after-the-end-times

[after-the-end-times]

— blog theme: femme fatale

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[after-the-end-times]

steve falls asleep ten minutes into movie night

[after-the-end-times]

Former Minnesota Vikings punter, Chris Kluwe, who was blacklisted from the league for standing up for marriage equality, speaks at a city council meeting where he calls Trump a Nazi. He is subsequently arrested and carried out by police.

[after-the-end-times]

Taylor Swift | The Eras Tour - Santa Clara, CA

[after-the-end-times]

Maria Clara Eimmart  Phase of the Moon, Phases of Venus, Aspect of Jupiter, Aspect of Saturn, late 17th century

[after-the-end-times]

When we Begin

Written for @steddiemicrofic

Prompt:Rose |Wc #367 |rated:Gen |CW: none

It’s cliche but Eddie really does love roses.

He thinks they’re romantic but not in a cheesy romcom way. He finds them a little macabre in their versatility. How they’re the flower you give a new love on a first date and they’re the flower you drop onto a casket as you say a final goodbye. Love can begin and end with a single rose.

In Eddie's opinion they’re metal and he’s never been embarrassed about what he enjoys. Then again, he’s never talked about why he likes them before now.

“Is that weird,” Eddie asks after Steve’s been quiet for too long. The joint they’ve been sharing is down to its last dregs and Eddie fiddles with putting the roach out before it can burn his fingers.

“I think it’s neat,” Steve says at last, eyes fixed to the roof of Eddie’s van. “Guys never talk about their favorite flowers. Is it red roses that you like?”

Eddie nods. “Red, white, any color, except yellow.”

Steve snorts, finally rolling his head to look over at him. “Not metal enough?”

They’re close, laying in the back of Eddie’s van at the quarry. They’ve been coming here more often. Ditched by Robin and left to their own devices while she’s out with Vickie.

“I don’t think yellows my color.” Eddie grins. “Might be yours.”

Steve hums. “I think I’m more of a poppy guy.”

Eddie can see it. Steve in a field of poppies. All orange and red, sun bright above him, smile even brighter. Eddie will find a field once spring comes along just to see it for real. He bets it’s a sight.

The thought follows him home, fills his dreams with color and the sound of Steve’s laughter.

When morning comes, Eddie’s roused by the sound of knocking. He stumbles to the door, ready to chew out whoever’s at his door only to freeze the moment it’s open.

Steve stands there, holding out a red rose, cheeks pink.

Eddie thinks about what he’d told Steve the night before. How love begins with a rose.

“Hi,” Steve says, voice soft and full of affection.

Eddie takes the rose, hides his face in the aromatic petals. “Hi.”

[after-the-end-times]

Soft evenings

[after-the-end-times]

part one

“so how was your first day?” robin asks steve as he slides onto the barstool next to her and chrissy.

“it actually wasn’t that bad,” steve shrugs before taking a long pull from the freshly opened bottle the bartender slides his way.

“it wasn’t that bad?” chrissy asks, incredulous. “so he didn’t make you go to the erewhon all the way across town? the one he goes to because selena gomez was seen there once?”

“that’s why he made me go there?”

“yeah, he really likes that one movie she’s in.”

steve thinks for a moment. “the dead don’t die?”

“no, the one with the dancing,” chrissy snorts.

steve makes a face and then shrugs again. “i made him his breakfast, i drove him around, i organized his tshirt closet… pretty standard stuff for an assistant.”

“you organized his tshirt closet? what the fuck does that even mean?” robin asks, laughing.

“exactly what it sounds like,” steve grins at her. “anyway, really, it wasn’t that bad. sure, he’s insufferable but not anything i couldn’t handle. don’t worry about it.”

“well, thanks for doing this,” chrissy says. “vickie handled it for a while, but i guess once you’ve been fired twelve times in the course of six months, you have to draw a boundary with the thirteenth.”

“it’s really not a big deal, it’s not like i’m doing it for free,” steve responds. “the money is more than worth it.”

“still, i know how he can be. but he’s really not so bad. once he’s… comfortable.” chrissy frowns.

