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rumunstelle · 18 days

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Manager of my Heart

Warnings : None

Summary : As the manager of Luxiem, you were responsible with managing these boys. Who would've know these bkys would develop... An interest in you..?

(In this fanfic, NIJISANJI is an ACTUAL office, where all the liver's go to, to stream :PP)

In the bustling heart of NIJISANJI EN's headquarters, there was a palpable sense of excitement as Luxiem prepared for their upcoming anniversary stream. The members being Luca, Shu, Ike, Mysta, and Vox

They were well-known for their charisma and charm, but behind the scenes, they shared a common, unspoken distraction. Their interest for you, their manager

You were the definition of efficiency, your head always buried in your planner, phone pressed to your ear as you coordinated events, sponsorships, and media appearances. Your obliviousness to anything not but your schedule was almost comical at most

As they gathered in the conference room to discuss the stream's logistics, the members exchanged knowing looks. Each harbored a gentle admiration for you, appreciating your dedication and often, your unintentional neglect of their not-so-subtle hints of affection

Shu, more reserved, showed his affection through helping you when your in need. Like, helping you with the technical issues. Your not the brightest when it comes to technical stuff, but luckily Shu was there to happily lend you a helping hand!

Ike, the dear novelist, attempted to engage in deep conversations about books and art, hoping to catch your interest. Even though, you always engaged, you were to caught up with work to notice the deeper intentions behind his words

Luca, threw flirtatious comments your way. But, in a very dorky way “(Y/n), if I had a stream for every time you crossed my mind, I’d never be offline" You chuckled, scribbling notes without missing a beat. “Make sure those streams are scheduled properly, Luca. We wouldn’t want your fans missing out on any of that charm”

Mysta, helping out with anything he can, just to help you with your work, and not stressing us much about your work, yet sometimes his 'help' makes more problems for you. Yet, you still really appreciate him trying to help as best as he can!

Vox, definitely more protective of you when you guys are out. Whether you like it or not, he'll definitely accompany you when your out and about. He doesn't want any creeps to go near you

And despite their efforts, you remained blissfully unaware of there hints of affection. To you, these were just endearing quirks of your talented team, nothing more, nothing less

The anniversary stream was a roaring success, filled with laughter, games, and an outpouring of support from fans

As the night drew to a close, you gathered them together, your eyes sparkling with how proud you are of them!

“You all did wonderfully tonight!” You beamed, your genuine appreciation warming their hearts. “I don’t know what I’d do without such a dedicated team!"

As they all shared a celebratory toast, the members exchanged glances once more. Perhaps it was better this way, their feelings a quiet undercurrent that strengthened their bond rather than complicating it

After all, in the whirlwind world of vtubing, some secrets were best kept just between the lines of a planner and the quiet moments before the stream went live

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kathaynesart · 1 year

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Um ok, today's Replica was AMAZING! I need to go back and reread because someone in the tags said this was Donnie's last time seeing his family. I'm not ready for that! Anyway, I have a question: was Leo going to blow up when Krang assimilation was complete?! Is everyone in the resistance equipped with implants to explode? That would be hardcore. I mean I understand why but man. I just love your comic!

Thank you so much! Yep, this right here is the same moment, just flipping the point of view, so that should help give some context for when this final recording is taking place.

As far as your second question, I suppose I can explain since it is left a little vague... but you are partially correct. Certain precautionary measures have been put in place to ensure that precious information does not get leaked back to the Krang, like how Raph was interrogated in the movie. So no... it would not have blown up once Leo was fully assimilated. It would have blown up much sooner than that. Can't interrogate a body.

Already the outpour has been wonderful from you all, I will be sure to respond personally when I have more time.

#replica #rottmnt replica #future bootyyy shaker 9000 #future donatello #future mikey

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thereasonsimbroke · 11 months

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Beloved comic writer and artist Ian McGinty passes away at 38, leaving a significant impact on the industry.

Known for his work on Adventure Time and Bee and Puppycat, McGinty's death evokes an outpouring of grief on Twitter. Colleagues remember him as a kind and passionate creator who inspired others.

His family suggests supporting the Hero Initiative or encouraging young artists to honor his memory.

