#6-in-1 chapter book

[booksteacupandreviews]

Strangus Derangus (Book #1), In the Bear's Den (Book #2) & Adventures of Little Shambu by Reena Ittyerah Puri, Savio Mascarenhas (Illustrator)

[gethighdropacidneverdie]

Everyone say happy birthday to peepaw jigsaw Tobin Bell!

[pr1nce-elias]

So from what I’m getting so far this is Gideon and Harrow dynamic. Except it’s typically them both gripping each other.

[screenshotsonpinterest]

Thinking about how the extent of Tedros and Agatha’s relationship problems is them rehashing the same insecurities for 6 books and could have easily been resolved if Sophie had LET THEM BREATHE FOR TWO CONSECUTIVE MINUTES

[samthepotterhead]

I tell you if this book wasn't from the 50s, when sam rescued frodo from the tower, half dead - this would've been their first kiss! we were almost there, but not quite...

[discjude]

Yeah this is about right (as always my thoughts are in the tags so there's actually kei content there lmao)

[jichanxo]

sunday six ✌

tagging @four-white-trees @passthroughtime @overdevelopedglasses @skysquid22

decided to get back to my itokura-kitakata fic again! here's the two of them arguing about whether romance belongs in mystery fiction, lmao

“There’s no objective way of reading a text, and no objective way of interpreting one either. ‘Objectivity’ is just an idea made up by boring people who think mystery fiction should be logic puzzles and nothing else. If that’s what you want from mystery, just do a crossword or something. Intellectual stimulation, with no frills. That’s what you want, right?”

“Ugh, you’re just impossible.” Itokura threw her hands up in the air. “You don’t get it.”

He leaned closer, focused. “What don’t I get? It sounds like you’re the one who doesn’t understand.” 

“You don’t understand the beauty of an elegant trick. All this extra stuff just obscures it. It’s cheap.” She raised an eyebrow. “And what are you saying I don’t get? Love? And you’re saying that you do?” 

Kitakata floundered at that. He forced himself not to glance over to where Yagami was at the computer, talking to Amasawa, lest he make everything obvious to Itokura. Besides, he wouldn’t know what he’d do if he found Yagami looking right back at him, listening to their conversation. 

“That’s not what I was saying.” 

“Then are you going to explain what you meant, or are you going to keep beating around the bush?” 

[a-chaotic-dumbass]

Hiya

Have you read the Game of Thrones books? If so, do you recommend them?

short answer: yes ive read them and do absolutely recommend the books🤭

long answer: the books r amazing the world building and characterization is top tier and its my favorite fantasy world there is (my hot take is that i like it better than lotr) HOWEVER if u plan to read them id recommend looking up if they have any content that might trigger u bc while i feel like grrm handles the topics like rape and pedophilia well, its still rather graphic (the characters are also unreliable narrators so yk). if u like to dive deep into the politics and history of fantasy worlds then there is also 'fire and blood' and 'the world of ice and fire' which explore the backstory even further🤲 however aside from the main saga my favorite stories are of 'the hedge knight' which is significantly lighter but good to read in the ever lasting wait for the last two novels. if u liked the show ull probly like the books too🤭 i liked the books more buts its a preference thing. the prologue of a Game of Thrones is some of the best pieces of writing there is. so are the jaime pov chapters in a Storm of Swords and sansa chapters in book 2 and 3

[bubblingbeebles]

when your older lesbian mentor figure has maxed out skill levels in "asking for a friend"

[stromuprisahat]

Alina’s relationship with her powers, pt. 2

Before

Chapter 1

Alina’s health’s going to hell.

Sun Summoner isn’t a job! You never stop being Grisha! *glares at LB*

Even mentally, Alina’s not in the best place.

I don’t know, but the fact the Darkling looks better using merzost, than Alins not summoning...

He wore his weariness like an elegant cloak, but it was still there. Faint smudges showed beneath his eyes, and the hollows of his sharp cheekbones cut a little deeper.

Chapter 5

The fact Alina goes several times from not summoning at all to doing so in tense situations can’t be exactly healthy. How likely is that the adrenaline rush alongside her body’s natural reaction to summoning gets addictive to her?

