[july-19th-club]

“Dismantling a person is sometimes necessary,” said Lord Vetinari.

“This, of course, is a point of view,” said Leonard da Quirm politely.

“You mentioned sacrilege,” said Lord Vetinari. “Normally that involves gods of some sort, does it not?”

“Did I use that word? I can’t imagine there is a god of gonnes.”

- Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms

[sleepnoises]

Anonymous asked:

hey if you were serious on the discord recommendations thingy ive been wanting to read some for awhile but i normally only really read noir-murder-mysteries, gothic/weird fiction and the occasional paranormal romance? (satire is also very fun)

:D :D :D :D my first thought is Feet of Clay, which is a murdery mystery with a bit of paranormal and a lot of satire. it has historically accurate Arsenic Facts! and golems! it’s one of the Watch books, so if you like it there are another eight ish? with the same main character and supporting cast.

[professorsparklepants]

Also I should mention that yesterday I said “Ankh-Morpork’s favorite son” and then went “oh my god, Young Sam is Batman” and then wrote it down in all caps so I wouldn’t forget, as Meghan pointed out that this probably only lasts 2-3 weeks in a fit of teenage rebellion while his parents are on vacation before Vetinari calls him into the office and threatens to tell his dad he’s been fighting crime as a vigilante. Dragonman only exists for less than a month and nobody (other than Willikins, the Patrician, and probably Angua) ever know who it is.

[patricianandclerk]

On The Line

Moist hesitated only for a second before he knocked on the compartment door, and then he slowly slid it open. The Pat– Ah. But, no.

Vetinari was sitting on one side of compartment, his reading glasses settled on the end of his nose, his icy gaze fixed on the book in his hands. His hair was showing a little bit more grey in recent years, turning a lighter silver rather than a flint grey, and streaking with more confidence at his temples, but that was the only sign one could really make out that he was anywhere near his own age.

Mr Fusspot showed the years more than he did: grey was across the dog’s muzzle, his stupid eyes drooping at their edges, and his fatigue was more genuine, these days, than it was feigned fatigue so that everyone would let him get away with being lazy.

Moist’s gaze flitted from the Patrician and the dog warming his feet to the Patrician’s clerk, who was asleep. His own glasses were held in a loose grip in his lap, and his cheek rested on the Patrician’s shoulder, his expression utterly peaceful in sleep. He showed his age a little bit, too, with the crinkles around his eyes and his mouth, and the furrow in his brow, his hair lightening with flecks of grey in places, but asleep, it all seemed to fade away a little. The hand not holding his spectacles was loosely entwined with Vetinari’s, and Moist’s gaze stuck on that detail, Vetinari’s thin, blue-veined fingers against Drumknott’s small, scarred hands. 

“Your lordship?” Vetinari asked, arching an eyebrow.

“One of the stokers told me you were on the line,” Moist said. “They mentioned Mr Drumknott was feeling ill - you’re sure you don’t want a sleeper cabin? It’s another five hours back to the city, and he could sleep in a bed.”

“I won’t disturb him now,” Vetinari murmured, with a minute shake of his head. 

“Well, we’re hitting the next stop on the line in about twenty-five minutes, but we’ll be lingering on the platform for a half hour before we keep on to Ankh-Morpork. You want me to pop into the village and get anything for him?”

“You haven’t got better things to be doing,” Vetinari asked, his thin lips quirking into a delicate smile, “than rushing about after two retirees with their petty health concerns?”

Moist von Lipwig, Patrician of Ankh-Morpork - although, thank the Gods, he had a whole council to share responsibilities with, and it didn’t mean quite the same thing as it had done years ago - smiled. “No, sir,” he replied, with an easy shrug of gold-clad shoulders. “Not really.”

“Why don’t you sit with us, until the next stop?” Vetinari asked, and gestured to the bench across from him.

“Oh, don’t let me–” Moist trailed off as Vetinari’s gaze heightened in its intensity, but then he smiled, stepping in and sliding the door shut behind him. When he sat, Mr Fusspot looked up at him with his fat, grizzled face, and Moist leaned down to heft the little dog into his lap, where he promptly fell back asleep.

“Tell me, Patrician,” Vetinari murmured, and his eyes were closed, his book resting on his thigh, his head tipped back against the compartment’s padded seat, Drumknott curled against his side… Moist couldn’t help but think it’d be a good image for a stamp, although Mr Drumknott would never consent. “How goes your work these days?”

“Well,” Moist said, absently stroking the soft fur of the Bank Chairman, and began - quietly - to talk. 

[rem-ir]

So I know doing the internal chronology of the disc is a fool’s errand but I’m a fool and I know that in Feet of Clay there’s a line about how no one had tried to kill Vetinari for years, but there’s a line in Men at Arms about how Vimes has been on the watch for 25 years, which means that all the Watch books between Men at Arms and Night Watch take place within a span of five years, so I don’t think it’s true that no one had tried to kill Vetinari for years.

Furthermore, Men at Arms takes place in the summer and Feet of Clay takes place in the autumn, so I like to imagine they took place in the same year, and that at the end of that year, Vetinari takes a sweet selfie on Hogswatch, (which though it thematically corresponds to Christmas, calendrically corresponds to New Year’s,) and captions it

“19XX tried to kill me but I lived, bitch.”

[randomcharactername]

“you’d be able to have him executed if you wished!”

“I couldn’t do that!”

“Why not?”

“He’d go spare!”

-Feet of Clay, by Terry Pratchett

[terrypratchettparadise]

“The human mind was a deep and abiding mystery and the Librarian was glad he didn’t have one any more.”

- Terry Pratchett - Masquerade

[jackedup180]

• William de Worde, talking to Vetinari: Yes of course dad- oh god I mean sir. I’m so sorry sir oh Jesus Christ please don’t kill me sir I don’t have much to live for but I’m making it work
• Moist von Lipwig, yelling at Vetinari’s carriage across a crowded street: That’s my DAD! That’s my D A D! Dad! Dad! Look at me! I’m causing problems on purpose again! That’s my dad!

[iamshadow21]

I just realised something, and it took reading The Last Hero for the first time and seeing an illustration of Carrot with a crew cut and bare face that startled me. All along, I’ve been picturing Carrot as kind of a ginger Chris Evans/Chris Hemsworth at their best comedic straightman thing, like Chris-playing-Loki-playing-Cap, or Hemsworth from Ghostbusters, but more intelligent. Or Paul Gross as Benton Fraser from Due South. Buff, noble, and smart but a bit of an adorable bonehead. But it has occured to me - I’ve been imagining Carrot as clean-shaven, which is a conventionally HUMAN form of neat and tidy grooming, which Carrot is renowned for. But Carrot is culturally a dwarf. There is NO WAY he’d be clean shaven. Somehow, this changes EVERYTHING. Not just scruff but proper beardy length. Special beard care products. BRAIDING AND SHAPING THAT HAS CULTURAL MEANING. Carrot identifies as a dwarf, and his facial/head hair would definitely reflect that.

[july-19th-club]

“I had tried clockwork, you know.”

“I’m sorry? I was thinking about something else.”

“I meant clockwork to power my flying machine. But it won’t work.”

“Oh.”

“There’s a limit to the power of a spring, no matter how tightly one winds it.”

“Oh, yes. Yes. and you hope that if you wind a spring one way, all its energies will unwind the other way. And sometimes you have to wind the spring as tight as it will go,” said Vetinari, “and pray it doesn’t break.”

- Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms