Category: lord downey



I bring you an unasked for weird fic about Vetinari and Downey and Patricians and Inhumation. 

A Year, Out of Order

August, it always starts here although this is not the new year it ought to be. There should be a celebration like that Small God’s Eve but Small Mercies Eve or Small Miracles Eve. They do not call the days that allowed Vetinari to become Patrician a revolution or a rebellion or a revolt. A man for subtlety it simply was he was not there then he was. If you blink, you missed it. Like a magician, he knows how things are done with mirrors and smoke. A note in looping handwriting pinned to Snapcase’s jacket is a proto-assassin receipt. “Rate: One Meal at Little Syrrit House and a Lordship in due time.”

But we’re not there yet, though that’s where it starts. Downey has years starting and ending in August which he blames on Vetinari and Vetinari blames it on Snapcase being too well protected before that month and Snapecase is dead so cannot blame it on anyone.

April, brings out Downey’s desire to be outside at all costs. He takes Vetinari with him on his excursions to Hide Park to collect butterflies. His approach is to catch, catalogue then release. The only ones that end up pinned in his little glass boxes are those already dead. Waxing philosophical about the crime of murdering animals and bugs he shows off a pretty grey one to Vetinari. ‘Same kind as this one,’ he points to a sketch of an elegant green butterfly. ‘But due to our city’s miserable pollution issue it’s grey.’

Vetinari, propped against a tree with his books on middle-Klatchian, finds this fascinating. Unable to respond to Downey’s talk on insects he explains the evolution of Klatchian thieve’s slang. Downey says, ‘you’re such a nerd.’ But he’s smiling. Vetinari primly returns to his book. He doesn’t know what to do with Downey’s smile so tucks it away. Such are spring months, Vetinari knows that everything here in his life as it is will not last. It will pass away and become something different. He will not allow himself to be maudlin about it.

Keep reading



Please provide me with Downey/Vetinari prompts. 

I know there’s like four of you out there. I need to update Smallest Compliment with more inanity from our favourite lads being lads. 

Okay, maybe you remember the Stubborn Couples …

Okay, maybe you remember the Stubborn Couples writing prompt thing. I've come up with one prompt of my own and it fits really well for our Assassin-Patrician couple, hear me out: "We've got strangled in the we-are-gonna-die situation and in an attempt to accept the possible death more easily I jokingly said that if we make it out alive I'm taking you out for a date, man we really suck at dying, but like hell I'm backing off what I said because my oaths are sacred."

This is what happens when the Assassins’ Guild prankster strikes: a group of twenty-odd students indignant (and not at all terrified) that amanita virosa, famous destroying angel mushroom, has been added to their soup.

Certain death! Painful, elongated, shameful certain death!

Everyone declares that should they live they will inhume the fuck out of whoever did this. One person, in a moment of mad desire to be obnoxious to the person next to him adds, ‘and once I’m done inhuming him I’d take you on a date dog-botherer. Just to annoy you.’

‘That makes no sense, Downey. Why would you do that?’

‘As I said, to annoy you. To make you wish you had died. And, since we’re possibly on our way out DB, your last thoughts are going to be of that horror. You’re welcome.’

They do not die. At least, not in this trouser leg of time.

Guild Prankster, Stephen Blowbat, is hung up by the back of his jerkin in the guild fencing hall and left over night as punishment. It is returning from the hanging of Stephen Blowbat when Downey runs into Vetinari looking paler than usual, if possible, and carrying a stack of books.

Instinctually Downey grabs the top book and dances away with it, ‘what’s this Dog-botherer? Oh now you’re interested in fungi? Only because of Batface’s little mess?’

‘I thought it pertinent to read up on it.’

Downey flips through the book then tosses it back with a sneer, ‘it’s a fine beginner book for those who only have an elementary understanding. Good for you for knowing your limits.’

‘I noticed you didn’t catch that it was a hoax until a few hours in.’

‘Look up Destroying Angel DB then tell me how long until symptoms become noticeable.’

Vetinari, hands full, glares.

‘Five hours at the earliest,’ Downey supplies. ‘Come now, surely you remember your intro mycology course.’

‘I remember plenty from it.’

‘Uh huh.’

Vetinari side-steps Downey to continue down the hall away from the muffled cries emanating from the fencing hall. Downey spins on his heels and strides after the other young man.

‘You should take Mr. Blowbat down,’ Vetinari says as they near stairs up to the graduate rooms.

‘Batface deserves it. Batface is a scag.’

‘Yes, Downey.’

‘So you free Friday?’

Vetinari, standing a few steps ahead of Downey, slowly turns and blinks at him with his owlish expression.

‘Seven?’ Downey prompts.

‘For what purpose?’

‘Dinner, Dog-botherer. We lived, therefore you must suffer our continued existence upon this mortal shuffleboard by going to dinner with me. I keep my promises, as ill thought out as they sometimes are. Let’s say seven and uh Agatean? I know a sushi place.’


‘Good, I’ll pick you.’ Downey grins with what can be termed as a “shit-eating expression,” does an approximation of finger cross bows and walks off.

‘We live down the hall from each other,’ Vetinari says to Downey’s back. Then, to an empty corridor, ‘you can’t pick me up if we live in the same building.’

