 

And of course, things are bad. Call for a ceasefire and urge your reps to stop the Palestinian genocide. Fight back against whatever terrible policies are currently up in your local or national area--from trying to ban books to criminalizing transness to further criminalizing homelessness to whatever. Support SAG-AFTRA as they're still on strike, and support all the other strikes and union actions happening across the country and across the world. Just be kind to people. 

Pic of the Week: It's my favorite green heroes, the Warrior Mans! 

[addindiagroup]

How are Managed Offices Different from Traditional Offices and Coworking Spaces

Coworking spaces and managed offices are at the top of the list of numerous developments that transformed the idea of contemporary workplaces. In the former, also referred to as a shared office, you collaborate with other businesses while sharing the space and facilities. On the other hand, a managed office is a private, dedicated space that is customised to your needs by an outside operator.

These days, managed office space options and coworking spaces are becoming more and more popular, but how do you choose which is best for your company? Here is a seven-point checklist to assist you:

There are seven main distinctions between managed office space and coworking space.

What Is the Size and Maturity of Your Organization?

Does Your Business Deal with Confidential Information?

How Much Can You Spend?

Are Your Requirements Fixed or Likely to Change?

How Important Is Brand Identity for You?

Is Collaboration Crucial for Your Business?

How Soon Do You Want to Move in?

1. What Is the Size and Maturity of Your Organization?

When choosing between managed offices and coworking spaces, two important factors to take into account are the size of your company and its maturity. Start-ups, SMEs, and expanding brands can benefit greatly from shared offices because of its casual atmosphere, flexible leasing options, pay-per-desk plans, open floor layouts, and networking opportunities.

Conversely, medium-sized and established businesses are the ideal candidates for custom-managed office solutions. Without the responsibilities of a standard leasehold, you receive a full office dedicated to your business. The service provider manages and maintains the office, which frees up established enterprises to concentrate on their primary business activities.

2. Does Your Business Deal with Confidential Information?

For obvious reasons, data security and privacy should also be your top priorities. Coworking spaces require shared resources like printers, Wi-Fi, and cafés among their members, and often feature open office layouts without cubicles or cabins. Your private information is vulnerable to prying eyes and ears because of all of these.

Solutions for managed office space have higher privacy and data security ratings, making them better suited for companies handling sensitive data. There are less security issues as you aren't sharing the area with someone from outside the firm. To further lessen security risks, you can also install your own printers and secure networks.

3. How Much Can You Spend?

Examine the prices carefully before selecting between managed spaces and coworking offices. While shared office spaces tend to have lower monthly leases and security deposits than managed offices, both options are still more affordable than traditional offices. You also have to pay an office administration fee that is approximately 20% of the total cost.

Additionally, managed offices have additional fees that are not associated with coworking spaces. For example, you will have to pay between fifty and seventy-five percent of the furnishing costs even though the service provider will outfit the office according to your specifications. Coworking spaces are undoubtedly a great choice for entrepreneurs and start-ups who are bootstrapping their businesses because they assist cut expenses. Discover how.

4. Are Your Requirements Fixed or Likely to Change?

Managed offices are often best suited for businesses with fixed, medium-term requirements. Compared to coworking spaces, managed offices have longer contracts and less flexible leasing terms. You are still obligated to pay the entire rent if your business decides to shrink during the term of the agreement. Likewise, if your needs change or you choose to leave the company, a full-term contract includes a lock-in period of three years or longer, which might be inconvenient.

However, one of the key benefits of coworking spaces is flexible lease. With shared office leases, you may easily grow or shrink your business by adding or removing a few desks during the term of the agreement. Since the contract has a limited duration (11–12 months), you can leave the office or explore for other alternatives as your needs evolve.

5. How Important Is Brand Identity for You?

Managed offices are the best option if you want your workplace to embody your corporate identity and brand language. You can map your brand identity to every element of the office, including the furnishings, décor, colours, and more. The greatest companies for managed office services are those who wish to use the workplace to further their corporate identity.

Coworking spaces, on the other hand, are fully furnished, pre-designed offices. In a shared office environment, there is virtually no opportunity to showcase your brand's distinctive personality.

6. Is Collaboration Crucial for Your Business?

A coworking space serves as a place for networking and cooperation in addition to being much more than just a place to work. It functions as a cooperative ecosystem that enables individuals from various companies and sectors to connect and collaborate with one another, gaining from each other's abilities and skills in the process.

However, managed office spaces are private offices that don't encourage a high level of networking and collaboration. These areas give your company a productive setting in which to concentrate on your main business operations.

7. Want to Move in?

Finally, coworking offices are the best option if you're looking for office space that is ready to use right away. Once the leasing procedures are finished, you can move in and begin working out of the office.

You can move inside the workplace just once the furnishing is finished because managed offices are customised to meet your needs. Several weeks or even months may pass, depending on the extent of customization needed.

Source Link : https://addindiagroup.com/how-are-managed-offices-different-from-traditional-offices-and-coworking-spaces/

[therandomavenger]

Preview of Curse of the Onyx Heart

Tilii Eldarion rarely ventured into the human district, but this morning he had a reason. One of the library’s patrons, a certain Mister Edgerton Sharpe, had a rare book he wanted to donate to the collection. He was house-bound due to an injury to his legs, and Librarian Silverthorn hadn’t wanted to trust this errand to a messenger, so Tilii, her trusted assistant, had been dispatched. Tilii didn’t mind. If he kept his hood up, no one would notice he was an elf. Not that it would be a problem in a city like Bright Harbor, but tensions in the human district were running high—something about a murdered councilor.

