frustrated mother of teenager

A Table Of Contents, In Progress

As part of the January 13 Prompt Call, I started doing landing pages for series I write or worlds I write in.  I don't always write in an established world or series but I seem to have a lot of worlds and series out there.

Having created landing pages, they are of no use to any of us, if no-one can find them.  Hence this page.

The landing pages created so far are for:

The Angel Universe - a world of polytheism, angels, vard, and a lot of humans, including one group who believe they are the chosen of the gods.

Rensa - within the world of the Defensive Diaspora, there is a world where the revolution has wiped out the entire Imperial family.  Except for one princess, who was made a proposal she can't refuse by a man who's in his job because everyone else is dead.

The Prince of Cats - a father and son who aren't quite what they seem.

The Winged Cat Universe a contemporary world with magic, and winged cats.

After The Fairy Tale - so what happened after the fairy tale ended?

The Squad - four ship protection specialists in a space faring culture.

Mayin -  after a decade away fighting an interstellar war, a returned soldier tries to adjust to the civilian world with the complication of an unexpected suitor.

Erima -  the demons are taking over, the godssons are the free world's best hope, and Erima was not the child her mother hoped for.

The Elf - the elf has taken over the city.  He's up to something and he's being opposed, but the opposition doesn't care if they hurt people.

Nai - a mangaish road trip undertaken by a young, female, professional gi fighter and her instructor.

Frack - Ludwina Frack has reappeared after being missing for seven years, but her life of spaceships, piracy and offers she can't refuse isn't over yet.

Iphana - within the world of the Defensive Diaspora, on a world with extreme arctic climate changes, a young technician is almost abandoned for the winter...

Afterwhen - there was a catastrophe, maybe even an apocalypse, but that was a while ago and is just passing from living memory. Different groups have different resources, different skills and different issues.

The Unformed Coven - thirteen people who are quite happy as they are, with their own concerns and lives. Other people, it seems, have plans for them that they may not care for.

Dark Fantasy Bingo - based on the prompts from my Dark Fantasy Bingo card from 2013 we have the story of Sillan Denevda after she became Tamin Sorid - because of politics and stuff.

The Twisted Skein - probably space opera with star ships, isolated human civilizations, plus drama and intrigue if I can pull them off.

Inheritance - in the wake of an elderly man's death, secrets begin to come out and stories to reawaken. (Note: may contain super heroes.)

After I finish listing the various series, then I'll have to keep the landing pages up-to-date....
Master Que

The Last Day of the Second Week

This follows on from New Friends and Acquaintances and runs to 3,105 words.

I left for my class before Madam Dee emerged from her room for breakfast, not that I expected to be involved in the conversation about Smallest Dee in any way.  Walking to the university that hour or so later still made the exercise slightly warmer than pleasant, but I arrived in good time for my class.  Ying Li and I ran into each other amid the philosophers’ statues in the courtyard and went up to the tutorial room together, where we found that we’d managed to be early and the previous class was still in session – we agreed that this was obviously due to the lack of political sign-ups at the gate today.

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Master Que

New Friends and Acquaintances

I have tried to get this posted three or four times already and just kept running out of time to get it done.  Possibly this is an overflow of being tired and having a less than ideal sleep pattern.  Ah well.

This follows on from Our First Day With Guests and runs to 2,943 words.

There was another metal band playing that night at The Blackman’s Redoubt, a group of boys a few years older than me who went by Rings of the Fall. The guitar players were good, the drummer had found some deep voiced drums, and the three of them were doing well at producing the earth song vibrations I’d enjoyed so much last time. I thought that the lead singer was trying too hard to be interesting and his voice…it wasn’t the register, and it wasn’t the volume, because he could actually use a microphone properly, but he never seemed to be on the right note. With a large, bubbly, non-alcoholic lychee and rose drink plus the larger size bowl of spiced mixed nuts in front of me I was prepared to believe that this was normal, and I just didn’t know the music style particularly well yet. Five songs in, when they took a break, I wasn’t so sure.

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This is now followed by The Last Day of the Second Week.


 Over on Mastodon, @LilFluff was gracious enough to boost my prompt call back in March and when I managed to corner him and get him to give me a prompt, he said that he would like more of Tobia.  This follows on from "Flowers on a Hat" which can be found on Dreamwidth and LiveJournal and the whole series is on LiveJournal under the Tobia tag.  This piece runs to 705 words and addresses a point someone raised in response to "Flowers on a Hat."