“whatever,” steve shrugs for a third time. “i’m just here for the cash.” he winks and gives her a reassuring smile.

~*~

the next morning, steve pulls up to eddie’s huge beverly hills mansion bright and early, just as he had yesterday. he punches in the gate code, waves to the security guy on duty, and makes his way inside to the kitchen.

eddie storms in while steve is halfway through cooking another omelette, this time with tomatoes and onions and freshly grated cheddar cheese.

“i don’t care, wheeler, i’m not making a fucking appearance and i’m definitely not doing it with him,” eddie snarls into the phone pressed to his face. he hasn’t seemed to notice that steve’s in his house again.

eddie waits for whoever it is on the phone to speak before he says, “well maybe i don’t want to fix it. maybe this is it,” and then hangs up the phone. he lets out a frustrated little scream before he turns to leave the kitchen, finally noticing steve by the stove. “you’re back,” he says, voice monotone.

“i’m back,” steve smiles, sliding the plate full of food across the large island toward him. eddie looks down at it like he’s surprised. “eat,” steve tells him.

“another sweater vest?” eddie sneers instead of picking up his fork.

“i like them,” steve shrugs, still smiling.

eddie rolls his eyes. “whatever,” he mutters and then picks up the plate and retreats from the kitchen.

~*~

eddie is deeply annoyed by how good steve’s omelettes are. he practically licks the plate clean when he’s finished, which only serves to make his bad mood worse.

“can i take your plate?” steve asks from the doorway of the living room.

“jesus christ, man, wear a fucking bell,” eddie grumbles before holding out the plate, forcing steve to walk across the room to the couch and take it from him.

“i’ll remember to announce myself from now on,” steve replies. “chrissy just called; you have another meeting with the pr team this afternoon. we’ll leave here in about an hour.”

eddie doesn’t respond and steve goes quietly back to the kitchen.

~*~

eddie tries to confuse steve with the directions to nancy’s office again, mostly just to annoy him since the car has a built in gps. steve ignores eddie, leaving him to play on his phone in the back seat. the windows are tinted dark, just how eddie likes it & it lulls him into a false sense of security to where he’s almost relaxed by the time they get to nancy’s office.

the meeting is a fucking drag. it’s just a rehashing of the morning’s phone call and eddie had already made himself perfectly clear. he’s not willing to fix anything. nancy and chrissy try to double-team him, begging him to think about the tour & the album roll-out & the rest of the band. the entertainment blogs are running wild with the rumors circulating about the other night and now they’re digging up shit that he wishes would stay buried.

“absolutely fucking not,” eddie spits out. “i refuse to be fucking cordial with that moron.”

“fine,” nancy says finally. “i guess we’re done here then.” she gets up from the head of the conference room table and leaves through the big glass doors and the rest of her team takes that as their cue to leave, too.

chrissy levels him with a look, waiting until the last intern has left the room before speaking.

“eddie, i know you’re pissed right now. trust me, i would be too,” she says, using that tone eddie always hates—the one that makes it sound like she’s trying to placate a rabid dog. “but the label has invested a lot of money into you and they need you to put in some work right now. take a minute, take a breath, and then we’ll talk again. but we need to respond; we can figure out what that looks like. i’ll talk to nance… maybe we don’t need a joint appearance. maybe you can just make a statement.”

eddie knows there are a ton of people relying on this tour & this upcoming album. he knows the band doesn’t deserve the hit from this. but what is there to even say? he’s just so fucking angry about it.

“fine. i’ll make an appearance. but i won’t, under any circumstances, be seen with him,” eddie tells her firmly. he slides his sunglasses back onto his face before pushing himself out of his chair and making his way over to the door. “just tell me when and where. and make sure nancy doesn’t make me sound like a fucking idiot.”

