Pinkie Pie made her way out of the Street of Small Gods, leaving behind the bewildered and be-ballooned crowds, and entered the Plaza of Broken Moons. This was the largest open space on the streets of Ankh-Morpork, and was filled with all the hustle and bustle of busy city life, not to mention a few entrepreneurial balloon salesmen. The pink pony drew about as much attention to herself here as she did in the Street of Small Gods, and before long a second crowd was already following her.
She still wasn’t entirely sure where she was going. Death’s preferred method of transportation tended to get the traveller from A to B without the intervening A.a, A.b, etc., which made retracing one’s hoofsteps without the aid of magical teleportation just a little difficult. She vaguely knew that the Unseen University was in the city somewhere, but exactly how to get there remained a bit of a mystery.
Instead, she contented herself with taking in all the sights, sounds, and most especially, smells* of the great twin city of Ankh-Morpork. It definitely looked better with balloons. … But maybe it needed just a touch of confetti.
Archchancellor Ridcully choked on a little paper horseshoe that had miraculously appeared in his wine goblet the moment before the contents began descending down his trachea. It did little to improve his mood.
Decoration having been now fully accomplished, and the populace of Ankh-Morpork distracted by the sudden rain of paper in the shape of various lucky charms, Pinkie continued merrily on her way. Various street-soothsayers and wayside-oracles found themselves being demanded by recent customers for their money back for failing to correctly predict the weather, and they all, as one, calmly pointed to the sign directing ‘no refund for acts of the gods’.
She exited the Plaza just as a flock (or gathering, or ruckus) of followers of the Pink Pony of Death entered it, having both heard rumours and seen evidence of miraculous acts being performed by their matron deity. They clutched at their balloons with religious fervor and stooped low to collect the fallen paper pieces that now littered the streets, all the while gathering up the otherwise religiously-indifferent populace of Ankh-Morpork into a whirling frenzy of party spirit, the likes of which the city had not seen since its last riot the previous Tuesday.
They were kept so busy with dispensing complimentary party hats and slices of cake that they failed to notice the object of their ardent devotions was now trotting through The Cham and into Sator Square, the public space that sat before the great octiron gates and formidable walls of the Unseen University campus.
Pinkie looked upon the square and beheld that it was large, mostly empty, and indeed, vaguely square-shaped. Most of the city’s day-to-day market trade took place in the Plaza, or around the Patrician’s Palace (at least, when he didn’t have a headache, which were becoming increasingly frequent), as setting up a stall in front of the Unseen University was metaphorically begging the universe to surprise you by making your stock of fresh fruit and vegetables burst into song.
The ground was covered with confetti, and balloons still hung in the air, yet Pinkie still felt something was missing. She felt it with her very being, a part of her that felt like it would not be satisfied until all was set to rights. She sat down, in the centre of Sator Square, and pondered. Directly opposite her stood the looming gates of the University, but getting there had become a secondary aim to figuring out what, exactly, needed to be done.
Then it hit her.
The prayers and unspoken hopes of a thousand pink-robed worshippers flooded into her mind.
It is a great shame that no bards were present in the coming moments, for what was about to be accomplished deserved to be recorded in song. As it was, even the second-hand accounts (with a little embellishment) went down in the annals of myth and legend. At this moment, Pinkie Pie, Goddess of the Afterparty, completed her great work in her manifestation upon the Disc.
Her eyes aglow, she waved a hoof. An object enwrapped in a shining light descended from the heavens accompanied by what could charitably be called an angelic chorus, if flugelhorns and vuvuzelas were the chosen instruments of the celestial choir. It came to rest in Sator Square as crowds turned their heads to catch a glimpse of the strange device.
Accounts varied as to its identity. Some said it was a great roaring beast that heralded the new era. Some said it was a machine, like a pipe, that belched fire, smoke, and cake mix.
She spoke, and with her spoke the chorus of a thousand voices.
“Never leave home without it.”
*As has been previously stated, they are many, and without compare or equal.
For the third time that day, the wizards of the Unseen University sat in silence, having just been half-deafened by the cataclysmic explosion that, judging from the trail of debris and de-headed hats, had emanated from Sator Square.
“...” yelled the Archchancellor in the vague direction of the Dean.
“WHAT?” he bellowed in response.
“...” the Archchancellor restated, at a slightly increased level of volume. His cheeks began to gain a purple tinge.
“HOLD ON, I THINK I HAVE SOMETHING LODGED IN MY EAR,” the Dean replied, digging in with his finger. He successfully managed to dislodge a piece of lobster shell, just in time to hear the full unfortunate tirade of rich and fascinating rural terms for various indescribable and unprintable acts, framed around a question that hung on everyone’s lips: What the hell was going on?
