#Message in a Bullet

[owenthomasfiction]

Thank you to the fine people at Reader Views for a terrific interview. We did cover some territory, didn’t we? Anyone interested in peeking behind the curtail can find the full interview here: https://bit.ly/3vfZinc

[ryutarotakedown]

hello, magnus protocol fans! are You searching for a transcript of the first episode? do You, despite knowing that there are official PDF transcripts of the magnus protocol on the rusty quill website, wish there were also a handy website format that you can pull up on your phone? perhaps one with a faded yellow background even?

well you're in luck!

enjoy :)

(all credit for the base code goes to @snarp, whose TMA transcript website is the greatest of all time and whose blanket permission i used to clone this repository)

[echodrops]

I know I've posted about nothing but my job lately, but I am really struggling right now...

I honestly think one of the greatest failures of our modern education system is that teachers are expected to exhibit patience and forgiveness beyond anything that would be expected in other career fields.

Genuinely, I think the world would be a lot more functional (and better educated) currently if teachers were just allowed to be a little more real with students and tell them that, yeah, actually, it's not acceptable to continue making the same mistake after being corrected on it twelve times.

Of course, I fully understand instructors cannot expect students to master concepts they're never been taught.

But if a concept or rule has been clearly communicated to the student multiple times, it is honestly just not reasonable to expect a high grade while still continuing to make all the same mistakes. If a student refuses to learn the material, they just shouldn't pass. If I give a student a step-by-step video walk-through for how to handle basic formatting and they still fuck it up because they didn't bother to even watch the video, they should lose points. Like is that rocket science???

Imagine being a cashier, being taught the proper procedure for closing out a register multiple times, and then still fucking it up every single time you have to close.

Would you be employed as a cashier for very long? No!

Man, I don't even know. I know I'm just ranting at this point because I'm disappointed, but... Really, I do think that teachers should just be allowed to be a little more real. Sometimes calling people out for not putting in the minimum effort is fair.

If a student makes the same basic mistake after I've corrected them 20 times, it should be socially acceptable for me to tell them to stop wasting my time--and wasting their own time--in a class they don't intend to learn anything from.

I'm so tired...

[caramialunaestelle]

@s1lver-bullet sent:

A tall man approached Aigis. They were at the top of Gekkoukan High, the point where the seal between worlds had been placed. “Thank you for meeting with me. I just have a few questions to ask about this… door I found on the other side. And about the nature of Personas if you wouldn’t mind.”

The man on the other end of the phone sounded rather gruff - as if he'd lived three lifetimes of experiences in his short life span. He had given her very little information aside from where he would like to meet with her in person and that they needed to meet. At first she was weary - he could very well be leading her on into a trap. But when she mentioned a great seal her papillon heart fell still for a moment.

Now as the man approached her on the school's rooftop - a place she hadn't been in quite a few years now - she could see he was much younger than his voice had her believe. She gazed at him curiously, he didn't seem to have hostile intentions...

"I may not have all the answers you require. But I will do my best to provide as much information as I possibly can," She replied. "May I ask for your name first? When we spoke on the phone I forgot to ask."

[pushing500]

okay important question, lasers, or bullets?

As long as it gets rid of other people, the Jones boys aren't picky! They both have autopistols that shoot bullets (I think?), but the only relic of their ideology is a laser sword, which they are both keen to get their hands on now that they're rid of that pesky cube. It's not the same as a fired laser, sure, but I think an angry mechanitor wielding a laser sword would still be pretty badass.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

another snippet! my first Flight Rising one, featuring my darling couriers Honey and Grace having a chill time <3

~

If he had to choose his least favorite place in Sornieth, Honey wouldn’t hesitate to name the Southern Icefield. More specifically, port Hillberg.

The ramshackle town nests at the base of the Cloudscrape Crags, near where the continent starts to break apart into the Floes. It’s large, but shabby - tarp and rope holds together half of the buildings. Honey suspects that the residents simply couldn’t be bothered to rebuild time and time again. Sparse vegetation dots the steep landscape, if it could be called one. The dragons who have made Hillberg their home are just as blunt and harsh as the environment.

None of these things are strangers to Honey. Perpetual bad moods and subpar architecture aren’t what makes him dread every delivery to the region.

