I Love Reading Posts Like This While Procrastinating My Own Papers

I love reading posts like this while procrastinating my own papers

writing research papers is such a brrrrrr

This sounds so interesting!! I'll be excitedly waiting to hear more!

I genuinely don't understand why my book doesn't have an audience. I personally haven't seen or read anything with as many queer characters. Also my book is like a lot of genres slapped into the same novel. There's fantasy, at least in my opinion, really unique world building, horror, mystery, time travel, a lot of tropes like found family, forbidden love and friends to lovers. I think my book should have an audience. I think my posts should get more engagement. Like what else would a reader want from a book- Make it make sense.

Sometimes, self-proclaimed gods like to visit with silly little prophecies that could be bullshit.

Hey writeblr! Here's a challenge: can you summarize what you're writing in one sentence?

The Delefaye were supposed to be minor characters... Why do they have eight whole books centric about just them outlined 🤨 Am I Insane?

This was an amazing read! 10/10 recommend

The Rockdove Promise (Chapter 1)

authors notes at end. content warnings for mentions of poisoning, illness, death, and hinted family issues. all work is my own, please don't repost to other websites or claim it is yours.

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The palace was bereaved. Doctors from across the lands had been paged to the palace, one of dozens in the country. The other noble houses were silent, their courtrooms empty and their banquet halls bare. Their respect, if sincere at all, was hollow. It could not heal the wound. Humble servants muttered explanations to their visitors, the hopeful medics. They listened with great care – as they were paid to do – to the servant’s stories.

Purple drapes fell over the walls, bearing an insignia now scarred with a tragedy not yet complete. Each room was bustling with worried movement, not a single corner left unbothered by the attendants of the palace. Only one room was untouched by the chaos. Lingering just outside the closed door were three figures, one standoffish and calculating, another skittish and misplaced, and the last regal and imposing. An advisor, a physician-in-training, and a king.

The king shifted, walking along the expansive corridor, never straying far from the room. Servants were surprised to hear his footsteps not in the dining hall or the war room. They did not see it wise to speak to him at that time. As the lower-born attendants moved past the three, the advisor spoke.

“Your Majesty, I implore you to stop pacing.”

The king slowed his movement, flowing silk robes quietly cascading off his shoulders.

“I’m trying,” he said, a rough gravel in his voice, befitting for someone of his status.

“You’re no use to anyone in this state, least of all the country,” he paused, eyes drifting along the closed door, “and your son.”

At that, the king froze. His icy glare hit his advisor, a wise but sometimes… overconfident man. He looked upon his king with a measured defiance, designed only to shake the monarch out of his worried stupor.

“You astound me, Danareth.” He muttered.

Danareth allowed a coy smile to reach his face. He was no medic, therefore had no say in how dire their situation truly was, so the least he could do was keep the king away from such a state of disrepair. Speaking of, it was only then he recollected himself and remembered the student standing beside him.

“What did you say your name was, child?” Danareth looked down at them.

The younger doctor’s ears perked up. Bottles and medical utensils jingled against one another along their belt.

“I didn’t sir, actually, hah…” they said, eyes hardly meeting his, “it’s Ezune.”

“Is that a Karazun name?” He questioned.

Ezune nodded with a slight nervousness. “Yeah, it is. Uh, the chief physician is on his way, but in the meantime I’m here to… monitor the prince?”

Danareth tilted this head, ignoring the restless king. “You don’t seem convinced.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly clear what I’m supposed to do. But Doctor Penderghast is on the way, quickly, too.”

“What a relief,” he sighed, “wouldn’t you agree, Your Majesty?”

The king, left to his own devices, went back to pacing. A smaller distance this time, but it conveyed the same fitful anticipation.

“What?” He hummed. “Fine, yes. Very good.”

“I recommend you listen to the student here, Your Majesty.” Danareth gestured to Ezune, who smiled awkwardly, trying to possess even a fragment of noble pretentiousness. Fortunately for the strength of their personhood, they fell short. Nobility doesn’t dress well in common robes, and vice versa.

A late realisation dawned on Ezune. They removed a notebook from a small side bag and flipped through the pages. “Actually, sir, would you mind telling me what happened to lead up to this? And anything of the prince’s condition?”

The king paced faster. Danareth placed a hand on his cheek in contemplation. “Well, I wasn’t there, but from what I’ve been told, the prince was poisoned at dinner last night.” He paused before adding, “the taster was ill, unfortunately.”

“Where were you then, sir?” Ezune asked.