“great,” chrissy smiles so bright she looks like a teenager again. “i’ll talk to nancy. we’ll figure it out.”

any reassurance eddie feels is washed away by a renewed sense of annoyance when he sees steve waiting for him in the lobby, still wearing his pastel yellow sweater vest, drinking a purple smoothie from a straw and scrolling on his phone. he’s laughing at something on the screen and the sunlight comes through the huge front windows just right, making him glow golden, and eddie just feels something inside him twist unpleasantly.

steve looks up then to see eddie coming, but eddie breezes past him to the sidewalk. steve jumps up to follow, handing the valet their ticket. when the car finally pulls up, eddie says, “no liquids in the car,” before sliding into the back seat.

he sees steve shrug before smiling at the valet and handing him his half empty smoothie to dispose of and a tip.

the car ride home is silent. eddie practically leaps from the car before it’s even come to a stop when they pull into the driveway. there are packages on the table in the foyer, likely brought in by the security guy at the gate. “grab those,” eddie tells steve with a wave of his hand.

steve follows eddie into the kitchen, arms laden with paper bags and boxes. most of it, eddie knows, is free product and merch, stuff he never uses and mostly stuff he doesn’t even want. steve places the packages on the counter and watches as eddie sifts through them, clearly looking for something.

“do you want lunch?” steve asks. eddie ignores him, finally finding the package he’d ordered earlier today. he flings it across the kitchen island toward steve on the other side.

steve catches the package in his hands and arches an eyebrow.

“open it,” eddie tells him, nodding at paper wrapping. he opens the fridge to pull out a bottle of water and takes a long sip as he watches steve’s fingers tear at the brown paper.

once the package is open, steve huffs out a laugh, barely a breath, before holding up a bright pink cat collar with a tiny bell attached. he shakes it in the air, making the bell tinkle. the collar clearly will not fit him.

“fuck you, man,” steve says, still smiling.

“fuck you, too,” eddie says.

and then he leaves the kitchen.

[after-the-end-times]

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

[after-the-end-times]

[after-the-end-times]

a nice little life

written for @steddiemicrofic ‘rose’ wc: 367 | rated: T | cw: none

Eddie smiled from his rocking chair, the cool air twisting with the steam of his coffee. They’d made a nice little life of it all, he figured, seeing as how he never expected to make it to 25, let alone 50. Lord knows plenty of people (and a few supernatural horrors, if one was being specific) tried to stop him. He was alive from pure spite by now.

The grey sky couldn’t dampen his mood, not as long as those lemon-yellow overalls puttered about the yard. They’d have been garish on anyone else, but they were just right for Steve, his sun, his heart.

“I think this is the year!” Steve called, waving a trowel in the air. Time had been kind to him, evidenced only by the silver at his temples and the lines around his eyes. “This is the year the Eddie wins!”

“It’s not even spring yet, but I respect your confidence.”

“Yeah, but come look at this bush!”

Shaking his head, he stood, wrapping a calloused hand around his cane as he slowly made his way to the railing. He couldn’t move like he used to. Demobats did that to you.

He glanced at where Steve gestured. “That sure is a bush.”

“But look at it. You see those branches? Those are going to hold the good buds. I’ll submit those.”

“I’ve been familiar with ‘good bud’ once or twice in my day.”

“Roses are serious business, Eds. I’m not losing to that bitch in Hopkinsville again.” Steve’s glare was lovingly annoyed. “American Ingenuity is a stupid name for a flower. They weren’t even pretty.”

Eddie shrugged. “I’m telling you, I think she slept with the head judge.”

“Ew, they’re like 90. I don’t want to think about them having sex.”

The scrunch of Steve’s nose made him grin. “Come inside. It’s going to rain soon.”

Steve hurried up the steps, wrapping a dirty arm around his waist, but he didn’t mind. In a few months, this little house would be surrounded by a riot of colors, warm and inviting despite the thorns hidden in the leaves, a place built from years of love and dedication. It was theirs, and it was home.

[after-the-end-times]

sketch of a date ruined by a summer rain EXCEPT nothing is really ruined! Steve is lowkey panicking his plans aren't working but Eddie is loving every second of it ok

[after-the-end-times]

Ficlet idea, designer Eddie and model Steve

OH NO OMFG this prompt was from a year and a half ago (September 2023) because i apparently wrote this whole thing and then accidentally lost it in my drafts😭😭😭 might as well post it now!

