Moving all fic here, as well as all icons. You've probably read these before.
Things to see in the city.Fandom
: UWord count
“Are you sure?”
“Am I ever not sure?”
She has a point. “But how does one commit suicide from that…” Carrot tilts his head, puzzled. “…angle?”
“One upsets the Seamstresses Guild,” Angua replies, starting to get dressed. “Both Dotsie and Sadie were here.”
Well, that settles that, then. Carrot gets out his notebook to make a note of this fact, but then stops, looking straight ahead, a small smile on his face. Angua has to turn to look behind her, though the window at an unimpressive view of Dolly Sisters.
“Nothing, just enjoying the view.”
She smiles back.
She has to admit, he looks good. The outfit suits him. Like he was born to wear it. She smiles as he fusses with his cloak, worriedly.
“I look OK?” he asks, turning from the mirror, a lost expression on his face.
“You look fine, Carrot,” Angua says, walking over and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Better than fine.”
It’s saying something that even now, he blushes.
The funeral had been an extravagant affair. All the guild leaders had turned up. Mister Vimes had led the pall bearers, and the rest of the watch marched alongside the mourners as an official guard. A long thin coffin draped in a black flag on top of which were two wreaths: one depicting the Ankh-Mopork coat of arms and the Vetinari family crest. Angua didn’t know there wee that many black flowers in the world.
And now it was just the after things to do. Politics, shuffling, adjusting. Carrot was not yet comfortable with his new role, but Angua could see that it suited him, he was born to it. Unlike herself and this dress, she adds to herself.
Vimes had gone spare.
“Are you sure?” Carrot asks, apprehensively.
“Definitely,” she confirms, unwrapping her arms and slipping an elbow under his arm.
“Come on, Commander Carrot. Let’s go and meet the new Patrician.”
Last Cigar of the nightFandom
: Commander VimesWord count
Gift for robwilson
The smoke curls up and is lost in the solid sheets of rain.
Of Alley is one of the smallest roads in Ankh, linking Duke Street and Quirm Avenue, set back from King Street, and precisely halfway between Scoone Avenue and Pseudopolis Yard. Very little goes on in Of Alley. This, when combined with the fact that, against all common sense, the first floor juts out by a couple of feet, makes it Vimes’ preferred place to sneak a surreptitious cigar.
Sybil won’t have them in the house anymore. At least, not around Little Sam. So he’s started stopping on the way home, out of the way of any policework, and savouring his last cigar of the night. Then he’ll go home and see his son. Where’s my bloody cow.
For the anticipation, it’s the best cigar of the night.
: Carrot/AnguaWord Count
: UAuthor's notes
: Set around the time of Monstrous Regiment, when a party from the Ankh-Morpork City Watch visited Borogravia.
This was awkward. More even than Gavin, in Carrot's opinion. That was under… circumstances. But she had insisted.
So here he was, in this cosy little shepherd's hut, sitting on what he assumes must be their very best and most uncomfortable guest armchairs, being stared owlishly at by two small sticky children, one holding a wooden train in its mouth. His fourth cup of tea had long since been drunk, and no one had appeared this time to top it up.
Angua was in the kitchen having words with their mother. From the tone of their voices, they were still in pleasant womanly small talk about families, but that had been going on for quite a while now. Carrot idly wondered what the arrangement was here, but she'd avoided the subject quite stubbornly Then a question, an affirmative, and Angua came in to the front room, smiling at the children.
Still not a word was spoken. The children, still staring at the couple, began to edge out sideways. The first reached for the door handle, opened it slowly, still staring, then both of them ran out into the fields like the cottage was on fire.
"Are you OK?" She asked, brushing his hair lightly.
"Yes," he confirmed, smiling for her. "I'm just a little nervous. It's a big step."
Angua smiled and dropped a kiss on his forehead. "It'll be fine, you'll see."
Then the door opened, and the shepherd's wife peered in. "Here he is, then. Can I get you another cuppa?"
"No, thank you, Mrs' Shepherd," Angua says, with a polite smile. "Thank you."
It was then that the big yellow dog bounded in, making a beeline towards the woman. Tail wagging furiously, it was on its hind legs in a second, front paws on her lap and her face was being licked, while she lost her hands in its thick yellow mane.
Carrot watched this for a few seconds, before Angua finally pulled her head back. "Andrei, there's someone I'd like you to meet…"