“Out. Further west, in Nahall. I didn’t leave the state, though.” Danareth’s eyes narrowed. “Although that’s hardly relevant.”

Ezune swallowed, immediately lowering their gaze. “Right,” they said, scribbling down notes, “and his condition?”

He sighed. “Yes, well, the prince is nothing if not resilient. Nobody thought anything wrong until the meal was over. He didn’t eat much, though. Then was the dizziness, nausea, shaking. I recall being told he went pale and cold to the touch.”

“By His Majesty?” They said.

“Of course. I heard the entire story from him. Now, where was I? The prince was coherent all through their dinner, then collapsed at the end of the night.”

Ezune took down more notes as Danareth spoke.

“None of the staff have been able to rouse him since.”

“Alright. That will all be very useful for the physician, thank you, sir.”

Danareth kept his eyes on the king. “Why did Penderghast send you, child?”

“He’s my cousin. He was caught up in some business in Karazun, but he’ll be here soon.”

“How fortunate– Your Majesty, please, the pacing. May we at least keep this reaction in confidence? Not in front of the doctors and staff?”

“Am I not allowed to grieve? Must you forbid me from expressing sorrow?” The king’s words cut through the air, tiny splinters of pain coming from a man so refined, so stoic on the outside.

“No, Your Majesty, I would never.” Danareth conceded, any slyness quickly disappearing. “I do believe that there’s not a cause to grieve, yet. I implore you to look at the situation as it is, not for what it may be.”

The king fell silent. His usually commanding gaze was replaced by something pained, something already mourning for a loss that hadn’t happened yet. Danareth stepped away from Ezune, coming closer to the king. As if nobody was there, he rested a hand on his superior’s shoulder and leaned in close.

Over the king’s shoulder, he whispered, “I understand your pain, Yaromyr. Really, I do. You can revel in your misery when we are more informed, and alone.”

Yaromyr let a long sigh escape him. Still weighed down by the paranoia, he couldn’t force himself to find refuge in Danareth. His gentle words did ease his anxiety if only a bit.

Ezune stood by the door as the two spoke more. Seeing it unwise to interrupt such a… strange conversation between an advisor and their king – even if he was not their king – they flipped through a guidebook, searching for potential poisons. Assassins were cunning, and only the best poison would be befitting of a royal like the prince of Miyokav. But Ezune’s expertise was lacking in most medical areas, and in such a serious case, curiosity and enthusiasm didn’t make up for all of Penderghast’s knowledge. The two continued to talk while Ezune leafed through their notebooks, ignoring the general chaos surrounding the castle, the servants rushing from corner to corner, the most exquisite tapestries and decorations sullied by the undignified air of the palace. Voices flooded the corridors. The sun found its place at the top of the sky.

With everyone’s attention diverted, nobody cared to notice the handle of that door began to rattle. Gently, the door pushed itself open, and from behind it appeared the prince.

Dark, cascading, and uncharacteristically messy hair obscured his face and neck. Tired circles underlined his pale eyes. Although he looked like a corpse, there was a steadiness to his breath. His posture was only somewhat terrible. There was a slight serenity to him, but it stemmed from his disoriented gaze and half-awake demeanour. Despite all that, he emanated a regal presence, unlike his panicking father.

“Why is there so much noise at this hour?” The prince rubbed his eyes as he leaned against the now-open door.

Yaromyr and Danareth snapped out of their conversation instantly. As soon as the prince’s voice escaped into the hall, all formalities slipped away.

“Laszlo.” The king murmured, abandoning all noble pretence and rushing to his son. The image of the ‘royal we’ meant nothing to him as he grabbed onto his son and embraced him.

The prince, Laszlo, trembled like a leaf. Partly because of his illness, and partly because the king was not a small man – his hug was suffocating. Yet his father’s warmth was a welcome change to his icy insides.

“Father?” He managed to say. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes,” he said, his voice choked by the beginnings of tears, “I am alright now. Oh, not even the gods could take you from me!”

Laszlo blinked, largely unable to take in the situation. He did notice Danareth clear his throat, causing the king to release him. Upon this, he fell back on the door, his ears pricking up when a muffled exclaim came from behind it.

“Who’s there?” Laszlo pulled himself away, peeking behind the door.

Ezune, with a hand clutching their forehead, regarded him with nothing short of shock and dismay.

“He seems quite alright, Your Majesty.”

“It does seem that way,” Danareth agreed, brushing a hand across Laszlo’s forehead, “but I am certain this isn’t the boy I returned to last night.”

“What cause do we have to question miracles?” Yaromyr said. His gaze demanded Danareth to keel over and accept Laszlo’s seemingly good health.

