#gnu sir pterry

[motion-blur-crowley]

shockingly few mentions of this remarkable (2011!) fic

I like to imagine that Sam Vimes, instead of dying properly, instead got minor godhood. All watchmen at some point thank him for his actions, his actions a ripple across the Disc. There's precedent in the Duchess of Borogravia, and in his arc. He keeps getting promotions, and hates each one. What higher status could he be unwillingly raised to than divinity, eternally watching the watchman?

Anyways, that's just a headcanon i've got

[dreamingdormouse]

Okay so this is a big deal

To me, and to a significant subset of Sir Terry's fans (including most of you who've found this by the tags), his writing is serious commentary on the human condition - politics, prejudice, self-control, revenge vs. justice, religion, idealism, faith in people vs. cynicism, and more - dressed up with fantasy settings and a hefty leavening of humor to make it fun to read. And it is WILDLY fun to read, actual laugh-out-loud or at least a snicker averaging about every page.

But there's this common idea among the "important literature" people that fun and funny books are not also worthwhile or important in the same way.

This is a Discworld book being released WITH ACADEMIC COMMENTARY and AS A PENGUIN CLASSIC. That's a HUGE amount of recognition.

[solomonara]

[beardedmrbean]

[same-pic-rick-roll]

Moist von Lipwig is a character I resonate with.

He is a conman and fraudster that Vetinari coerced into become a post office manager, and it worked.

Moist became a successful, and (relatively) upstanding citizen.

One of his catchphrases is “Trust me!” When he’s about to pull something ridiculous and audacious and unlikely to work and he succeeds somehow.

“Trust me!”

I say that a lot too.

“Trust me. It’s a good link I swear. Trust me!”

Moist von Lipwig has an honest face and a firm handshake.

You can look him in the eye, and he will say “Never gonna give you up Never gonna let you down Never gonna run around and desert you”, and make you believe it.

[klinefelterrible]

💰

Reblog this to generously support 🦎☀️The Sunshine Sanctuary For Sick, Abused Or Abandoned Swamp Dragons☀️🐉

[projectorthus]

Working on a five page thing that I’m very proud of so far.

I’ve been turning parts of Monstrous Regiment into comics for seven years now and I have grown as a comic artist since then and I’m very very excited to be able to share this one!! I’m just working on page four right now but thought I’d drop something here as a sneak peek.

[hollyevolving]

Shout out to Siobhan for the Terry Pratchett reference, and as always: GNU Sir Pterry

[jotun-philosopher]

New D&D spell suggestion

Pratchett's Magnificent Hat

1st-level conjuration

Casting time: 1 action

Range: touch

Components: V, S

Duration: 1 hour

Target yourself or one willing creature that you can touch. An incredibly stylish hat appears on the head of that creature. For the duration of the spell (or until you use an action to dismiss it), the wearer of the hat has advantage on Charisma (Persuasion) and Charisma (Performance) checks.

At higher levels When you cast this spell using a 3rd-level spell slot, the hat's wearer also gains advantage on Intelligence checks for the duration. When cast using a 5th-level spell slot, the hat's wearer has advantage on all Wisdom, Intelligence and Charisma checks for the duration.

Classes: Bard, Wizard, Sorcerer, Warlock

#GNUTerryPratchett

[stillboredbuttrying]

I was relistening to Feet of Clay by Terry Pratchett for emotional support reasons, and holy shit the transitioning subplot of Cheery is something else.

The main theme of the book is personal and body autonomy, but it's explicitly about the Golems. So Pterry made it implicitly about transgenderism. The transgenderism is very explicit tho.

For what we know about dwarfs in the Diskworld, they are all male. Some can bear children, but it's not visible from the outside, as all dress in a similar way, that is very conservative, and have long beards. When they marry both parties have a dowry.

Now Cheery.

When she is introduced she uses he/him both from her perspective and from Vimes. She is unusual for a dwarf because she is an Alchemist and doesn't care about weapons, but still looks and acts as a regular dwarf. It's only when Angua ("that can see with her nose") meets her, that we discover that she wishes to be a female dwarf. Angua smelled that she was a girl, and knows that there are other dwarf girls in the watch, but is the only one. Cheery's transition is social, but the text never mention whether or not she could bear children. She is not secretly a cis girl embracing her femininity, she is a trans girl finding a place to be her true self.

Angua is of course very important in her progress. I'd say that she is a true ally, but Angua the vegetarian werewolf is a queer metaphor in itself. It is true that initially she approached Cheery just because she wanted a girl friend at work, because "cops can be of all genders as long as they act male". But we see here and in the following books that their friendship blooms in something quite pure and beautiful.

The first thing she does is introduce Cheery to a bar "that people don't discover but gravitate to" where "everybody can be themselves without hiding". Angua still hides her nature of werewolf from Cheery for fear of scaring her off.

Now Cheery as a supportive friend that knows that she is a girl, and that everyone is a little scared of and won't go against. She has a support system and is protected. This is Ank-Monkport not Überwald.