Arrodius Monk and Tobia Fenwick were sharing a bottle of brewed soft drink in his office within the school boarding house he administered.  The Sir Francis Walsingham Tradecraft School was in the midst of Christmas and New Year and summer holidays, being in the southern hemisphere and all the students except Tobia were away.  Tobia's mother had declined to have Tobia at home due to an incident in an interhouse school competition over which Mrs Fenwick felt aggrieved, and Mr Monk was the teacher "on duty" for the holiday period.  As Sir Francis Walsingham's was a school for training spies, the truth of their shared summer was a little more complicated than that.

"Now you've been paid for your summer work, I trust you've put your money in a safe place."  They were sitting in the comfortable chairs near the bookcases, where they could enjoy the view of the small walled garden through the full-length windows, but also have the benefits of the air conditioning.  Mr Monk was wearing an open necked, purple and red batik shirt over a blue, white and black plaid sarong - many of his students probably wouldn't have recognised him out of his work-day narrow-lapelled dark suits and white shirts.  Tobia was wearing a long, loose, front buttoning shirt embroidered with green and brown botehs over a pair of long, brown cargo shorts.  Both of them had sturdy leather sandals on their feet.

"I did pay attention during the Personal Finances section of Basic Spy Craft, sir."  Tobia calmly sipped her drink, clearly not offended by the question.

"I'm pleased to hear it."  The teacher poured himself more of the passionfruit-based drink.  "So, where did you put it?  Switzerland, the British Caribbean, or the British Concessions?"

Tobia smiled and swirled her drink carefully in her hand before saying, "Sir, I did say that I paid attention in Personal Finances."

"Touché," he saluted her with his drink glass.

"If we're asking difficult questions," went on Tobia, "mine for you is, why pick my mother's given name for my undercover identity when we away with those graduating students of yours?"

"I was more concerned that you would have a name close enough to your own that you would remember to answer to it," he replied, "and Tobia isn't that easy to match.  Besides, I managed to forget that your mother's given name is Antonia - every time I've had any contact with her she was using her maiden surname, an annoying code name, or she was Mrs Fenwick."  He looked abashed.  "I'm good, not perfect."

"I like Tonia Rizdon," admitted Tobia.  "I've put myself down for Modern Greek and Smatterings of the Levant as two of this year's electives.  I believe Tonia may have fallen in love with Greece."

"I thought that you were already doing Singapore Smatterings for languages," said Mr Monk mildly.  "Not that there's anything wrong with developing an alternate identity as you go."

"This year I have to pick two electives and a core option," pointed out Tobia. "All of the language smatterings courses are useful, and I can use Modern Greek in the external exams."

"That is well thought of," he agreed.  "I've seen a number of students who would have liked to matriculate shoot themselves in the foot by taking too many trade subjects and not enough externally examined ones.  What are you going to tell your parents?"

Tobia took a deep breath.  "As little as possible.  They have no need to know about the trip.  If they ask about anything else, I'll ask them how their Christmas was.  If they ask about mine, we had food poisoning."  She smiled.

"Best not to mention the whole roast pig and stuffed cabbage leaves."  He laughed and went on more soberly, " Your father will be here soon to collect you for the last ten days of the holidays.  You've got your duress alarm?  Not that I think your father will give you cause to need it."

"I've got two duress alarms, in different places, and an extendable baton," confirmed Tobia.  "Not that I think Dad can't be trusted.  It's the rest of the family I'm worried about."

Mr Monk toasted that grimly with, "I'll drink to that."

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Rainbow Tears

 This follows on from "A Staff With A Knob On It"  and "Initial Orders" which can be found under the "Agents of Gods and Vard" tag on Dreamwidth and with a number of other stories on Live Journal.  "A Staff With A Knob On It" is rated by me as Parental Guidance Recommended for adult concepts.  This story was written to Anonymous kunama's prompt on Live Journal and runs to 3,272 words.

