#fall traditions

[boldmovesagain]

BMO22

THE CONCEPT IS NOT OURS TO OWN, BUT WE LOVE IT DEARLY.

THE TRADITION IS SOMETHING WE HAVE BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST SIX YEARS OR SO, DESPITE THE DEFUNCT ORIGINAL BLOG, DUE TO A FRIEND'S LOVING GENTLE INTERFERENCE IN OUR LIVES.

WE SPREAD THE JOY, THE HYPE, THE OVERWHELMING URGE TO SHAKE THE FOUNDATIONS AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!

SOMETHING AS SMALL AS A NEW COFFEE ORDER OR A SMALL TREAT YOU NORMALLY DON'T GIVE YOURSELF. SOMETHING AS LARGE AS MOVING ACROSS THE COUNTRY OR CHANGING CAREER PATHS. ANYTHING IN-BETWEEN.

WE ARE ALIVE AND WE ARE FREE TO MOVE.

WHAT'S YOURS?

[thelewislounge]

Apple picking fun! 🍎 🍏

[styleherstrong]

Apple Picking in the Fall

Happy Monday, Lovelies! One of my family’s favorite fall traditions is going on an apple-picking adventure. We have been going apple picking since Lilly was three years old, and every year it just gets better. Lilly now scales the ladders up to the top of trees to find the ripest apples and, not to be outdone by his big sister, Lane is now a pro apple retriever (and an even better apple…

[fortheloveofwanderlustblog]

Exeter Corn Maze - The Most Fall-Fun I've Had in Missouri

[samazine]

I'M A NERVOUS WRECK I'M A NERVOUS WRECK I'M A NERVOUS WRECK I'M A NERVOUS WRECK

[hairmetal666]

Eddie thought inviting Steve to the Grammys would be fine, cool, no big deal. And it should be, but Steve is walking out of the suite's bedroom wearing a burgundy tuxedo that fits him like a fucking glove. His shirt is unbuttoned just enough to let chest hair peak out, and Eddie thinks he might faint.

He's always been attracted to Steve, of course, but never let it go further than that. Like, sure, Steve was hot as fuck, and sure he was the best guy Eddie had ever met, and sometimes, yeah, he did have to force away thoughts of Steve when he jerked off, and in other circumstances he'd totally be head over heels. Just, Steve is straight, the straightest, a fucking arrow.

Eddie tears his eyes from Steve's body. "You look great, man." He slaps Steve's back. Keeping it cool; keeping it so cool.

"Psh," Steve says. "Have you looked in a mirror? Oh my god." His eyes are saucer wide as they travel down Eddie's body.

"Is it too much?" Eddie crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"Are you kidding? You're--fuck, man. You look good as hell."

He's wearing a silky burgundy shirt, open to show off the necklaces around his throat, his tattoos, the silver in his nipples. His pants are leather, tight, sitting low on his hips and putting the cut of his pelvic bone on full display. They have a lace-up closure that comes dangerously close to showing pube.

Heat rushes to his face at the compliment. "It's--you know. Hazard of the job."

"Yeah, hazard, sure. Guess it's a hard life having hot dudes literally throwing themselves at you."

Eddie barks out a laugh. "That's a vast exaggeration."

"Is it?"

He blushes harder. "You're my date tonight, Steve."

"My point exactly."

His manager and publicist usher them out the door before he can ask what the hell that meant.

---

The ride is giddy and playful, Steve popping champagne to celebrate Eddie's nomination for Song of the Year, even though there's no chance in hell he wins.

Steve is happy. His face is bright with joy, eyes shining, laugh loud and infectious. He's gorgeous, knows it, will be an absolute menace on the red carpet. He's been with Eddie to parties and stuff before, doesn't have any anxiety in front of the camera and isn't obsessed with musicians like Eddie is, unafraid to meet them.

Or so Eddie thought.

Because now they're standing at the edge of the red carpet, Steve very nearly trembling next to him.

"Harrington?"

"That's--That's Madonna." Steve points to her. "We're not even ten feet away from Madonna." He gulps. "Eddie. Madonna."

Steve has met famous people before with Eddie. Ozzy, briefly, Janet Jackson, Dave Grohl, James Hetfield, and he'd always been fine. Barely batted an eye. But get him within reaching distance of Madonna and he falls apart.

Eddie doesn't think about it, grabs Steve's hand, twines their fingers together. "Okay?"

The smile Steve throws him, grateful and a little embarrassed, stabs straight through his heart. He calms as they make it up the carpet, but he doesn't drop Eddie's hand, even when they pause for pictures. In fact, he leans into it, drapes his arm around Eddie's shoulders, or around his waist, seeming to thrive the closer they are. Eddie feels this dangerous pull to indulge in it, to let himself believe it means something, and he doesn't quite have it in him to turn it off.