#Adventure time #Jake the dog #Cartoon network #comics #comic books #Bee and Puppycat

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deoidesign · 3 months

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Only 40 hours left to back the Time and Time Again Kickstarter!

Time and Time Again is a webcomic I have been working on full-time with WEBTOON for the past few years... But I've decided to avoid a publisher for printing so the books can stay completely mine, and I can keep working on and with this IP for the rest of my life.

It's a risky, scary, and expensive (both time AND money!) decision, but the absolute outpour of support has really shown me that it's possible and worth it!

Right now I'm printing the first season of the comic, which is four complete self-contained graphic novels! I've only finished 3 right now, because I am writing and adding new scenes to the fourth to make it exactly what I originally envisioned, but life got in the way of!

I make the comic in a format that can't be printed, so I've spent MONTHS converting from one format to another. And the books look incredible! You honestly can't tell they were originally scroll format, and it makes for an entirely new reading experience.

The story follows Adam, a straight-laced vampire time agent, and Steve, a rambunctious half-vampire half-werewolf who is forced to time travel every full moon... Each book is an entirely new time period and location!

You can pick whichever book sounds most fun, or if you get all four then you get to see their developing relationship over the course of the series!

Heres a flip through of one of the books, to show a little bit of what you'll be getting! All of the books are so so so beautiful I'm so proud of them!

But if you want just one, here's a quick breakdown of each:

Book 1: Trouble on the High Seas

Finding themselves aboard a hostile pirate ship, Adam and Steve must find a way to work together... lest they be forced to walk the plank.

Book 2: Summer Camp Cowabummer

Volunteering as counselors at a summer camp facing closure, Adam and Steve must manage their campers and the mysterious problems at the camp.

Book 3: Sights Unseen

Dropped into the ocean off the coast of an allegedly haunted island, Adam and Steve find themselves part of a ghost hunting show!

Book 4: Vampires of London

Tired, stressed, and in the hospitality of a vampire hunter, Adam and Steve seek to uncover a murderer in Victorian London… without revealing themselves to the hunter they’re investigating with.

The kickstarter also has some fun add on items!

Romance style slip covers, so your book can slip into something a little more comfortable~

and... paper dolls!

All this to say, I am EXTREMELY proud of these books and have put so so so much time and effort into making them. Thank you to everyone for supporting me over the years and making all this possible, and thank you to everyone for the support on the kickstarter!

If you can't back the project, I understand!!! Thank you for reading, I really appreciate it! help get this shared around so more people can see it before the kickstarter ends!

There's still 40 hours left to get these books!

(and if by chance you happen to have missed the kickstarter when you see this, the page will link to my site where you can preorder the books!)

#and all the support on this decision so far really means the world to me #kickstarter stuff #kickstarter #crowdfund #webtoon #webtoon original #comic book #comic books #comics #graphic novel #crowdfunding #my ocs #time and time again #my art #digital art #signal boost #god I hope this has no typos

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gapsbetweenlovers · 2 years

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little by little

——

Romance has never been a flourishing facet in Carmen Berzatto's life.

His fundamental core resembles a slice of cherry pie. The golden crust, buttered and flaky, epitomizes what keeps him grounded — his kitchen family. Admittedly, they are all guilty of spreading themselves too thin at times, including Carmen. But a snappish reminder for everyone to chill always seems to temporarily patch the breakage. No matter the chaotic blend of clashing personalities running around, there is always an unspoken level of respect, and if someone were to peel back the layers of the pastry, a sense of deep love present between the chefs would reveal itself.

And, of course, a crust is not thought to be perfect without adding a teaspoon of Sugar.

The filling, syrupy and tart, represents the heart of what Carmen does — cooking. It's his identity. From a young boy making hodgepodge recipes with his older brother Mikey, to working his way up the ranks until he was honored with a prestigious James Beard award for his excellence in the culinary arts at one of the best restaurants in the world. He'd beg to differ that last part based on his degrading and mentally taxing experience being chef de cuisine there, but he tries not to dwell on the past. Everything has led him to where he is now — managing his dead brother's sandwich shop, The Original Beef of Chicagoland, and ardently attempting to keep it afloat even when the crew is drowning. Hell, every part of the place is being sucked into the depths of despair.

