(ask-imaginary-dreamers) Casey tilts his head at Riley, “So, what’s your family like? Kazu mentioned your brother earlier, but do you have any other family members?”
@ask-imaginary-dreamers
"Ah, right!" Riley grinned at the gray grookie. "Buckle in, because this is gonna be a bit lengthy! To start it all off, I’ve got 4 parents: 2 moms and 2 dads."
“My genetic mom and dad, let’s refer to them with ‘A’, are a liepard and zoroark respectively. My other mom and dad, we’ll call them ‘B’, are an absol and nidoking.” Riley explained, nodding. “I think their relationship is called a ‘polycule’?”
"Anyway, my dads were born and raised in Lakika and already dating when my moms entered the picture. My moms were sailors on a rowdy crew that used to visit a lot. Pretty sure my hat belonged to Mom A.” He grinned, adjusting the brim a little bit.
“Nowadays Mom A acts as a trainer for the town’s fighters, Mom B writes travel books based on her adventures before settling down, and Dad B is basically the village chef, and is deaf in his left ear.” He was quiet for a moment. “Dad A is... Kinda out of the picture...” His smile faded a moment before continuing on.
“Now, I’ve also got 4 siblings: an older brother, older sister, and younger twins.”
“My older brother is from Mom A and Dad B, and is a pretty bulky liepard with a horn. He’s strong and can take a hit, and is also pretty decent as a field medic.” The purrloin explained, nodding. “But he’s not really a fighter at heart, and would much rather be working with food, like Dad B, though he prefers baking specifically.”
“My older sister is from Mom B and Dad A, and she’s an absol with a flowing, crimson mane. She is a swordswoman who specializes in using a two-sword style. She left a few years ago to travel after an... Incident back home. She still sends letters to let us know she’s alright. Talks about the sights she’s seeing, people she’s meeting, fights she’s winning, and so on.”
“Now, the twins, a boy and a girl, are a pair of little absols with the biggest, most adorable ears! They were born from Mom and Dad B and are still pretty young. They started training a year or two ago, but are definitely more interested in playing and listening to Mom B’s stories than actually fighting.”
//Mun: Sorry this one lacks any art at all! I’ve been trying to draw things out but I just wasn’t getting anything I was satisfied with, since all I could think of were infographics.
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Team Tolkien 2023
Announcing the 2023 Inklings Challenge team assignments!
Members of Team Tolkien are challenged to write a science fiction or fantasy story within the Christian worldview that fits into one of these two genres:
Secondary World Fantasy: Stories that takes place in an imaginary realm that’s completely separate from our world
Time Travel: Stories exploring technology that allows travel through time
These genres are open to interpretation, and creativity is encouraged.You can use either or both of the prompts within your story, or if you’re feeling ambitious, you can write multiple stories.
Team Tolkien members are also asked to use at least one of the following seven Christian themes to inspire some part of their story.
Feed the hungry
Give drink to the thirsty
Clothe the naked
Shelter the homeless
Visit the sick
Visit the imprisoned
Bury the dead
Writers are challenged to complete and post their story to a tumblr blog by October 21, 2022, though they are encouraged to post earlier if they finish their story before that date. There is no maximum or minimum word limit. Writers who have not completed their stories before the deadline are encouraged to post whatever they have written by October 21st and post the remainder at a later date.
Posting the Stories
All stories will be reblogged and archived on the main Inklings Challenge blog. To assist with organization, writers should tag their posts as follows:
Mention the main Challenge blog @inklings-challenge somewhere within the body of the post (which will hopefully alert the Challenge blog).
Tag the story #inklingschallenge, to ensure it shows up in the Challenge tag, and make it more likely that the Challenge blog will find it.
Tag the team that the author is writing for: #team lewis, #team tolkien, or #team chesterton.