This question could, of course, be answered with remarkable ease by any wizard choosing to look over the walls of the university and into Sator Square, but such ‘outside the box’ thinking was frowned upon by the faculty. It was a wizard’s firm belief that anything and everything could be answered within the realms of magic, and, more importantly, no more than fifty metres away from a pantry.
“First balloons, then this bloody confetti everywhere, and then an explosion! And it’s not magic! Well if it bloody well isn’t magic then what is it?” the Archchancellor boomed, gesticulating wildly.
“We could see if Hex has-” Ponder Stibbons began.
“WE ARE NOT ASKING YOUR BLASTED ANT FARM,” The Archchancellor snapped back.
As the echoes died away, a student cautiously raised a quivering arm, and nearly leapt under the table when the Archchancellor looked his way. Composing himself, he stuttered his suggestion:
“We c-could... s-summon D-D-Death?”
The Archchancellor sighed. It was always the same answer from the students. The moment they were taught the Rite of AshkEnte, it was all they could think of. Why bother studying and researching your own answers when Death already knew everything and was only a couple of wooden sticks and four cc of mouse blood away? Slowly, he began to realise why Death always seemed so irate about the issue.
The sigh was enough to convince the student that his answer was poorly-timed, unneeded, and, perhaps, an indication to go hide in his dorm room for a few days until the Archchancellor forgot about it.
There was a polite cough from somewhere near the back of the hall, where another student had his hand up. The Archchancellor merely glanced at him, this served as invitation enough.
“Uh, sir, if it isn’t, well, magic, then it, uh, might possibly be, well, divine, you see, and if that’s, uh, the case, as it were, then perhaps we, uh, should talk to, what you might call, a priest?”
The Archchancellor blinked. The faculty looked at him, as one, with rapt attention.
“... Good idea, glad I thought of it. Go and get my brother.”
In Ponyville, the days seemed to draw out longer and longer to Bill Door. The pile of books around Twilight Sparkle slowly grew into mountains as she attempted to research the spell that might allow her to cross dimensions and bring back Pinkie Pie. The pile around Bill Door was also growing, but directly proportional to the shrinking biography section of the Golden Oak Library.
As he turned the final page of The Life and Times of a Pasta Farmer, a sensation that had been nagging him for some time over the past week returned in greater force. It was... He found it difficult to describe. A cloying sense of unease. A frustration with the way things were. A half-felt urge to change routine.
Was there a name for this feeling? He was sure there must be. Mortals named everything. It had become blindingly clear from his reading that occasionally they even decided to rename bits of themselves.
He ran through the list. It wasn’t love. Love was a confusing and somewhat terrifying mix of emotion, impulse and blind stupidity that he felt he would never fully understand. It wasn’t hunger. It felt similar to hunger, but he’d eaten only an hour ago, so it couldn’t be hunger. Anger? He knew anger quite well, but he certainly didn’t feel angry about anything. He continued in this vein for several minutes, mentally checking each known emotion, but without drawing a conclusion.
“... Miss Sparkle!” he called, at last, his own knowledge exhausted. Twilight looked up from her books, looking a little haggard from lack of sleep. This tended to be symptomatic of whenever Twilight decided that a problem needed her attention and had to be solved.
“Mm?” she grunted in reply.
“I feel frustrated with the tedium of my current existence. Is there a name for this feeling?” Bill Door asked, deadpan.
“You’re bored.”
“Oh! Boredom. How interesting. Thank you.”
Silence drifted in once more, broken only by the rustling of pages and the low hum of telekinetic magic.
“... Miss Sparkle?”
“Yes?”
“What, exactly, does one do when one is... Bored?”
Moments later, Bill Door found himself outside the library, with the door being slammed shut behind him. He wasn’t sure what had happened in the intervening seconds.
He glanced around him. The Golden Oak Library was near the centre of Ponyville, facing a main street that led to the town hall and its surrounding market area. He could see ponies trotting back and forth across the street, occasionally giving him inscrutable looks before changing direction slightly.
He decided to make his way down the grassy street, and see if there was something to dissuade this ‘boredom’ at the market. Ponies here and there seemed to be going out of their way to avoid him. He dimly recalled Twilight explaining (at great length) that certain of the Ponyville population had drawn connections between his appearance and Pinkie’s disappearance, and that rumour travels fast in a small town populated by a naturally skittish race. Apparently, some of the more outlandish rumours included that ‘Bill Door’ was really a creature from another dimension who collected the souls of the dead, and that Pinkie had made a dark and terrible pact to take his place. These were, understandably, laughed off as completely absurd.