Chapter 6

This also doesn’t sound well. I know Alina’s skills are incredibly limited, but creating possitive associations with “slicing someone in half" might not be the best idea ever. Especially is she’s worried she’d becoming “corrupted”.

Claiming of the Sea Whip.

I’m gonna repeat myself, but how could this go IF Alina were well-trained Grisha?

- I don't know where it came from.

~ It came from everywhere. Because you called upon it to come.

Alina × General Kirigan; Shadow and Bone 01×03: The Making at the Heart of the World

pt. 1

[loafbud]

I.... I DID IT?????

I ESCAPED FROM BOOK 6 CH 66-67 HELL!!!!!

I CAN FINALLY SLEEP OMG IM NEVER REVISITING THOSE CHAPTERS AGAIN

[solradguy]

Ok, about 230 words of LtA translated tonight. There was a paragraph with a giant complicated sentence that slowed me down a bit. Better than no progress at all though!

Bernard was introduced in what I translated tonight. I saw on the wiki that it seems he's generally referred to as Ky's butler, but I decided to render the word 「執事」 as "steward" instead because he does more than just cleans Ky's house and bring him tea biscuits lol

Bernard manages crime syndicate reports, compiles summaries of them, and works as an analyst for Ky at the former Holy Order HQ in Paris, too. That's way above a standard "butler," imo. It seems like the word 「家令」 more generally means what we think of a butler as in English anyway.

LtA hasn't referred to Bernard with「家令」 at all, but if Norimitsu uses that or「バトラー」to refer to his job later I'll change it.

[gethighdropacidneverdie]

WHO WANTS A HIT?!?!?!?

(Heard it tastes like Adams rotten bones)🦴

[muffingnf]

Holy fuck I read sword of kaigen a few months ago and it's the only book that has ever made me cry god I love it so much

i cried practically the entire second half of the book and even though the last chapter wasn’t necessarily Sad i was like. crying like a little baby it was seriously the best thing i have ever read EVER!!!!

[ask-de-writer]

I would like to thank Delightfully

EAGER BINGE READER

@furislupus​ for READING and LIKING

DR. MORDENHEIM’S TRAVELS, BOOK 1:

De Writer’s Equestria,

Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,

Chapter 8

Return to Hosted Tales

MLP Fan Fiction

[lesmislettersdaily]

Who Guarded His House For Him

Volume 1: Fantine; Book 1: A Just Man; Chapter 6: Who Guarded His House For Him

The house in which he lived consisted, as we have said, of a ground floor, and one story above; three rooms on the ground floor, three chambers on the first, and an attic above. Behind the house was a garden, a quarter of an acre in extent. The two women occupied the first floor; the Bishop was lodged below. The first room, opening on the street, served him as dining-room, the second was his bedroom, and the third his oratory. There was no exit possible from this oratory, except by passing through the bedroom, nor from the bedroom, without passing through the dining-room. At the end of the suite, in the oratory, there was a detached alcove with a bed, for use in cases of hospitality. The Bishop offered this bed to country curates whom business or the requirements of their parishes brought to Digne.

The pharmacy of the hospital, a small building which had been added to the house, and abutted on the garden, had been transformed into a kitchen and cellar. In addition to this, there was in the garden a stable, which had formerly been the kitchen of the hospital, and in which the Bishop kept two cows. No matter what the quantity of milk they gave, he invariably sent half of it every morning to the sick people in the hospital.

“I am paying my tithes,” he said.

His bedroom was tolerably large, and rather difficult to warm in bad weather. As wood is extremely dear at Digne, he hit upon the idea of having a compartment of boards constructed in the cow-shed. Here he passed his evenings during seasons of severe cold: he called it his winter salon.

In this winter salon, as in the dining-room, there was no other furniture than a square table in white wood, and four straw-seated chairs. In addition to this the dining-room was ornamented with an antique sideboard, painted pink, in water colors. Out of a similar sideboard, properly draped with white napery and imitation lace, the Bishop had constructed the altar which decorated his oratory.

His wealthy penitents and the sainted women of Digne had more than once assessed themselves to raise the money for a new altar for Monseigneur’s oratory; on each occasion he had taken the money and had given it to the poor. “The most beautiful of altars,” he said, “is the soul of an unhappy creature consoled and thanking God.”

