#solitaireclay07
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I made the mistake of giving everyone too many children and HOW MANY PRITCHARDS ARE THERE HOW OLD ARE THEY WHAT YEAR ARE THEY IN AHHHHHH
#not actually writing#just figuring out timeline wise where everyone is#great use of many hours#DSB#solitaireclay07#fanfiction
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Ivy Bennett was that girl eyeing Sirius Black during their Defense Against the Dark Arts exam. She didn't mean to do it - in fact, she doesn't even like Sirius in that way.
She was glad that he never noticed her. Well, in a way...
#solitaireclay07#hp#hp fanfic#harry potter#harry potter fanfic#sirius black#sirius#sirius x oc#hp fic
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In which I vow to finish my last Harry Potter fanfic and break my promise to myself it won’t end like the other one.
He should’ve listened to Eleanor, but Elizabeth cried all through the night and nothing, not even promises and assurances, were enough to calm the 4-year-old down.
“Daddy, please, daddy please,” Elizabeth repeated in his shoulder as he carried her in circles around his mother’s living room. Eleanor had warned him before putting Jane to bed “not to be swayed, not to do anything rash, not to be a hero just because he could.” She reminded him he could be a hero by staying with his family and keeping them out of harm’s way… But now, with Elizabeth pleas, he convinced himself it would be two seconds, and then he’d be back.
As usual, he was wrong and Eleanor was right.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Maybe I shouldn’t check my mail first in the morning.
Starting my day off with a 1000+ word scathing review about how 50 Shades of Grey is better than my fanfic and I don’t deserve any of my reviews.
#writing#fanfiction#solitaireclay07#I replied and I was so nice#I sang Kill Em With Kindness as I typed it out#but I really just wanted to be sarcastic
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When people leave super good reviews but they are a guest:
y do u do dis?
#Fanfiction#suddenly I see#solitaireclay07#nobody sees me wishing#please randomly find this#I NEED TO RESPOND
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During work today, I had some free time and started reading through my fanfiction. Now I’m having some feels and I’m just so proud (and slightly horrified at my writing quality) about everything I accomplished and everything the people reading did for me.
All of those reviews and the 1.5 million hits and the follows.
The fanart and posts and recommendations.
The fanfiction of my fanfiction. I actually spent the first half an hour at work enjoying your story heroinetraining. And now I’m currently reading the little ficlets alullabytoleaveby wrote me and they’re just so good and I miss you Emillllyyyyy.
I need to finish Don’t Stop Believing. I really do.
I miss fanfiction.
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I mentioned that I was inspired to write something from Remus's POV...
And I kind of ignored it, but...
I must have looked like a right idiot, sitting in an armchair, peering over my textbook with knitted eyebrows and a slightly opened mouth to aid in my challenge to take in consistent breaths. I wanted to say that I looked like a fish out of water, but a fish wasn't capable of the perplexed expression I was currently sporting. So, a right idiot I was.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
It sounded like a line directed toward me, but she wasn't looking into my eyes. She was staring back at one of my best mates, who had been staring at her all night.
Which is why I looked like a right idiot: it was Sirius Black, my best mate, who couldn't take his eyes off of her. Sirius Black, one of my best mates who didn't really care for Ivy Bennett in the slightest and once told me that he didn't understand my attraction to her because she wasn't anything special. That Sirius Black. He was staring at Ivy so intently, almost unblinkingly, as if he was drinking in her every move.
Super super super rough draft, but I might finish.
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Someone wrote a fanfiction based off of "Nobody Sees Me Wishing" and, I've gotten say, when I gave the go-ahead, I never expected this level of writing and attention.
The whole Jane Austen naming tradition is a central plot point. And the OC is named after my favorite Austen protagonist!
I'm so pleased.
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Well, fanfiction.net isn't agreeing with me today.
Which is kind of funny because I wrote my Christmas story with no groaning or complaining or planning. I just sat down and wrote it in an hour and went to post it but nope.
So, here's a crappy cover image I made instead with an excerpt. Enjoy!
“Okay, let me just find the breaker box. Where's the flashlight?” “Lumos.”
“I told you, Liv. No magic. You promised.”
“I thought you were just joking.”
“That's what you said last time.”
Liam had already grabbed the flashlight from the supply drawer and handed it out to Conner, effectively ending the argument.
“Why, thank you, little brother.” Conner grinned, flipping it on with a flourish. “Now, let's going find the breaker box.” He grabbed onto Olivia's hand and led her down the cellar steps.
