crabson

They/them, but I don't care really. Not a creator, just reposter. Currently obsessed with Discworld

[missiscrabson]

Mad that Boris Kustodiev painted big women enjoying their tea in the garden but also creepy bloody giant skeletons. Describes my mood spectrum perfectly.

[goddamnshinyrock]

sooooo…. this is the second sketch for my sketch giveaway, about a month late. Sorry @windcalling, I got a little stuck on this for some reason. Regardless, here is Lady Sybil getting in the garden (dragon-friendly herbs?), with a bonus background Vimes.

[plakychayaivva]

I totally forgot to post my Discworld cards here!

The Truth is probably one of my favourite Discworld books I've read so far

[missiscrabson]

“Анк-Морпоркская правда” is the most perfect translation of “Ank-Morpork Times”

[sphyrne]

how jingo went

close ups on his face, bc i like when hes holding on by a thread

[girlactionfigure]

Link / Link

[frivolouscake]

[a-certain-slant-of-the-light]

He sneers, "Butcher's dog."... The Cardinal says, "Come out, dog." "And he will have to take you as you are, which is rather like one of those square-shaped fighting dogs that low men tow about on ropes. Not that you are without a fitful charm, Tom."

Oh, to have pet dog (Thomas Cromwell).

[missiscrabson]

Decided to take a break from Discworld and picked up Wolf Hall only to, once again, read about a powerfu man in robes and his employee, a dog. Weird that it happened twice

[inquissien]

Dragon babysitter

[anarasel]

[madeleineengland]

The Dance of Oprichniks in “Ivan the Terrible: part 2” is true masterpiece!!!

[herenowandelsewhere]

Mikhail Kuznetsov as Fyodor Basmanov

[missiscrabson]

Can’t stop thinking about the dance of oprichniks in Eisenstein’s “Ivan the Terrible” and this magnificent drag performance…

[anarasel]

[madeleineengland]

The Dance of Oprichniks in “Ivan the Terrible: part 2” is true masterpiece!!!

[herenowandelsewhere]

Mikhail Kuznetsov as Fyodor Basmanov

[nocontextpoirot]

[wastrelwoods]

once again unequivocally lost in the sauce at the implication that younger vimes suspects that john keel!vimes is his dad who left when he was young. my favorite subtext of night watch i love the way it just sits there just out of focus

[wastrelwoods]

when sam says here's your hard boiled egg i bet you like your toast cut into soldiers and the yolk still runny. because i do. thats the culmination of 'this strange man looks like me and looks at me like he seems almost afraid of me, took me under his wing over every other person in the watch house and acts protective of me even when he doesn't need to. he just came in from pseudopolis but knows this city too well to be anything but a local. and not from the nice part of town, the roughest of the rough part, where i came from, too. he asked after my mum but blew me off when i told him she wanted to meet him. he asked after my dad and looked distinctly unsurprised to hear he wasn't in the picture. he seems to know what i'll do before i do it. sometimes looking at him is like looking in the mirror. there's a tightly coiled anger in him, i can see it, and it looks like something in me i've felt before. on our first patrol he taught me how to walk. i know him i know him i know him'

[songthursh]

@stupidlynx and i had this comic in pocket for way too long. The time hath come.

[missiscrabson]

Lilacs everywhere today. Here’s mine (it had one unusual 7 petal flower on it for some reason)

[strangetrashqueen]

[sanenc-draws]

Assorted Vetinaris.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

In Klatchian there is a word for hovering-between-states-of-acknowledgment-of-truth(s). It is a short word for a long sentiment and an even longer process. Vetinari believes it to be one of the most beautiful words on the Disc. In a brash moment of inter-personal warmth, he said as much to Downey who promptly asked for the word. Vetinari delivered it. Downey exhaled smoke from the fag he had on-hand and said, I suppose it has a nice grey quality to it. I suppose it is fitting that your favourite word would be that colour. Forty years is a long time. It is also not long at all. [...] The Patrician, formerly known as the dog-botherer, has always been strange. Strange boy, when they were lads, who promptly grew into a strange man. Still, Downey supposes they all have their peculiarities and eccentricities. For him, it is his creatures, those beautiful tropical millipedes and hissing cockroaches and ghost scorpions. Also, his plants and fungi. The old classic of Butterfly collecting. The new classic of Beetle collecting. Other things, too.   On fresh paper, with a sharpened styli, he begins to sketch out what Vetinari wants to see of himself. What could the back side of a man without much of it look like? As in, he had flesh but then the gunne ripped through it. Exit wounds are harsh, expanding things that shock and surprise. He remembered seeing Cruces then turning Cruses over and seeing what the shot did to him upon leaving his body. Apply that to Vetinari’s chest. He wonders what the world would be like if Vetinari had died that day. Strange, for he cannot imagine life without the man crab-walking around being queer and difficult. Downey has known him since boyhood and there is a sort-of forced, faux concept of permanence when you’ve known a man since boyhood. He’s small chested, Downey presumes. Vetinari’s rib cage is clearly not the largest ever made. He isn’t like Downey, he doesn’t take up space how Downey does when he wishes to. Yet, he also strangely cannot compress himself in terms of essence, how Downey can when he wishes to. Vetinari takes up a specific amount of space physically and spiritually (let us be poetic about this for a half-second) and that is that. No more, no less.

annnnd the Downlock board.

They're going to be so functional and normal about each other!! I foresee zero (0) problems.

[Downey version]

[Vetinari version]

[mr-sardelli]

The Truth - A Pile of Madly Smiling Rocking Horses

A few moments later Lord Vetinari stepped inside and stood leaning heavily on his stick and surveying the room with mild interest.

... ‘Why … Lord de Worde,’ he said, looking surprised. ‘I had no idea that you were involved in this enterprise …’

William coloured as he hurried over to the city’s supreme ruler. ‘It’s Mister de Worde, my lord.’

‘Ah, yes. Of course. Indeed.’ Lord Vetinari’s gaze traversed the inky room, paused a moment on the pile of madly smiling rocking horses ...

‘They made rocking horses here.’

‘Really? I’ve always thought there was something slightly sinister about rocking horses,’ said Lord Vetinari, but he looked subtly disappointed.