The topping, latticed and bursting, symbolizes the woven pathways of Carmen's grief. Anger, anxiety, fear, and guilt all cross over one another like a mesh pattern, the cherries of his gashed heart desperately rupturing through the barrier. Mikey's suicide set up roadblocks that Carmen had never encountered before, like his grief manifesting itself in physical pain and surreal nightmares jolting him from his sleep. Most noticeable is his repressed rage. It cuts loose at work, often unannounced and uncontrollable, yelling swears aplenty and throwing objects, ranging from ballpoint pens to pots. He doesn't mean to outpour his anger onto other people, but it's busting at the seams.

So, Carmen may come across as a withdrawn, frantic chef whose ducks are certainly not in a row. In fact, they’re all dead at the bottom of a lake, pale and malnourished. But, somehow, he met someone who has thankfully never witnessed his eruptions in the kitchen and has otherwise accepted his detached and diffident behavior outside of work.

There was an instance a couple of months ago where a girl was standing at the counter, looking at the top menu with a curious expression. You looked like a classic city girl, plucked straight out of the posh suburbs and dropped into the grubby interior of a failing sandwich shop on the brink of bankruptcy. Sticking out like a sore thumb with your comically large tote bag and a shearling leather jacket, it was impossible not to regard you with concealed fascination.

Carmen just so happened to be running Front of House that day, and when he glanced up from the dingy cash register while counting singles, he had to do a double take. Angelic was the first word that popped into his pounding head. It was as if the world around him fizzled away and solely focused on you, a radiant guardian angel sent from above. He froze and went speechless until he managed to stutter out the casual question he asked every customer: What can I getcha?

Long story short, he had a brief conversation with you before he was pulled away to diffuse a fiery argument in the kitchen between Tina and Ebraheim. He learned that you lived in the suburbs of Glencoe, which he could have guessed based on your conduct. You were unruffled by the bustling interior of The Beef, which consisted of orders being loudly relayed to the chefs in the back, the ticket printer whirring constantly, and the chatter of patrons waiting for their meal. None of this seemed to scare you, which piqued his interest as he mentally recalled and stored your order with the dozen others floating around in his scattered brain.

Fast forward to today, a tiring Friday, and Carmen is finally providing you with a proper date tonight, just you and him without distractions or work obligations. Through quick hangouts during his lunch break and late-night phone calls on the verge of sleep, he decided he really liked you and wanted to dip his feet into the dating pool. He’s never had any girlfriends before, a personal choice since he prefers isolation and not giving vulnerable pieces of himself to a stranger, but because of the ease and warmth you so easily bring him, he's willing to give it a whirl. A cautious one, though.

With that being said, the best course of action for this date is to put his skills to the test and cook you an impressive dinner at your condominium.

Unfortunately, the world is working against him today.

It's already going on nine p.m., and Carmen is still at The Beef. He's sitting in his cramped office, the pathetic desk lamp shining a dim light on papers strewn about in front of him. He was supposed to be at your place at approximately seven, but he's been falling behind on inventory. The numbers blur and duplicate from his exhaustion as he hunches over the desk, his hand restlessly swiping through his disheveled hair.

Carmen settles on taking his cell phone out of his pocket, typing his extremely protective passcode of 1-1-1-1-1-1, then opens his contacts. He calls your number, a migraine slowly pulsing in his temples, ready to break the bad news that he got caught up at work and ruined the chance of a nice night. The line rings monotonously, and he bites his nails as he waits for your soft voice to greet him. He's afraid of the disappointment he's going to hear.

"Hello?"

Anxiously rubbing his collarbone, Carmen clears his throat and says, "Hey. Look, I'm so sorry. I know you've been waiting for me."

"Still at work?" you wonder, sweet and understanding.

"Yeah," he replies dejectedly. "Shit's been hitting the fan recently."

"I figured you'd be staying late. It's totally fine. We can take a rain check."

Carmen scratches behind his ear and leans back in his office chair, the rusty springs squeaking in protest. "I feel like an asshole."

Work consumes him like the blackest smoke, and it's easy to forget how to be a functioning human outside of the kitchen. He doesn't even realize all the things he repels until it's too late. Suffocation has become almost addictive.