“So,” Eleanor said from behind Liam, an eyebrow quirked. “Explain this tradition to me again.”
Liam turned toward her, corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “Well, fifteen years ago, we lost power on Christmas Eve and, of course, Sean and Conner made a big deal about how it was going to be the worst Christmas ever. My mum tried to fix it by making us spend the entire night together in the den and, I swear, Sean and Conner wanted to make everyone miserable, complaining about every little thing and blaming me for the power outage – which now, come to think of it, might have actually been my fault because of an accidental magic thing – but anyways, we started playing made up games to pass time and it was really nice, so, now we do it every year. We start with the ceremonial turning off of the lights.” Liam gestured toward the cellar where Eleanor could hear Conner and Olivia's muffled conversation. “And then we all gather in the den where we play our favorite game.”
“And what would that be?”
Liam grinned. “A game of chance and 'what if's.” Suddenly, they were surrounded in darkness. “Come on.” Liam's hand found her's. “It's time to play.”
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I convinced myself I just couldn't write anymore.
Spent months trying to write just one chapter of DSB - four hours writing ONE PARAGRAPH over and over and just editing everything. So I thought I just suck at writing now.
Well, I got an idea for a side story and, after researching for a couple hours, started writing again.
Just to get back into it.
Less than an hour later, I have what would be considered a full chapter of DSB. 1600 words.
It's just DSB I'm stuck on.
What a relief. I thought I hated writing. I thought I was going crazy. I want to cry from happiness.
But anyway, here's what I wrote. It's a side story about Sean Pritchard, but it can be read alone. You don't even have to read DSB to understand it. Enjoy
It was work.
Like really, really hard work. He was supposed to choose a subject of study and complete a year of field work, but everything he chose was impossible. He began with the arts because those were simple enough. A week at a music conservatory taught him that he was never going to appreciate classical music and he never wanted to see staffs or clefs or notes ever again. Then there was those three days with the architect. How that man ever enjoy looking at all of that boring stuff was beyond Sean. He just couldn't take it anymore, so he ran back to the agency – literally ran.
Then he tried physical education, information keeping, guidance, education, accounting.
All in the span of a month.
When he groaned about the accounting job, his placement adviser told him that it “was the last straw and this next place was going to be his last or else he'd fail his Transition Year” (it was only later that Sean learned it was impossible to fail a Transition Year, so the threat wasn't even viable, but whatever). And then he was sent here.
Sean wrinkled his nose as he stared at the white house in front of him. He had just walked through rows and rows of farmland with cows and chickens and cows. Cows everywhere. He couldn't even look anywhere without a cow blocking his view.
This was not going to work out.
With a sigh, Sean heaved his bag strap onto his shoulder and trudged onto the front porch.
The door swung open before he raised his hand to knock. “Hello!” It was an older woman, thin and tall with stringy dark blonde hair obscuring her face. “You must be Sean Pritchard. We're very excited that you're interested in our little bed and breakfast farm-”
He stopped himself before he told her that was a lie.
“I'm Louise Calder. My husband and I own the farm.” She rushed forward, grabbing his hand to shake. “And you don't need to introduce yourself. I already know all about you; the file they sent over was very detailed, probably because this is a new program and they're monitoring you very closely to see how well you do, so let's give them something to monitor, right?” Suddenly, she was pulling his bag away, throwing it into the open door and pushing him toward the back of the house. He didn't even have time to argue. “Have you ever worked with cows? Of course not, it would say so in your file, but it's okay. We'll get you to be a professional at milking and feeding and cleaning and maybe even delivering-”
“Delivering?”
Really not going to work out.
“But we'll start with cleaning. These stalls need to be cleaned thoroughly – rake out the old straw, bring in new straw, rinse with the water from the hose and clean the waste from-”
Sean was too much in shock to listen properly. She wanted him to do all of that on his first day?
“I don't know about this-” Sean finally spoke up.
The lady – Louise – stopped talking and gave him a big smile. “Everyone has their doubts on their first day, but it gets easier, so I'll just start you off with the small jobs.”
“But this isn't small,” Sean tried saying, but Louise just found it funny and she laughed as she left him there with a rake.
It looked like it was going to be another job after this. No, it was definitely going to be another job after this. He was not going to monitor cows for a year. All he had to get through was one day and he'd be free to go onto the next dead-end job – maybe economics. Or business. He could definitely learn to be a lawyer. Those jobs made a lot of money. Sean just wanted to be rich, really. He didn't care about what job he had, just that it would keep him set for the rest of his life.