In his oratory there were two straw prie-Dieu, and there was an armchair, also in straw, in his bedroom. When, by chance, he received seven or eight persons at one time, the prefect, or the general, or the staff of the regiment in garrison, or several pupils from the little seminary, the chairs had to be fetched from the winter salon in the stable, the prie-Dieu from the oratory, and the armchair from the bedroom: in this way as many as eleven chairs could be collected for the visitors. A room was dismantled for each new guest.

It sometimes happened that there were twelve in the party; the Bishop then relieved the embarrassment of the situation by standing in front of the chimney if it was winter, or by strolling in the garden if it was summer.

There was still another chair in the detached alcove, but the straw was half gone from it, and it had but three legs, so that it was of service only when propped against the wall. Mademoiselle Baptistine had also in her own room a very large easy-chair of wood, which had formerly been gilded, and which was covered with flowered pekin; but they had been obliged to hoist this bergère up to the first story through the window, as the staircase was too narrow; it could not, therefore, be reckoned among the possibilities in the way of furniture.

Mademoiselle Baptistine’s ambition had been to be able to purchase a set of drawing-room furniture in yellow Utrecht velvet, stamped with a rose pattern, and with mahogany in swan’s neck style, with a sofa. But this would have cost five hundred francs at least, and in view of the fact that she had only been able to lay by forty-two francs and ten sous for this purpose in the course of five years, she had ended by renouncing the idea. However, who is there who has attained his ideal?

Nothing is more easy to present to the imagination than the Bishop’s bedchamber. A glazed door opened on the garden; opposite this was the bed,—a hospital bed of iron, with a canopy of green serge; in the shadow of the bed, behind a curtain, were the utensils of the toilet, which still betrayed the elegant habits of the man of the world: there were two doors, one near the chimney, opening into the oratory; the other near the bookcase, opening into the dining-room. The bookcase was a large cupboard with glass doors filled with books; the chimney was of wood painted to represent marble, and habitually without fire. In the chimney stood a pair of firedogs of iron, ornamented above with two garlanded vases, and flutings which had formerly been silvered with silver leaf, which was a sort of episcopal luxury; above the chimney-piece hung a crucifix of copper, with the silver worn off, fixed on a background of threadbare velvet in a wooden frame from which the gilding had fallen; near the glass door a large table with an inkstand, loaded with a confusion of papers and with huge volumes; before the table an armchair of straw; in front of the bed a prie-Dieu, borrowed from the oratory.

Two portraits in oval frames were fastened to the wall on each side of the bed. Small gilt inscriptions on the plain surface of the cloth at the side of these figures indicated that the portraits represented, one the Abbé of Chaliot, bishop of Saint Claude; the other, the Abbé Tourteau, vicar-general of Agde, abbé of Grand-Champ, order of Cîteaux, diocese of Chartres. When the Bishop succeeded to this apartment, after the hospital patients, he had found these portraits there, and had left them. They were priests, and probably donors—two reasons for respecting them. All that he knew about these two persons was, that they had been appointed by the king, the one to his bishopric, the other to his benefice, on the same day, the 27th of April, 1785. Madame Magloire having taken the pictures down to dust, the Bishop had discovered these particulars written in whitish ink on a little square of paper, yellowed by time, and attached to the back of the portrait of the Abbé of Grand-Champ with four wafers.

At his window he had an antique curtain of a coarse woollen stuff, which finally became so old, that, in order to avoid the expense of a new one, Madame Magloire was forced to take a large seam in the very middle of it. This seam took the form of a cross. The Bishop often called attention to it: “How delightful that is!” he said.

All the rooms in the house, without exception, those on the ground floor as well as those on the first floor, were white-washed, which is a fashion in barracks and hospitals.

However, in their latter years, Madame Magloire discovered beneath the paper which had been washed over, paintings, ornamenting the apartment of Mademoiselle Baptistine, as we shall see further on. Before becoming a hospital, this house had been the ancient parliament house of the Bourgeois. Hence this decoration. The chambers were paved in red bricks, which were washed every week, with straw mats in front of all the beds. Altogether, this dwelling, which was attended to by the two women, was exquisitely clean from top to bottom. This was the sole luxury which the Bishop permitted. He said, “That takes nothing from the poor.”