By the time they reach their seats, Steve is relaxed back to his normal charming and handsome self, doesn't bat an eye as Eddie introduces him around.

The show passes quickly with all the performances and Steve whispering jokes in his ear. It's the best time he's ever had at an award show, like he should have been bringing Steve along this whole time. He's so distracted that he's not really ready when Paula Abdul comes out to announce Song of the Year.

His name is read off as a nominee and Steve grabs his hand, squeezes tight. Eddie's heart flips in his chest. He's not paying attention when Paula opens the envelope, too focused on Steve's strong hand holding his. He hears her say, "And the Grammy goes to--" and everything goes fuzzy.

Steve is saying, "oh my god, oh my god, Eddie. Get up, get up."

And his fucking song is playing and everyone is cheering, a couple people slap his back, and oh shit, oh shit, he fucking won. He stands, Steve with him. He thinks they're going to hug, that's what you do in these situations, but Steve is kissing him. Not on the cheek and not a quick peck, but lip-to-lip, soft and sweet.

Steve just kissed him and he has to get on stage and give a speech. He has no idea what he says because Steve just kissed him. On the lips. On purpose. His ears are ringing and words tumble out of his mouth, thinks he says, "couldn't have done it without you, Stevie," before tripping over his feet to get backstage.

Interviews, photographs, congratulations all help him settle. He's still buzzing with the win, but aware enough now to think the kiss had to be an accident. They've been friends for nearly a decade and Steve never seemed interested in men generally or Eddie specifically.

It takes a while to finish up the backstage business, but when he makes it to his seat, Steve just beams at him. He doesn't mention the kiss, which makes Eddie think he's overreacting. It wasn't a big deal. Sure, he could still feel Steve's lips, warm and soft, against his own, but it didn't mean anything. He's just too in his big gay feelings to be objective.

They don't get a chance to really talk until they're back in the limo and on their way to the after-party.

"You won," Steve says.

"I won." Eddie smiles. "Crazy."

"You deserved it."

He shrugs. "I don't know about that."

"Doesn't matter. You did." Steve fidgets with the cuff of his jacket. "About earlier, um. The kiss. I--"

Eddie feels his face heating, heart kicking up. It was nothing, he knows, and Steve shouldn't have to-- "It was an accident. It's okay. I know you don't--it was the heat of the moment and--I know you're not--you don't--"

Steve blinks a lot, emotions flashing across his face faster than Eddie can categorize.

"What if I do?" Steve asks. His voice is too soft, eyes locked on the cuff link he's fiddling with.

"You--what?"

"What if I did mean it?"

"You're straight."

Steve goes pink. "I'm really not."

"Steve?" He shrieks. "Since when?"

"Um. Since you invited me to this?"

"What the fuck?" Eddie shoves him. "What the fuck, man?"

"I know, I know!" Steve pulls his hand through his hair. "You invited me and I freaked out and I didn't know why, and Robin made the saddest little face at me. Said, 'oh, dingus, you didn't know?' How the fuck was I supposed to know!"

"I think you wanting to fuck me should've been a pretty good indication!"

"I thought that happened to everyone!"

"It doesn't!"

"That's what Robin said!"

They're both yelling.

"Jesus christ. Jesus christ," Eddie keeps repeating.

"Look, I get it if you don't want me too, dude. I know that's not how it works, but I've been pretty crazy about you without realizing it for a while now, so--"

He doesn't mean to, he really doesn't, but he laughs. Like, super loud. Like a donkey bray.

"Okay, can the driver let me out? Like, can I go? I can't--"

"Wait, wait, sweetheart." Steve's gotten up, like he's about to knock on the partition, but Eddie grabs his wrist. "Of course I want you back, you idiot, oh my god."

"Oh." Steve's ears are pink. "Oh. Well. That's good."

Eddie huffs. "Just good? I won a Grammy and the guy I've been pining over for years wants me back. I'm having the night of my life."

"Shut-up." Steve's smile is so big, his eyes so bright.

He raises an eyebrow. "Make me," he says in his lowest register, but he's truly not prepared for it when Steve clambers over to him and lowers himself to straddle Eddie's hips.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers. "Holy shit, Steve."

He give a wry little smile, eyes locked on Eddie's mouth. "Baby, can I kiss you?"

"Yes." Eddie clears his throat. "Yes, please, do that. Yeah."