Tag the genre the story falls under: #genre: portal fantasy, #genre: space travel, #genre: secondary world, #genre: time travel, #genre: intrusive fantasy, #genre: adventure
Tag any themes that were used within the story: #theme: food, #theme: drink, #theme: clothing, #theme: shelter, #theme: visit the sick, #theme: visit the imprisoned, #theme: burial
Tag the completion status of the story: #story: complete or #story: unfinished
Team Members
The writers assigned to Team Tolkien are:
@ablatheringblatherskite
@afairmaiden
@angedemystere
@as-dreamers-do
@atlantic-riona
@brievel
@caitriona-3
@catkin-morgs
@challenger2013
@christian-latte-anon
@clarythericebot
@dragonladyzarz
@dragonteaandfairyhoney
@enchanted-prose
@enjoliquej
@esters-notepad
@friendrat
@frominsidetheblanketfort
@gailyinthedark
@lady-merian
@lilflightlessbird731
@maltheniel
@mentallydatingahotcelebrity
@misscrazyfangirl321
@musicofthedaylight
@olyia-stories
@on-noon
@onewingedsparrow
@plainshobbit
@politicalmamaduck
@queenlucythevaliant
@rachellesedai
@reneethegreatandpowerful
@ripple-reader
@rowenabean
@ru-tabega
@shakespearean-fish
@soulwindproductionsblog
@taleweaver-ramblings
@teabooksandsweets
Writing resources, including the Challenge overview, FAQ, writing prompts, and discussions of the genres are available at the Inklings Challenge Directory. Any writers with further questions can contact the Inklings Challenge blog for guidance.
Welcome to the Inklings Challenge, everyone! Now go forth and create!
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Quick Visit
Alright how about something a little more plot relevant?
If you see a typo, no you didn’t.
Uhm, it’s a bit long. Enjoy!
[Doc]
—
There are many things expected of the Roatus line — Things that extend beyond the scope of the responsibilities of the typical purple blood with land under their control. The city that surrounds the House of Restoration is as close to a utopia that an Alternian city can get without outright pretending the horrors that exist in its past and right outside its borders are imaginary thanks to these responsibilities.
The Restorer takes great pride in the care that went into making this a reality for the city and the love that continues being poured into it. Despite the insistence that his children are under no such obligation to maintain this peace, the pair of them have found great joy in giving back to the community they were raised within.
Among her self-appointed obligations, Marrie loved nothing more than her routine visits to the Church of the Divine Dreamer to acquire a very special friend and deliver him to his appointments with her father. Selfishly, she loved the opportunity to see The Dreamer herself, it is only convenient that she is lending a helping hand to the community at the same time.
She stands in front of the church doors, fumbling with something inside of her bag when those doors open suddenly. In their place stands the yellow blood that never regards her with kindness nor contempt, but muted neutrality.
Dressed down from his usual priestly get up, in a button up that she thinks flatters him, it looks like he is on his way out.
The prophet tilts his head when he recognizes who is standing before him, then he sucks his tongue against his teeth.
“Has it already been so long?” He asks, indicating the perigees stretch of time since last the marionette set foot on their grounds, gaze drifting to his nails that he must have suddenly realized needed his attention.
“Yes!” She beams back, gripping the strap of her tote bag with excitement that she felt no need containing. “I’ll have him back before you know it, Cylion!”
“You always do.”
“I’m nothing if not consistent!”
“Mmm,” he starts to step around her, suddenly less interested in the conversation, somehow. “Poppet will see you to the Dreamer’s room.”
Marrie, somehow, perks up even more at his words.
For as long as the young Roatus has been coming over to grab Little Friend, Nymira’s prophet always hovered somewhere nearby. She’d never even known him to leave the church grounds, now that she thinks about it.
Even now, standing in front of him, it is hard to reconcile with the fact that he is wearing plain clothes and apparently has plans for the evening.
She turns to face him again and opens her mouth to say something, but he is not finished speaking.
“Do not overstay your welcome. Do not make me reconsider where I place my trust.”
