Archive | August 21, 2017

Patreon Posts!

Aug21


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If I had been made to make a list, back in the times Before, of people I would most like to be stranded on a desert island with, he would not have been on the list…
Open to all Patreon Patrons!

Originally posted January 2013
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“There’s a problem with the second restriction.”
The country of Foros had a lot of gods, and, like any good nation with a lot of gods, it had a lot of priests.

Read On!

This is another recipe that is more than half technique, modified from an online recipe.
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Sometimes you want a few pancakes, sometimes you want a lot. Sometimes you want a Just Right Amount, right in the middle.

Open to all “Recipe box” Patreons!

Desmond’s Climb – Professor Smiff

Aug21

This is written to thnidu‘s donation and request for Desmond from Professor Smiff’s eyes, and comes concurrent with Force and Shields. 

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Telanien Smiff walked around her classroom slowly, looking at all of the newest Blue students. She liked Blue the best, something all of her fellow teachers assumed and nobody would ever ask her about.

This year, Blue had the Last Person Up The Stairs, an honor that they were very quiet about – except in the upperclassmen dorms, where she was certain the Blues were crowing about it. And the student in question was not, to Telanien’s eyes, all that impressive – just another teenage child from one of the poor streets, well-fit into a uniform, presumably by a collar that cared about impressions, that was good, but still out of place here. If this Desmond knew how many of his fellow students were High Street, he’d probably be even more uncomfortable around them. Or around the teachers. Continue reading →

Whole World Whispering

Aug21

For TNG, Cap, and Tal, with all my love. 

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The whole world whispering
Born at the right time

It was said that if the the royal seers and astrologers could not find an appropriate sign for a royal event, they would make one.

Few could argue, however, that when Ahana, the moon, covered over Orena, the sun, in a total eclipse over a large stretch of the kingdom, the moment was ideal for all sorts of signs.

It was then that the royal child was born, into the darkness of the night-at-noon, and the world, or at least the kingdom and those near it, leaned forward to see what the astrologers and seers would say.

The astrologers and seers, who would normally be standing on those balconies allowed to them declaiming their message to the public, were nowhere to be found.

They were closeted deep inside their tallest, largest tower, whispering to one another.

“Should we tell them?” hissed a younger astrologer.

“Should we lie?  They’re the King and Queen!” hissed a middle-age seer who had never been much for those times when a sign needed to be found in a less-than-obvious manner.

“We should tell them the truth,” declared the head of divination.  At the looks she was given, she smiled dryly.  “We tell the truth as we always have.  As we always have.”

They stood on their balconies as the King and the Queen presented their tiny newborn child.  “The child has been born who will have the mighty quest,” declaimed the loudest of them.

“The child has been born who will have the kindest heart,” declared the oldest of them.

“The child has been born who will see what has not been seen,” cried the head of divination in her strongest voice, to the silence of the gathered crowds.

In the Queen’s arms lay a child every bit as ordinary as every other royal child for the last three generations.

On the far side of the nation, in a midwife’s arms in a small farming town, lay the child who had been foreseen, born as the eclipse passed over the family farm.

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