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Literature
Breakfast
At five in the morning, Scoone Ave. was surrounded by the the sort of silence that only the most ancient cathedrals can pull off. Making any noise louder than a faint whisper felt like the most grievous sin. The clatter created when Vimes pulled the antique silver tea service from a high cupboard would have gotten him excommunicated.
“Daaaad,” Young Sam hissed and giggled, “you'll wake Mum.”
“Your mum can sleep through a sword fight at the foot of the bed,” Vimes muttered, “I've seen her do it.”
Young Sam put the tea kettle on the stove. He put his hands on his hips and watched the little fire heating the kettle for a few minutes.
“What's on the menu this morning, chef?” Vimes prompted.
“Can you start some toast?” Young Sam said already walking to the larder.
Vimes watched kept one eye on the bread as it toasted. Toast had a tendency to go from being soft bread to slabs of charcoal the second he wasn't looking at i
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Literature
The Bit Before the Theme Song
Nobby squirmed again, he wiggled from side to side in the uncomfortable hospital chair, trying to find a spot on his bottom that hadn't fallen asleep. All that happened was that the parts of his body that had fallen asleep started to prickle uncomfortably. He stood up. In the chair beside his, Sergeant Colon had started to snore softly. Nobby patted his shoulder to no effect. He patted him a number of times, each time progressively harder and then started to shake him.
"Fred." Nobby hissed. "Fred, wake up!"
"I'm awake, I'm awake..." Colon half-whined, half-yawned.
"Mister Vimes said we wasn't to fall asleep." Nobby reminded the drowsy sergeant.
"I wasn't..." Colon yawned again, "Asleep. I was thinking."
Nobby made a face... Probably. Either way, it was clear by his expression that he didn't actually believe him. Colon rubbed his eyes, removing grit and goop from the corners.
"I know that this is important." He assured Nobby, "I know that this witness'... wossname..."
"Testimony?" Nobby
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Literature
Turned Up to Eleven
Snowflakes drifted down over a tense scene. Three men and a baby had been pulled into a Klatchian Stand Off. One of the men held the baby and a loaded crossbow. His hand was shaking and he was doing his best to keep the other two men in his sights.
"Sam, please!" pleaded one of them, a fat man wearing sergeant's stripes on his sleeve. "Put the crossbow down."
"No!" screamed Sam and winced. Struggling not to drop the crossbow or the child, he put a quavering finger to his lips. "Shhh! You'll wake him."
"Vimes, I order you to come to your senses!" roared the other man, he wore a mustache and captain's rank.
"I order you to bite me, Rust!" Sam Vimes replied.
Captain Rust's mustache bristled but behind his milky blue eyes, his brain was working to erase the words he couldn't possibly have heard.
"Dammit, Vimes!" Rust said, "This has gone too far! We have a mission to complete."
"I don't care! You're not coming near him!" Vimes said and took a step back. "I won't let you hurt him!"
"No one'
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Literature
Explaining Things to Sybil
When there was a gentle but persistent knock on the door, Sybil hesitated. She'd gotten some ice for Forsythe's eye and insisted that he take the rest of the night off. For a moment, she considered summoning him but she had been quite adamant about him getting some rest. It would be too hypocritical of her to go get him now. She'd just go and answer the door herself and because she wasn't a fool, she took her grandfather's sword from its place off the top of the fireplace before she went to answer the door.
She open the front door just a few inches and wasn't at all surprised to see that man on the other side. She instinctively tightened her grip on the sword. She didn't speak or move. She just stood there watching him, waiting to see what he'd do. She was certain that this man was capable of anything. At the moment, he just stood there. Smiling nervously, obviously wondering what he should say.
"I think we got off on the wrong foot." He said respectfully.
Sybil got the feeling
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Literature
Hide Oak Chap. 6
Young Sam was Cranky. He didn't like this place. It was cold. Someone should have dressed him in a decent wooly hat, jumper and booties by now. His wooly snake had been left behind too. How could anyone leave the wooly snake behind? It was ludicrous! Suppose Young Sam wanted to chew on something. It was definitely past his lunch and nap time, he was quite sure of that. And what about the quack-quacks? He'd been promised a chance to feed the quack-quacks! He'd been swindled! And this dark haired lady was far too thin to cuddle him properly. There was no cushion to her. He was cold, hungry, tired and defrauded. He was Cranky. He wanted his Dad. Dad always righted anything that went wrong in Young Sam's universe. Young Sam saw no other alternative but to tilt his head back and scream at the top of his voice.
"DAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
+++
Carrot Coughed. Vimes recognized that Cough. He stood up slowly and crossed his arms. Whatever Carrot told him now would definitely make Vimes go spare.
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Literature
Hide Oak Chap. 5
