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The Heroes of Olympus: The House of Hades | Rick Riordan

🎶“Percy will find a way /

Don’t make me gag / Percy couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag”🎶

Looks like Clarisse and Reyna have at least one thing in common. 😂

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another lover hits the universe. the circle is broken. but with death comes rebirth. and like all lovers and sad people, i am a poet.

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ᴷⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᴰᵃʳˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ⁽²⁰¹³⁾ ᵈⁱʳ- ᴶᵒʰⁿ ᴷʳᵒᵈⁱᵈᵃˢ

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✨72 días antes de que acabe 2020✨

🎃Miércoles, 21 de Octubre del 2020🎃

En el día de hoy fue un día de motivación, que me quede pensado que volveré a subir post en el mes de Diciembre. Pero con el nuevo feed que tengo pensado .

También me di cuenta que siempre fui fan de Justin Bieber jejeje. En lo personal me se los primeros discos y ya los Nuevo pues nunca los escuché. Pues volveré a escucharlos.

Claro que le ha cambiando un montón la voz de niño a adulto. También me puse analizar mis gustos musicales y las personas que escuchado últimamente, se he cambiando de música un montón.

Mañana es el sorteo y estoy muy emoción porque se que lo ganaré. O más bien ya tengo el IPhone 11 color morado de 256gb.

Emocionada por mañana.

También me debo que poner al corriente por acá, y tener mi rutina de programación jejeje.

Hoy no escribí mucho ya que no me levante para escribir. Nos vemos mañana.

También el blog de una chica triste se subirá en Noviembre ya que voy a ir por meses de las cosas que me pasaron y que me quiero desahogar.

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Originally posted by smol-baby-anna

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A servant had brought in Vautrelle’s coat—long and dark, with a great sable collar, and hooked with a silver chain, it was like a piece of stage property. He pulled down on his head a soft black hat, and the monocle gleamed from its shadow. Then he produced a long ivory holder, into which he fitted a cigarette. Standing in the doorway, tall, theatrical, with the holder stuck at an angle in his mouth, he smiled.

— John Dickson Carr, It Walks By Night (1930)

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And if I remember nothing more of Edouard Vautrell—though Lord knows I have good reason to remember him—it will be at that moment, smelling faintly of lilac-water, with his handkerchief hanging just so out of his pocket, and his sharp-tailored body poised. It was not, I think, any implication of guilt in Bencolin’s words that swept the momentary twitch to his wrinkled mouth and the quiver to his eyeglass. It was rather the slow, sick knowledge that some one had again discovered him to be a coward.

He carried it off beautifully, of course; in an instant he was cool and amused and very jaunty; but through all the man from his polished hair to his polished boots was the crushed futility of one who has seen defeat under many flags.

— John Dickson Carr, It Walks by Night (1930)

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“In case you want my own address”—he extracted a card-case—“here is my card. I shall be pleased to present you with a duplicate,” he added, politely, “at any time in the future you feel called on to be as insulting as you have tonight.”

Preening himself, he rose to his great height, lip partly lifted, glass in his eye, and his manner said, There’s no reply to that! It was as though he had leaned over and calmly flicked a glove into Bencolin’s face. I saw a rather dangerous silken film come over Bencolin’s eyes. Thoughtfully turning over the card in his fingers, the detective looked up with wrinkled forehead.

“Possibly,” he said, very gently, “it might be embarrassing for monsieur. Possibly monsieur’s experience does not extend to the knowledge that the duelling code unfairly allows monsieur’s adversary to have a sword also—?”

— John Dickson Carr, It Walks By Night (1930)

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