For your consideration...
So I’m actively editing/reworking my story Home Is Wherever I Am With You into an original, and I thought I’d post some pieces of it here. Feel free to tell me what you think or give me feedback, I’m doing this on my own so I would appreciate it! I think with the edits I’ve made to the story it reads smoother/better than the fanfic version.
Appalachian Coal Mining Country, Early 1930′s
"Katie!"
Looking up from the path she takes home from the village, Katie is surprised to see Matthew Sullivan calling her name, flagging her down. It’s odd.
They were in the same grade in school but weren’t friends. Matthew is a townie, his family running a small shop on the corner closest to the mine entrance where they sell things like meat pies and coarse loaves of bread to the men on their way to and from their long shifts.
Katie hails from the Huddle where the miners live. Her father was a miner. He’s been gone three years now, and somehow, she hasn’t been thrown out of the house yet. There aren’t as many men needed in the mines nowadays, with lower production quotas. She thinks maybe the mining company’s forgotten she and her younger sister Aster are alone now.
The only interactions she has with Matthew Sullivan are the every other day sales or trades she makes with his father; he’s her best customer. Katie supports her and Aster by foraging in the hills for herbs, mushrooms, and wild onions. Any edible, palatable thing she comes across, there are lots of them if you know where to look. Katie hunts and traps for meat as well, and the Sullivans are her best customers.
Katie hesitates, unsure why Matthew stopped her. He takes that as a go-ahead to approach, trotting to catch up. He stops in front of her, rolling his shirtsleeves down his arms like he’s finished working for the day and is trying to make himself look presentable. "How are you?' Matthew asks, smiling at her.
Katie Bowe is not a small woman by any stretch of the imagination. She’s as tall and strong as most men. Matthew Sullivan, however, is one of the few she has to look up to at close range. She’s not sure she likes that. Makes her feel at a disadvantage. She likes knowing she can hold her own if necessary.
But Matthew isn’t someone to fear. Sort of a gentle giant.
And he’s patient, waiting for Katie to take her time, seemingly in no hurry to continue. She shrugs and looks away. Why on earth is he talking to her in the first place? They aren't friends.
"I’m fine," Katie manages, glancing over Matthew’s shoulder before looking back at him. He's nervous about speaking with her, she realizes. That makes her uneasy, but no longer because of his size. It’s just that she’s not great at coming up with the right thing to say. Folks from town so rarely want to speak with her. They look at her like she’s some wild animal they don’t know what to do with.
"Did your father need something?" she asks. It's the only reason she thinks Matthew would follow her out the bakery door.
His face lights up in delight. "I wasn’t sure you knew who I was. We never speak when you come to sell to us."
Katie gives him an incredulous look. What is wrong with him? Is he some sort of idiot? She wonders if Matthew could have been kicked in the head by a mule like the oldest Hawthorne boy was last year. He seemed bright enough while they were in school, but his current behavior calls that into question.
Katie snorts. "Of course, I know you. I should be surprised you me, if anything. What did your daddy want?" She repeats, folding her arms over her chest, growing impatient. Why won't he tell her what he needs? And why is he acting so weird?
His face is red now, and he scratches the back of his head. "No, Daddy doesn't need anything else." He gives her a pained expression before seeming to gather his resolve. "The thing is, Katie, I'm done with work for the day, and I wanted to know if I could walk you home."
"Huh?" Katie was stupified.
Why would Matthew think she needed somebody to walk her home? It wasn’t anywhere near dark, and in the pocket of the slacks she wears is a long, sharp knife. It’s a known fact Katie Bowe can take care of herself. Sure, he's bigger than her and a lot stronger. She eyes his physique, remembering times she watched him haul heavy supplies from the train depot across the street from the Sullivan’s shop. He never even looked winded.
"I don't need anyone to walk me home." She says.
Matthew grows redder by the moment.
An idea smacks her between the eyes.
Oh.
Katie examines Matthew closely, searching his face for an answer. What she suspects doesn’t seem possible. It’s certainly improbable. He acts like he’s interested in her.
Why would someone like Matthew be interested in her? Strong, handsome Matthew Sullivan shouldn’t be interested in fatherless, motherless, dirt-poor Katie Bowe.
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I've seen "I don't know how to play with toys anymore" a few times lately and just wanted to point out-
Playing with toys looks different for everyone, even actual children!
Playing with toys can look like: 🧸🪁🚂
Taking pictures of your toys and writing captions for them
Brushing or grooming soft toys or toys with rooted hair
Ordering or sorting your toys by colour/species etc
Making up stories, poems or comics about your toys
Dressing or accessorising your toys
Imagining your toys talking to you or each other, forming opinions of their own, etc
Drawing your toys
Taking your toys for a walk outside, even in a backpack or pocket if you don't want to carry them openly
Making lists of the toys you have and where you got them etc
Feel free to add your own ideas
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I got my hair cut the other day and of course I had to draw the dca boys running a hair salon:
Sun would be so effortlessly charming. Always chatting away with customers, explaining each product he uses and how to best maintain and style their hair.
Moon I can see being popular with the less chattier customers (like me) but over time they begin to open up. I imagine he hums while working. Otherwise, he's all ears for the newest gossip.
(The clipped up hat idea came from @bamsara's solar lunacy doodles!)
Also I love the popular headcanon that the dca can speak other languages, so I can imagine them being a hit with the aunties.