Carrot might have been liked by everyone in Ankh-Morpork and certainly by the Watch but Young Sam was adored. Blame it on baby charisma. Young Sam was an adorable, gurgling baby. He was practically the Watch mascot. (1) That's why despite Angua's discretion, every officer that happened to be at Pseudopolis Yard when she received the message from Vimes, found out that Young Sam was missing and volunteered to go with her. Carrot handled the situation, skillfully as always.
Commander Vimes requested Sergeant Angua at the scene. He needed her nose and the less smells she had to sort out, the faster the search would go. In the meantime, everyone else should go on patrol and keep their eyes and ears open. The constables and most of the sergeants were persuaded by this logic. Then Captain Carrot, Sergeant Angua and Sergeant Detritus, who reasoned that he only smelled of rock in any case, hurried to Hide Park.
That particular area of Hide Park where Young Sam had disappeared was never c
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Literature
Hide Oak Chap. 4
Vimes started to recover while Purity told the story. He sent an encrypted clacks message to the Yard when they reached Hide Park.
PRIORTY 1: SGT ANGUA TO HIDE PARK. YNG SAM MISSING.
It had taken a lot of will power for Vimes not to make the message for All Units. He really wanted to. He wanted to broadcast the message on the clacks, tell De Worde of The Times, the Beggar's Guild, random passersby and then ring the Watch issue bell and shout it to the heavens, if it would get Young Sam back faster.
He wanted to take the whole city apart and seriously injure anyone who happened to block his path until Young Sam was in his arms again. He wanted the whole world to look for Young Sam and not rest until he was found. Vimes recognized his parent side trying to take over and he forced himself to remember how good parents actually were in a search for a missing child. They were frantic and loud and desperate and scared and impatient and exhausted. They got in their own way and in the Wa
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Literature
Hide Oak Chap. 3
The idea of the Guild of Seamstresses throwing an annual garden party had taken some getting used to. The whole idea of a garden party seemed… far too genteel for the Seamstresses. They were supposed to be ladies of the night but the annual garden party took place during the day and was over by seven o'clock in the evening. Vimes decided that they tried to schedule events so that it didn't interfere with business hours. Along with the Assassin's Guild, the Guild of Seamstresses was one of the top ten enders of marriages in the upper classes ended but invitations to the garden party were always addressed to couples.
The topics of conversation were always polite and uncontroversial. There were tablecloths, fine china, antique silverware, crystal wineglasses and Mrs. Palm always hired a team of chefs to prepare the food. It was like any other tea party that Vimes had to sit through except it was outdoors.  Even after attending this damn thing every year since he was married
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Literature
Hide Oak Chap. 2
Hide Park is neutral ground. Purity, who wasn't a stupid girl, had often wondered about that. In a city like Ankh-Morpork how could there by any area where a person can't walk without there being at least a slight possibility of getting robbed, assaulted or killed. The general consensus was that even the worst criminals like a nice place to have a picnic but this still struck Purity as too simple an explanation. Perhaps some of her employer was rubbing off on her or perhaps she'd just considered that while all nursemaids' charges were precious, Young Sam was… important for other reasons. That point had been driven home when those deep-down dwarfs broke into the house through the cellar.
That's why along with the nappies, bottles, toys that Young Sam couldn't bear to part with, washcloths, blanket, extra clothes, tin of rusks, and the countless other items of infant paraphernalia, the baby bag was also weighed down with a hefty cobblestone carefully tucked into each side pocket. Th
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Literature
Hide Oak Chap. 1
Where to begin? When to begin? This story could just as easily begin in Hide Park, the master bedroom of the Vimes nee Ramkin mansion at Scoone Ave., Young Sam's nursery, the rarely used garden behind the Seamstress's Guild house or even thousands of years ago before Ankh-Morpork, assuming such a time had ever existed. The idea that Ankh-Morpork might not have been around since the beginning of the universe was probably one that didn't quite fit in the heads of its residents. What must those days have been like when there was nothing but the black loam and the clear river?
Did the place that everyone knew as Ankh-Morpork begin as Ankh-Morpork or was it another place with another name and other residents? Was there ever a time when there wasn't some creature calling the place where Ankh-Morpork stood home? Probably not. Humans weren't the first group to call Ankh-Morpork home. That privilege belongs to hippos but they probably didn't hang up a little framed canvas with the words 'Home S
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Mature content
Re Lilac Pruning Afterthought :iconroruna:Roruna 0 2
Literature
Re Lilac Pruning Chap. 58
