Fanfiction doesn’t seem real, somehow, if you don’t embarrass yourself on the Web

 Title: Figure of Eight – Chapter 7 – The Waitress (DRAFT!)

Author: BostonEris

Rating: Adult

Characters: Rincewind/OFC

Word Count: 4,904

Summary: Expelled from Unseen University days earlier, a young Rincewind the Wizard – burdened by the Spell and fed up with magic – seeks shelter from the cold and finds comfort in an enthusiastic fan.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Discworld series, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Author’s Notes: Would normally go right here, but mine were a bit lengthy. All you need to know is that earlier, flagrantly distorting Discworld‘s canon, we see that Rincewind got laid before his time at Unseen University and knows his way around a woman. Spoiler: the “Seamstress” that gets mentioned was a prostitute he used to know.

 Figure of Eight – Chapter 7 – The Waitress

“You’re a wizard.”

Rincewind looked up. A slightly chubby young woman with a dirty blonde ponytail had stopped to address him. She was holding a wooden drink tray covered in empty mugs.

He had just dove inside from the ruthless cold of another Ankh-Morpork winter. Hands tucked up under his wide, red sleeves and hat brim pulled low, Rincewind huddled by the inn’s pathetic fireplace looking like a drenched cat someone had tried to drown.

It took a few seconds for him register her question.


“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but you are a wizard, aren’t you?”

She smiled. Rincewind looked around. Ah, yes, he was still on the Ankh side of the river. No sign of shady criminals or a brawl (yet). That explained the girl in the green dress humming to herself as she served bedraggled customers.

“Yes, miss.”

Those two syllables managed to widen her eyes.

“Wow! I never met a wizard before! Welcome to Sweet Fanny’s Pub.”

Before he could stop himself, he said, “Surely you’re not…?”

She laughed. “Oh, no. That’s my Mum.”

Rincewind kept his face neutral and said, “I’d like a pint of your best, please.”

“Sure thing. Anything else, mister…What should I call you?”

“Rincewind. And yes, I was wondering if you have any rooms available.”

“Yeah, I think we do. I’ll ask Daddy. Are you visiting the city, Mr. Rincewind?”

“Erm, no. I’m looking for a new place to live, actually.”

“Oh! Well, most of the wizards here hole up in Unseen University. Are you here on business with them? It’s a great school, so I hear. I only ever saw the top of it over the wall. You can see its old tower from this side of the river, too. It’s grand!

Rincewind tried, really tried, not to look as depressed as he felt – nor as insulted, abandoned, dejected or angry – when she brought up the university. She clearly had assumed he was from out of town – Quirm, maybe, or Pseudopolis. (Were they at war this week?) He could pose as one, surely, just for a night, to try and assuage the nagging voices in his head saying, “Pathetic loser,” over and over. Sometimes, this dreadful week, he had felt another voice trying to use his lips. He knew it was that horrible Spell.

Rincewind pulled his hat down and shot for enigmatic instead.


The girl lingered, as though waiting for something more, then some other customers beckoned her. A voice from the bar snapped a name and she trudged over grumbling.

A few minutes later she was back with an overflowing mug carefully balanced on her grubby tray. She handed it to him and he took it gratefully.

“It really is our best,” she said. “I nicked it from Daddy’s stash. He doesn’t serve any old customer the good stuff. I figured a wizard isn’t any old customer.”

Doubtful, but not wanting to disappoint her, Rincewind took a sip.

Mmm. It really was quite good. He took a longer pull.

“This is excellent. Thank you…uh…?”


“Thank you, Emma.”

She departed, humming happily to herself.

Rincewind downed the mug and immediately wished for another one. He wanted to forget everything. Wanted to lie in a proper, downy bed again. Not that his bed in dorm room 7a had been remotely comfortable, but it was a bed nonetheless and better than a livery stable.

He wanted to go home.

You are home, a voice told him.

It wasn’t the Spell, just the part of his psyche reminding him that Ankh-Morpork, no matter what grimy part of it, would always be his true home, other wizards be damned. From temples, to stables, from boarding houses to inns, he could find somewhere to crash and it wouldn’t make a lick of difference; it was still on one of the streets he’d grown up on.

It wasn’t like he had an ex-girlfriend living next door he had to pass by everyday. It was a big city.

Then again, this particular ex was visible from nearly any street in it.