“Well, Penderghast will still be coming, I can’t exactly stop him now…” Ezune interrupted, “and it’s probably for the better if we still keep a close eye on him. Er, I mean– on you, Your Highness.”

Laszlo looked upon the stranger in his home with polite confusion. “Thank you?”

He then turned his eyes along the endless corridors, still cluttered with rushing servants and consultants. He wiped beads of sweat from his brow and tried to ignore the weight of exhaustion on his back.

“These aren’t diplomats, are they?” He asked.

“No, son. The renewal isn’t for a while yet.” The king reassured him. “Do not worry yourself with that. Your health is far more important.”

Laszlo, unconvinced, kept his eyes over his father’s shoulder and on the bustling people. The sun poured through tall windows, obscuring parts of his vision, but his mind was not focused on what he saw.

“Um, what renewal, sir?” Ezune looked to Danareth.

“For the Rockdove promise,” he shook his head, “of course the prince would be thinking of that as soon as he wakes.”

“The Rockdove? I–” They tried to probe further, but Laszlo had already peeled himself off the door and began walking back into his bedchambers.

The prince’s bedchambers were a sight curated only for the richest this side of the sea. But it was not the lavish ornaments, prestigious paintings, or dazzling decorations that drew one’s eye. Obscuring all that was items far more practical; papers strewn across two or three desks, a delicately carved map covering half of a wall with notes all across it, an unused sword in a glass case, polished daily. The additions were almost sacrilegious, fragments of knowledge and study staining the richest accessories in the country.

“There are meetings to be held, sacrifices to be arranged,” Laszlo swore, to himself more than anyone else. “Aren’t we already behind?”

The king’s face contorted to one of embarrassment. “Well, yes, perhaps. But it isn’t your concern, son.”

“It is always my concern.” Laszlo said, before adding a hesitant, “sire.”

“Son…” Yaromyr tried to say, but he was met with stony silence. He couldn’t bear to say more.

Danareth followed the two into the bedchambers, with Ezune trailing awkwardly behind. “Your Highness, if I may?”

Laszlo paused at a desk, facing the wall. Above him was a small tapestry of gods. Ten divine, prying eyes surveyed him as he stared at the wall below, his mind both racing too fast and infuriatingly still.

“Your Highness.”

“Yes?” He said, only then realising that he was being spoken to.

Danareth cleared his throat when the prince had made it clear he was finally listening. “Why don’t you tell this student what happened last night?”

“Right!” Despite his confident tone, the confusion returned. “Last night?”

Danareth nodded, which only confirmed Laszlo’s lapse in memory. The night felt like a dream, barely memorable at all.

“It wasn’t a particularly special night. Dinner was as it always is, except our taster was absent. Now that I think about it, I don’t think I noticed it at the time. I was thinking about other things, you see.”

“Like what?” Ezune prodded.

“Do you always ask unrelated questions?” Danaerth interrupted. “What would the doctor say?”

Ezune mumbled a brief apology to their superior and went back to listening as Laszlo continued.

“I think the wine was off. It didn’t taste right, but I was… distracted. I swear I was going to mention it, but then…”

“But then what?”

Laszlo stopped. Memory failed him. The space where those memories should’ve been was replaced with a lingering wrongness, an aching sense. An acidic feeling welled in his throat, more suffocating than a sword to the gullet. Without the mind to react, he slid onto the floor, hands failing to hold onto his desk.

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ohhh fuck yeah here it is!!! super excited to finally get the ball rolling, hope you enjoy! this and tfadh will be updating a bit more soon, let's gooo

Introduction

Hello, everyone!

I'm Introchasingstars- Francesca, for simplicities sake (she/her), a small-time writer, and a Marauders fan since 2016! I intend to use this blog mostly just to talk about not only Marauders but also my independent works! I plan to yap about my characters, creatures, and world, so I do hope you find enjoyment in that!

I write mostly high fantasy as I enjoy writing and creating complex worlds, characters, and lore! My most well-known work follows the tale of Cassiel Greene and Fennic Etwile as they venture across the galaxy to meet a mysterious group of self-proclaimed gods known as the Delefaye.

My biggest inspirations in writing are Star Wars, Lord Of The Rings, Marauders and Watership Down! So if any of those interest you please stick around :) I tackle a lot of themes and tropes such as found family, enemies to lovers, coming-of-age, power and corruption, good versus evil and forbidden romances.

I am always looking for writing mutuals and am happy to answer any questions! My ask box is always open, and I'm very excited to share more of my thoughts with you all.

-Rising