He’d taken the book from the old man, who had wanted to talk, and was making his way toward the university district — which operated independently, but technically belonged to the elves — when he found himself stopped by a crowd of people who were blocking the main thoroughfare, spilling out from the plaza. A man was standing on a box in the middle of the plaza, shouting into the crowd.

“We cannot let those who would be our overlords select our leadership! The Council should not be allowed to choose a replacement. We must demand a new election now! To preserve our own hegemony!”

There were some shouts in support, then a couple of people began to chant, “Maitland! Maitland!”

So, that’s why the man had looked familiar. Edrick Maitland was the printer Librarian Silverthorn had worked with over the course of the last few years, replacing much of the library’s collection with new, press-printed books, letting the old hand-printed ones go into storage where they could be better preserved.

Since he couldn’t move, Tilii watched the speech for a while. He couldn’t hear much of it over the murmuring of the crowd, but the implication was clear. Councilor Antares had been murdered by persons unknown because he was about to stand up to the elven members of the council, who had long ruled capriciously. And now, they wanted to appoint his replacement, when the human way was to hold an election and let the people decide.

Tilii almost laughed out loud. Let the people decide. People like this mob?

He knew, intellectually, that was how humans had selected their members of Bright Harbor’s grand council for hundreds of years. But it had never made much sense to him. Crowds of commoners given the power to make important decisions for themselves without training or even proper information. It made no sense.

Their elven leaders had been trained since birth to serve the people and could be counted upon to make good decisions. The elven elders, led by the great houses, appointed their leaders, who were usually bonded to lives of service. Like his father, who was an elder of Endurion, on the other side of the continent of Amalgra. The dwarves had a competition of skilled craftsman, their works judged for complexity and innovation. That made less sense than the elven way, but at least you were getting someone you knew was smart. For the halflings, their leaders were chosen after several days of competitions, both physical and mental. And the Orcs selected theirs through trial by combat. All of those methods made more sense than the humans, who let people make impassioned speeches, and then let other people vote on who gave the best speech. That was insane.

But that was, apparently, what Edrick Maitland was calling for. Tilii had thought him a more sensible man than that. Eventually, Maitland concluded his speech, and the crowd started to disperse, allowing Tilii to pass through into the university district. There, near the entrance plaza, was a building with the sigil of The Mages’ Guild etched into the glass of its window. Someday, Tilii hoped, he would be a member of that guild. Maybe that would make up for all his failures back in Endurion.

The streets were thick with pedestrians here as well, though most of the traffic was moving in the direction he wanted to go, so he made quick progress. He walked into the heart of the university plaza, to a large building made of stone, its windows covered in real glass. He pushed his way through the door and into the library proper. He stopped for a moment, removed his cloak, and hung it up on the hook that had been placed there for just such a purpose.

“You’re late. I thought perhaps I was working alone today.”

Tilii’s face colored as he recognized the voice. He tried to calm himself before facing her. Lydara. She was in the blue robes of a junior librarian, her short dark hair pushed skillfully back behind her ears. She was giving him that smile that made him want to come unglued, but he schooled his reaction and replied calmly, “Master Silverthorn wished for me to pick up a rare book in the human district. A donation.”

He held the book up and walked back toward the librarian’s office, hoping he looked official and impressive. The stacks were about shoulder-height, filled with books on the main floor. There were other floors, and hidden archives, but the main collection was here. Tilii had nearly reached the librarian’s door when he heard a loud thudding noise that sounded like a book being dropped on the floor. Who would do such a thing? He had to put a stop to it. He followed the noise to the middle of the room, where a young man was pulling books off the shelves and making a pile of them on the floor. Tilii got ready to yell at him. You don’t treat books that way, you just don’t!

“What are you doing?” Tilii asked, his voice almost a snarl. The young man pulled back, holding a large volume in his hand. These were all, fortunately, the newer printed books, which were not as susceptible to damage as the hand-copied tomes, not to mention more easily replaceable.

“Do you work here?” The young man asked. He was about a head taller than Tilii, about average height for a human, but as Tilii got a look at him, he realized he was not human—at least not entirely.

“Let’s see, blue robes, library seal on the chest. Of course I work here.”

The man scanned him, then smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just … I’m looking for something and having trouble finding it.”

Tilii sighed. “And you’re authorized to use the library? Are you a student?” He scanned his clothes for the first time. He was wearing a martial tunic and pants. The tunic was white, with a flaming eye stitched in the center. The uniform of a paladin of the Order of the Burning Eye. So, not a student. Also, probably not authorized.

The young man shook his head. “I do have permission. My commanding officer sent me.”

“Do you have a note?”

“A note?”

“A note from your superior, preferably signed by our librarian. You can’t just come in here and throw books around.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just having a hard time sorting through everything.”

He had the height and slightly broader features of a human, but his ears were pointed like an elf’s. A half-elf then? Did that make any difference?

“Can you even read?” Tilii asked him.

The young man took in a breath, then seemed to count before letting it out. “Of course I can read,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Well, why are you throwing books on the floor?” Tilii went to the books and started picking them up. “What’s your name, anyway, so I know who to report.”

“My name is Ethan Brade,” the young man said. “Are books on the floor really such a big problem?”

“Are you joking?” Tilii gasped, incredulous. “Do you know what dust does to books?”

“I’m sorry?” Ethan said. “I just needed a place to put them.”

Tilii sighed. “Well, Evan, there is a table just over there you can stack them on.” He pointed toward the end of the aisle.

“Fine,” Ethan said. “Is there somebody who can help me find something? Someone besides you, since I seem to have offended you so badly.”

“First, I need to make sure you belong here,” Tilii said. “Come with me to see the librarian.”

Tilii did not miss the way Ethan rolled his eyes when he said, “Fine.”

GET THE BOOK HERE!