#a slip of the keyboard

[aeshnacyanea2000]

The problem is that we think the opposite of funny is serious. It is not. In fact, as G. K. Chesterton pointed out, the opposite of funny is not funny, and the opposite of serious is not serious. Benny Hill was funny and not serious; Rory Bremner is funny and serious; most politicians are serious but, unfortunately, not funny. Humour has its uses. Laughter can get through the keyhole while seriousness is still hammering on the door. New ideas can ride in on the back of a joke, old ideas can be given an added edge.

-- Terry Pratchett - A Slip Of The Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction

[hedgehogreads]

Fantasy worlds have a huge attraction. There are rules built in. The appeal is simple and beguiling in the complex world of the twentieth century. Evil has a map reference and a remedy -- the finding of a sword, the returning of a Grail, the destruction of a ring. The way will be tough but at least it has a signpost. If the Good exhibit enough goodness, moral fibre and bravery they will win through, although at some cost. And for a span they'll live happily ever after . . . until they have to do it again.

-- Terry Pratchett, "Magic Kingdoms", A Slip of the Keyboard

[shinraalpha]

This!!!! When I was a bookseller the amount of people who would tell me they "don't read sci-fi" because they "aren't smart enough to understand the science" and then go read fantasy like sci-fi tech isn't just fantasy magic with knobs and dials.

“Every literary novelist apparently knows that science fiction is ‘all about’ robots and spaceships and other planets. Oh, there’s plenty of that stuff as topdressing, but at its best science fiction is about us and our Faustian bargain with our big brains, which dragged us out of the trees but may yet drag us into the volcano.”

— Terry Pratchett, “Writer’s Choice” (A Slip of the Keyboard)

[clarencethespottedduck]

Began* reading A Slip of the Keyboard by Terry Pratchett. Just read through the table of contents and am already sobbing

*haven't even started

[thehatofthehatter]

'Once we've put fairies in the sinister solitary thorn tree, we can decide where we stand in relation to it; we can hang ribbons on it; see visions under it - or bulldoze it up and call ourselves free from superstition.'

A Slip of the Keyboard, Terry Pratchett

[sergle]

making it real fucking hard to pack etsy orders

[neiptune]

santa, boy, you're the worst

cw: 3k wc, female reader, suggestive if you squint, oliver aiku is the most infuriating idiot you know and this holiday season you unfortunately discover he just so happens to also be maddeningly soft and generous at the community centre where he volunteers as santa for children in low-income families

“Here, this is where you can get changed”, Chiyo smiles kindly as she guides you into a small room filled with dusty boxes and christmas decorations, “thank you so much for doing this, we really needed some help this year”.

“Don’t mention it, I was really hoping you’d find a spot for me”, you take off your backpack and place it on an old table, “are you absolutely sure I’m going to be fine? Eiko said I just needed a costume but I’ve never-”

“Absolutely”, she vaguely gestures with one hand, “just follow Santa’s lead. He’s the one who’s good with kids”.

“I’ll just put this on, then”, you jut your bottom lip out, still not entirely convinced. She smiles again.

“I’ll leave you to it. We’ll be in the main hall!”.

They made a new elf costume just for you. Despite Eiko having a dreadful cold being a big bummer, you’re happy a few coincidences aligned to finally allow you to make something meaningful of the time you’d usually spend home, moping underneath a billion blankets.

There are no mirrors in the room, therefore you can only hope the costume looks good enough. You feel a bit ridiculous but, apparently, the hat is mandatory.

You leave your phone in your backpack and take out all the plastic bags filled with food instead: when you called her to inquire about what you could bring, Chiyo explained that they were all set with gifts but could’ve used some additions to the buffet. You brought all the alternatives for the kids whose gluten intolerance makes it hard to enjoy yummy snacks: carrot cake, peanut butter cookies, brownies, pizza, so many quiches. The previous day was spent cooking and baking but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The main hall is filled with colorful christmas decorations and a table so long, filled with so much food. Chiyo spots you right away and rushes to help you carry all the bags.

