Margaret Owen
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what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Margaret Owen
@what-eats-owls.bsky.social
2.5K followers 460 following 1.1K posts
doodler, demi, NYT, USA Today & Sunday Times bestselling author of LITTLE THIEVES, THE MERCIFUL CROW, & more ✨ She/her. Rep: Victoria Marini
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what-eats-owls.bsky.social
TBH, taking a look at the book packaging and the description of this "launch party," this strikes me as an effort to develop a *luxury brand* of romance novels. I, uh, wish them all the best.
November 14, 2025 at 5:17 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
this is such small potatoes in the grand context of things but this announcement in Publishers Lunch tells me someone was absolutely giddy to stick it to Carsten
Screenshot that reads: "Bertelsmann Crowns A Coesfeld (Thomas, The Younger) As New CEO Berteslmann announced that Thomas Coesfeld, 35, will become the new chair and ceo of the company on January 1, 2027, after Thomas Rabe's 15-year tenure comes to an end. He was chosen over his older brother, Carsten Coesfeld, in the competition to see which of the controlling Mohn family members would take over. Carsten, who is on the company's executive board and is responsible for Bertelsmann Investments and Bertelsmann Education, is not mentioned in the release."
November 13, 2025 at 4:52 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Also I should note, I have the "classic" subscription that's supposed to be Copilot-free. It looks like they're now testing a "mobile app" version anyway.
Screenshot from my Microsoft subscription management page that shows the drop-down menu for "Apps included with your subscription" and at the top is "Microsoft 365 Copilot app"
November 12, 2025 at 6:55 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
If, like me, you let Microsoft update in the last 24 hours and discovered they've found a new way to shoehorn in a Copilot icon that just... sits there, watching... You can uninstall Word and install the version from Nov 4th or earlier: learn.microsoft.com/en-us/office...
Screenshot highlighting the date and installation link at the website mentioned in the post.
November 12, 2025 at 6:48 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
meme of ben affleck exhaustedly smoking
November 5, 2025 at 4:35 AM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
mariners fans tonight
image of Dianne Bruce, Ivanka Trump's former neighbor in DC, sipping wine and smiling in a fur coat on her stoop while a pride protest takes place outside Trump's residence
November 2, 2025 at 3:52 AM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
the effects of this will be swift and irreversible
A screencap from Sex and the City of Samantha, a blonde white woman, saying "If you were 25, that would be adorable, but you're 32 now, so that's just stupid."
October 5, 2025 at 3:27 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
This feels like it was engineered in a lab to summon Justin McElroy
Screencap of announcement in the Publishers Lunch newsletter that reads: " In a promotion designed for BookTok enjoyment, Jennifer L. Armentrout’s just-published THE PRIMAL OF BLOOD AND BONE is available in a special, limited-edition "garlic-scented copy, infused with Hellmann’s Garlic Aioli to create a one-of-a-kind, Craven-proof book." They explain: "This exclusive edition is printed with garlic-infused ink, designed to ward off Armentrout’s bloodthirsty monsters, the Craven. While humans may dread garlic breath, Hellmann’s has cleverly transformed this social faux pas into an unexpected – and delicious – form of supernatural protection.""
October 2, 2025 at 3:14 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Painting some feelings yesterday 🥲 I do love my saturated colors and my girl knights!
Digital painting of a teen girl from the shoulders up. She has dark curly hair and a slightly guarded expression, and a high-collared shirt and dark pauldrons ornamented with yellow ribbons. Golden laurels frame her face and her hair is flowing up and behind her and fading into abstract shapes dotted with stylized gold, red, and magenta stars.
September 6, 2025 at 3:52 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
And the end! At least, of the comic. If you'd like the rest (in prose) you can snag a copy here! bookshop.org/p/books/litt...