A New Muse

Eddie can’t say how he went from the Indiana trailer park to having his own collection at New York Fashion Week without explaining that things like that don’t usually happen to people like him.

Maybe it was the luck of being born an alpha. Or maybe it was just stupid fate.

Who knows? Certainly not him.

And although he’s been used to the lifestyle of excess and glamor for a while now, sometimes the world he lives in now still manages to amaze him.

All it took was a lucky break and his work being seen by the right people. Then he’d been whisked away to riches and fame, his name becoming known by every young adult in a matter of months.

Suffice to say that by this point, Eddie wasn’t overly surprised when he was asked to do a feature piece in a big time magazine. The editor had specifically requested for him to design a few grunge menswear outfits to be modeled alongside the article about his rise to success.

Eddie spent weeks grueling over his designs, making sure all his pieces were representative of the kind of work he does, but it was a struggle to create something that he was proud of and that would explain his vision of fashion.

The interview itself was simple enough, just a handful of questions by someone who already knew far too much about his life. They skirted around his less than pretty past and played up the rags to riches aspect that everyone loved to oversell when it comes to alphas.

And then came the photoshoot.

Eddie had been given measurements of an up-and-coming model who would be showcasing all of the designs. Supposedly, the guy was fine modeling both masculine and feminine clothing, so Eddie was able to keep his sizing consistent across the board.

The only mistake was that he was never given a photo of the model. Or told that he was an omega.

He had no clue that the model would be the most stunning man he’s ever seen.

“Hi, I’m Stevie,” the angle introduced himself with a dimpled smile and wide eyes. His scent dripping with sugary sweetness. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Eddie almost forgets to shake his hand, too enamored with the beautiful omega being presented to him on a platter. He recovers enough to slip his hand into the waiting one.

“I’m an alpha.”

That’s definitely not what he meant to say.

Steve chuckles, a soft charming little thing.

“Good to know. Do you have a name, alpha?”

Eddie’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. He might be drooling. He’s definitely lightheaded.

The omega called him alpha. He could be his alpha.

“Um, I’m so sorry! Eddie! It’s Eddie!” he spits out in a rush, attempting to recover from his temporary lapse in sanity.

Another angelic noise of amusement.

“You’re sweet, Eddie,” Steve tells him, sounding slightly forlorn about it. “But I can’t date a coworker.”

Eddie can practically feel his ears pin back against his head in disappointment like a kicked puppy.

“Oh. Right, yeah, no that makes sense. Smart idea. Gotta be careful when you’re a professional.” His voice is thin and unconvincing.

Being rejected by a perfect angel hurts more than he thought it would.

Steve’s perfectly plump lips turn upward slowly.

“But if you find me after the shoot when we’re not coworkers anymore, you can buy me coffee. That is… if you let go of my hand so I can do my job first.”

Jesus Christ.

Eddie had never let go of his hand.

He loosens his grip long enough for Steve to make it through the shoot and then he vows to never let go again.

They’re mated a year later, right before Steve changes his modeling demographic to maternity photoshoots instead.

And Eddie finds his lifelong muse.

[after-the-end-times]

When is the last time you were in an airplane?

Currently in an airplane

Less than 24 hours ago

Days ago

Weeks ago

Months ago

Years ago

Never been on an airplane

[after-the-end-times]

Some of you are falling hard for the Trump/Musk anti-federal worker propaganda. I think part of the problem is that a lot of people genuinely don't know how the federal government works, so here's an overview on the intended and current state of the so-called fourth branch of government, the federal bureaucracy:

Executive agencies are considered to be within the executive branch, officially, but can only be created, disbanded, funded, and have new leadership appointed through congressional approval. Well, in theory that is.

The majority of staff in federal agencies are called "career staff" who are nonpolitical civil servants who do every kind of work you can imagine, from IT to accounting to scientific field work to livestock inspections to nursing at VA hospitals. They do not, typically, change from one administration to the next, which is essential to ensure the government is able to continue functioning without interruption. These individuals of course can and do hold their own political opinions, but there are stringent rules on how, when, and where they can express them. It is arguably the most racially diverse workforce in the country. Many are veterans, and many are disabled.