But for now, he was stuck with this rake and all of these cows.
Each stall seemed to take hours. Sean arrived on the farm in the afternoon and, by the time he finished one row, the sun was already set and he was working in the last moments of natural light. He was beginning to think that they had forgotten about him, but Louise appeared around the corner as soon as he lost all of his light.
“You finished more than I thought you would!” Louise exclaimed cheerfully. Sean stared at her, sweat dripping off of his back (he had ditched his shirt a long time ago), chest heaving, hands callused and legs and arms aching. “Dinner will be served shortly if you want to clean up quickly beforehand.”
All Sean wanted to do was run out of there, but his body hurt too much. Instead, he nodded and began the slow walk up to the house. Louise didn't wait for him, but Sean was grateful. He couldn't even open his mouth to talk. It seemed like forever before Sean walked through the back door where Louise was waiting with directions to the nearest bathroom.
He found his bag already in there when he tripped over the threshold and groaned on the tile floor for a good five minutes. The shower was short and cold – just enough to lie there (stand? He couldn't stand for any longer) and let the water run over him. Sean hoped a fresh shirt and jeans would give him the energy to go on, but he was still exhausted, taking a long time to get fully dressed.
There was no question about it – he was going to quit tomorrow morning. Before he had to go through any of this ever again. He was not going to see a single cow tomorrow (okay, probably thirty on his way out, but he wasn't going to count those) and he was not going to clean a single stall. Business and economics were sounding better and better by the minute and he couldn't wait to work with numbers and annoying, loud people.
With trembling hands, Sean opened the bathroom door and trudged down the staircase until he found his way to the kitchen.
He expected to see Louise or maybe her husband in midst of making some elaborate meal (did they eat their cows or were they purely just for dairy purposes?) but it was a girl instead. Around his age, tall and willowy like Louise with the same dark blonde hair, but pulled back in a plait instead. Her back was to him as she took a pot from the stove and poured water and something green into a strainer, so he waited until she turned around and noticed him in the doorway. After all, he didn't want to scare the poor girl.
But she was too lost in her own world, so Sean cleared his throat loudly.
She jumped, dropping a pan onto the stove with a bang. “Oh!” She scrambled to pick it up before wheeling around to face him, brandishing it mere centimeters from his nose. He stepped back, wide-eyed and alert.
Okay, so she was crazy.
“Sorry!” He threw his hands up in front of him, just in case he needed to block an attack. “I didn't mean to scare you. I just – I didn't want to scare you so-” What was he even supposed to say? “Look, I've been working out in the stalls for hours and I just want dinner. Louise told me that dinner was ready, so here I am.”
She was giving him a strange look – kind of like a mixture of confusion and disgust and fear and maybe even annoyance. But she also kind of looked completely attractive while giving him that look, so Sean found he really didn't mind her curled lip or narrowed eyes.
“Take a seat then, Mr-”
He grinned. “Pritchard. Sean Pritchard. Please, definitely call me Sean.” He held out his hand, waiting for the as-of-yet unnamed girl to greet herself but she just shook her hand and turned her back on him again.
“Sean, take a seat. Dinner will be finished in about five minutes.”
“Whoa, whoa, can you say my name with any more conviction?” He leaned over, catching a glimpse of her face.
She sighed, glancing over at him. Her face was red and, although Sean really wanted it to be a blush, it was from heat and work. Instead of looking completely exhausted like him, she looked like the good kind of worn – the kind that took years of hard work and patience to earn. And it worked for her because Sean couldn't stop staring. It made her look exotic and interesting and impossible.
“And you are?” he prompted when she didn't say anything.
She took a deep breath and then looked back down at the stove. “Lindsay Calder. Louise is my mum. Now, please-” She caught his gaze again and he raised his eyebrows in anticipation for her next words, “-sit, Mr. Pritchard.”
“Sean,” he reminded her with another grin.
She rolled her eyes, but Sean could have sworn he saw the beginnings of a small smile. He turned around from her and walked over to the dining table, large enough for a family of twelve, and took a seat at one of the four plate settings.
Maybe he'd give it another day. Or two. He could always wait until the end of the week – just to see how the job progressed. But then, then he would definitely move on.