“I got this, you can go help Oliver”, she efficiently starts pulling out the containers and you’re flabbergasted for a second.

“Who?”

“Santa! They already started, go, go!”, she indicates the other end of the hall, where a guy in a Santa costume sits on a chair and all around him there’s a numerous group of children on the floor, fawning over him. A giant bag filled with what you can only guess are gifts, is placed at safe distance from pouty lips and grabby hands.

You make your way to them with a big smile, only slightly tense at the corners because you only know one guy with that name but what are the chances? He’s the most insufferable person you’ve ever met. A constant flirt with anything that moves, way too confident for his own good, so unfairly attractive and quick witted. What would he even be doing here, so close to the holidays? No, it must be another Oliver.

The way Santa spots you and instantly opens his arms, warm and welcoming, tells you otherwise. Fuck. You’re now close enough to recognize eyes no one in their right mind would be able to ever forget.

“If it isn’t my favorite helper!”, his tone is jovial and deep, a perfect representation of a jolly Santa. Suddenly, so many little heads whip around to look at you.

“Hello!”, you excitedly wave, “nice to meet you, everyone!”.

“She’s not the elf from last year”, as you position yourself right behind Oliver’s chair and next to the gifts you’ll later help him distribute, a little boy furrows his brows with a slight pout. Before you can come up with something to say, Santa ho-ho-hos his way into the conversation.

“That’s exactly right, Kenji. She’s my side piece”.

You choke on your own spit. A little girl politely raises her hand and Oliver grants her permission to ask her question.

“What’s a side piece, Oli?”.

Oh, god. This is so much worse than what you could’ve anticipated.

Once more, he doesn’t allow you to reply and the grin underneath his fake beard is nothing short of infuriating.

“It’s an elf who helps when my other helpers are too busy”.

“So she’s your side elf? Is she as nice as the other?”.

He shifts in his seat and you quietly sigh, still smiling awkwardly to the children curiously checking you out, prepared for another jab.

“She’s the best”, Oliver turns to look at you with a small wink, drinking in the surprise written all over your features, “why don’t you introduce yourself, side elf? My kids are great, they’re gonna love you”.

There’s really no time to ponder over the words, how sweet they sounded. He’s only been with them for what, a few hours, and is already so protective of them? If he’s faking it, he really is one hell of an actor.

You attention soon shifts to the little, curious faces staring back at you and the thought of Oliver is pushed to the back of your mind. You’re there to make the afternoon special for those kids and you’ll give it your all, whatever it takes.

He ends up being right, they are great. So intelligent, affectionate and welcoming. You introduce yourself and it only takes a few minutes for them to accept your presence completely. There’s an odd sense of familiarity in the way they climb onto Oliver’s lap one by one, sometimes wrap their arms around his neck. They play with his silver beard as they answer questions about what they asked for christmas and he leans down to whisper secrets to their ear from time to time, to either make them laugh or put them at ease.

Some of the younger children grow restless after a while and you patiently placate small quarrels, pick up kid after kid while they wait for their turn and jokingly twirl until they’re giggling against your shoulder, the fabric of your costume squeezed by little fingers.

“Does Oli really work for Santa?”, Riko asks. She’s been in your arms for a while now and you balance her better against your chest with one arm, your other hand wrapped around Kenji’s.

“He does. We’re both in direct contact with him”, you smile.

“Do you ever go to his workshop?”.

“Sometimes we have to, yeah. Santa always gives us so many cookies and big glasses filled with milk”.

Riko hums, enraptured.

“Will I smell as good as you if I eat so many cookies and drink big glasses of milk?”.

Surprised, you fail to come up with an answer for a moment. Then you melt into a chuckle.

“But you already smell sooo good, Riko! I could eat you!”, she squeals with a laugh when you take a fake bite out of her cheek and Oliver turns to look at you both as he helps another little girl down from his knees.

“Trying to eat my kids, are you?”, he grins.

“Just this one for now”, you jokingly wink and Riko giggles once more. Kenji reclaims your attention by pulling at your hand.

“You have to do the thing”.

Lips still curled into a smile, you tilt your head to the side.