Shortly, Bill Door approached the edge of the green that encircled the Ponyville town hall. He could see stalls set up around roughly half the circumference, selling all kinds of grown produce, manufactured goods, and imported products. The Ponyville Market was a place where the community of the town came together, to trade, exchange news and haggle over that day’s best deals. It was late morning, so most of the town was out, shopping for their lunch, or merely looking for a pleasant distraction.
Bill Door recognized the familiar shape of one pony in particular - a yellow-coated, pink-maned pegasus making her way around the stalls and deftly swerving in and out of the crowds, eyes down and avoiding contact as best as possible. He watched as she approached the stall of one obstinate-looking tomato salespony, and began to negotiate the price. The attempt did not appear to be going very well, as now the salespony was insisting on slightly above the original asking price.
Bill Door decided to wander over and examine the tomatoes for himself. The two were so engrossed in the increasingly heated debate that they initially failed to notice his presence. He took the time to scrutinize the red, plump-looking fruits on offer, carefully looking at all angles and perspectives, and even going as far as gently prodding one with a hoof. It was this act that broke the salespony from her increasingly one-sided argument with Fluttershy and drew her attention to the new customer.
“How much are you charging for these tomatoes?” he asked, before the salespony had time to open her mouth.
“Oh, uh, as I was just explaining to Fluttershy here, being Spring and all, they’re two bits each.” she replied.
“But they aren’t even ripe. They are probably only worth one bit each.”
The salespony frowned. “Two bits.”
“This one is green.” Bill Door continued.
“Two. Bits.”
“And this one is so hard as to be nearly inedible.”
“If you don’t like my tomatoes, you are free to shop elsewhere.” the salespony replied, effectively shutting down all further conversation.
But Bill Door continued regardless.
“But you are the only pony selling tomatoes in the market.”
“That’s right, I am, and they’re two bits, take it or leave it,” the salespony reiterated, jabbing a hoof at the sign.
“R-really, it’s fine, I can j-just pay the full-” Fluttershy began, before being cut off.
“The product you are selling is of inferior quality and clearly only worth half of what you are asking. I feel that this ought to be reported to a local authority as fraud,” Bill Door said, nodding solemnly.
“... Two for three bits,” the salespony interjected, reluctantly.
“One bit.”
“I’m already making a loss! I’ve gotta eat too, you know. Two for three bits!” she repeated.
“At one bit per tomato you are making an adequate profit during the off-season.”
“You’re asking me to sell my fine, home-grown product at a loss, and then have the gall to say I’m making a profit? You’ve got some nerve! … And it’s still three bits for two,” she continued, beginning to go as red in the face as her tomatoes.
“If you were truly offended by my offer you would not still be bartering. One bit,” Bill Door replied, voice level.
The salespony wracked her mind trying to think of a suitably counter-argument, but the stern, icy-blue eyes of her customer froze her train of thought and left her stuttering. Finally, she slammed her hoof on the stall and gave up.
“Fine! Customers these days...”
As the grumbling salespony picked up her bits and pulled down a banner saying ‘Gone to Lunch’, Fluttershy scooped the tomatoes into her saddlebags and turned to thank Bill Door. If she had been looking directly at him (which she wasn’t), she might’ve noticed that he didn’t seem to be looking directly at her, either.
“Uhm, thank you. For the help. I don’t think that mare likes me very much,” she opened, as they began to trot away.
“Oh. You are welcome."
They trotted together in silence for a few minutes. Both were trying to think of a suitable subject of conversation that neither seemed too intruding or too diffident.
“... So, what are you... doing? Today?” Bill Door asked, having finally struck on a winner.
“Oh, uhm, I’m going to see Applejack - you know, the apple farmer, my friend - her dog, Winona, is feeling poorly. I’m going to see if there’s anything I can... do.”
The conversation laid to rest, once again.
They soon reached the edge of Ponyville proper and entered the country roads, lined with cottages, that led to the farmlands outside of the town. Bill Door barely realised the time that had passed, despite normally being aware of every passing second. What he did realise was that the feelings of being ‘bored’ had given way to an altogether even more unfamiliar feeling. In some ways, it resembled fear, but also happiness. He had an inkling of what that meant, but decided to ignore it. In the same sense that one ignores things by locking them in something heavy and then burying it somewhere, or throwing it in a nearby body of water.
The two wandered through the country lanes in silence, glancing around at everything except each other. Bill Door noted the particular shade of blue that the sky bore this morning. The notes and songs of at least six different species of bird. The last remnants of dew clinging to the grass. The three overburdened little fillies overtaking them on the path, screaming something about ‘cutie marks’ and ‘wilderness explorers’.
Eventually, they reached the white fences and brightly-coloured trellises that marked the start of Sweet Apple Acres. Bill Door was snapped out of his reverie by Fluttershy’s quiet voice;
“Uhm, thank you for... Walking with me. It was... nice,” she said, blushing, and moved to turn away.