No, no… it’s the wind. 

The constant, inescapable, Shade-cursed wind. 

It isn’t that Honey doesn’t like wind - oh, he does. He hails from the Windswept Plateau, and spent his happiest years tumbling through gusts and zephyrs. His blood sings in the air. 

Hillberg’s wind, though, is an utter nightmare.

At best, it’s a frigid breeze that even a tundra can feel through their thick coat. At worst, it’s a howling force barreling down from the Crag’s peaks, tearing through Hillberg with a vengeance. It carries biting flurries of ice and sleet with it, leaving a trail of frost and unfortunate frozen creatures in its wake. Everything not bolted down is lost in moments. Hillberg is lashed together and fixed to the earth to withstand the daily barrage. 

It’s so terrible that ropes line the streets for dragons to cling to so as to not be blown away in the gales. Wings are bound, claws are left long for purchase. Hillberg’s larger inhabitants have an easier time of it, but they’re few in numbers. The majority of residents are too small to withstand the greatest winds.

This horrible natural force even has a name - the Crag’s Breath.

Honey wouldn’t give it such a tame title. It’s a roar, a howl, a bellow. It rivals the Crescendo’s outer winds.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to put up with the Breath’s ordeal all that often. Hillberg doesn’t get many deliveries, and Honey isn’t the only courier available on this route. More often than not Honey gets months between trips here - sometimes he gets even luckier when the Breath isn’t howling during his brief stop. 

That luck isn’t holding this time around. 

Honey untenses one of his talons to flex feeling back into his claws. It’s a useless endeavor, of course. It serves him right for not wearing full gloves. He shivers and puts his talon back down, curling his claws into the frozen divots they’ve carved. A gust hits him from the side, and he clenches his leg muscles to keep from staggering.

The wide, desolate landing zone offers no comfort. The frozen ground yields no natural protection from the freezing wind, and the setting sun gives no relief. The gales yank at his apparel, his tail, his tightly folded wings. Honey doesn’t dare imagine what would happen if he opened them.

It’s cold. So devastatingly cold. The chill cuts right to Honey’s bones, and he’s certain that he’ll never be warm again.

During times like these he curses his lifestyle. Being constantly on the wing keeps him fit and light. Not enough fat lingers in his muscles to provide insulation, and his lithe form struggles to withstand the wind. He rarely meets a dragon larger than himself, yet right now he feels no bigger than a fae.

Honey huffs through his nose and glares across the icy field at the lights in the distance. The debris from the Breath and the shadows deepened by the waning sunset cast Hillberg into a darkening haze. Soon all that will be left of it in Honey’s sight are the lights. Those too will vanish as everyone hunkers down to wait out the brewing storm. 

At least the wind doesn’t allow ice and snow to melt on him. The only thing worse than being in the Breath is being in it while wet. 

If only his welcomers would hurry. In Honey’s opinion, the protocol Hillberg has for arrivals - especially inter-regional ones - is absurd. Honey always has to wait an hour or more before they lead him into town, and more importantly, shelter. He wouldn’t mind it if the Breath wasn’t active, but at this rate he really will freeze in place. At least Hillberg would have a shiny new statue for their proverbial doorstep. 

In truth, though, Honey is being dramatic. Even if he was forced to wait all night, he’d survive. It would be long and miserable, but he would make it to sunrise. It isn’t him that he’s worried about.

It’s his assistant, Grace. 

Honey crouches lower and cranes his neck to try and peer into his scarf. His slush-smeared goggles blur everything into indistinct shapes and monochrome colors. He shoves his nose into the scarf and snuffles - he can smell her, he thinks, but she hasn’t moved in some time.

“Grace,” he grunts. The wind snatches his words away, and he says louder, “Grace!”

Tiny talons push his snout, and he pulls back. Grace peeks out from the navy folds to peer up at him. Getting a read on her expression is impossible - the helmet and goggles betray nothing. Despite how sheltered she is, the wind still snags at her frills and presses them around her face. 

“Hanging in there?” Honey yells.

Through the blur, she nods.

“Still warm?”

Grace makes a show of shrugging before burrowing back down. She squirms further down into the scarf to rest where Honey’s neck meets his chest. Hopefully both the scarf and the thick arctic coat provide enough insulation for her, along with her own matching apparel. Not enough of his own body heat will seep through - staying warm is up to her. Still, Honey wishes that he could tuck her into his jacket. 