“Your curse, you mean.” I eye the raven as the gravity of this situation begins to sink in. Eiswald tilts her head, and the leaves on her antlers shiver. “It will be what you make of it, little Vanja.” A mockup of the order dispatching Prefect Hubert Klemens and Junior Prefect Emeric Conrad to investigate the matter of the thief known as the Pfennigeist, with a goofy little black cat in the corner! Back cover of the comic, which just reads "Be careful what you take"
August 25, 2025 at 4:09 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Part 3! TERRIBLE: the awful girl you're trying to curse is stuck in the grindset
Eiswald pushes closer, and I smell night and yarrow and rot. “Do not think your godmothers can help you now. Take, take, take, that’s all you’ve done for the last year, taken whatever you desired. But you have come into my woods tonight, and stolen from those under my ward. So now . . .” One pale hand reaches out, knuckles flushed red. My hood falls back on its own, the mink trim coiling around my throat like a noose. I try to move, try to scream, but—nothing. I can’t even breathe, lungs afire, my sight filling with the coal dust of terrible luck. A burning-cold fingertip presses to my cheek, just below my right eye. There’s a sharp pain. “. . . I will give you a gift,” Eiswald whispers, and glides back. “You will have what you want.” I suck in a breath like a dagger in the gut. I can move again. My hand flies to my face—and catches on something hard, no bigger than the tip of my little finger. Eiswald does not have lips to smile with, but the jaws of the bear skull crack a little wider. Torchlight slices along her teeth. “Rubies and pearls you shall become, little Vanja, and you will know the price of being wanted. For true greed will do anything to take what—” “Wait.” I strip off my glove and run my bare fingers over whatever she’s put on my cheek. It’s too rough to be a pearl. “Is this real?” Eiswald tries again. “To take what it—” “Is this a real ruby?” I whip out my boot knife and check my dim reflection in the blade. Sure enough, a fat, impeccable, teardrop-shaped ruby sits below my right eye. “Scheit,” I breathe, and immediately prod at the stone with the tip of my knife. “I could buy five horses with this.” “True greed,” Eiswald thunders, “will do anything to take what it wants.” I shoot her a pointed look as the blade scrapes against the ruby, perhaps a little too close to my right eye. Admittedly, cutting gemstones out of my own face is not ideal, but . . . five horses. “Do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate.” But no matter how I chisel at the jewel, it won’t move, as if it’s grown right out of my cheekbone. Eiswald knocks the knife aside anyway, seizing my chin in a grip that makes me squirm. “Out of respect for your godmothers, I give you one more gift.” “Pass,” I grind out. “You have until the full moon to make up for what you have stolen,” Eiswald growls. “The longer you take, the more your greed will overtake you, until it is all you are.” The thing about Low Gods is they’re inordinately fond of talking like a book of doomsday prophecies. You could ask Fortune about the weather and she’d say something like, The wind’s loyalty skews, the veil lifts and that would mean “The rain will clear out by Tuesday.” The only way to get a straight answer from them is to spell it out first. “So I’m going to keep breaking out in gemstones?” “By the full moon, you will be gemstones and nothing more. The only way to save yourself is to shed your greed and make amends for—” “What I took, right, I heard you the first time.” I purse my lips. If I’m sprouting jewels like warts, maybe I’ve solved at least my money problem. “Are they all going to grow on my face, or somewhere less . . . necessary?” “Enough. You grow tiresome.” Eiswald flicks a hand, and the raven flutters down from her antlers to alight upon one ruddy fingertip. “My daughter, Ragne, will watch over you until my gift ends, one way or another.”
August 25, 2025 at 4:01 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Part 2!