Then she stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back to face him.
“Maybe-if-you’re-not-busy-later-this-afternoon-you-would-like-to-get-tea-or-something-if-that’s-alright-with-you-I-mean-oh-Celestia-I’m-sorry-never-mind-I-should-go.” The words streamed from her mouth at top speed, and before Bill Door had had time to properly process them, she was already a retreating yellow and pink blur.
Nevertheless, he felt elated. And a little confused. More confused than elated, if he was honest. He wandered around the entrance to the farm for a few minutes, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.
It was at this point that an orange earth pony in a brown felt hat spotted him. She trotted over, wearing a friendly expression.
“Well, howdy! You must be the new stallion in town Rarity was talking about. Now, I know half the town’s saying you done something horrible to Pinkie and that’s why she’s gone missing around the time you turned up, and then the other half’s saying that you ain’t got nothing to do with that and it’s just pure coincidence, but I don't have any truck with rumour and gossip. I’m sure Pinkie’s fine, wherever she is, she’s just like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m worried for her and all, she’s a good friend, but she’s the sorta pony that makes a bright day out of a gloomy morning, if you get my meaning."
Bill Door didn't.
"Well now, where’re my manners? I ain’t even asked your name! I’m Applejack, it's a pleasure. What brings you ‘round ta my farm, now?”
He blinked.
“... My name is Bill Door. I was walking over here with Fluttershy. Good morning,” he managed to respond, in a deliberately slower pace.
“Door? My cousin knows a Door over by Appleloosa way, don’t suppose you're related? Oh, I'm sorry, I'm prying again ain’t I."
Bill Door said nothing. The silence stretched for a few seconds. Somewhere**, a cricket chirped.
"So, you walked over with Fluttershy? She did seem a little flustered when I ran into her just now. Or rather, she ran into me!” Applejack continued, laughing. She noticed that Bill Door just watched her with an air of curiosity, rather than one of understanding.
“... Say now, you busy?” she asked, sizing him up.
“Uh... No.”
“Well, that’s just swell! How’d you like to help me and my brother - he’s the red one, over there - with planting some of the new apple saplings in our south orchard? You look like you’ve got a strong back about you, and, well, Fluttershy will be here for a couple of hours yet, with Winona.”
Bill Door pondered the offer. He was no stranger to farms or farm labour, in fact, he rather enjoyed it, but traditionally he was a Harvester, not a Planter. The notion of giving and nurturing new life rather than taking it away both excited and intrigued him.
He smiled at the friendly farmpony.
“That sounds delightful.”
**That's not to say, somewhere they were currently standing. In fact this particular cricket was chirping merrily to itself somewhere in an unnamed forest on the far western coast of Equestria. It just happened to coincide with the lull in the conversation, as these things always do.
The student wasted no time in fulfilling the request made for him, and, dodging the prize rose bushes and the compost heaps of the Unseen University’s campus gardens, he leapt over the broken section of wall that had, traditionally, been used as the main entrance to the university by both students and faculty staff alike since time immemorial***, and ran into Sator Square.
He had difficulty continuing, as he found his path blocked by what appeared to be several hundred upstanding**** citizens of Ankh-Morpork holding on to one another and emulating the rhythmic movements of a type of legless reptile.
Whilst singing.
Badly.
In the split-second that he paused, there was suddenly a pink pony-shaped thing standing next to him.
“Hey! You’ve already got a pointy hat! Come on, they’re just refilling the punch!”
***Opening the vast octiron gates required at least four wizards of the Third Level. Unfortunately, finding them between meals, or when sober, was more trouble than it was worth. Often the wizards reserved gate-opening for special occasions, so it made a greater impact.
****Well. Some of them were upstanding. Others were nearly horizontal.
Bloody Stupid Johnson is the best joke in the diskworld series.
Also I thought the UU only had a organ/bathroom made by B.S.Johnson, not a ho-ho.
Woo-hoo, new chapter!
Yay, a new chapter!
So he must be good at apple bucking?
By the way, a couple of fixes:
You probably meant "complimentary"
pure (unless it's some way to reproduce Applejack's accent)
2063066
Woops, missed those. Normally I catch typos.
2063039
It's mentioned in, I think, Reaper Man.
Glorious!!! ^^
2063077
Must be my mistake then.
I love this story so much so far.
oh god dat picture * mouthfoam*
I wonder how Death will do with the planting. I foresee either comical ineptitude or ludicrously painstaking care. Or both.
Also, mixing Mustrum Ridcully and Pinkie Pie is going to... I honestly don't know what. Whatever will happen, I'm sure it will be hilarious.