Each agency is headed by a political office appointed by the president and confirmed by Congress. This includes a Secretary or Administrator and all of their hand-picked office staff, who are called "politicals." However, even before Congress confirms the president's nominee, the president can appoint an interim leader with no approval, who has essentially all the same powers but can't hold the position for very long. In short, even in those offices where a leader has not been confirmed by Congress, they are being led by Trump appointees.

When Trump makes an Executive Order, those orders are immediately dispensed through the executive agencies, who must abide by the letter of the order. I saw someone say NPS was "complying in advance" by taking the T off LGBT, but these changes were made across all agencies in direct response to Trump's "Defending Women" order. Any career who did not follow this order would have immediately been fired with cause, no unemployment eligibility, and in the current environment we also know their position would be permanently dissolved.

This is what we're dealing with right now. Trump (and his puppet master Musk) do not have the authority to dissolve government agencies, but they are trying to gut them, harassing careers and making the public turn against them, conducting illegal firings, threatening them into resigning. When people leave, their positions will disappear. Their intent is to diminish the staff until the agencies are non-functional. That's why careers are picking their battles. We're holding on by our fingernails to keep federal agencies alive and functioning. We're in the midst of a hostile takeover, a literal coup of the US government.

Yes, it's awful the T was removed on the website. We don't want this. But I promise that is small potatoes compared to the other battles being fought. I have trans coworkers being forced back to the office and they don't know what bathroom they can use. Our personal information is being leaked to hate groups. Careers are getting threats and spam to their work and personal emails. Most of us expect to be illegally fired. Soon. Last week was the largest layoff in American history, and it's just the beginning.

Please support federal workers. We are under attack.

[after-the-end-times]

My Rose

This is for @steddiemicrofic's February prompt, "rose". Inspiration from MY ROSE by Beyoncé.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 367 | CW: Mild negative self talk | Tags: Established relationship, hand jobs, pet names

divider by @/saradika-graphics

Steve stares at himself in the mirror, face as close as he can get without going cross-eyed. He's looking at one of his moles. The one that makes his face asymmetric. He hears his mother's voice in his head, telling him to cover it up so he'll "still be pretty".

He sees Eddie walk up behind him in the mirror. Feels his warmth as he presses the front of his body against the back of Steve's.

"You looking at that mole again, my rose?" Eddie whispers in his ear.

Steve snorts. "That's a new one." Eddie collects pet names for Steve like they're little treasures, bringing out new ones to fit every occasion.

"Mmmhmm." Eddie presses his hands under Steve's shirt, cold fingers trailing over Steve's warm abdomen. "Was thinking about your mole. All the little things you let get you down about yourself. They're part of you, though. They don't make you any less beautiful. Like thorns on a rose. My rose."

Eddie nibbles the skin behind Steve's ear gently. Just how Steve likes. Steve sighs out a shaky laugh. Eddie manages to surprise him nearly every day with the force of his romance. Steve has always been the romancer before, never the romanced. It's a nice change.

"My love," Eddie says, lips moving down Steve's neck. "My sweetie-pie." One hand moves to the waist band of Steve's pants. He pulls them down, freeing Steve's cock. "My baby." He wraps the hand around Steve's cock, giving it a gentle stroke.

Steve is rapidly growing hard beneath Eddie's ministrations. Eddie swipes a bit of precum up with his thumb and uses it to smooth the way. "You're my heart," Eddie whispers in his ear, beginning to stroke in earnest. Steve pants, his hips moving to thrust himself into Eddie's hand.

Eddie locks eyes with Steve in the mirror. His pace picks up. His brown eyes are intense, so full of a love that Steve has been denied for most of his life. He tries to look away, but Eddie grabs his chin, forcing Steve to keep looking at him in the mirror.

"My rose," Eddie whispers sweetly in his ear, as Steve cums all over the vanity.

[after-the-end-times]

Spin this wheel to get a word and this wheel to get an animal. Congrats, this is now your new MGS codename.

Reblog with your codename btw I'm curious-

(I'm Acid Cobra)