I peek out from the furs. The muted drumrolls of hoofbeats have fallen silent, and beyond the coach windows I only see pitch-black night, and torchlight sweeping down spruce boughs. My brow furrows with confusion. We’re deep into the forest of Eiswald, with no need to stop. Then I see it. The torchlight is steady, unmoving, like the flame itself has frozen. And if I look carefully, I can see the crumbling ash of my fortune taking a turn for the worse. There’s no sound but my heartbeat rattling in my ears as the coach door slowly, quietly swings open. Nothing is there. Prickles run up the back of my neck. This could be the work of a grimling, a wicked, hungry spirit looking for a meal. Then again, a grimling wouldn’t bother with these theatrics. I’ve dealt with two Low Gods since I was four; I know when one’s at work. And if I’ve learned anything, it’s that there’s only one way to do business with a Low God: Get it over with as soon as possible. I roll my eyes, peel myself from my nest of fur, and draw my hood up against the cold as I climb out of the coach. Sure enough, an inhuman figure towers in the road outside, wreathed in the forest’s mists, perhaps twice as tall as a man. The only reason my escort isn’t fleeing is that they don’t see her, or anything at all. Every rider, every soldier, every attendant has gone still, their torch flames stuck in place like lanterns of molten glass. That means whichever Low God this is, they’re at least powerful enough to halt time a moment. That does not bode well. This Low God has a bear skull for a head, twin red-tinged lights glowing in each eye socket. Two antlers branch from the crest of the skull, their tips blooming into blood-red leaves. A strange shadowy sphere floats between them. Long hair falls around the skull, parted perfectly down the middle, fading from jet-black roots to snow-white ends and laced with bands of scarlet hemp. Two gaunt human arms thrust from a heap of shifting pelts like ribs from a long-dead corpse’s jerkin, bone-pale everywhere but the joints, which blush an unnaturally deep crimson. A raven is perched on one of the branch-antlers, its eyes also glowing red. Life and death, beast and vine, blood and bone, the teeth of a predator and the horns of prey. The goddess of this forest, then. Of course Eiswald is strong enough to hold time. Her woods reach nearly all the way to the border itself. I curtsy with a bit more sincerity than I had for the junior prefect. “Eiswald. What—” “Silence, thief.” It’s a howl, a hiss, a snarl all in one. Oh, that can’t be good. “It’s Lady Eiswald to the likes of you. Did you think you could come into my lands and take whatever you pleased? Did you think you would never pay?” Eiswald’s voice rises to a shriek. I blink and she’s suddenly closed the distance, looming taller than even the coach, eyes burning scarlet. “Did you think you could steal from mine?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I gasp, stumbling back. There’s a bang. A glittering cloud pours from the open coach door: everything I took from the Eisendorfs, hanging in midair like hornets. The pewter ring rises above them all, its moonstone shimmering in cold talons. “This,” Eiswald snaps. “This is a token of my protection. It is not yours to take.” “Ezbeta and Gustav don’t need your protection,” I fire back. Eiswald only gnashes her teeth. “Everyone in my woods needs my protection. They make their sacrifices every solstice. They respect the old ways. They respect me.” “Easy to respect a god,” I mutter, thinking of the look on Hans’s face when Ezbeta screeched his name. “Anyway, your token was just gathering dust in the bottom of a jewelry box. They weren’t using it.” “But they are far from your only trespass, aren’t they, little Vanja?” The sound of my name knocks any answer from my tongue. For the last year, I’ve been Marthe, Gisele, the Pfennigeist. I have not answered to Vanja. I can’t remember the last time someone called me by name. I’ve forgotten what it feels like.
August 25, 2025 at 3:55 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
I decided to reformat the Little Thieves preview comic I drew so it could read easier on Instagram, and realized I hadn't posted it here AT ALL despite it being four years old! Time to fix that!