“The thing?”.

He nods, solemn.

“Oh, right”, Oliver snaps his fingers, “the thing. Let my elf go, Riko, we have to perform”.

“We have to do what now?”, as you carefully let the little girl down, Kenji slips his hand from yours.

“Santa baby”, Oliver pats his knees and, horrified, you realize it’s an invitation for you, “it’s their favorite song. We did it last year too”.

You let out a nervous laugh.

“I’m not a great performer-”

“C’mon, side elf! You gotta do it!”, Riko’s palms press to the small of your back and, as she pushes you towards an awaiting lap, you don’t have the heart to ask her to stop calling you that.

Oliver welcomes you onto his knees like you belong there, one arm instantly wrapping around your waist and the other on your thighs. He’s warm, solid underneath you. It’s the closest you’ve ever been to him and you hate that you’re suddenly tempted to pull him even closer.

“No one told me about this”, you murmur between gritted teeth, tense smile causing a low chuckle to vibrate in his chest.   

“You’ll be fine”, the hand resting on your hip gives it a light, playful squeeze, “it’s acapella, by the way. Give it your all”.

You’re still smiling but fail to entirely conceal the glare as you try to position yourself better against him. Whether he does it istinctively or not, Oliver tightens his hold around your waist.

All chatter stops and, between hushed but still excited whispers coming from the group sitting at your feet, you start humming the familiar tune.

“Santa baby, just slip a sable under the tree for me. Been an awful good girl”, you briefly turn to the kids and give them an exaggerated wink that makes them laugh, “Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight!”, you twirl part of Oliver’s fake beard around your pointer finger and when you meet his gaze, it’s surprising how serious it is. Time to get up, for your own sanity.

While he is supposed to keep up the act and match both your goofy tone and exaggerated motions to make the song playful and appropriate for children, he just keeps looking back at you with something unreadable in those dangerous eyes of his.

“Think of all the fun I missed!”, you dramatically drop to your knees and grab his arm, “think of all the fellas that I haven’t kissed!”, he finally seems to be shaken from his weird stupor and gasps loudly, looking back and forth between you and the giggling audience.

“Next year I could be just as good, if you check off my christmas list?”, you pout as Oliver shakes his head no, feigning disappointment. A few kids whine in fake sadness.

“I want a yacht and really that’s not a lot… right?”, you beg for their approval and it makes you chuckle that they erupt in agreeing cheers right away, “been an angel all year!”.

“Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight”, with a deep sigh, you desperately squeeze his hand for a moment before getting up once more and continuing your performance around the audience with a skip in your step, hands behind your back as you sway and twirl around them.

“Please help me ask him, everyone!”, you implore, “so hurry down the chimney tonight”. They do join you in your plea, to which Oliver audibly slaps a hand to his forehead.

“Hurry down the chimney tonight”, you slowly approach his chair once more and the playfulness in his stare seems to vanish once more, fingers twitching on knees you don’t sit on, “hurry, tonight”, with a small smile, you twirl one last time and then bow deeply as the audience immediately starts clapping at the end of your performance.

“Oli, I want a yacht”, Riko pouts and her sister next to her giggles.

“I’ll see what I can do, sweetheart”, he smiles, then looks at you once more, “wanna help me give out this year’s gifts? Maybe we’ll find a yacht somewhere”.

He doesn’t even get to finish the question: in a matter of seconds, you’re both surrounded by exuberant little kids who are way too excited to find out what Santa’s helpers have in store for them this holiday season. The youngest of the group, six year old Tsumugi, raises her little arms and Oliver bends down to pick her up, balancing her on his leg.

You didn’t think the community centre would be able to put together enough funds to get… all those presents. There are so much. Enough for each child to get three or four. Clothes, audio book players, lego sets, tablets, dolls, water marbling kits, headphones, books. An entire, separate bag is filled with signed soccer uniforms. You discreetly glance at Oliver, busy helping Hiro unwrap his third present.