Sam was twenty five when his first child was born. It was a boy. He was born on May 25th and he was born in the Small Gods' cemetery.
"False labor, my foot." Sam muttered as he paced around the tombstones.
Within ten minutes of Sybil's water breaking, the cemetery had become the Place To Be. Mrs. Vimes had turned up, as well of Madam and Lord Ramkin. And though Mrs. Content was there, the Agony Aunts had somehow turned up without anyone asking for them. Colon, showing marvelous foresight, had pitched a little tent in the cemetery to give Sybil some semblance of privacy. Madam and Mrs. Vimes lingered outside the little tent were clustered around the entrance while the Aunts kept them at bay.
"Don't want to get in Mrs. Content's way, dearies." The aunts warned.
Lord Ramkin was standing with Sam, his hands folded behind his back and looking calm but quite furious.
"I can't believe you let her come. You knew she was due any day now. Now my first grandchild is going to be born in a cemetery
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Mature content
Re Lilac Pruning Chap. 57 :iconroruna:Roruna 1 0
Mature content
Re Lilac Pruning Chap. 56 :iconroruna:Roruna 0 0
Literature
Re Lilac Pruning Chap. 55
Sybil and Lord Ramkin were sitting in the Ghastly Pink Drawing Room. They were slowly but surely coming to an Understanding. Sybil was still forbidden from leaving the house except on important errands and she'd persuaded her father that managing the New Republicans' Widows and Orphans Fund was extremely important. She didn't have to run on many errands regarding the Fund except occasional trips to the bank to add more money to the account. A clerk at the Royal Bank was handling the details of actually distributing the funds. The problem at the moment was spreading the word and seeing the right people applied for the pension. Nobby would be a good person to spread the word, Sybil decided, perhaps and he could collect pension applications.
Forsythe entered the drawing room bearing a tray. It was the one that he usually brought in bearing cards from visitors. He presented the tray to Lord Ramkin and coughed genteelly.
"A message for you, sir."
The paper resting on the tray was definitely
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Literature
Re Lilac Pruning Chap. 54
Lord Ramkin and Sybil breakfasted in utter silence. The place felt different without Madam and Vetinari here. It was strange that two people that were considered by other people as cold and calculating could have brought such warmth to a household. Madam had at least. When it was just the four of them, she loved to talk. Mostly she talked about plotting. She could make political conspiracy seem so ordinary as if what she was working on was a charity banquet and not a coup d'etat. She worked on Vetinari's rise to power like most mothers work to get their children into an Ivy League school.
Lord Ramkin thought about Madam in waves. Some moments, he'd miss her and other moments, he'd resent her. He and Sybil had served their purpose and now that they weren't of any use to her, she was gone. He couldn't quite figure out why they'd parted ways officially. Madam said that she was going to help Vetinari get settled but she'd hinted that some time apart would help her and Lord Ramkin calm down
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Paying A Debt
Dr. Lawn painstakingly wiped down each tool with rubbing alcohol and a clean towel before quietly laying them back in the loops sewn into the piece of black felt. It had been one of the oddest births he had ever dealt with, no doubt about it.
Certainly the best attended by the public, at any rate, he told himself, listening to the murmur of voices and shuffle of boots out in the hall. And downstairs. If it weren’t bad enough that you had to wade through half the City Watch, there were even a few senior wizards milling around down there, too. Still, it had come in handy. He hadn’t had to peel the father up off the carpet by himself, he had sent one of the Lance-Constables back to Twinkle Street to prevent the turkey from turning into charcoal, a second snifter of extremely fine, extremely old brandy hadn’t exactly been hard to come by, most of the cleaning up had been done before he had even been required to nag about it and if he needed or wanted anything, all
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Congratulations
It was quite possibly the first time in his memory that he could recall Sybil being speechless. Actually speechless. At a complete loss for words, even if it was just for a second. She was a woman, though, who could accept a bunch of dead rats graciously. You didn't knock her off kilter for long. She blinked and recovered herself. "I'm sorry... you want to do what, exactly?"
There was some complicated gesturing and some soft "ook" noises. A couple of soulful dark eyes looked up earnestly from a soft innertube of a face that looked a size too big for the owner.
"Well... I suppose you can feel free to try. I can't guarantee anything will happen, though," Sybil admitted, putting down the empty punch cup and moving her arms back to her sides. A large, hairy hand with long fingers rested lightly on the prominent round swell of Sybil's belly and the Librarian's face settled into careful concentration and stillness. He had the serious air of a safe cracker. After nearly a minute, there was an
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Activity


