Any Thoughts On Discworld Daemons, If You Don't Mind Me Asking?

Any thoughts on Discworld daemons, if you don't mind me asking?

Vimes has a mutt.

There’s really not a nicer way to describe her, a bow-legged cross between a terrier and a feral sewer rat, mostly the color of dishwater. And she doesn’t really clean up—it becomes more embarrassing after he’s married Sybil, whose pygmy hippo daemon can go from placid river god to defensive bellowing ferocity in seconds flat, and might as well have stepped from the Morpork coat of arms. But even freshly cleaned and trussed in a gold ducal collar, his daemon looks like it was dragged backwards through a nasty bit of the Ankh.

she’s a patient tracker, though, and a rat-worrier and a sheep-herder and a snarling, protective beast—there must be some wolf in that mongrel of yours, Wolfgang tells him on that snowy plain, and Vimes figures it’s pretty likely, he’s got a wolf in him too.

Vetinari has a golden orb-weaver, who only occasional deigns to make an appearance—usually resting on the back of Vetinari’s hand, as if to make a point. (There are heads of guilds with enormous bull daemons who shiver in fear of that little spider, on that pale hand.)

Carrot has a frankly impressive lioness, whose presence made the whole watch-house fall silent the first time Carrot walked in. Vimes had been a little taken aback at the sight of her, gold and somehow not of their world, standing in their grubby and undistinguished midst.

(No one has ever asked Carrot about her, not even Angua, who has her own lovely wolfdog daemon.)

Moist has a mockingbird who perches on his shoulder, the same color as dust and utterly forgettable. (In his old glory days, he would sometimes bring a turtle or mouse with him, hiding her under his hat—sorry, wrong daemon is not an ironclad alibi, but it’s enough of a distraction to run away.) She gets along well with Spike’s terrifying peregrine, though she’s a little too excited by the feeling of being snatched out of the air in Moist’s opinion.

William de Worde has a hedgehog, who immediately curled up in a ball when faced with Sacharissa Cripslock’s ermine. (It took a while to get him to relax.)

Witches tend toward cats—or women with cat daemons turn out to be witches, they never quite decided that one. Granny Weatherwax has pure grey cat, utterly unremarkable in every way but that. (She has always been privately disappointed in him, for it. She would have preferred something a little more imposing, more obviously witchy—which, of course, is ridiculous, it is choosing that makes a witch, not her nature. But still.)

Nanny has a fat piebald cat whose amorous adventures with other daemons rival Greebo’s—he’s been known to slip off for days, only returning when Nanny is called out. Magrat has a cream shorthair who looks very handsome beside Verence’s—slightly excitable, a little graceless—hare. Even Susan, though technically not a witch, has a cat daemon, a sleek black thing that likes to play with the Death of Rats when he’s bored.

Tiffany is among the few witches who doesn’t have a cat daemon—hers doesn’t settle until she faces the hiver, until she ushers it through the black door to its death. Afterwards, Tiffany Aching knows herself to be a witch, and walks the downs with her sheepdog daemon at her side, her hat full of sky.

Human Observation Log 53

Several crewmates have witnessed Human Carter thanking the automatic doors and food replicators, as well as apologizing to a table after running into it. When asked why they did such a thing, Human Carter said it was because they’re ‘Canadian’. Human Rielly informed me that Canadians are part of a religious sect that worship inanimate objects. The offerings made to the silicon fern now make much more sense.

Carter’s Journal: entry 89

I accidentally apologized to the table again after running into it. I don’t know why I keep running into it but it’s driving me crazy. Next time I might just kick it out of spite. Several crewmates have started thanking the replicator, which I think is actually very sweet of them. I’m still feeding the plant in the Galley. Jonson thinks it’s weird but I swear that thing is actually an alien. The food disappears every time and I’m not about to be eaten by a carnivorous fern several hundred lightyears away from home. If I wanted that I would have stayed stationed on Galzabab.

Rielly's Journal: Entry 92.

So I have about half the crew converted to Canadianism and the other half mimicking Carter out of respect for his beliefs. I can’t wait to see what happens when Carter finally loses it and breaks the table. I’ve been moving it a little every day. They still think the plastic fern is alive too. I’ve been eating all the offerings and today Jonson tried to explain that it was plastic and not an alien and half the Galley started yelling at them for challenging Carter’s beliefs. Jonson just sat there gobsmacked for a good ten minutes. Another great day in space.

just some lads, being fellows

Looks like a nudibranch, but it’s a Gold-spotted Flatworm, Thysanuzoon flavomaculatum, Red Sea.

HAPPY 3/8 TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE i did not make anythig int time but heres. doodle. and . two old things i made withh them that i still like. erm ^_^