#DSB#writing#solitaireclay07#don't stop believing#Sean Pritchard#fanfiction#stories#creative writing
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Sneak peek of the next chapter:
He wasn't by the house, but she could see something in the distance. It almost looked like a large oval in the middle of the yard – blindingly bright white against the dark green of the woods. Eleanor squinted and then began to make her way toward the object, finally recognizing it when she was close enough; it was a self-contained weather dome and it was snowing.
The result of the highly advanced spell was roughly the size of a Quidditch field, encasing the ground and part of the sky to create its own snow in the middle of summer. Through the heavy snowfall, Eleanor could see someone standing on what seemed to be a frozen pond.
#I should always make a paint drawing of scenes#I'm really doing anything and everything not to actually write#DSB#solitaireclay07#Eleanor Bennett#Liam Pritchard
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Excerpt from the next chapter of DSB:
I keep hearing Journey songs everywhere so I took it as a sign to write my chapter. It's not going well, but here's a snippet:
“Afternoon, Miss Bennett,” Conner exclaimed as if he rehearsed his words. Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Conner, are you okay?” “I'm great,” he replied, a bit too quickly. “How are you on this lovely day?” “I'm good.” Eleanor paused, glancing around before adding, “Is...Liam around? He asked me to come over-” “You're early,” Conner repeated what he shouted before. Eleanor nodded. “Fifteen minutes, but I thought-” “You're not supposed to be early.” He fidgeted, wrapping his arms around his legs. “Conner, you're not okay-” Eleanor tried to say, but she was distracted by the bright smile that stretched across Conner's face. She was positively sure he was reciting some sort of speech (horribly) while trying to stay calm (terribly), but she was still trying to figure out- “Why are you so early? I mean, you're usually right on time and people rely on that, you know. People like Liam or...other people...” “You're covering for him,” Eleanor concluded. Conner blinked. “No.” “Yes, you are,” Eleanor insisted with a definite nod. “What is he planning? Where is he?” “No questions!” Conner threw himself off the counter, almost falling face first onto the floor. “I can't answer any questions. He told me not to tell you-” Eleanor smiled. He was making this too easy.
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Snippet from Don't Stop Believing ch. 66
I have to edit this chapter, so it won't be posted today. This weekend though.
“Conner, go away,” Liam deadpanned. He didn't want to deal with this – not now. He was trying to figure out what was going on and Conner was the worst distraction.
“I'm shocked.” Conner threw himself onto the counter and pulled on Liam's shirt to get his brother's attention. “You want your most loyal and devoted customer to leave. That does not make for good business.”
“Okay, okay, what do you want?”
“I don't appreciate the tone, Mr. - Pritchard, is it? I'd like to see your boss.”
Liam eyed his brother, watching as a smirk tugged on Conner's lips. “Conner, if you're here to play games, I do have the authority to ask you to leave and trust me, I'll use that if I have the chance.”
“No, no, I'm not playing games.” Conner suddenly stood up straight and began digging in his pockets. “Olivia wrote it down because she knew I'd forget. She wants to get the invitations for the baby shower done as soon as possible – I mean, it's a couple months away but-”
“Wait, why does she need to get them printed here? She's a witch. A simple spell and-”
“I asked her the same thing but she said she wants to support you. Something about family being there for family. I don't know; she was being all sentimental and I just kind of sat there as she started to cry and all-”
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#suitable title to get your interest#DSB#Don't Stop Believing#solitaireclay07#Liam Pritchard#Eleanor Bennett
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I'm trying to write.
Failing.
But here's a sneak peek anyway.
“Liam,” she breathed, her eyes widening. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. He wasn't standing next to her ladder, giving her that dumb smile. He wasn't here because it made no sense.
She realized with a jolt he was talking and she didn't hear a word of it. “-and yeah, I guess I thought I'd come see you.”
Eleanor blinked. “I'm sorry – I'm just really – I wasn't listening properly and – could you repeat...everything you just said?”
Liam didn't laugh like she expected. Instead, he gave her that stupid smile and said, “I know you're busy today, but um, remember that pact we made on my seventeenth birthday? The one where we promised that we'd never miss each other's birthdays no matter what? Well, I know I already screwed that up by missing your last birthday and you have every right to consider the entire thing void now, but it's a new year and I thought we could start over. So, I came to see you.”
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A blurry picture of my outline for DSB chapters 61-67.
(Note: I scheduled a Valentine's Day chapter for ch. 62 and decided to post it on Valentine's. That means I have to write two chapters in the next week. Ugh.)
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