Honey shakes out his frosty mane and casts another look at the vanishing town. The guideropes staked into the ground leading there dance in the wind, empty. 

Please, he thinks as a violent tremor wracks his body. He lifts a talon and immediately lurches forward - he slams his haunches down and angles against the wind. He rests the lifted talon over Grace. The faint press of her eases the knot in his ribs, though it won’t entirely untangle until they’re both out of the cold and warming by a fire.

It was a harsher trip than usual, getting here. Usually the route takes them along the Floes, where they can rest at established checkpoints along the way. But the first checkpoint had directed Honey to make one continuous arcing journey over the ocean to Hillberg. Why, he doesn’t know yet. There was some sort of issue. 

What he does know is that he’s beyond exhausted. Flying for so long unbroken is well within his capabilities, but it isn’t fun. Not to mention that the transition into Hillberg airspace had nearly knocked Honey out of the sky. The battle to the landing field almost did him in - his limbs almost gave out upon landing. Only half of his current trembling comes from the weather.

As soon as they’re in the hanger, Honey is sure to collapse and sleep for hours. It will set back their schedule, but it’s a much needed rest. Especially so if they can’t take the Floes for the return trip.

Honey hunches his shoulders higher. At least his folded wings protect the courier satchels. It would be horrific if the straps broke or the clasps came undone. Dozens of letters, documents, and parcels all spilling out and whisking away into the sea… Honey’s next tremor isn’t so much of a shiver as it is a shudder. He might throw himself into the ocean after them if that happened.

Frantic tapping against his talon shakes him from his thoughts. Honey’s eyes snap open and focus on Grace, who’s frantically waving and pointing. He follows her gaze and relief soars in his ribcage. 

A tundra slowly struggles towards them in the growing darkness. They’re big and burly for their breed, though that must be the uncountable pounds of fur covering their body. They remind Honey of the giant shaggy goats he sometimes sees while flying over the Icefield. 

The tundra stops, gripping the thick rope with both claws as they angle themself into the wind so that they’re nearly sideways. Their fur billows around them. When Honey lifts his head, the tundra jerks their own towards Hillberg. They carefully turn around to make the return journey.

Thank the Windsinger.

Honey helps nudge Grace back down to safety, and they spend a moment making sure she’s secure. Once they start walking, Honey won’t be able to spare her a moment of attention - he’ll be too busy staying upright. 

The Breath gusts under and around Honey as he stands, filling the new openings. He curses and stumbles. One talon slips on an icy patch, nearly sending him to the ground. In any other situation, Honey would be embarrassed about shuffling forward with his hindquarters still tucked. It must look ridiculous, but it’s the most stable position. 

Honey moves as quickly as he can manage, though even that is still slower than he’d like. It only takes a few minutes to catch up with the tundra. They don’t seem to be struggling, which is expected of an experienced Hillberg resident. Still, it can’t be easy.

“Would you like assistance?” Honey yells over the howling wind. The tundra looks up at him, and he moves the wrist of his wing away from his body to open up a pocket the tundra could climb into. 

They regard him for a moment through their own goggles, then at the long path ahead. They nod. Honey crouches as low as he can and angles his wing to create a buffer from the wind. The tundra lets go of the rope and flings themself at him, clinging to his thickly-padded shoulder. They clamber into the offered pocket and press up against his side, their fur frigid against the seam of his wing. Once they seem secure, Honey closes his wing tight and continues the trek. 

Each stride gets slower, and Honey’s legs tremble more with every one. The lights grow brighter and streak across his goggles, incandescently blinding him. The path curves up as he heads to the mountain-carved bunker.

This isn’t the worst weather he’s withstood, Honey reminds himself. Yes, it’s freezing. No, he can’t feel his own body anymore. But when has that ever stopped him? He has deliveries to make, including two lives tucked against him.

The icy soil finally gives way to an equally cold stone plaza. Honey staggers across it to the huge door. Carved stone and wood arc into an overhang, jutting directly out of the foothills and offering very little relief from the Breath. The hanger is the only area entirely safe from the wind -  something carved into the earth itself can’t be blown away. 

Honey slams his shoulder against the thick heartwood door, tough as iron and sturdy as the Crag. He leans desperately against it, flagging fast. 

Eternal seconds drag by.

Snowflakes gather in Honey’s exposed fur. 

The sun’s final light fades from the horizon.

The door shudders, groans, and lifts. The horizontal slats fold into the roof, and Honey yearns for the firelight spilling from inside. Only a couple more steps, now. Only another minute or two.

Honey squeezes through as soon as the door lifts enough for clearance. He slips into a long, warm hallway ending with the glow of a roaring fireplace. The door slams back down behind him, nearly landing on his tail. The door locks into place.

The abrupt silence almost hurts. Honey blinks hard and tosses his head against the ringing in his ears. The crackling of embers is barely audible. 

A tap against his side - ah, right. Honey uncurls his wing to let his passenger out, wincing at his frozen stiff muscles. The tundra jumps to the floor and shakes themself out. Ice crystals fly from their fur to shower the ground in glittering bits. 

“Thank you,” the tundra says, her voice clear in the hall’s calm. When Honey inclines his head, she butts her head against his wing and inhales deeply before trotting down the hall. He hopes she remembers his scent as an ally. 

“We’re in the clear,” Honey murmurs into his scarf as he pushes himself forward once more. Just a little further.

Grace clambers out of his scarf. She shakes herself before launching into the air, flitting in Honey’s blurry peripherals and performing complex acrobatics. That’s one way to warm herself. 

Only part of the bunker’s warmth reaches Honey, and he still feels frozen. His apparel crunches with every step. The stone floor seems to burn under his talons, even though it’s surely cold. Grace perches on his unbroken antler as they enter the bunker proper.

There aren’t many dragons inside, shockingly enough. The tundra he already met is settling into cushions set up by the circular fireplace. Three more tundras lounge about, along with a ridgeback that looks Arcane, a young guardian brooding in the corner, a pearlcatcher who already seems set on ignoring him, and a few specks that may be faes or spirals. Perhaps both.

Not that any of this matters much to Honey. He only has eyes for the empty cushions surrounding the blazing hearth. He stumbles towards it even as his vision tunnels until only the bright firelight remains. 

Just a little further.

A few more steps.

One more…

Honey is unconscious before he hits the ground. 

[arrows-and-ace-thetics]

For anyone else who may need to hear this today:

You will find people in your life who exactly what you can give is enough

You are allowed to set boundaries, you are allowed to not give everything

Looking after yourself means you can give more in the long run

You are enough

[ikeprincest]

terrifying thought

The people following me rn didn't see my url and go "Oh it's IkePrincest as in "Most IkePrince"" or whatever right

Because if you did, it's a pun

The ships in my thing will have the brothers dating/fucking. Each other.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Right, so ... the Fell Bullet × Pursuance AU. I finally have coherent thoughts that I can post.

Fell Bullet!Heathcliff is somewhere between mortal and demon--he's not completely human, but he's also not completely inhuman, either. Keeping in line with the story associated with the Abnormality from which this E.G.O originates, Heathcliff was once a human who loved someone (Catherine) dearly, but he's long since forgotten her as part of his deal with Der Fluchschütze. He's also "undead," in a sense--his heart no longer beats, yet he remains "alive." His soul has fallen, but his body remains on the mortal plain.

Pursuance!Sherry is a more angelic being, and is able to travel freely between "the heavens" and the mortal realm--the latter being a post-apocalyptic setting wreathed in red smoke (this is based on the background for Fell Bullet's E.G.O). Since she's an executioner, her job is to roam the moral plain and find lost souls, who she then interrogates and passes judgement on based on the rules set by Heavenly Executor's Scribe (the Abnormality her E.G.O is from). Sherry does have a beating heart, despite not being human.

Since Fell Bullet!Heathcliff is cursed to wander the earth for eternity, he eventually catches sight of Pursuance!Sherry while she's busy carrying out an interrogation, though he avoids approaching her. Afterwards, he often sees her soaring overhead, and always hides himself from her if she gets too close--he's curious about her, but he's also shy. Sherry stirs familiar feelings in Heathcliff's chest, which puzzles him since his heart should no longer be working, and yet here he is, experiencing what can best be described as "love."