Looking up at the tilted Tower of Art filled him with such loathing he considered leaving Ankh-Morpork and never coming back. But that wouldn’t work, would it? That would be giving up everything that made him Rincewind.

But you don’t want to be Rincewind tonight, do you?


The girl turned, another frothy mug in her hand.

“Would you like to learn about magic?”

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Last of the Excerpts, Rincewind, Stanley Tweedle, and Why am I Awake?

Sourcery,  by Terry Pratchett, page 22-23

[Rincewind talks to the Librarian about his old dreams]

One of Rincewind’s tutors had said of him that “to call his understanding of magical theory abysmal is to leave no suitable word to describe his grasp of practice.” This had always puzzled him. He objected to the fact that you had to be good at magic to be a wizard. He knew he was a wizard, deep in his head. Being good at magic didn’t have anything to do with it. That was just an extra, it didn’t actually define somebody.

“When I was a little boy,” he said wistfully, “I saw this picture of a sourcerer in a book. He was standing on a mountain top waving his arms and the waves were coming right up, you know, like they do down in Ankh Bay in a gale, and there were flashes of lightning all around him – ”


“I don’t know why they didn’t, perhaps he had rubber boots on,” Rincewind snapped, and went on dreamily, “And he had this staff and a hat on, just like mine, and his eyes were sort of glowing and there was all this sort of like glitter coming out of his fingertips, and I thought one day I’ll do that, and – ”


“Just a half, then.”


“How do you pay for this stuff? Every time anyone gives you any money you eat it.”



Rincewind completed his sketch in the beer. There was a stick figure on a cliff. It didn’t look much like him – drawing in stale beer is not a precise art – but it was meant to.

“That’s what I wanted to be,” he said. “Pow! Not all this messing around. All this books and stuff, that isn’t what it should all be about. What we need is real wizardry.”

That last remark would have earned the prize for the day’s most erroneous statement if Rincewind hadn’t then said:

“It’s a pity there aren’t any of them around anymore.”

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Eris’ life, Discworld life, Ex-boyfriends and novellas

I have researched Tumblr far and wide!

(By which I mean actually looking at pretty and funny fanart, official art, and all kinds of fun stuff until a very late hour even though I’m supposed to get up early for my new exercise regime…)

I have tried to figure out what people found out about Rincewind’s life because I can’t ask Pterry myself and I don’t know if he said.

I didn’t read a bunch of the books so I don’t know what the potato thing is about.

I mean YES I know the potato thing, oh yes, we all know the potato thing.

But is it Word of God (that’s a fandom term for: “Oh hey Joss Whedon said this is canon and you shall not divert”, for example), that Rincewind is/was a virgin? (Because apparently according to Tumblr he’s shacking up with Ponder.)

Not that it matters. You can still, certainly, lose your virginity to Ponder. Feel free. He’s not doin’ anything down there with Hex. You will probably have to convince him, though.

I imagine Ponder could be gay. (I can’t imagine Rincewind gay except in regards to the whole Ponder slash!fic thing, I guess, maybe, possibly. I just read Sourcery again and so that doesn’t make any sense to me.)

And I imagine hooking up with Ponder would be almost as exhaustingly difficult (as in, trying to get that person actually out on a date or actually into bed) as it would be to try to hook up with Rincewind. Whatever age they are, in whatever universe.

I can imagine Ponder actually drawing up, maybe, some kind of pro/con list, and using very logical arguments for why they should shag, and Rincewind would just be like, dude, I just need to not feel like the world’s going to drop out from under me. Again. Like, breaking his heart would just be the needle that breaks the camel’s back at that point. Boring and safe, I think, is a life he embraced and then it all went topsy turvy as soon as Twoflower walked into his life and has/had never been the same since. And couldn’t be. Lady Luck (excuse me! She Who Shall Not Be Named) is his patron goddess. (Patroness?) And Lady Luck is a bitch.

What’s my point? Ponder slash? I could see a gay Ponder, although I remember he was like, “Wut?” about Macarona. (His name is Macarona. Yes, I know I’m supposed to write out all his titles as well, but let’s just say Macarona. He’s got a name like the dance. I’m almost positive that’s intentional. If it isn’t, I’m shocked.)

But one slasher was saying on her Tumblr blog, “Hang on, Rincewind having used to have sex (i.e. in the past) WAS RETCONNED?” And she was like, “That’s outrageous! What’s all this potato stuff!”

