The Unusual Suspects

Discworld 24/8. Also Good Omens on occasion.

[ilarual]

listen I see your headcanons about Aziraphale loving sweets and cakes and pumpkin spice lattes with extra shots of syrup and what have you and that’s valid but consider:

Aziraphale takes his tea with no sugar

the two things that Crowley is specifically mentioned consuming in the book are angel cake and cocktails made from date palm liquor which, based on my extensive research, is basically the most appallingly sugary-sweet alcohol mankind has ever managed to produce

therefore I present the following counterpoint: Aziraphale does not have any particular fondness for sugary things (though he enjoys a bite of something sweet now and then), but Crowley has the world’s worst sweet tooth and tries (very very badly) to conceal this.

[ilarual]

like, Crowley isn’t quite sure why, but he feels like he should be ordering coffee blacker than his soul

(which, like, he probably should stick to darker coffee because the lighter a coffee roast, the more caffeine it has and like, the poor thing’s got bad enough anxiety as it is, he doesn’t need to add high doses of caffeine to his system, but that’s neither here nor there)

but also like…. he Hates it, but insists on ordering it, because espresso strong enough to melt your intestines seems like the sort of thing the human Anthony J. Crowley would drink, so he gets it and he hates it and all he really wants is some double whip sugary caramel frappe Starbucks-y monstrosity that’s loaded with more sugar and dairy than your average milkshake and he’s staring sadly down at his ultra-concentrated cold brew cup of Bitterness™…

…only for Aziraphale to sigh and say “oh dear, this candy apple latte really seemed like the thing at the time, but it’s a great deal too sweet for me. You wouldn’t mind swapping, would you, dearest?” and hitting him with the big eyes like Crowley’d be doing him such a favor if they swapped drinks…

…and Crowley tries not to look too relieved, and gives a big put-upon sigh. “All right, angel, I guess I could take it off your hands”

and so Crowley gets his sugary-sweet disaster of a drink that barely even qualifies as coffee at this point because it’s more whipped cream than beverage, and Aziraphale hides his grin behind a calculated sip of the triple-concentrated espresso hell-drink

[weatheredlaw]

post-canon i really want crowley to let his sweet tooth flag fly and just make himself every kind of brownie that never seem to get stale and pour infinite sugar in his pale, milky coffee while aziraphale gags in the distance and still manages to be in love with him.

[thestuffedalligator]

The main difference - the real difference, the difference that sums up all the other differences - between JK Rowling and Terry Pratchett is that when presented with the internet, Rowling made tweets

Pratchett made Elder Scrolls mods

[lyrslair]

PRATCHETT DID WHAT NOW??

[xserpx]

He made Elder Scrolls mods. It started as a bit of fun and a way to explore goblin caves as research for his book Snuff, and turned into so much more.

[deboracabral]

Vetinari and Lady Sybil meet once a week to drink tea and talk about Vimes.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

[losyanya]

….amazing. 😂🥰

[thestuffedalligator]

Just felt like drawing a Cheery

[comicgeekscomicgeek]

Million dollar crossover idea

Brooklyn 99 and the Ankh-Morpork City Watch.

Picture:

Holt refusing to call Carrot “Captain Carrot.” Calls him Captain Ironfounderson. Carrot doesn’t mind. (Thanks to my friends James and Kate for this one)

Scully and Hitchcock hanging out with Colon and Nobby.

Amy having a complete freak out over Vimes and his approach to paperwork.

Gina teaching Cheery to be instagram famous.

Terry and Detritus bonding over being ginormous softies.

Rosa and Angua being badasses.

[askvetvimes]

We know that back in the day Havelock was an amazing assassin. Does, or has he ever, used those skills to visit Sam when he shouldn't?

he does that regularly 

[pratchettpatricianpages]

The Patrician sighed and, carefully marking his place, laid aside his book. To judge from the noise there seemed to be an awful lot of excitement going on out there. It was highly unlikely any palace guards would be around, which was just as well. The guards were highly-trained men and it would be a shame to waste them.

He would need them later on.

He padded over to the wall and pushed a small block that looked exactly like all the other small blocks. No other small block, however, would have caused a section of flagstone to grind ponderously aside.

There was a carefully chosen assortment of stuff in there - iron rations, spare clothes, several small chests of precious metals and jewels, tools. And there was a key. Never build a dungeon you couldn’t get out of.

The Patrician took the key and strolled over to the door. As the wards of the lock slid back in their well-oiled grooves he wondered, again, whether he should have told Vimes about the key. But the man seemed to have got so much satisfaction out of breaking out. It would probably have been positively bad for him to have told him about the key. Anyway, it would have spoiled his view of the world. He needed Vimes and his view of the world.

Lord Vetinari swung the door open and, silently, strode out into the ruins of his palace.

-Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

[pratchettpatricianpages]

Vimes paused at the door.

“Do you believe all that, sir?” he said. “About the endless evil and the sheer blackness?”

“Indeed, indeed,” said the Patrician, turning over the page. “It is the only logical conclusion.”

“But you get out of bed every morning, sir?”

“Hmm? Yes? What is your point?”