When the two do finally meet, it's a rather awkward encounter, but it becomes very clear to both of them that the other is special. But, while Sherry is driven by curiosity and wishes to understand why she feels this way about him, Heathcliff is more withdrawn, feeling more fear than anything else. He does like Sherry--quite a bit, in fact--but the feelings are almost painful for him, since he knows he's felt this way about someone before, but he can't remember who they were.

On top of that, Heathcliff is scared that he'll somehow "taint" Sherry--an angelic being--by touching her, which makes him extra cautious around her. He does everything in his power to avoid physical contact with her, but, eventually, they do end up touching--a simple brush of hands--and when Heathcliff realizes nothing bad happens to Sherry, he's more open to her caresses.

They do have to keep their connection a secret, however--a heavenly being falling in love with a fallen being is unheard of, and wouldn't go over well with either of the Abnormalities the two serve.

[owenthomasfiction]

Wow. Just…

I am very pleased to report that "The Russian Doll" has now hit the Amazon Best-Seller Lists in three highly competitive categories! 

Thanks to all of you who helped to make that possible in such a short period of time (the book launched on November 1). I am humbled by your enthusiasm for this new series.

For those of you who make a point of only purchasing best sellers… well. Ahem. It is now safe to give the series a try. Prices are rock-bottom at the moment. If you like paperbacks, you can get the first book in the series free at https://OwenThomasLiterary.com. Or you can join the digital (or paperback) party on Amazon: https://amzn.to/3Y3zIPw

Seriously, folks. Thanks so much for the support and for putting up with all those ads.

[ahogedetective]

AHHH OKAY LOVELIES, OUT N ABOUT NOW SO I'LL SEE YOU GUYS LATER BUT I HOPE YOU ALL HAVE A NICE DAY, I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!! I PROMISE TO HAVE THE BEST BIRTHDAY TODAY~! ✨ ⭐ 🎂 🎉

[wexhappyxfew]

I need more Annie and John 🫠 They’re too perfect, I need to see John reacting to a flak injury or injury of sorts

AHHHHH HELLOOOOOO!!!!! i read this and honestly spontaneously combusted so thank you for that….. i just YES ME TOO FRIEND ME TOO. you have given me an absolutely wonderful idea for angst/whump for annie and brady and i am now SO EXCITED TO WRITE IT. i have a whole lot of prompts still left to write and i’m thinking of doing a little something with this 😉😉😉

-> i too need to envision john brady losing his mind over the idea of annie bradshaw injured - i LIVE for the angst/whump in writing, it gives me LIFE!!!!!! (despite what i therefore have to put the characters through but … )

THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THEM. can confirm that sometimes i do sit and ponder them and melt into a puddle of fondness and joy and so truly thank you!!!! i hope to have more for them in the coming days!!! :)

[gojoest]

so i turned mr waiter down and he reacted with 👍 to my message

[caramialunaestelle]

@s1lver-bullet sent:

As the grown men fell to the ground, swiftly defeated by, and surrounding the teen, he would casually retreat to the nearby chair assembled of spare parts and scrap metal, glaring at the onlooker, “What? You wanna fight, too?”

Unprompted Asks || Always Accepting!!

He'll make a fine weapon. I'll make him mine.

The war devil's hiss rang in Asa's ears and within a blink of her eyes she had swapped places with Yoru, watching the devil use her body once more from outside of it.

You'll get us killed! He's too strong! Asa's plea went ignored.

Yoru stepped forward, her face calm and her shoulders relaxed as she approached the boy. He couldn't be much older than Asa. Yet he showed strength beyond any human Yoru had met thus far. Perhaps he would make a formidable weapon to use against the Chainsaw Devil.

"Your strength is impressive. Be my boyfriend," she demanded.

What?! You idiot, that won't work!!! Asa shouted, though only Yoru could hear her.

[cupid-tune]

UGHHH i love your art so much mann!! its like so tasty n smooth, u are legit my favourite artist

BWuUGGHHG THANK YOU SO MUCH??? Sometimes being people's favorite still mind boggles me and I uaugj,,, Lays on floor

[loveless-venom]

I WANT to dm with people but then everyone who dms me is over 25 and their whole blog is stolen porn gifs LIKE CMONNNNN