Do I see a hint of Fluttershy/Bill Door? That's a new one.
Okay, this story has made it very difficult to read from laughing so hard.
The style matches the Discworld novels so perfectly, I privately suspect that Terry Pratchet has become a brony and you are Terry Pratchet.
Everyone is so in character that another part of me suspects that this is a collaberation between Lauren Faust and Terry Pratchet for their own amusement.
All in all, I wish I could fave and like a story more than once.
Huh - I could have sworn the 'Ho-Ho' was somewhere in the palace gardens, as I seem to recall Vetinari 'asking' Drumknott to fetch a ladder for one of his visitors... shortly before said visitor fell into it (Seriously, that guy is scary. Possibly one of three fictional characters who I can never decide if it's best to stand behind, or run away from).
Anyway, other than that minor (and largely irrelevant [I hope]) query, this is yet another good chapter.
2063400
I have to agree... just when I thought Fluttershy had been shipped with everypony already (Mane 6, Big MacIntosh, the 3 Princesses, Discord, Changelings, OCs)... nope. Here comes Death. And she stole him from Rarity.
2063663
Oh dear, it seems that you're right. And it was featured in either Men at Arms or Interesting Times, according to the L-Space Wiki. I'll just carefully edit that away...
2063400
I can only predict "good things" from this relationship.
2063164
You remember me of a certain guy from Avatar: The Last Airbender...do you dance around with your foaming mouth too?
Ah well, it's high-time to comment on this masterpiece of a fanfic! I would have done it sooner but I was indisposed...by reading more chapters of this story!
Other than that, what is to be said that isn't already said many times? Your fanfic literally reads like a fresh Terry Pratchett book, your jokes are both 'in-character' for both Pinkie Pie and the Discworld itself and your plot twists made my jaw drop. Two Pinkie Pies? A ponyfied Discworld Death being shipped with Fluttershy? Pinkie Pie pissing off the wizards with her every godly act and yet needing their assistance? Scratch that, Pinkie being a goddess?!?
Ah well...Since the evil Pinkie (or should I call her Death-Pinkie? Sounds more accurate this way...) has no heart, has the powers of Death himself and STILL is Pinkie...what happens with Pinkamena? Is Death-Pinkie Pinkamena? I believe that both are 'the real' Pinkie in that sense that they can feel all of Pinkies emotions, including the ones that brought forth Pinkamena...
Ah well, enough theory about that. I'd rather see Bill Door at his tasks...and his 'date' with Fluttershy. I can just picture an irate Angel-bunny scared half to death because it understands on a subliminal level who or what Bill Door really is.
2065665
thank you for effing spoiling this fic.
2066347
Now now, if you chose to read the comments on the fic before diving into the fic itself, there's no one to blame but yourself.
2066787
i got a notice that my comment got replied. and there was a giant spoiler in the reply to my comment. i'm kinda mad now.
2065961
Well caught, corrected.
"In the split-second that he paused, there was suddenly a pink pony-shaped thing standing next to him."
I have a sneaking suspicion that that pink pony-shaped thing may in fact be a pink pony!
Seriously though, really loving this fic.
Pratchett's work is amongst my most favourite, and this really is on par with his novels.
Are you pulling off another Renata Flitworth with Fluttershy? You bastard. It took him a mid-death crisis filled with Music With Rocks In It to get over that last time!
2066791
Here's a hint... whenever you get such a comment reply notification, go to the chapter you commented on. Not the main comments list. At least until you read everything. Also make sure to reply to messages in the chapter they're in, rather than on the main comments list, to avoid them ending up in the last chapter's comments section.
2067598
>get new mail
>*** replied to your comment!
>click on the link
>link shows me HIS MESSAGE.
>his message is a huge spoiler.
2067857
That's what I'm saying. Don't click the links. And don't blame other people for Fimfic's failings.
[edit]
Oh, you mean condensing replies to different things in different chapters in one post? Okay, that IS bad, yes... as I said, that can be avoided if people reply on the actual chapter instead of "in general", but it doesn't seem like people do that much
2067964
just backtrack to my first comment and some random dude's reply to it. you'll get me then.
@ tomato vendor scene
hes good lol
Wait... a LEATHER hat? So this is how she gets obedience from all the cows...
2075634
Oh dear, I forgot to change that. Whilst writing, I was suddenly struck by wondering what, exactly, Applejack's hat was made of. I ended up deciding it was probably cloth, rather than leather, but then a friend pointed out that some of the clothing in Appleloosa can't be anything except leather, which then led to us discussing where exactly the leather comes from, and then pony clothing in general, and especially why oh why do ponies have reins and saddles?
AND WHY DID PINKIE ASSUME GUMMY WANTED A PAIR OF RIDING PANTS?!