(Yes, he’s attracted to potatoes, but we mean before the whole potato nonsense. Before Sourcery! He’s trying very hard not to want to get in Conina’s pants throughout that book.)

I suppose more to the point that I don’t know tone or style or anything Pterry anyway, so it’s no point in telling the ether that I would even write fanfiction anymore for any fandom. I used to write the strangest stuff! I started when I was just a kid, even before I had access to a computer and briefly had just a typewriter. And YES, of course, notebooks. A pen and paper is all you really need in life. Well, yeah, and food. And shelter. And etc etc. And other people’s books and movies would help. And something to do, work, a hobby. And a lover. And a family’s nice, and even a dog. But you know what I mean. When you’re alone, at a loss, you just pick up a pad and pen and you’re all set. Off you go.

That was something a couple of my ex-boyfriends were into. My ex, Navy, as he’s called on here, wrote a novella! It was a fantasy story as well, and I read a couple of chapters but mainly his difficulty – and his joy! – was in trying to make it have a fully realized world of his own making, with its own rules. But we were only sixteen years old, and it’s hard. But eleven years later it’s still hard, so what do I know?

The Engineer (who I had to stop following on Facebook because all he ever talks about is his live-in girlfriend), wrote a book as well, in a similar manner to Navy. A novella. About dragons! What other things I can gather creeping on Facebook was that he was always a writer – I mean, he told me that way back when we were…were we dating? let’s just say sleeping together, and I was like, “Okay, Engineer, I will edit your first three chapters.” But then I never did, and he forgot anyway, and it’s okay. Fast forward to our late twenties and he’s involved with poetry nights and readings and things, and I can only assume that he continued writing. Maybe real life, maybe dragons. Navy didn’t end up writing about wizards and magic anymore, though, but I’m sure he’d look back fondly on it if you asked him.

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“There was something else I was trying to say,” said Rincewind, letting go of the hand. He looked blank for a moment, and then added, “Oh, yes. It’s vital to remember who you really are. It’s very important. It isn’t a good idea to rely on other people or things to do it for you, you see. They always get it wrong.”

-Rincewind in Sourcery by Terry Prachett

Rincewind’s sex life and I’m an awful person

I wrote before that there wasn’t much more mention of Rincewind’s love life than his potato fixation and past orgasms sometimes happening “with company.” (But no orgasm ever approximated that of magic actually coursing through him.)

I rediscovered the subplot in Sourcery where he falls in love with Conina but she’s oblivious and ditches him for Nijel.

During that book, Rincewind pretty much looks back like, “You used to bang chicks. What happened?” And is also head over heels for the girl.

But when she experiences love at first sight with Nijel, the narrator makes this comment that Rincewind felt he’d long ago passed this sort of thing by.

I think he used to bang chicks before Unseen University but never fell in love.

I am writing ‘fic about it.

I am awful, because instead of writing funny adventures through Ankh Morpork of him getting chased off by various things like fathers, brothers and husbands…(Golems? Vampires? I dunno. He spent his whole life running, it’s said.)

I wrote something about his mother and his childhood, and perhaps it will be about women, and that’s the entire theme as well as vignettes.

Trying to think of the theme of “running,” I had this idea that one lady would con him and steal all his money, one’s husband would try and get with *him*, and another lovely girl he finally falls in love with seems to be cursed and horrible things keep befalling him until she moves away.

I’ve already written a chapter where a girl uses teenage him just to lose her virginity, a “seamstress” gives him some unusual lessons, and finally he gets caught with a girl with an oral fixation resulting in her father and brothers chasing him over the rooftops. Unfortunately I’ve only figured out how to write the sex scenes.

And for some reason I went over and over them with a fine-toothed comb, trying to make them realistic and seem like real people. It’s weird, though, because I haven’t had sex in ages, and striking a balance between being disrespectful to, well, the books, and being porny, but not too porny, but just porny enough, is something I’ve been obsessing over this week and really shouldn’t be.

La la la…

Would you date a barbarian warlord, or a hair dresser? And what does Luggage get up to?

From Sourcery, by Terry Pratchett, page 115

[Conina and Rincewind have been captured and entered the Seriph’s garden. They talk about paradise and he explains men dream it’s got sherbet and women.]

A sword prodded [Conina] in the small of the back, and the two of them set out along the ornate path toward a small domed pavilion surrounded by olive trees. She scowled.

“Anyway, I don’t like sherbet.”

