"At this time! In this place!" 🪻🥚 Happy Glorious 25th of May to those who celebrate. GNU Terry Pratchett
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"At this time! In this place!" 🪻🥚 Happy Glorious 25th of May to those who celebrate. GNU Terry Pratchett
@stupidlynx 's and mine take on how this priceless dialog happened on the old cemetery of Ankh Morpork one glorious 25th of May
I can't believe we have been living in this world without Sir Terry for 10 years already 💔
“Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?”
― Terry Pratchett, Going Postal
GNU Terry Pratchett
Angua!
A couple of old pencil renditions for her I did back in the day of my first year in vet med when I ought to be studying physiology instead. I mean, Discworld - the sweetest escape and procrastination there could be.
She's a w-!
I just love her..
Discworld's Ankh-Morpork, despite being a highly exaggerated city in one of the most magically inconsistent fantasy settings out there, still manages to be one of, if not the most, realistic setting in any book I've read.
Everything about Ankh-Morpork (and Discworld in general) is so steeped in the trappings of the real world that, even with all the wizards and trolls and dwarfs, it feels more real and alive than any other fictional setting I've ever seen.
and that's real neat.
Love that the Moist books really happened because the self described tyrant of a hugely powerful city-state went "uh oh, the adhd conman is getting restless again, better saddle him with another impossible job for enrichment".
GUARDS! GUARDS!
Linocut, 2024
Average Ankh-Morporkian: I heard the Patrician is shredded. I heard he has a twelve pack. I've heard vampires swoon at his feet and Lady Margolotta founded the League of Temperance after the Patrician told her "Lips that touch ichor will never touch mine". I heard he fucked his way around the Hub on the Grand Sneer and our diplomacy is so successful because every leader on the Disc is at least a little bit in love with him.
Vetinari: sitting in an armchair in the Oblong Office with Wuffles lying across a lace antimacassar on his lap, absently alternating between sipping tea, petting Wuffles, and doing the crossword in front of the fire while wearing trifocals and muttering to himself gently about the clues.