I MEAN, WHAT DO PONIES EVEN RIDE!?
2075822 There are some bipeds in Equestria. As for the hat, I always assumed it was felt.
2075822
Don't go there, Miyajima. That way lies clop, and nothing good can come of that.
Weee. Another awesome chapter! I do so enjoy this series, and I can't wait (though I must) for the next!
Please keep writing, I'll keep reading!
Also, Flutterdoor for the win!
When you follow up a quote with a dependent clause (like "she said"), you should end the quote in a comma rather than a period.
2084500
You're not the first to say it - one of my stories was turned away from EQD for doing that, but after some research on the matter I found it's not actually a hard-and-fast rule. I have to admit, I prefer the aesthetics of doing it this way, even if it is 'wrong'.
2084505
Huh, interesting. I've looked into it as well, and never saw anything indicating it was optional. Ah well... as long as you're doing it intentionally and not as an accidental grammar violation, I suppose. Thanks again for writing this, I'm quite enjoying it
2084654
Well, when I say 'hard-and-fast rule', what I mean is that it's a convention of writing. It's something authors use and have used in the past to better clarify their narrative to readers. However, I personally don't see much difference in the comprehension of the piece whether it's done or not, and thus choose not to, mostly out of bad habit. I'm glad you enjoy the story, though! I remember your review of it from a while back.
2063726
It was Men at Arms. Dr Cruces falls down it after Vetinari questions him about the Gonne he was supposed to destroy.
Also, 2075858 is right. Stetson hats are made of felt, which at the very least is less awkward than cow leather. I don't know why you didn't just put Stetson hat or cowboy hat, to be honest.
Glad to see you fixed the footnotes problem. The resize is a little difficult to read at times, but at least it can be distinguished, and I don't have to scroll down much to find it. Kudos, because footnotes are Pratchettian through and through.
Now with that out of the way, I want to raise a few criticisms because apart from them, the story is an excellent blend of Discworld fantasy elements and MLP optimism. To whit:
1. You have too many ellipses at the beginning of sentences. This only really works when you're dramatically continuing an ellipsis from the preceding paragraph...
... which you're not doing at all, from what I can tell. The writing would look more professional if you simply cut them. Even the case of the ellipses in speech drowned out by noise (i.e. "...") could be substituted with a description, though this isn't too bad.
2. Ending a quotation with a full stop, but failing to capitalize the next word, or adding a direct speech clause without using a comma, is not acceptable punctuation. Despite what you say here - 2084866 - it's simply not done, especially when you have a character's name follow it (this makes "Bill Door continued" look like he's continuing to do something previously mentioned while he's speaking). It's not even that hard to edit.
3. Archchancellor seems too OOC here. He has cheerfully consulted Hex before (in Hogfather, for example), and while he's certainly not the sort to go easy on people around him, he shouldn't fly into a capslock rage that easily or find odd occurrences that upsetting. This is a man who's stomached an island inhabited by a god of evolution, a trolley invasion, bledlows playing foot-the-ball, a giant woman holding an ape while climbing a tower, and Mr Teatime falling onto the dinner table from nowhere after a series of bodies and supernatural beings kept turning up. He is a wizard, after all; an explosion of cake mix and confetti is all in a day's work for him. Also, the "glad I thought of it" gag doesn't seem to fit his character at all, especially when it's done in such a painfully obvious way. He's more likely to say "Well done, that man, at least one of us has his head screwed on straight," and then take charge and investigate. And wizards are the sort to have a long argument over what precisely should be done at any given time.
4. For that matter, I don't think Fluttershy and Applejack ever talk like motormouths in-show. That seemed a bit OOC, too. I don't mind the implied relationship developing between Flutters and Bill Door, and I certainly like all the canon nods (of both franchises) you've integrated so well, but I find it a bit odd that AJ would ask a random stranger to join her in farm work. It seems more likely that Bill Door would watch them work for a bit, ask a few questions, and then offer to help out of curiosity of the concept of Planting.
5. The asides in the Ankh-Morpork scenes fit very well because you keep a slight suggestion of satire under the proceedings. For instance, the description of the "no refunds" prophets was hilarious, and the religious devotion to what is essentially partying is great and would fit well in Discworld canon. By contrast, the Ponyville descriptions seem a bit dry. Things picked up around Bill Door experiencing boredom for the first time (but I thought he'd already known about it - one of the things about humans that amazes him is that they invented boredom), and the cherry seller stall and Bill Door's awkward "talk" with Fluttershy, but the bit between that felt a bit toothless. Ponyville is an idyllic-looking town that nevertheless isn't as harmonious as it first appears, and its inhabitants are just as much saddled with foibles as those of Ankh-Morpork. A witty observation or two about the market wouldn't have gone amiss, especially as you've already got characters like the cherry seller there.