You remember very few details about the blue lock project, from which some of the current top players of the globe suddenly came out years ago. You know he was part of it at some point and of course you remember his past as captain of the former U-20 team. Oliver is still one of the best known soccer players in Japan and clearly he is friends with those guys. But the fact that he went out of his way to make sure he had all those uniforms for these kids, stirs something in your chest.

As you hand out the shirts, little squeals make you smile.

“Riko, this one’s from Nagi”, the little girl practically snatches it from your hand, “wait, don’t push, there’s one for each of you! Who asked for the Kaiser one?”.

“Oli, will you keep your promise next year?”, Tsumugi, still in his lap, rests her head on his shoulder as she hugs a new teddy bear to her chest. He hums, one hand rising to boop her nose.

“You have my word, sweet girl. I told Yoichi you wanted to meet him and he was so sad he couldn’t make it today. He promised he’ll come next time”.

“Look what he sent you”, with a grin, you hand her the shirt Isagi signed for her. The way her eyes light up makes you wish for Eiko to be sick once more, the following year.

It’s the evening when parents slowly start arriving to collect their kids and thank everyone for the organization. You and Chiyo welcome them by the door and offer warm cups of tea. Those who are not in a rush are more than welcome to eat something despite the buffet having been more or less devoured by now.

As soon as you’re alone with Chiyo once more, the last remaining parents shaking hands with Oliver as they say goodbye, you deflate in a chair. Your legs hurt, you didn’t eat anything and you feel so tired but also immensely rewarded.

“It was fun, wasn’t it?”, with a smile, Chiyo pushes a water bottle towards you.

“So fun. You were right, he’s good with kids. Remembered all their names and everything”.

She chuckles.

“Well, I’d hope so. He comes every year”.

You stare back.

“Every year?”.

“Yeah, since forever. And he always gets so many extra presents for them, never accepted a single yen back”.

You sip on your water, unable to come up with something to say. Oliver Aiku, the same unbearably smug idiot who’d pissed you off endlessly each time you had the unfortunate chance of meeting him thanks to your cousin Shuto, seemed so different today. Patient, caring, attentive, fun. So generous.

You watch as parents bow to him and he bows back, ruffles their kid’s hair, laughs when Tsugumi hugs his legs. This is not good, not good at all, judging by the way your heart fumbles in your chest as he meets your gaze from across the room.

The elf costume is shoved into your backpack but the drawings and notes some of the kids made for you are placed on the table right next to it as you put on your coat. You’ll keep them in your hand, against your chest and underneath the warm fabric if you must, in case it’s still snowing outside. You’d hate for anything to happen to such precious cargo.

“You know, Riko has a point”, the gravelly voice so close to your ear makes you jump, “you really do smell good”.

“Try taking a shower”, your intention is to turn around with a scowl but the second you do, your back is pressed to the table as he leans forward and rests his palms on the rough surface. The sharp inhale you take makes him smile.

“Nah, I think it’s really just you”.

You stare back for a moment, then clear your throat, trying your best to not appear intimidated.

“Who knew you were so good with kids. They love you”.

Oliver pulls back, leaving you enough space to put a safe distance between your bodies.

“Well, who knew you were such a great cook. How long did it take to make all that food?”.

Much to your irritation, a smile threatens to appear on your lips. He deflects when complimented? Fuck. Off.

Your mind traces back to how protective he was of them. My kids. It’s sickening, really.

“You didn’t eat anything all day”, the softer tone catches him off guard for just a second, “take some leftovers”.

Oliver hums, something flashing across his features so quickly you may have imagined it. Then, he starts unbuttoning the red velvet jacket he’s still in.

“Don’t be so thoughtful, it’ll make me hard”.

Astonished, you look at him.

“What are you doing?”

He discards the jacket with a grin, hat and fake beard already discarded before entering the changing room.

“You didn’t think I’d leave in this, right?”.

“You could’ve waited until I left the room”.

Oliver rubs his chin in exasperating, fake pensiveness.

“Yeah, I could’ve”, his signature smirk makes you want to punch him in his handsome face, “but there’s this girl I like. Maybe if I impress her, she’ll finally give me a chance”.