This is the cover of a comic, which would ordinarily be a bit cumbersome to do alt-text for in a comprehensive manner. HOWEVER, this happens to be based on my book, so I'll just paste in the excerpts from the book that explain what's happening on each page! Inside of the front cover, with a bit of context that reads: "THE FOLLOWING is an excerpt from an early chapter of Little Thieves . . . kind of. I’ve adapted it to be a comic! This means that there are minor changes to the text in order to give more context or explain things where words are, for once, worth a thousand pictures. If you’d like at least a little context before diving in, we can do that here too: Our heroine (?) Vanja is on her way back from yet another party she’s attended in the guise of Gisele, the princess who she used to serve . . . until Vanja stole her identity. Vanja has, in fact, used Gisele’s identity as a cover to spend the last year infiltrating high society events, stealing from the rich and giving to, well, herself, mainly. Tonight is no exception. But Vanja is distracted by the news that Gisele’s loathesome fiancé is demanding a wedding in two weeks, and that he’s summoned highly-trained detectives to find the thief who’s been harrying his nobles. And Vanja has yet to realize that the party hosts she stole from, Ezbeta and Gustav von Eisendorf, had a better security system than she thought . . ." The footman helps me into the Reigenbach-blue coach, and I glance to the corner. The satchel is there, ceramic jars clinking quietly as the coach rocks from my weight. I seat myself nearby, sweeping my skirts over it, and accept a steaming waterskin from the footman. It’s been filled with boiling water for heat, and I settle it on my lap as the door shuts, then draw a soft, heavy fur wrap over myself to make a cozy cocoon against the chill. It’s going to be a long ride back to Minkja, but at least it will give me time to think. The coach lurches forward, and I burrow deeper into the fur. The way I see it, I have three problems. First: I don’t have enough money to leave right now. A thousand gilden is enough to last a spendthrift countess five months, a shrewd laborer five years. It’s enough to get me out of the Blessed Empire of Almandy, through one of the borders that isn’t a bloodbath, and it will buy . . . I don’t know what. A ship? A storefront? A farm? All that matters is that it will buy me a life far from here. And it must be far, if I am to escape my godmothers. Far enough for them to lose their claim to me. Death told me once that she and Fortune are different beyond our borders of the Blessed Empire. That the Low Gods and their believers are like rivers and valleys, each shaping the other over time. In other lands, she is a messenger, a black dog, a warrior queen; Fortune is a horn of plenty, an eightfold-goddess, a serpent-headed titan. They wear different forms, abide by different laws. So maybe, outside the Blessed Empire, they will no longer be my godmothers. It’s the only way I can think to be free of them. Right now, I have just enough to get past the border as is, but I will be a commoner again, alone and friendless and without a penny to my name, and I know what happens to girls like that. I’d planned to solve this problem with another theft, but . . . Now that Adalbrecht’s on his way back, I have two weeks to handle the money issue and figure out how to flee from my second problem: Gisele’s husband-to-be. Ordinarily, the only trouble with solving a problem like Adalbrecht would be deciding between arsenic and hemlock. But that route is cut off by my third problem: the prefects. Well, not Junior Prefect Milksop really, just the impending Prefect Klemens. A full-fledged prefect will be able to trace Adalbrecht’s murder back to me, and convene the Low Gods themselves to decide my punishment. I don’t think even Death or Fortune could save me then. It’s a puzzle, like picking a lock, trying to nudge each of the tumblers just so until the way is clear. If I arrange a visit to another noble family . . . no, Gisele is too high-profile, especially with the upcoming wedding, and will surely be connected to the crime. If we host celebrations at Castle Reigenbach? That could be something . . . It takes a moment for me to realize the coach isn’t moving anymore.
August 25, 2025 at 3:51 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Someone had to take a few minutes to assess the cobweb on the ceiling for threats
A black cat with a teeny smutch of white on his chest sitting and looking up with a slightly derpy face Different angle of same cat, somehow even more powerfully derpy
August 25, 2025 at 3:28 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
I've been mulling over my experience at my first Worldcon for the past few days, and weighing whether it would be constructive to actually write down. (Not all bad, not at all! No one even asked about my pending demise!) I do think that this paragraph is a perfect microcosm of the larger issue:
Screencap from the linked post, which is a great read in its entirety. Excerpt reads: "Because I am a process nerd, and also a professional little shit, I raised the question, “If I’m a brand-new director, or someone pulled in last-minute, there’s no way for me to have access to this loose social knowledge base. How can we turn this social knowledge into actual knowledge, and make sure that everyone has access to it?” In response, I received platitudes about how, well, you really just have to make friends with people, you have to learn who to talk to. Oh, but there was one woman, the heart and soul of DisCon, she was so very good at meeting and introducing people and raising them up and training them, we really relied on her."
August 22, 2025 at 7:30 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
how it feels these days 🥲
screenshot of british soldiers in full uniform playing brass instruments in a band on a summer day. one trombonist has keeled over from the heat but still clutches the horn to his lips. I have added text to make it appear that he is sadly tooting "buy my book"
August 21, 2025 at 1:10 AM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
I will be in tumbleweed mode* at worldcon this week, but if you spot me and say hi, I may have a bookplate or other trinket on hand 😎

*beholden to no god, nation, or programming schedule
Picture of the very fancy bookplates I drew myself for little thieves! Blue border, black background, cream circle for my signature, all embellished in folk art decorative florals.