deviantID

Roruna
Runa
Artist
United States
Current Residence: CA
Favourite genre of music: Oldies
Favourite style of art: american retro and Don Bluth's
Operating System: XP
MP3 player of choice: the cheapest one
Favourite cartoon character: Donald Duck
Personal Quote: In the universe that we occupy, it cannot be done.
Interests
I just finished NaNoWriMo and now I'm sad it's over. This was my 2nd year doing it and winning so it's nice to know that it wasn't just a fluke but I haven't written anything for a week.

I didn't realize how helpful NaNo really is but I do get the greatest sense of accomplishment at this time of the year. The whole rest of the year, I feel like I'm just slogging along, chipping very gradually away at a huge granite mountain with a little bird's beak. I don't know if it's knowing that there are others out there in the same boat, or the stat chart, or what but NaNo really works for me. I've written 2 books now. Yes, they're both very rough drafts (and one of them has like... 20 pages missing due to a bit of a... mishap last year) but they're proper books with a beginning, middle and end. They make a reasonable amount of sense.

I know I can write proper books but why is it that I only seem able to do so in November?
I know that cooler weather is better for my brain, I definitely have some trollish thing going, too much heat makes me dumb. I can only survive in the summer when I'm in an air conditioned room. But there's 2 or 3 more months of cool weather left for me to get some work done in. The mister has suggested that I do another wrimo for February but what do I do in the mean time?

I really shouldn't kid myself, the only way to write is... to write. Even that slow chipping away gets me somewhere and sometimes, I have really good days and write 2k words. But... in November, I can write 5k words in a couple of hours while any other time, 2k takes me all day. What changed? Maybe I should do wrimos all year round. November isn't the only month for them. I've already learned that wriye (that's the year long one) doesn't work for me, probably because a year feels so far away.

Or maybe I should just not worry about it. I'll still write. I'll always be writing. To do otherwise would be like not breathing. One week break isn't a terrible thing and it is the holiday season, so there's shopping, gift wrapping, packing, traveling and putting in enough hours at work to do. This is just one of my usual slumps. I always get over them.

If anyone read this, thanks for taking the time do read my ramblings.
  • Listening to: you belong to me - kate rusby
  • Eating: onion rings
  • Drinking: chocolate milk

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:iconvivianelefay:
VivianeLeFay Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2015
:iconthankuplz:
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:iconredandgreenleaf:
RedAndGreenLeaf Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2014
 Blower fella (Party) Birthday cake  icon     Kao Emoji-16 (Happy Birthday) [V1]     Birthday cake  icon   Blower fella (Party)
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:iconredandgreenleaf:
RedAndGreenLeaf Featured By Owner Oct 3, 2014
YOU!! You AWESOME person! You wrote a lot of wonderful stories about Sam and Sybil!!  Inlove Please, do write some more! 

Btw, I'm stalkin- ahem, watching you ;)
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:icontiliaofankh:
TiliaofAnkh Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday! Have a lovely day! :heart: :party: :hug: Airborne
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:iconroruna:
Roruna Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2013
thanks very much!
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:icontiliaofankh:
TiliaofAnkh Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
You're very welcome! :D :heart:
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:icontiliaofankh:
TiliaofAnkh Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks so much for the fave! :D
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:icontiliaofankh:
TiliaofAnkh Featured By Owner Sep 17, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Oh my god, I just LOVE all of your Discworld stories, especially the 'Flukes and Lilacs' story!!! :love: :la:
I'd be so grateful if you'd take a look at my Gallery! :D :hug:
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:iconroruna:
Roruna Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2013
thanks, will do n.n
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:iconartsytarts:
artsytarts Featured By Owner Sep 8, 2013  Student General Artist
Hi there! :D
Finally finished my end of the art trade! Hope you like it:

artsytarts.deviantart.com/art/…
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