Keep reading

squadron-of-damned: Flower husbands (x) (x)


Flower husbands

(x) (x)

The Long-Awaited Sequel – Chapter 2 – Tolpen -…

The Long-Awaited Sequel – Chapter 2 – Tolpen – Discworld – Terry Pratchett [Archive of Our Own]:


Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Discworld – Terry Pratchett
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lord Downey/Havelock Vetinari
Characters: Lord Downey, Havelock Vetinari, Samuel Vimes, Original Characters, Munstrum Ridicully
Additional Tags: Constantin Meserole, Lucius “Lus Twinkle” Twinkle-Clement-Monger, Helen Foxglove, Retirement, Established Relationship, domestic life, Retirement To Countryside Trope Abuse, Bodyswap, Garden Is Important, Dogs, implied stuff, Like Past Torture, Or sex, Side Characters’ Backstories, Also Only Implied And Very Brief, silence is a language, Poetry, Not really addressed trauma, Rosa Linnah Stilltoe breaking gender roles on both sides, July Mendahorse being simply decently awesome, I love them both by the way, is the Czech anarchistic poetry showing too much here
Series: Part 2 of It’s Quiet In Basketville

The Parents and Friends of School meeting, night talks full of feelings, breakfasts, the meaning of silence. Somebody unexpected arrives to Basketville and solves troubles in the traditional way without being aware there have been any troubles at all. New character introductions!



Fun torture idea: Draw plants.

thiswaycomessomethingwicked: No assassination…


No assassination is singular. Sic – thus. When you assassinate you are surrounded by ghosts of past and future. Sic semper – thus always. When you haul a man up in an office to bleed out, the cruelest death you’ve ever managed, you are not alone. There are millions of you standing there, millions of others who have done the same. There is a community in assassination. Sic semper tyrannis – thus always to tyrants.

The patrician is dead. Long live the patrician.

Have a Downey/Vetinari moodboard. 

[Edit: Made it slightly better. ur welcome.]



Downey/Vetinari Basketville (retirement!AU) aesthetic, because it was just too good not to share it somewhere else too.

"i can hear you arguing w a policeman and…

"i can hear you arguing w a policeman and from what i can tell you had to be forcefully removed from a public area because you sat on the ground and refused to move and youre confused about what theyre charging you with" is it???? possibly one of the dumbest things an assassin could do in snapcase era???? yeah it is but honestly I can't decide if police-means-vimes-era is a better time to do it so up to you if you wanna write it (pLeAsE)

Arriving to Ankh-Morpork is always an
experience. The peaks of houses, the crumbling city walls, the noise that
greets you before you enter, the unseen university shifting in and out of view
as fog rolls in from the bay over the city, settling in streets and allies.
Vetinari had not missed the dirt or the smell of the city during his Tour but
there was an undeniable essence of his home that had clung to him as he
travelled and eventually dragged him back. He found that he could run as far as
he wanted from the city but she was always there, in the map-work of his mind,
in his skin itching to go back.

A collection of dead assassins hang from the
city walls at the Hubward Gate as he enters.

He hadn’t missed that, either. Snapcase’s tenuous
hold upon reality had slipped further the longer he was in office.

He searches the bloated faces for recognition and
sees only one he knew well. The others are either too young or too old. There
are wasps settling around the neck. Birds have already come for the eyes and mouth.
They go for the soft bits first.

Upper Broadway has not changed significantly, although a few
shops have turned over in the years of his absence. The flavour of the street,
however, remains that of the wealthy. He lingers around the corner of Upper
Broadway and a small lane called Merkit-Tour where a café had been five years
ago but is no longer. It’s now a haberdashers with the latest head-wear lining
the large street facing windows.

Ahead is the looming bulk of the Patrician’s
Palace. Behind it the Assassins’ Guild, Brass Bridge, lower Broadway, the
declining grandeur of the Opera House. Ankh-Morpork is a gently sinking city
with the inescapable melancholy of place that had once been great but is no
longer. A place that had once been worth something but has somehow forgotten
itself over the years.

Vetinari hoists his bag up and continues
walking. Loath as he is to admit it, he isn’t sure this is the right time to
have returned. Someone hangs from a lamppost. He scours the face, not one he

At least Winder put up a list of names of the
dead; those who had been purged from civic duty and civic life.

Is he looking for one particular face? He isn’t
sure. Yes. Possibly. No. He’d have heard, surely, if anyone important had died.
Someone would have thought to write him saying: you’re no longer Dog-botherer,
by the way.

Is he still Dog-botherer? They’re almost
thirty. Well, Downey will be thirty already and Vetinari is near-enough. Surely
that game has been buried.

Speaking of that game, he can hear a strident
voice saying, ‘no I shall not move.’ 

That would be Downey. Vetinari sighs.

‘And you will not speak to me in that tone of voice, officer.’

That would be Downey with a Teacher’s Voice, apparently. 

[Read More]



Downey: From now on, we will be using code names. You can address me as Eagle One. Mrs Palm, code name is Been There, Done That.
Vetinari is Currently Doing That.
Sybil is It Happened Once in a Dream;
Mr. Slant, code name If I Had To Pick a Zombie.
Vimes is Eagle Two.

Vimes: Oh thank God.