August 13, 2025 at 4:36 AM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Friends and foes coming to Worldcon, please be aware that Seattle’s smoke season is officially underway. Don’t leave your masks at home!
Screenshot of the smoke levels around the greater Seattle metro area. Ranging from 59 to 98, they’re not ideal!!
August 5, 2025 at 1:38 AM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Are YOU coming to SDCC this year?? Do YOU have a burning desire to get your books signed and/or see me fight in public? NOW IS YOUR TIME!
My schedule for San Diego Comicon, which is as follows: PANELS: Battle of the Booktok Tropes, Friday July 25, 7 pm in Room 9 Karma is the Girl on the Page, Sunday July 27, 11 am in Room 24ABC SIGNINGS: Saturday July 26 - 11 am at AA Signing in Sails Pavilion, 1 pm at the Fierce Reads/First Second booth, Booth #2800 Sunday July 27 - 12:30 pm at AA Signing in Sails Pavilion
July 16, 2025 at 3:56 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
the neat thing is we had labubus in the 90s too
it's a picture of troll dolls. honestly I'd probably be doing you a favor not describing them, but if you must know: wretched works of a heretic's hand. stumpy little things that look like baby yoda going through a divorce. no human has ever been that shade of gray-beige but a lot of depressing house flip walls have. neon hair standing straight up. terrible, terrible eye contact, all iris/pupil, no sclera. a single gem embedded in their abdomen like the hourglass on a black widow; arms widespread and open. never should have been born. 7/10.
June 28, 2025 at 5:08 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Younger voters are splitting for Wilson, and much like NYC, the primary is essentially a dress rehearsal for the general election here, so it's within reach if people show up:
Quote from an article at nwprogressive.org: Our assessment is that Harrell is better positioned to get a second term than any of his recent predecessors. But this data demonstrates that his reelection is no slam dunk. Wilson has emerged as a viable challenger. It’s not just left-leaning voters who are interested in her candidacy right now: we found that we found that in the aggregate, a plurality of independent voters favored Wilson, as did a big chunk of voters who identify as Republican. Voters who identify as Democratic, meanwhile, look pretty split. The biggest divide we saw in the crosstabs was by age. Younger voters preferred Wilson, while older voters preferred Harrell. 52% of the youngest voters (ages 18–34) backed Wilson in the aggregate and 20% backed Harrell, while 46% of the oldest voters (ages 65+) backed Harrell and 24% backed Wilson. The second-youngest group (ages 35–49) preferred Wilson by a smaller margin in the aggregate: 42% were for Wilson and 29% were for Harrell. The second-oldest group (ages 50–64) preferred Harrell by a smaller margin in the aggregate: 38% were for Harrell, 28% were for Wilson.
June 25, 2025 at 9:11 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard has endorsed Andrew Cuomo for mayor
screenshot of Meredith, a heavily armored blond white woman from dragon age 2, commander of the templars, an organization that perpetuated widespread degradation and abuse against the mages they were supposed to protect, this is so on-the-nose I almost picked Elthina and you know I would've been right
June 23, 2025 at 11:01 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Cal Hockley has endorsed Andrew Cuomo for mayor
still from the classic film Titanic, depicting Billy Zane as Cal Hockley, a wealthy businessman who has stolen someone's young child and is pretending to be her father to get onto a lifeboat, much like Andrew Cuomo pretended he needed the gynecological records of his sexual harassment victims in an attempt to bully them into silence
June 23, 2025 at 10:42 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
Lord Enver Gortash has endorsed Andrew Cuomo for mayor
screenshot of Enver Gortash from the video game Baldur's Gate 3, looking like he leaves a slime trail everywhere he goes, a quality he shares with cuomo
June 23, 2025 at 10:28 PM
what-eats-owls.bsky.social
clair obscur (2025)
image of a knife concealed in a baguette
June 19, 2025 at 9:29 PM