She fully intends on overstaying her welcome.
Marrie smiles and untangles her hand from around the bag's straps to give him a thumbs up.
“Wouldn’t dream of it!”
She pauses to laugh at her unintended joke.
The oneirocritic looks up from his nails to fix her with a look that says he got the joke, but was not as tickled by it.
“Good.”
With that he continues on with whatever errand he is off to run and Marrie is left to her own devices.
She wanders into the building, letting the interaction roll off her back like water.
Who is she to pass judgment on poor social skills, anyway?
It takes very little meandering for her to find her way around the church, she’d been through it a good handful of times since meeting Nymira, before she finds Somnia giving direction to a follower.
Somnia acknowledges her with a nod and continues speaking to the follower, a conversation she makes no effort to eavesdrop on as her attention it drawn to a painting of Nymira on the wall — Slumbering peacefully in a bed that looks more like a stage, beams of sunlight illuminate her image with extra care taken to highlight the ones that cradle her face.
Nymira, she thinks, is a marvel of a troll. Certainly one deserving of being a muse. But if these are the gifts she is accustomed to receiving, she worries her paltry offering will only pale in comparison.
She pats her tote almost self consciously.
“It’s new,” Somnia’s voice frees her from her insecurities, and she turns to smile at him, beaming bright enough that anyone would be forgiven for thinking she was trying to emulate the sunlight in the painting. Somnia continues. “Just put it up this evening.”
“It’s lovely! Say… Why does Cylion call you Poppet?”
Somnia shrugs, seemingly unperturbed by the sudden change of direction.
“Maybe he doesn’t want anyone to know that he actually likes me.”
Marrie laughs, finding it much easier to let her guard down around him.
“But you’re so charming!”
Somnia’s smug grin tells her that he liked that comment very much, but he does not make the effort to push the conversation further along, so she carries on.
“Cylion said you’d let me up to see Nymira.”
He nods and turns to lead the way. It’s a quiet walk, one that features many more awe inspiring works of art that either depict Nymira herself or some abstraction of her, like her horns or her large fanning tail. Each piece is more enthralling than the last one, and not a single one depicts the Dreamer awake.
She recalls being told once that there was a rule against that, rendering her image sleepless. So while it is to be expected, it is a bit of a disappointment; Awake Nymira is Marrie’s favorite Nymira!
Upon making it to her room Somnia knocks on the door with a few quick raps before cracking it open and calling out into it.
“Mira, you awake? You have company."
Behind him Marrie watches stirring from within the room, followed by a very quiet voice.
“Company?”
“Well, I think she’s actually here for Little Friend, but she might entertain your company too if you’re quick enough.”
“Oh! Marrie!”
The excitement in her voice has the potential to send Marrie over the moons, instead she settles for rocking back and forth on her heels to quell the butterflies causing a racket in her stomach.
“I’ll be right out!”
Somnia closes the door and turns back to her.
“She’ll be right out.”
“I heard!” Marrie says a little too loudly, with enthusiasm that matched the godling.
Not long after, Nymira appears in the doorway, Little Friend along for the ride on her shoulder, with a big sleepy smile on her face. In an instant, she is wrapping her arms around her wooden friend and hugging her close.
“Hi Marrie!”
“Hi Nymira!”
Of course this is the favorite of her responsibilities, quite selfishly if anyone was to ask after it. She gives Nymira a squeeze of her own in return.
When they separate from each other, the godling looks around as though she’d forgotten something. It seems for a moment that she is a bit lost, even. Giving up, she drops her gaze to Somnia, for answers to her unasked question.
He shrugs.
“He stepped out,” he explains but not to any satisfying degree. “We can do whatever we want.”
Though he speaks in jest, one could almost hear the gears turning in Nymira’s head as she looks from him to Marrie.
“Can I show Marrie my room?”
“Knock yourself out.” Somnia waves a hand in the air and shrugs again.
