Can I Buy Attack On Titan Colored Pages As Prints?

If you're doing the math, here's a practical breakdown I like to use. An 80,000-word novel will look very different depending on whether we mean a manuscript, a mass-market paperback, a trade paperback, or an ebook. For a standard manuscript page (double-spaced, 12pt serif font), the industry rule-of-thumb is roughly 250–300 words per page. That puts 80,000 words at about 267–320 manuscript pages. If you switch to a printed paperback where the words-per-page climbs (say 350–400 words per page for a denser layout), you drop down to roughly 200–229 pages. So a plausible printed-page range is roughly 200–320 pages depending on trim size, font, and spacing. Beyond raw math, remember chapter breaks, dialogue-heavy pages, illustrations, or large section headings can push the page count up. Also, mass-market paperbacks usually cram more words per page than trade editions, and YA editions often use larger type so the same word count reads longer. Personally, I find the most useful rule-of-thumb is to quote the word count when comparing manuscripts — but if you love eyeballing a spine, 80k will usually look like a mid-sized novel on my shelf, somewhere around 250–320 pages, and that feels just right to me.

Wow—150,000 words is a glorious beast of a manuscript and it behaves differently depending on how you print it. If you do the simple math using common paperback densities, you’ll see a few reliable benchmarks: at about 250 words per page that’s roughly 600 pages; at 300 words per page you’re around 500 pages; at 350 words per page you end up near 429 pages. Those numbers are what you’d expect for trade paperbacks in the typical 6"x9" trim with a readable font and modest margins. Beyond the raw math, I always think about the extras that bloat an epic: maps, glossaries, appendices, and full-page chapter headers. Those add real pages and change the feel—600 pages that include a map and appendices reads chunkier than 600 pages of straight text. Also, ebooks don’t care about pages the same way prints do: a 150k-word ebook feels long but is measured in reading time rather than page count. For reference, epics like 'The Wheel of Time' or 'Malazan Book of the Fallen' stretch lengths wildly, and readers who love sprawling worlds expect this heft. Personally, I adore stories this long—there’s space to breathe and for characters to live, even if my shelf complains.

I've built up a little stash of go-to spots for cute Krishna cartoon coloring pages over the years, and I love sharing them because they make lesson prep so much easier. For free, high-quality clip art I check places like Openclipart, Pixabay and Vecteezy — they often have simple Krishna outlines that are ideal for little hands, and you can filter for free or Creative Commons content. SuperColoring and JustColoring are great too; they tend to have a wide variety of devotional and festival-themed sheets that are already formatted for printing. If I need something more customized, I grab a vector from Freepik (with attribution where needed) or use a tracing tool in Inkscape to simplify a detailed illustration into a coloring page. For classroom use I always double-check licensing: some sites are free for educational use but require attribution or prohibit redistribution. I also keep a few printable templates saved as high-resolution PDFs so I can print multiple sizes or crop elements for crafts. Personally, I love turning a simple Krishna outline into a coloring-and-cut collage — the kids end up with a little scene to take home, and it feels special.

I recently picked up 'Asking for Trouble' and was pleasantly surprised by how immersive it was! The paperback edition I have runs about 320 pages, which felt like the perfect length—not too short to leave me wanting more, but not so long that it dragged. The pacing was tight, with each chapter pulling me deeper into the protagonist's messy, relatable world. What I loved was how the page count actually worked in its favor; the story had room to breathe without overstaying its welcome. It’s one of those books where you glance at the clock after 'just one more chapter' and realize you’ve blown through half of it in a single sitting. Definitely a weekend binge-read candidate!

The first time I picked up 'The Giving Tree,' I was struck by how such a slim volume could carry so much emotional weight. Shel Silverstein's classic is deceptively simple, with its 64 pages packing a lifetime of lessons about love, sacrifice, and the passage of time. I’ve revisited it at different ages—as a kid marveling at the tree’s generosity, as a teen relating to the boy’s restlessness, and now as an adult aching for the tree’s quiet resilience. The page count feels intentional; it’s a story that lingers far beyond its physical length, like poetry distilled to its essence. Every crease in my well-worn copy holds memories of reading it under blankets with a flashlight or tearfully gifting it to friends. What’s fascinating is how the book’s brevity becomes part of its power. You could finish it in 10 minutes, but the aftertaste stays for years. The illustrations—sparse, scratchy, and full of motion—fill the gaps between words, making each page turn feel weighted. It’s one of those rare books where the physical format (hardcover, usually under 70 pages) perfectly matches its thematic heartbeat: life is short, but its impact isn’t.

I was actually just talking about this with a friend the other day! 'Daylight' by Elizabeth Knox is one of those books that feels like it stretches beyond its page count because the story is so immersive. The edition I have clocks in at 344 pages, but I’ve seen some versions with slightly different formatting that might add or subtract a few. What’s wild is how dense the atmosphere is—every page feels packed with tension, like the haunted setting itself is pressing down on you. Knox’s prose is so vivid that even though it’s not a doorstopper, the psychological weight makes it feel longer in the best way. I ended up reading it in one sitting because I couldn’t tear myself away.

Can't shake the grin when I think about 'Jinx' (that panel work is addictive) — chapter 38 clocks in at 26 pages in the standard release. I checked the printed version and counted the main story pages; that 26 includes the chapter's title page but excludes any separate cover plates or front/back matter. If you're flipping through a collected volume you may see an extra color plate or an author sketchbook page nearby, but the narrative itself unfolds across those 26 core pages. Those pages are tightly paced: it doesn't waste panels, and the artist uses a lot of compact, expressive frames to keep momentum. There’s a short beat of calm in the middle where the pacing relaxes, then a sprint to the cliffhanger — all packed within that page budget. For collectors, the only small caveat is that digital releases sometimes reformat panels, so the visual length can feel longer, but the page count remains 26 for the chapter as originally published. I liked how economical the storytelling was here; it felt punchy and earned every panel.

That burning flight of Smaug over Lake-town is one of those scenes that still gives me chills. If you’re specifically asking which hobbit characters survive that attack, the straightforward takeaway is: Bilbo Baggins survives, and essentially no other hobbits are involved in the attack at all. In 'The Hobbit' Bilbo has long since slipped away from the town; he spends most of the Smaug episode inside the mountain or away with the dwarves, so when Smaug swoops down on Esgaroth the hobbit world (the Shire and Bilbo alike) isn’t directly under the dragon’s breath. It’s worth unpacking a little because adaptations and fandom chatter can muddy things. In the book Smaug attacks Lake-town after Bilbo leaves Erebor, and Bard the Bowman ultimately kills Smaug with the Black Arrow. The casualties are townspeople, not hobbits — men of Lake-town suffer heavy losses and many are displaced, but you won’t find hobbit corpses listed among them. Later, the familiar hobbits from 'The Lord of the Rings' (Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin) remain untouched by this event; their tales happen generations later in the Shire, far away from the mountain’s smoke. If you’re looking for dramatic irony: Bilbo survives physically, but the ripple effects of Smaug’s destruction — refugee streams, political fallout in Dale and Lake-town, and Thorin’s obsession with the Arkenstone — all touch Bilbo’s story emotionally. I always end up feeling glad Bilbo gets out of that smoke intact, even as the world around him burns a little.