Pharial arrived at the temple where Ordestia Prima had found Sempleticus Lorax murdered as quickly as he could after leaving the presence of his divine master, the Third Swordlord.  The temple stood a little apart from the rest of the small mountain town, being both on the outskirts and set in its own ornamental park, and there were very few people around.  As Pharial watched without becoming manifest to mortal eyes, a rather-looking Benarian in his mid to late twenties strode briskly out of the temple, through the park and stopped at the entrance.  At first he wondered if this might be the murderer fleeing the scene, but the man hailed a passing youth, spoke with him and then handed over some coins, and the lad ran off in the direction of the town centre.  Pharial supposed from this that the Benarian was the religious of the god Hasnor he'd been told about, although he would have picked the man as a handyman rather than a devotee of the god of carnal love, even though it must take all kinds because humans seemed to produce more humans at a most prodigious rate....

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Master Que

Our First Day With Guests

This follows on from An Evening of Conversations and runs to 3,019 words.  (If you have read this before, it has been editted to remove an internal inconsistency.)

After we’d cleaned up the kitchen and before I started my assignments and revision, I offered Lin Wu and Han Er the use of my festival robes.  Lin Wu had spent the day in her night attire and Han Er’s clothing situation seemed only slightly less dire.  I would have offered them some of my shirts and blacks, but our different sizes and body shapes just weren’t going to let that work.  That done, I retreated to my room on the top floor and set to getting my schoolwork done.

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This is now followed by New Friends and Acquaintances.

On The Ground

This follows on from All In Motion and was written to M.B.'s prompt on Patreon. It comes in at 995 words.

The three of them withdrew to the edge of the park, which was also the precipitous edge of one of the municipal high-rise administration buildings.  Someone had given some thought to getting people down to the ground without relying on outside help in an emergency, and pivoting bars set with anchor points were positioned on the parapet.  They'd been released from their holding positions, and stood erect at the moment, but once an abseiler was suspended from one their weight would pull it back down into its storage groove where the attached rope would be protected from direct exposure to fire and, incidentally, much harder to cut.  For Mayin and Reaver, wrapping their rope through the harness and tying off while providing suppressing fire was a well-used drill that came back easily.  The Oberxiao wasn't as skilled but he had the concept down and he could shoot straight.

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Flower person

Rob Peter to Pay Paul

 This came out of Thimbleful Thursday's prompt of 23 May.  I am only a little over word count target.

"So, who is this guy?"  Campion was holding up the wall by leaning on it, as usual.  Everyone else occupied a piece of furniture.

Perhaps one day Kitty would sit on something that was meant for sitting on, but Gidge wasn't holding her breath.

"Peter Noble.  Runs Carrington and Noble in the city - you know, that big circular building with the dragon window down near the Quay."  Maurice smiled.  "Keeps a solid stash of untraceable negotiables in his home.  Don’t know why, but it could have started with the stuff his parents pulled leading up to the Apophis thing.  My sources say that his father almost went to gaol over illegal weapons."

"I can get us in," remarked Evan, who'd been looking over floor plans and security diagrams. "Are you sure it'll be worth it?"

"When you look, the man's missing twenty-five million from his private accounts," replied Maurice.  "No vices to account for it, or offshore holdings.  It's not with the ex-wives or in the kids' education.  It's been tracked to purchases that have been collected by Noble and taken into the house."

"Could still be a vice," pointed out Gidge herself.

Maurice coughed significantly.  "Mr Paul, that nice man we owe so much money to, thinks not.  He's the source of all this information," Maurice admitted.  If we do this job, he clears our debts.  All of them."

"If that's guaranteed," said Kitty, "then I'm in."

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Interrupted Communications

This piece was written to Lyn Thorne-Alder's prompt on Patreon, " What happens when you can't call home anymore - so home calls you?" It runs to 2,144 words.  Lyn also introduce me to Vulgar, a site that generates conlangs.  The one used in this story was generated with seed 060213077290651285.

The off-world communications died in the night.  Mind you, died wasn't a good word and it wasn't a constant link, more of a household connection to the communications and navigation array in orbit.  Well, that had been in orbit because all the automatic and diagnostic readings indicated that it was gone, and it had been far too big a thing to just pick up and take away in an eight-hour period.

Technician Velesi knew where the array was supposed to be, so she got out her manual telescope, and looked for it.   There was a large, shredded piece of superstructure there, but the framework, the installed modules, and most of the superstructure were gone.   A few pieces of debris trailed behind it, but most of it had been obliterated.  It looked almost as if someone had run through it with an orbital transport, but there weren't any orbital transports here.  Or, Technician Velesi thought to herself, there hadn't been yesterday.

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