Only, he doesn't. He's straddling Eddie, they're so close their breath mingles, and Steve's eyes flicker between Eddie's mouth and his eyes, lips so close to touching but not.

"C'mon, asshole," Eddie says.

"I knew you'd be a brat." He whispers. He wraps his hands into Eddie's hair. "Been dying to do this."

And then they're kissing. They're kissing and it steals all of Eddie's breath and his thoughts, and it's new but it's also like they've been kissing forever, like their lips and tongue know each other, like coming home.

He whines, high-pitched and breathy, and Steve laughs, kisses him deeper, moves closer, and Eddie feels how hard Steve is, the persistent pulse of him. And shit Eddie's close, on the brink just from this, from nothing, oh my god.

Steve's hands drift down Eddie's torso, mapping his chest and his stomach, coming to rest at the laces of his pants. "These have been driving me insane," Steve breaks the kiss to say. "Been thinking about undoing them all night."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you can't say shit like that," Eddie groans.

"Why not?"

"Because--because," Eddie sputters but then Steve's lips are on his neck and he's rolling his hips for friction.

Steve's fingers find the laces again, trace against them. Eddie's legs fall open, arching into the touch. "We're going to be so late," he murmurs as Steve's fingers get to work.

[a2zillustrations]

More in my ghosties series! Anyone have any ideas for more? I’m obsessed

Prints of all these available on inprnt ✨✨🍁🍁

[juxtaposedpunk]

Zero suit Sammy

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

THE GIRLS ARE BONDINGGGGG DSHFSDKHJF!!!! 🌸💫💀 I’m SO excited to share this with you!!! I’ve had this image in my head for a LONG time. I wasn’t expecting to add a background, but I knew I wanted it to be a print, so after drawing the girls I thought to myself, you know what, I may as well go full hog and add one. This was so much fun!!1! I feel like it’s 2015 again, WITH MY FIXATIONS I MAY AS WELL BE SIXTEEN RIGHT NOW XKJHCKKJGHJ!!! I’ve been thinking about watching gaobam during my invader zim kick, and then I was also thinking about gravity falls, but there was part of me that didn’t want that to pull me away from iz….. WELL PROBLEM SOLVED!! I am so genius >:) I’ve been watching both shows lately and having a blast.

Print preorders are live on my store!! I'm planning on printing this, as well as a few other drawings at the end of this month.

Extra under the cut:

[callunavulgaris]

A cozy November house, surrounded by yellowing trees, lights up like a candle against the marbled sky of a chilly fall evening.

[heikala]

I had the honor of painting the cover artwork for the English translation of Keisuke Uyama’s novel ”Love Like the Falling Petals” 🌸😭💕 I loved painting this vibrant artwork to illustrate such a beautiful story!

[dailyrandomwriter]

Day 79

When I was in elementary school, my class would visit the pumpkin patch every year from perhaps Kindergarten to Grade 3 or 4. I can’t quite remember because it was one of those events that you did every single year, so it stopped being overly memorable, even though it was a unique event in your life.

It’s like trying to remember all the Christmases you’ve ever had, or Halloweens for that matter.

Anyways, we visited the pumpkin patch every year when I was elementary school, and this wasn’t just, visit and see a pumpkin patch. There was a tradition. See, I grew up in a rural neighbourhood, so we were closer to farms than we were to the city. Though… the city (or rather cities because there are two of them stuck together like conjoined twins) has expanded over the years. It’s quite possible now, the city is much closer than it was when I was a child.

But anyways that’s nitpicking details, the point is, there were a lot of farms, and so Halloween time, when it came to pumpkin patch field trips, had a list of things you would do before you even saw the pumpkin patch. The first was the tractor/hay bale ride around the farm. I don’t remember if they decorated the field the ride was happening in for Halloween but that was a thing we did. Then, there would be a corn maze if there was one on the farm we were visiting, if not I think at one point they let us loose in a barn that just stored hay bales.

Wonderful idea for the kids, parents probably didn’t not appreciate the straw that got into strange places when the child got home.

Only after those specific things were done (if there were other activities I didn’t remember them) did we go to the pumpkin patch and pick out a pumpkin. Honestly, I wonder (because again my memory is fuzzy) if this was the reason why my family had pumpkins to decorate at all, was because I bought a pumpkin home. I doubt it… my parents really leaned into the Western holidays but only for the kids. That’s a story for another time.

Anyways, that’s what little I remember of a Fall tradition, I kind of miss it.

[artdunk]

best friends

[aubryjoi]

Black cat doodles! 🐈‍⬛

[samazine]

so boycott love prints

[asshatproductions]

It’s almost time for my favorite time of year…

NEURODIVERGENT CHRISTMAS