The full sketch page under cut! And some of my other thoughts
Other thoughts about this... AU? Can I call it an AU? Feels kinda small for an AU, but whatever:
Eclipse works there too! Haven't decided if it would be canon or fanon Eclipse, though I really like the image of 4-armed Eclipse working on 2 clients at once (plus, the nickname Clip is perfect for this scenario)
of course they're great with kids! They'd be able to console kids that get scared of getting their hair cut. Sun would do a little trick and tell them how good and brave they are all the way through. Moon would console them and hum a soothing song (or hey maybe they notice the kid's wearing a disney shirt and starts humming some showtunes). Every kid gets a candydrop and a balloon on their way out.
y/n works at the hair salon as a part-timer and does tasks around the salon like sweeping, arranging bookings, washing hair, etc. They don't really care too much about their own hair, but the boys are always offering to style it, dye it, braid it. With y/n's permission, the boys always toy with their hair—patting it, combing their hands through it, brushing it over y/n's ear, ruffling it.
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(ETA: now edited and up on AO3)
Look. Eddie knows he can be a little uptight about these things, but. There are rules. If you become a vampire, you don’t need to go full gothic Count Von Dickhead or whatever, but you absolutely cannot just wander around in a puffy vest and light-wash jeans.
“Why not?” says Steve. He’s leaning back in an armchair, sipping on a bloodbag like it’s a goddamn juicebox. “What, are the vampire police going to arrest me?”
He pauses. “Wait. There aren’t vampire police, are there?”
“No,” says Eddie. “Probably not. I don’t know. But there are standards which you are refusing to uphold, Steven.”
“Thought you were all about hating conformity, Edward,” Steve says. He’s got an obnoxiously cocky little smirk, the smug undead fucker.
Eddie grimaces. “Don’t call me that, asswipe. Don’t you feel, like—the call of the night? The siren song of life coursing through fragile human veins? A hunger for destruction that those paltry plastic bags of blood can never truly slake?”
“The bloodbags aren’t so bad,” says Steve, around the straw. “Better than protein shakes.”
“I actually hate you,” Eddie tells him. “Vampirism is wasted on you.”
Steve noisily slurps the last of the blood out of the bottom of the bag. “Come on, you can’t really picture me in some Dracula getup, can you?”
The problem, of course, is that Eddie really, really can. When Robin had read him in on the whole situation, obviously he’d been horrified and concerned—but also, a whole wing of his brain had immediately been cordoned off to work overtime imagining Steve in elaborate Dark Prince regalia, maybe leaning elegantly out of a castle window on the moors, gazing into the foggy dusk. Velvet might’ve been involved.
“...guess not,” says Eddie. It doesn’t sound incredibly convincing to his own ears, but Steve just shrugs and gets up to throw the bloodbag away.
“There you go, man,” he says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s the 80s. Vampires can be whatever we wanna be.”
———
It gets way too easy to forget about Steve’s condition, until Eddie ends up having to haul him out of a bar in Indy before they get banned for life.
“Simmer down, buddy,” Eddie says, pulling him into the shadow of the van. “Let’s get those fangs packed away before any of the nice villagers wander by with torches and pitchforks.”
“I’m good,” pants Steve. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
Eddie lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, that’s why your eyes are glowing red and you’re, like, fully vamped out. Which, by the way, looks extremely dumb with the whole clean-cut vibe you decided to rock tonight.”
“Fuck you, I look great,” says Steve, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s not wrong, it’s just not relevant to how he also looks extremely dumb like this, wearing a pristine henley with fangs hanging out in the parking lot for anyone to see.
“So what the hell happened in there, man? I was finally starting to get somewhere with Todd, and…” Eddie trails off in dawning realization.
“Holy shit, am I—I’m like your territory, aren’t I? Your stupid vampire brain got all screwy and decided to loop me in with Robin and the kids as part of your freaky human coven.”
“Uh,” says Steve. He looks unhappy in a shifty kind of way. “Something like that, maybe.”
“Wait, so, are Nancy and Jonathan—are you okay with them because they’re both already in the vamp pack? Is Vickie gonna have to be inaugurated before she and Robin can bone down?” Eddie perks up. “Shit, is there a ceremony? We could totally do a ceremony.” He bets he can get the kids to liberate some velour curtains from the drama club. With a few candles, they could get some serious atmosphere going.
“No, shut up, nobody’s doing a damn ceremony,” Steve groans. “Vickie’s fine.”
“Okay,” says Eddie. “So…you gonna tell me what all that was about, then? Do I have to start running guys past you first so your vamp instincts don’t wig out? Or…hm, maybe Argyle’d be down to mess around sometime.”
Steve lets out an actual snarl with weird animal echoes, then claps a hand over his mouth.
“Sorry,” he says, muffled. The shadows around them seem darker somehow.
“So I’m just not allowed to get laid ever again,” says Eddie slowly. “For vampire reasons.”
“Do whatever you want, man.” Steve’s still got his hand pressed tight over his mouth.
“And it’s…just me?” Eddie peers at the tightness around Steve’s eyes; the way he’s scowling stubbornly at his feet. “Huh. Kind of…possessive, Harrington.”
“It’s—weird,” says Steve miserably, dropping his hand at last. “I know it’s fucking weird.”
“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs, biting down on the grin he can feel tugging at his mouth. “Lucky for you, I’m into that shit.”
“What?” Steve frowns. “You’re…”
“Always wanted a vampire boyfriend,” says Eddie. “Like, are you kidding? I would’ve sold my fucking soul at 15 for something like that.”
“I’m starting to feel a little objectified here,” says Steve, but he’s smiling, and he reaches out to snag Eddie’s belt loop and tug him stumbling closer. “Just in it for the fangs, huh?”
“Well, you’re kind of a shitty vampire, actually.” Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “So I guess I must just be in it for you.”
Steve hesitates, searching Eddie’s face. Stray red lights are still sparking like embers in Steve’s irises. “Okay, but—you’re in it? Right?”
“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Bunnicula. I’ll send the vampire police after you, just watch me,” says Eddie, and kisses him.
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