You chalk the heat rising to your cheeks up to the thermostat temperature being too high. When you murmur a confused, hasty goodbye and attempt to make your leave, drawings safely tucked underneath one arm, Oliver gently wraps a hand around your wrist.

“It’s snowing. Let me give you a ride”, the way his thumb tentatively grazes the sliver of skin underneath your sleeve makes you shudder. He does it again, intentional, serious eyes boring into yours to make sure he's not crossing a boundary. Your mouth feels dry.

“Wait for me?”, Oliver offers, gentle. There’s no trace of his previous teasing and you’re painfully aware of how long the silence is stretching for, a weird vibration to the moment laced in your aching hesitation.

Another beat passes before you relax under his touch.

“I’ll be outside”.

[treeezyparadise]

In my head, the first time they kiss is after Jeremy says something so lovely and radiant and Jean fights his initial impulse to look away. He remembers that the rules have changed and that nothing bad is going to happen to because he likes Jeremy.

And he finally lets himself get caught in the moment.

[deathofacupid]

they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, don't they? a quaint little saying, tossed around like a comforting blanket. but did that apply to everything? did it apply to the gaping chasm that had opened up between you and satoru? the truth was, some wounds festered, no matter how far you ran. they burrowed deeper, fueled by the silence and the gnawing what-ifs.

the further you got from satoru, the more a bitter resentment bloomed in your chest, choking out the softer memories. you hated him for letting you slip through his fingers like grains of sand, for not fighting harder, for not deeming you worthy of the effort.

you hated that he had the priorities that he did, that his grand ambitions eclipsed everything else, and even more, that you weren't even a footnote in those ambitions. you hated, with a burning, all-consuming passion, that he didn't choose you.

you'd always known, deep down, that he was destined for greatness. with a name as striking as his, how could he not be? he knew it too, you were sure of it. he carried himself with that quiet confidence, that almost arrogant grace. and you, you were just… you.

satoru wasn't a serious person. it was his defining trait, the mask he wore to navigate the world. most people saw the easy smiles, the quick wit, the constant stream of humorless jokes. they saw the shield, but no one, not even you, dared to peek behind it.

you knew there was something there, a quiet storm raging beneath the surface, but it was a line you never crossed. didn't even touch it. he didn't want you to, anyway. he’d deflect with another joke, another grin, and the moment would pass, leaving you both a little more hollow.

because, then, he'd have to talk about it. he'd have to peel back the layers and expose the vulnerability he so desperately guarded. satoru wasn't sure he could muster that, not for anyone, not even for you, the one person who saw glimpses of the real him. the thought of confronting his own demons seemed to terrify him more than anything else.

and it didn't help, not even a little, that everything you did, everything you saw, everything you touched, smelt, tasted, heard – it all screamed satoru. the world was a cruel collage of memories, each one a tiny shard of glass piercing your heart.

there were so many movies you'd never be able to watch again. the rom-com where you'd both laughed until your sides hurt, the tearjerker where he’d subtly dabbed at his eyes while pretending he wasn't crying, the cheesy action flick you’d both secretly loved. all of them tainted now, the joy replaced with a dull ache. old memories, bitter, definitely not sweet.

songs, too. the radio was a minefield, each familiar melody a fresh wave of grief. you couldn't even have chocolate, his favorite, without a pang of longing. the old mugs, the ones you’d bought together, were banished to the back of the cabinet, too painful to use. and his side of the bed… your bed, now, only yours.

it was always cold at night, a stark reminder of his absence. you weren't used to sleeping alone. maybe, by now, you should have been. it's been so long, hasn't it? time should have healed these wounds, but they just kept bleeding.

there was a bakery just a few streets down. it used to be your favorite little secret, a place you’d stumbled upon and then shared with satoru. the two of you went all the time after that, drawn by the warm aroma of freshly baked bread and the promise of quiet companionship. you don't go anymore. shame, really. they had the most amazing croissants, flaky and buttery, just the way he liked them.

distance makes the heart grow fonder, they say. but it's just not the same for you. it's just… different. it's a dull ache, a constant longing. then again, maybe that's the reason you want to be in his arms again, despite everything. maybe the pain is just a twisted form of love, a desperate yearning for the warmth that once filled the void. maybe, just maybe, distance makes the heart grow fonder, but only if there's still a heart left to feel.