Marrie feels her heart leap into her throat. Most of their interactions took place in the courtyard of the church under the watchful gaze of Nymira’s prophet, she’d never seen inside her room before!
With a delighted giggle, Nymira’s hand finds Marrie’s and she is already leading her inside her bedroom.
Her brother says nothing as the door closes behind them, and Marrie is shocked to find that he didn’t make the effort to join the three of them on the other side. He was content, presumably, to continue carrying out the chores left behind for him by Cylion.
It’s so weird, the young Roatus thinks, that trolls roughly the same age as she and Archie are in charge of such important matters.
Her father would never.
Before she knows it she is tugged along deeper into the room that is delightfully average for a god. It has all the makings of a regular bedroom — Books lay on shelves and upon an very unimpressive desk, but beyond that there is nothing special.
She didn’t know what she was expecting. She is tugged to a canopy bed that lives in the corner of the room by a large window, a placement that draws Marrie’s thoughts back to the painting of a sunkissed Nymira. The marionette hums happily as she takes her seat next to her.
Nymira sits in a way that sees both of their knees barely touching.
How unexpected!
“I don’t normally entertain guests in my room,” the godling admits sheepishly as her small companion makes quick work of crossing their legs and climbing up marrie like a jungle gym. “I hope it’s to your liking!”
“I’m just happy to spend the time with you.” Marrie assures, letting out a delighted laugh when Little Friend reaches her shoulder and affectionately bumps his head against hers. “I see Little Friend plenty.”
“Okay!”
Little Friend eagerly begins climbing around his large wooden friend while she basks in the warm gaze of a god. It doesn’t take him long to find his way to the opening of the girl’s bag and falling into it thus ending his little expedition.
His sudden tumbling reminds her of something and she perks up.
“That’s right! Nymira, I brought you a gift!” Offerings, as Marrie understands it, are typically filtered through Cylion. She fully intended on going through the proper channel, honest. But she also firmly believes that he deserves a day off too. “It’s nothing crazy, I promise.”
“Oh,” Nymira brings a hand up to her chin and tilts her head. “That should be okay.”
Marrie does not get a chance to fuss around in her bag before Little Friend digs up the small, delicately wrapped package.
“Thank you!” She exclaims, taking the parcel from his hands.
He salutes in return.
She then moves to hand the gift to Nymira.
It is wrapped in a black paper that looks almost iridescent in the light with small white specks of glitter that fall off in Nymira’s hand as she handles the package.
She giggles as she fingers the edges of the beautifully wrapped package.
“Like I said,” Marrie explains. “It’s nothing too special. I just saw it and thought of you.”
The goddess holds it timidly and starts to unwrap it like she’s never opened a gift before. She delicately slides a nail under the corner of the package to release the tape on one side of it and then pulls the gift out from the opening.
It’s so methodical, unpracticed, and unsure all at once.
In her hands she now holds a three pack of themed pens; The first is light blue with puffy white clouds littering it’s facade, the second has a clear casing that a sparkly slime looking substances lives within, and finally the third is deep blue decorated in stars with a cospringy star topper to make the whole thing complete.
Marrie watches as she enthusiastically takes out the black pen and turns it over in her hands to watch the slide slide around inside it.
“These are really very beautiful, but,” her smile becomes somber. “I don’t have anything to use them on in here.”
“Hm. That is a pickle— ”
Marrie is cut off before she gets a chance to wonder on it a little longer, not before Little Friend pushes a small journal out of the bag, patterned in the same as as the light blue pen.
“Surprise!” The marionette shouts, causing Little Friend to applaud with vigor from the bag. “It’s a matching set!”
“Marrie, this is all so lovely! Thank you so much!”
“I left a little note on the first page for you.. But you can write whatever you want in there!”
Nymira runs her thumb over the book to feel the raised edges of the clouds.
“Thank you! I will!”
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