It must be confessed, however, that he still retained from his former possessions six silver knives and forks and a soup-ladle, which Madame Magloire contemplated every day with delight, as they glistened splendidly upon the coarse linen cloth. And since we are now painting the Bishop of Digne as he was in reality, we must add that he had said more than once, “I find it difficult to renounce eating from silver dishes.”

To this silverware must be added two large candlesticks of massive silver, which he had inherited from a great-aunt. These candlesticks held two wax candles, and usually figured on the Bishop’s chimney-piece. When he had any one to dinner, Madame Magloire lighted the two candles and set the candlesticks on the table.

In the Bishop’s own chamber, at the head of his bed, there was a small cupboard, in which Madame Magloire locked up the six silver knives and forks and the big spoon every night. But it is necessary to add, that the key was never removed.

The garden, which had been rather spoiled by the ugly buildings which we have mentioned, was composed of four alleys in cross-form, radiating from a tank. Another walk made the circuit of the garden, and skirted the white wall which enclosed it. These alleys left behind them four square plots rimmed with box. In three of these, Madame Magloire cultivated vegetables; in the fourth, the Bishop had planted some flowers; here and there stood a few fruit-trees. Madame Magloire had once remarked, with a sort of gentle malice: “Monseigneur, you who turn everything to account, have, nevertheless, one useless plot. It would be better to grow salads there than bouquets.” “Madame Magloire,” retorted the Bishop, “you are mistaken. The beautiful is as useful as the useful.” He added after a pause, “More so, perhaps.”

This plot, consisting of three or four beds, occupied the Bishop almost as much as did his books. He liked to pass an hour or two there, trimming, hoeing, and making holes here and there in the earth, into which he dropped seeds. He was not as hostile to insects as a gardener could have wished to see him. Moreover, he made no pretensions to botany; he ignored groups and consistency; he made not the slightest effort to decide between Tournefort and the natural method; he took part neither with the buds against the cotyledons, nor with Jussieu against Linnæus. He did not study plants; he loved flowers. He respected learned men greatly; he respected the ignorant still more; and, without ever failing in these two respects, he watered his flower-beds every summer evening with a tin watering-pot painted green.

The house had not a single door which could be locked. The door of the dining-room, which, as we have said, opened directly on the cathedral square, had formerly been ornamented with locks and bolts like the door of a prison. The Bishop had had all this ironwork removed, and this door was never fastened, either by night or by day, with anything except the latch. All that the first passer-by had to do at any hour, was to give it a push. At first, the two women had been very much tried by this door, which was never fastened, but Monsieur de Digne had said to them, “Have bolts put on your rooms, if that will please you.” They had ended by sharing his confidence, or by at least acting as though they shared it. Madame Magloire alone had frights from time to time. As for the Bishop, his thought can be found explained, or at least indicated, in the three lines which he wrote on the margin of a Bible, “This is the shade of difference: the door of the physician should never be shut, the door of the priest should always be open.”

On another book, entitled Philosophy of the Medical Science, he had written this other note: “Am not I a physician like them? I also have my patients, and then, too, I have some whom I call my unfortunates.”

Again he wrote: “Do not inquire the name of him who asks a shelter of you. The very man who is embarrassed by his name is the one who needs shelter.”

It chanced that a worthy curé, I know not whether it was the curé of Couloubroux or the curé of Pompierry, took it into his head to ask him one day, probably at the instigation of Madame Magloire, whether Monsieur was sure that he was not committing an indiscretion, to a certain extent, in leaving his door unfastened day and night, at the mercy of any one who should choose to enter, and whether, in short, he did not fear lest some misfortune might occur in a house so little guarded. The Bishop touched his shoulder, with gentle gravity, and said to him, “Nisi Dominus custodierit domum, in vanum vigilant qui custodiunt eam,” Unless the Lord guard the house, in vain do they watch who guard it.

Then he spoke of something else.

He was fond of saying, “There is a bravery of the priest as well as the bravery of a colonel of dragoons,—only,” he added, “ours must be tranquil.”