“I’d just like to know why, sir.”

“Oh, do go away, Vimes. There’s a good fellow.”

-Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

[pratchettpatricianpages]

“But there used to be a rank, in the old days. Commander of the Watch. I suggest Samuel Vimes.”

The Patrician leaned back. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Commander of the Watch. Of course, that became a rather unpopular job, after all that business with Lorenzo the Kind. It was a Vimes who held the post in those days. I’ve never liked to ask him if he was an ancestor.”

“He was, sir. I looked it up.”

“Would he accept?”

“Is the High Priest an Offlian? Does a dragon explode in the woods?”

The Patrician steepled his fingers and looked at Carrot over the top of them. It was a mannerism that had unnerved many.

“But, you see, captain, the trouble with Sam Vimes is that he upsets a lot of important people. And I think that a Commander of the Watch would have to move in very exalted circles, attend Guild functions…”

They exchanged glances. The Patrician got the best of the bargain, since Carrot’s face was bigger. Both of them were trying not to grin.

“An excellent choice, in fact,” said the Patrician.

“I’d taken the liberty, sir, of drafting a letter to the cap- to Mr. Vimes on your behalf. Just to save you trouble, sir. Perhaps you’d care to have a look?”

“You think of everything, don’t you?”

“I hope so, sir.”

Lord Vetinari read the letter. He smiled once or twice. Then he picked up his pen, signed at the bottom, and handed it back.

“And is that the last of your dema- requests?”

Carrot scratched his ear.

“There is one, actually. I need a home for a small dog. It must have a large garden, a warm spot by the fire, and happy laughing children.”

“Good heavens. Really? Well, I suppose we can find one.”

“Thank you, sir. That’s all, I think.”

-Men at Arms by Terry Pratchett

[pendragyn]

Tiffany wasn’t sure which of her thoughts was operating now. She was tired. She felt as though she was watching herself from above and a little behind. She saw herself set her boots firmly on the turf and then…

… and then…

…and then, like someone rising from the clouds of a sleep, she felt the deep, deep Time below her. She sensed the breath of the downs and the distant roar of ancient, ancient seas trapped in millions of tiny shells. She thought of Granny Aching, under the turf, becoming part of the chalk again, part if the land under wave. She felt as if huge wheels, of time and stars, were turning slowly around her.

She opened her eyes and then, somewhere inside, opened her eyes again.

She heard the grass growing, and the sound of worms below the turf. She could feel the thousands of little lives around her, smell all the scents on the breeze and see al the shades of the night.

The wheels of stars and years, of space and time, locked into place. She knew exactly where she was, and who she was, and what she was.

She swung a hand. The Queen tried to stop her, but she might as well have tried to stop a wheel of years. Tiffany’s hand caught her face and knocked her off her feet.

“Now I know why I never cried for Granny,” she said. “She has never left me.”

She leaned down, and centuries bent with her.

“The secret is not to dream,” she whispered. “The secret is to wake up. Waking up is harder. I have woken up and I am real. I know where I come from and I know where I’m going. You cannot fool me anymore. Or touch me. Or anything that is mine.”

I’ll never be like this again, she thought, as she saw the terror in the Queen’s face. I’ll never again feel as tall as the sky and as old as the hills and as strong as the sea. I’ve been given something for a while, and the price of it is that I have to give it back.

And the reward is giving it back, too. No human could live like this. You could spend a day looking at a flower to see how wonderful it is, and that wouldn’t get the milking done. No wonder we dream our way through our lives. To be awake, and see it all as it really is… no one could stand that for long.

Tiffany Aching, Land Under Wave, refuting the the Queen of Fairyland. ~The Wee Free Men, by Terry Pratchett

[cosmicspaceslug]

Have only just realized that Pseudopolis in Discworld literally translates as “Fake City”

[picatea]

Look we've all been on holiday and brought THAT hat.

[lurfck]

[theshittyfoodblog]

Cronch

[personsonable-deactivated201908]

nut loaf

[hidingfrompolice]

Bitch i thought that was rocks!

[warframe]

thats not bread that’s a core sample from a beach

[dat-soldier]

That’s conk creat babey!!!!!!!!!!

[persephinae]

that’s dwarf bread

[bberenicce]

“Tiffany had looked up “strumpet” in the Unexpurgated Dictionary, and found it meant “a woman who is no better than she should be” and “a lady of easy virtue.” This, she decided after some working out, meant that Mrs. Gytha Ogg, known as Nanny, was a very respectable person. She found virtue easy, for one thing. And if she was no better than she should be, then she was just as good as she ought to be.”

— Terry Pratchett, Wintersmith

[noirandchocolate]

Wizards were like weather vanes, or the canaries that miners used to detect pockets of gas.  They were by their nature tuned to an occult frequency.  If there was anything strange happening, it tended to happen to wizards first.

Terry Pratchett and Stephen Briggs, “The Ankh-Morpork Archives” (illustration by Paul Kidby) (Quote originally from Soul Music.  And it applies to the Dean especially.  Look at these absolute madmen who’ve gotten into the Music With Rocks In craze.  These looks are totally unable to be seen and a long way out, for sure.)