6. A bit too much Said Bookism here and there. "He said/she said" is serviceable enough, or else you can omit them or add a sentence about an accompanying action the speaker is making. "Reiterated", "replied", "interjected", and "continued" don't contain any information we couldn't glean from the dialogue as it's already presented.
7. "Then she stopped. Took a deep breath, and turned back to face him." It should be written thus; "Then she stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back to face him." Or thus; "Then she stopped. She took a deep breath, and turned back to face him." Fragments can be done well, but usually only with one phrase or clause on its own, not when two are connected by a conjunction.
2085798
In answer to some of these raised points:
On the Rules of Grammar, I see them as a convention. "[They] be more what you'd call guidelines, than actual rules", as Captain Barbossa would slur. My train of logic on matters grammatical is that I attempt to shape the narrative so that it is comprehensible, first and foremost, and secondly that it accurately conveys the intent and thought behind it. In a lot of cases, this is why I use ellipses more commonly than, perhaps, is usual, as I find them an aesthetically pleasing way of indicating a pause for thought or dumbstruck or delayed reaction, as the reader will naturally pause for a brief moment while reading them, and this allows the dialogue and thought of the passage to continue as I've envisioned it. I've been doing that for a while, in what I generally justify as a 'pregnant pause' when quizzed about it.
However, when it comes to punctuation before closing speech marks, this is a bit more of a personal bugbear. In addition to comprehensibility, I like text to seem aesthetically pleasing, and this is perhaps where a problem arises, as one person's sense of aesthetics is not equal to another's. I have written in the past using the comma before closing a line of speech, and, evidently, have also used the full stop. Personally, I just prefer the look of the full stop, even if it's going against the standard convention and "just isn't done", as you put it. To me, it indicates that the line of speech has ended, unlike when a comma is used, which seems to indicate that it will continue.
In summary, whilst they may be 'wrong' when adhering to a strict interpretation of the Rules of Grammar, I find that there seems to be no detrimental effect on the comprehension of the narrative, and thus I let it fall to personal preference.
On character interpretation... I'm afraid that I just personally disagree on the matter of Ridcully. Wizard he may be, and used to all manner of oddities, but he wouldn't be a rational man if he wasn't irate at his lunch being interrupted by an apparent act of deific whimsy. For Fluttershy, she's only motoring for that one paragraph due to nerves, and forcing herself to say it all before clamming up. I'm sure we've all felt like that from time to time, regardless of how we normally conduct our conversation! With Applejack, I would bring back to your memory her very first appearance in the pilot, where she did seem to motor on at Twilight. She's quite talkative in general (whenever she gets screen time, at least), so much so that when, in Ponyville Confidential, the writers needed to show she was both furious at, and disappointed in, Apple Bloom's antics, she was reduced to simple 'Yes' and 'No', in a verbal 'palette swap' with her brother.
I do agree with your point on Ponyville, I've found those sections significantly harder to write than the Discworld sections, although in this case the banality of Ponyville is more intended than not, as a way of emphasising Bill Door's boredom.
(On point 7, that was a typo. Honest.)
With that spiel out of the way, thank you for reading, regardless! I'm glad you enjoy the story.
2089173
On OOC moments, I might refer you to Hogfather, in which the whole faculty's meal is interrupted by Mr Teatime crashing onto the table, complete with a sword that can cut through anything (including the table). For Ridcully getting really angry, Unseen Academicals is the only time I recall him really getting enraged, and that was about the Dean's "treachery". As for AJ, a few sentences of welcome and a long list of relatives doesn't really compare to her verbal behaviour here. I certainly don't remember her ever reaching the quantity of spiel as portrayed in your fic, nor do I recall her covering so many subjects in one go. Not so sure about Flutters, but I can let it pass due to her not having experience of this sort of relationship, so acting differently isn't that difficult to understand. That said, I appreciate character interpretation rests on ambiguities and fine distinctions at the best of times, and it is your story when all's said and done, not mine.
On the part about portraying boredom, I'd be careful about that sort of thing. Stories are supposed to maintain a reader's interest, and it's possible to get across that something is dull without actually boring the reader. Commenting about the thing while stealthily insulting it, for instance, is one way. For instance, instead of reporting everything a dull person says in the hope of boring the reader, you could have a first person narrator summarize it thus: "He had the sort of nasal drone that came only with dedicated practice in front of a recorder. Whatever 'fascinating' subject he spoke about - I don't recall exactly what it was this time, and that's probably for the best - would always end up playing second fiddle to the sheer mind-numbing harmonics of his voice. Men who were full of joie de vivre at other times would find themselves measuring out lengths of rope in his presence. By the time he'd finished, I think I'd aged by a few decades and was feeling elderly enough to begin complaining, if not to go and drop off for a mid-afternoon nap."