Rincewind didn’t comment. He was busily examining the state of his own mind, and wasn’t happy at the sight of it. He had a horrible feeling that he was falling in love.

He was sure he had all the symptoms. There were the sweaty palms, the hot sensation in the stomach, the general feeling that the skin of his chest was made of tight elastic. There was the feeling every time Conina spoke, that someone was running hot steel into his spine.

He glanced down at the Luggage, tramping stoically alongside him, and recognized the symptoms.

“Not you, too?” he said.

Possibly it was only the play of the sunlight on the Luggage’s battered lid, but it was just possible that for an instant it looked redder than usual.

Of course, sapient pearwood has this sort of weird mental link with its owner…Rincewind shook his head. Still, it’d explain why the thing wasn’t its normal malignant self.

“It’d never work,” he said. “I mean, she’s a female and you’re a, well, you’re a – ” He paused. “Well, whatever you are, you’re of the wooden persuasion. It’d never work. People would talk.”

More Eris Guilt and Disc Quotes

Unfortunate topic continued from “Rincewind’s sex life or lack thereof” and “Better Than Sex”

I’m just trying to piece together Rincewind’s past, k?

(If I post any of my OWN writing, it’s going on LiveJournal.)

(Oh my God, I’m going to do it, aren’t I? Just out of an old compulsion.)

So anyway, I discovered that many people wrote a lot of weird ‘fic about Sam Vimes.

Let me say something about Sam Vimes:

I was never quite sure about how I felt about Sam Vimes. He is my FAVORITE Discworld character. He is at the top; I love him to pieces.

I’m not sure if I want him to be my lover, or my father. Sometimes when I’m reading one of the Watch books, I swing both ways. He makes me very proud of the police, as a profession, and I then became very ashamed that my own grandfather’s life as a policeman didn’t fill me with the same pride!

Granted, I only started to get to know my grandfather once he’d retired from the force. But then again, he also had this thing very different from Vimes: It was a long time ago, but he said that for a while he turned a blind eye to police brutality. One thing I really appreciate about Sam Vimes is his strong moral/ethical compass. He can’t bear to see a position of power abused. It’s why he and Vetinari have so much friction. (Then again, Vimes recognizes Vetinari as being a fair man himself, in a way, because he is nothing like Snapcase. Vetinari also ensures the peace is kept – it’s why he enforces such strict rules on all the city guilds – partly by allowing Vimes to go so out of his way to seek justice. Or by using reverse psychology to nudge Vimes into seeking it.)

I think the only time Vimes ever committed some kind of act of violence he would normally abhor was when he was in berserker mode down underneath Koom Valley, and he was shouting out “Where’s my Cow?” and striking down those dwarves. But then again, it was a kill or be killed situation. Vimes is of the attitude that the only way to have a just (a just) police force is to follow the rules: you strike back when you have to, and if you can help it, you don’t use deadly force. For example, he won’t abide torture. One scene I can call to mind is when they trick this guy they’ve arrested into thinking someone’s being tortured in the next room. I think they only used bottles of beer? I forget.

I’ve been re-reading the books one by one again, as I do every so often since that fateful day the girl who lived next door to me my sophomore year of college handed me her copy of The Color of Magic. She let me borrow all the Discworld books she had (and Good Omens, too), and then I started buying my own. Rincewind became my favorite at first, and then he was surpassed by Granny Weatherwax, and then they were both evicted by Sam Vimes.

People wrote a lot of porny fanfiction about Sam Vimes. I read one, about his canon relationship with his wife Sybil. I read another one that was, like, PG, but paired him up with Angua, which is okay, because it was an AU, but still kinda weird.

There is a TON of Vetinari/Vimes slash out there, which considering their complicated relationship, you gotta expect. But I haven’t read any of it (yet).

So it’s not totally weird. Inappropriately porny Discworld fanfiction exists – respect, copyright or quality be damned. It just does.

I’m not sure why the plot bunnies even hopped into my garden. What was I even doing, to remember that quote from The Light Fantastic? I don’t really remember now, and it was only a few days ago. (!!)

I started reading Sourcery because I just read all the Witch books again and wanted some Rincewind (not that way!) but wasn’t feeling Color of Magic.

And then I came to another clue about his past, which is dumb, because it stands to reason that every man can look back on his youth and remember, “Oh yeah, I boned chicks. How could that have been so long ago?”

I am almost positive he was never in love, though. As annoyed by Conina and Nijel anyone would be, the narrator makes one very telling comment…

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