She starts small. First a pair of earrings. Then lipstick. Then high heels (attached to proper dwarf boots), then even a skirt. "When you've made up your mind to shout out who you are to the world, it's a relief to know that you can do it in a whisper."

She goes to Angua with a list of possible new names. She chooses one that is similar to her old one, but pronounced differently. She is still a dwarf after all. And for that same reason, she keeps her beard.

The other dwarfs at the watch don't take well to this change, and threaten to ask Carrot to do something about it. But it's too late. Carrot himself, a dwarf by adoption, didn't react well when he saw her and heard Angua referring to her as a girl. But Angua took Cheery's side and called him off on his bigotry. "We have extra pronouns here".

By the end of the book she is interested in the Watch as a female officer. Angua gives her some of her dresses, and Cheery asks if she can share them with other female dwarves. In later books, we will see the impact she had in the dwarf community. But for now we just see her transition from the sideline, quiet and yet important. Fitting perfectly with the theme of body autonomy and freedom. And of course, the sweet friendship between two (queer) women.

To finish in a lighter tone, the way Vimes takes it in is hilarious. He is too busy to pay attention to everything that is going on, so he basically gaslight himself into thinking that he always knew Cheery as a woman. He notices the little changes but doesn't have time to think about it. By the end of the book he she/hers her without being told so XD

[helpmeimblorboing]

Daily reminder to pick up one of Pratchett’s books if you haven’t already !! The man was (GNU) an amazing author and a brilliant humanitarian.

GNU Terry Pratchett !!

(Noticing that some of you are getting upset over the allegations that have come out about Gaiman, because shit person or not, he was a pretty good author, and just had to swoop in and inform you that there’s a whole WORLD of books, written by both a better author and a better person, that you could be exploring)

[mildlybizarrecorvid]

In case anyone didn't know yet (don't feel bad, i only found out this week) a band called Steeleye Span did a whole album on Tiffany Aching books 1-4 called Wintersmith. Not only was this a like thing they had permission for, the song The Good Witch has Terry Pratchett literally just reading the passage from Wintersmith about cackling being a sign of moral/mental degradation in witches. I've not heard all of it yet, but both (that's right, two) Dark Morris Dance songs are amazing

[lithiyummy]

"I'm sorry. I know that I am a small, weak man, but I have amassed a large library; I dream of dangerous places."

[waywardwizzard]

If this doesn't make sense... I'm so so sorry. More apologizing in the Author's note (also includes an explanation! Sort of!)

This is set during the BDM just after they were rescued. And yes, there's some fiddling with the storyline. No, Book and Wash aren't dead.

Mal silently counted the room numbers as he lumbered down the long corridor, a hand clamped over his newly done stitches.

1310, 1311, 1312...

1313.

He rested a hand on the smooth door handle, hesitating.

Shaking his head, he steeled himself and pushed the door open, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder.

The room was big, bigger than the one most of the crew was forced to share and it was that precise shade of white between vomit and sunshine the Captain hated. All types of machines lined the wall and Mal swallowed.

Simon was unconscious, a blanket half-heartedly thrown over him. Growling, Mal slammed the door behind him and stalked closer. He tugged at the blanket, careful to avoid the tubes and wires.

Satisfied, he lowered himself into the chair next to the bed, his breath stuttering for a few seconds. Something wet trickled down his stomach and Mal cursed, watching as fresh blood stained his already ruined shirt. Wo de ma, didn't the rutting ben dans know how to stitch a gorram wound?

He reached for the Cortex tucked into his back pocket, wincing when the stitches in his shoulder and stomach pulled.

Pushing the call button with more force than was necessary, he waited for the nurse, a beep letting him know that he had a message.

Zoë: Wash's out of surgery. Doc said we were lucky.

Lucky they were in time to save Book. Lucky they didn't lose Wash. Mal glanced at the unconscious boy on the bed, the Alliance doctor's words still fresh in his mind.

("There's a chance, a big one, that he won't wake up." Dr. Greene glanced at the captain, his eyes dark. "And if the bullet didn't kill, infection probably will.")

That's the problem with luck. Made you think everything was going according to plan just before it blindsided you.

Mal shook his head and pulled the Cortex closer, trying to ignore the beeping of the heart monitor. It was no use dwelling on it now. Luck came in threes and Mal hadn't gotten his third one yet. She still owed him.

His shoulder spasmed and Mal dropped the Cortex with a curse.

Where the di yu was that nurse?

Someone moved near the door, casting a shadow over Simon and Mal wondered how he didn't hear the nurse come in.

" 'bout rutting time-"

Mal looked up and into the eye sockets of Death. The words died in his throat.

"You ain't takin' him," Mal growled, his hand halfway to his gun. His hand met air and the Captain swallowed, glaring at the cloaked figure instead. There was always a blindside.

I'M NOT HERE FOR THE BOY. NOT REALLY.