[fisheito]

They turned my boy into Gary...

tbh it was kind of liberating because if the devs themselves can fall to the ol' gary keytrap, then i, too, can sometimes let my mortal follicles flow downward, and allow myself to lettersmash about gary and/or kary in my accidental overenthusiasm

[frostbeees]

Smith on First of Many Wins With Sharks

[aeshnacyanea2000]

I’m writing scenes which are good, and I don’t know where they are going to fit in the book. But it’s what I call ‘The Valley Filled With Clouds’ technique. You’re at the edge of the valley, and there is a church steeple, and there is a tree, and there is a rocky outcrop, but the rest of it is mist. But you know that because they exist, there must be ways of getting from one to the other that you cannot see. And so you start the journey. And when I write, I write a draft entirely for myself, just to walk the valley and find out what the book is going to be all about.

-- Terry Pratchett - A Slip Of The Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction

[twilightofthesandwiches]

soooo… are we not gonna talk about the fact that Simon is the vessel of an ENTIRE UNIVERSE? like, that seems like the kinda thing that would have some weird side effects! and like, what happens to it when he dies (IF he can die at this point?)?

Um... kinda confused by the use of the present-tense in your ask. While Simon being the Hard Drive for Fionnaworld was one of the major ongoing concerns for the series (including the 'what happens when he dies' part. It's repeatedly brought up as one of the reasons he 'needs' to become Ice King again, he needs to become immortal or else whole universe dies when he croaks. This also confirms Simon is probably gonna die of old age eventually)

But by the Finale, he literally lets Fionnaworld out of his system

The Fionnaworld Portal is still linked to his physical head, but the Universe itself has left his brainscape. The good thing about Magical Portals is that they can stay fixed in one place even as the location they are linked too gets moved around.

Simon putting the whole of Fionnaworld inside of Fionnaworld is pretty trippy, but that's also IS explicitly what's going on.

(And note the use of the past tense. 'WAS inside one dude for years and years'. Again, once Simon puked it out, Fionnaworld is no longer inside of him)

And once Fionna blows on the Universal Dandelion and 'canonizes' Fionnaworld

It seems like it just... Exists now, the same way any World in the Adventure Time Multiverse. It's not stored anywhere specific anymore, least of all in Simon's head.

As for Side-Effects while Fionnaworld was stored in Simon's head. It is a reasonable concerns, especially as Prismo specifically selected Ice King for having 'the emptiest brain' in all of Ooo. But now that he's Simon again, obviously his brain is full of Stuff. But it seems like most of the side-effects of this were experienced by the Fionnaworld side of things. Y'know, the elements of Simon's psyche and the events happening around him leaking into the landscape of the city.

And also might be connected as to why the whole of Fionnaworld is so tiny and constrained. You know, maybe it was never a full universe before being Canonized. But it might've been bigger than a few city blocks, but it had to 'shrink' to fit into Simon's head.

But, well, again, the universe is 'legit' now and not stuck inside of Simon, so this is no longer a concern.

[sieglinde-freud]

i love consuming media with no fandom bc it means i dont hear stupid garbage takes about it from thirteen year olds but i also hate it bc GUYSSSSSS… WHERE ARE YOU… WHO UP LOVING THIS BOOK RN (ME!!! AND THATS IT!!!)

[noelledeltarune]

my friend told me that i need to get shelves for my plushie pile but . well.

[aeshnacyanea2000]

Any writer needs an eye for the double entendre in the same way that the gamekeeper has to have the mind of a poacher. The deliberate double entendre, on the other hand, is not to be sneezed at; I myself once perpetrated a treble entendre, and I suspect that if sufficient grant money could be made available, the quadruple entendre should not be beyond our grasp.

-- Terry Pratchett - A Slip Of The Keyboard: Collected Non-fiction