On the subject of grammar, well...
Grammar isn't one thing. There's stylistic grammar, which is about using the tools to achieve a creative effect. In this case, that would be the ellipses you use. Then, there's structural grammar, which is the skeleton that makes the language work in the first place. In this case, it is the direct speech clause you use.
With respect to the first one, you are correct in emphasizing that they are guidelines. After all, ellipses are used to indicate a fading out of the sentence, so it isn't that much of a stretch to make it a fade in to a sentence. In this case, aesthetic choice and comprehension really are what it comes down to, and overuse of that style is, at worst, a technique that doesn't work or is distracting. Style is about achieving a certain effect deliberately, as when Pratchett capitalizes Death's dialogue to indicate that his speech is not like other people's.
I think you miss the mark with the second one. The comma at the end of a bit of speech isn't a stylistic choice. It's fulfilling the underlying rules of grammar, showing that the speech reported verbatim is a clause within the sentence. Deviation from this standard, far from being a matter of personal inclination, signals nothing other than a negligence of the rules of grammar, the same as using an ordinary word using your own idiosyncratic definition. Consider:
Twilight told him he hadn't done it right.
"You haven't done it right."
"You haven't done it right," Twilight told him.
Speech clauses, both direct and indirect, have two components. The first is the whole package: "X said Y," or "'Y' said X." The second is the spoken utterance "Y" that X speaks. On its own, "Y" would require a full stop at the end because it's a complete sentence. The speaker X is implied, but so long as you can glean from context the identity of X, standalone "Y" is acceptable. Therefore, this is OK:
Twilight rolled her eyes. "You haven't done it right."
The picture is different when you've got the form "X said 'Y'" or "'Y' said X", because the words the character speaks are no longer in a standalone sentence, but in a clause embedded within the main sentence structure. It's a bit like a relative clause.
And that means you have to use a comma, because that "Y" is embedded into the main structure as a necessary component. "X said" can't stand by itself; it demands the "Y" that X said. The "Y" can stand by itself, but in that case you must forfeit the "X said" and hope that readers can glean from context who said it.
You can't have it both ways. Either "Y" stands by itself, in which case you have an erroneous missing capital letter in the next sentence and a meaningless floating "X said" all by itself, or the "Y" is embedded into the "X said Y" model, in which case it is a clause of a much longer sentence, and it makes no more sense to put a full stop after it than to use full stops to do the work of ordinary commas anyway.
You might still disagree with me on this. Certainly, such grammatical errors don't harm the rest of your work, any more than an unpolished product of carpentering is thereby rendered useless. If you take writing seriously, however, then this is the sort of thing you can't afford to be lax about, as an increasingly flawed grammar is considered evidence of a correspondingly diminished interest in the work.
Otherwise, yeah, I'm really enjoying the story. Can't wait to see what happens next.
2089374
Also, please use CMOT Dibbler again. He's too good to use as a one-note gag.
2089374
After asking one of my friends which way he writes, I was wondering if this wasn't a difference between English and American grammar. Sadly, it does not appear to be, and although I did know the rules and the explanation (as I noted previously), I'll concede the point and change it. It doesn't, however, change the fact that I still hate doing it with every fibre of my being, since it looks horribly messy to me. Such is the price of grammar, I suppose.
2089702
If it makes you feel any better, I personally consider dashes, spaces, and quotation marks in combination the single most confusing and aggravating thing in writing. No matter how you write or organize them, they always look wrong. Even the notorious semi-colon doesn't compare for sheer irritating ugliness, and yet I find I keep recruiting the things when I want to indicate an interruption in speech.
Ah, well. C'est la vie grammaire, and all that.
Will Pinkie realize her affect on mortals and realize she is sorta breaking their free will?
The vast majority of cowboy hats are made of felt. Especially stetsons. Felt is made of animal fur but not hide.
AJs hat being made of leather seems off to me.
2123764
Really? Felt, to me, was always that fuzzy stuff you played with in early school years that stuck to fabric. Never really thought of it for hats. I mean, I know top hats and bowler hats are/were felt, but Stetsons and the like always struck me as leather. You're the third to say it though, so I'll change it.
Nice Mask reference. Cleverly hidden too...
Weeealp... I've never read Discworld... So this is mostly greek to me... But still hilarious, so I guess I'll read more.
So is this what Pratchett's writing is like? Constant snark and irreverence?
Cuz if so I think I've been missing out.
Ah, Sir Terry of Pratchettawesomeness. The answer to a question in the NAQT national quizbowl tournament. I got it on "Hogfather."