Mal only stared, holding Death's gaze.

"I ain't losin' one of my own. Not today. She still owes me."

Death stood silently at the foot of the bed, swallowing all the light and air until Mal felt as if he was choking. A few tense moments passed before he ground out in a voice more feral than human.

"Why are you here."

It wasn't a question. Silently, Death pulled out an hourglass from the folds of his robes and held it up to the light. Tiny, delicate golden leaves glittered in the harsh hospital light.

I HAVE ONLY SEEN SOMETHING LIKE THIS ONCE BEFORE, Death said, handing the Captain the lifetimer.

The silver sand hung in a motionless stream, only a few grains left in the top bulb. Mal shook the timer but the sand didn't move. Ta ma de...

I DID NOT KNOW IF THE BOY WAS ALIVE OR NOT.

The Captain's thumb gently brushed over the 'Simon Tam' etched into the blue-black wood.

Looking at the lifetimer, Mal could almost remember what his looked like.

His had been brown and dappled in sunlight, broken, thorny vines twined around the timer. He almost asked Death if he could see it until he remembered it was blood staining the wood dark, not sunlight.

He swallowed down bile, his hand involuntarily clenching around the lifetimer, like he was scared Death would take it away. He won't let Simon suffer like he did. Not if he could help it.

"The boy's too stubborn to die," Mal forced out, not sure who he was trying to convince, Simon, Death or himself.

IS IT JUST STUBBORNNESS, CAPTAIN, OR SOMETHING ELSE?

Mal didn't answer, turning the lifetimer over and over in his hands.

After a while Death spoke again, his voice quiet.

I HAD BEEN THERE THE DAY THE BOY BROKE HIS SISTER OUT. HE WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.

The lifetimer suddenly seemed too small in his scarred hands. Mal shook his head, in denial of what he didn't know. Maybe defeat.

BUT HE DID, the specter went on, ONE WAY OR ANOTHER.

"I think we both know how," Mal said, his voice harsh.

Death glanced down at Simon, watching as the doctor's chest rose and fell.

HE REMINDS ME OF ANOTHER MAN I MET YEARS AGO.

The glint of a scythe in weak moonlight. The whisper of a black cloak over blood-soaked sand.

Blazing green eyes.

"So, that was you." Mal breathed, his shirt pulling at a patch of dried blood.

Death nodded.

HAVE FAITH, CAPTAIN.

Mal smiled but there was no humour in it.

"I lost my faith years ago."

SOMETIMES FAITH IS NOT BELIEVING IN THE DIVINE. Death glanced at the Cortex half hidden under the bed watching as messages from the crew popped up. SOMETIMES IT IS AS SIMPLE AS BELIEVING IN OTHERS.

Blue pinpricks met Mal's dark and tired eyes.

YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD KNOW THAT. UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN.

Before Mal could blink Death was gone, the silent swish of its cloak back to haunting the halls, the lifetimer no longer in his hands.

Mal took a deep breath and picked up the Cortex, ignoring the tingling feeling on his neck and the empty feeling in his hands. When the nurse finally decided to show up, he waved them away. He'd wait for his own medic to wake up.

He sighed and scrathed at a patch of dirt on the side of his nose. Of course, She chose Simon, why wouldn't She? He's exactly what She always went for. He just hoped She treated him better than She treated Mal. Somehow he doubted that She would.

Smoothing down the corner of Simon's blanket, Mal glanced at the heart monitor, his own heart connected in more ways than one. Closer to eight than one.

Maybe Death was right. Maybe.

Settling back in the uncomfortable chair, Mal kept vigil. He owed Simon that and so much more. He just hoped the doc knew he still owed the Captain too and dying wouldn't get him out of it.

Somewhere, in the dark recesses of a robe silver sand slowly started refilling the top bulb and blazing green eyes winked at blue pinpricks.

Author's note -

So. Hah. I'm so so sorry about this fic. It feels eww (also, I'm not a native speaker so yay, fun) And it was originally supposed to be just Death and then the fic felt stilted so I had Mal talk about luck and that evolved into adding Lady Luck. And yeah. This is what we ended up with.

If you want to know more about Lady Luck, her relationship with Death and why Mal is so against her please let me know. This was supposed to be a single fic but it just had a bunch of babies so I'm currently swamped under plot bunnies😂 There may be added to this series one day... (sighs wistfully)

Happy Halloween!🎃

Also, the credit for the amazing dividers goes to @djarrex

[beardedmrbean]

[klinefelterrible]

I digged dug through Mort faster than Carrot through freshly baked iron-concrete sourdough birthday muffin with raisins and guess what, just by sheer accident I took Soul Music to my hand and I read SUSAN on the cover and since I am not ready for Witches and not fancy Wizards enough and yes, Thud! awaits me (I read it 99 thousand times and I stopped counting) so I am reading the ones I don’t remember much and since I remember Moving Pictures quite well I am going with SM now so