Your voice is hesitant when you ask, "Do you… still wanna come over? Just to chill?"

Carmen contemplates by closing his eyes and picturing the two forks in the road — going home to his solitary apartment and wallowing in his numbness, or cooking dinner for a beautiful girl who makes him feel alive.

Easy goddamn choice.

"I'd have to catch the 'L' Train," he decides. "Don't know if there's a route to Glencoe running this late."

"You don't have a car?"

Carmen scrunches his face in embarrassment. "I, uh, walk to work. I live close by, and it saves me money."

"Oh, cool. I love that.” You hum thoughtfully. “Well, hey, I could maybe come and pick you up? Unless you just want to go home. The ball's in your court."

"I... you know what? I'd dig that. Yeah, as long as you don't mind.”

"No problem. I'll be there in thirty minutes, okay?"

Carmen nods, internally convincing himself that he made the right choice. That he's not going to screw this up. "Okay," he says quietly, spinning the chair in a semicircle. "Can't wait to see you. I'm sorry I've been so occupied.”

"Don't sweat it, Carm," you reply breezily. "I admire what you're doing with the place. I can't imagine the pressure you face every day. I mean, really, you and your crew deserve a lot of credit."

Carmen runs a hand down his face, a strange rush of warmth spreading through his chest at your words. When was the last time someone said that they admired him? So convincingly and generously? And when you call him Carm, his heart beats faster in a way that’s not caused by panic. What the hell are you doing to him?

The only thing he can say is, "Drive safely, okay?"

You laugh gently. "Always do. Want me to get some food on the way? You must be starving.”

"Nah, I'll make us something. I promised."

"You're very sweet. All right, see you soon.”

He whispers a quiet goodbye before hanging up and softly smiling at the ceiling.

——

As you shove open the glass door of The Beef, you're greeted by the empty aftermath of a busy, beloved restaurant. Downtown Chicago’s streetlights and outdoor neon signs cast just enough light to be able to notice your surroundings. Inside, it's eerily still and quiet, a completely different atmosphere as opposed to when it's lively throughout the day. Everything has been cleaned, perfectly polished stainless-steel sparkling and smelling like disinfectant.

There’s also a bullet hole in one of the front windows, but you choose to actively disregard it. If you don't look at it or think about it, it simply doesn't exist.

"Carmen?" you call, making your way to the kitchen.

Your echoing footsteps lead you to his office, and when you pop your head past the doorway, you find him sitting and twirling a pen between his fingers. He still has his blue apron tied around his trusty white T-shirt, and you’d be lying if you said your eyes don't immediately gravitate toward his biceps filling the material alarmingly well. And his tattoos, scattered sporadically on his arms and hands, beg for a glimpse. His sandy brown hair is raised in all directions, flat and curly all the same, as if he's been combing through the strands nonstop. His posture is that of an old man, and it's clear he is completely and utterly spent. You feel sympathy for the turmoil his mind and body go through day in and day out.

And then there are his eyes. When they find yours, you're mesmerized. They’re an iridescent shade similar to the pale blue of a misty morning sky, and they seem to always appear fatigued. Dead also comes to mind, but that's a little harsh. They are, say, hauntingly beautiful. And they sadden you, but also intimidate you, with the manner in which they bore into the windows of your soul.

"Let's get out of here," you say, smiling and nodding toward the exit.

Carmen stands, stretching, then swipes his wool jacket from the back of his chair. He loosens his apron and stuffs it in a plastic box filled with dozens more, then shrugs his shoulders into his jacket. You notice he almost drowns in it, making him look boyish and fragile. Someone you want to protect.

He shuffles next to you, placing a protective hand on the small of your back and guiding you through the twists and turns of the restaurant. You've realized he's not a touchy type of person. He takes his time warming up to people he's not familiar with, and you sincerely hope that one day he'll get to a place where he feels comfortable enough to let loose around you, flaws and all.

You both jump into your car, immediately cranking the heat because of the autumn chill that currently covers Chicago. You pull out of the vacant parking lot and drive toward Glencoe, the downtown streets lit by stop-and-go lights and vivid signs. From the corner of your eye, you find Carmen resting his head on the defrosting passenger window, his eyes fluttering shut with every second, and building, that passes by. You let him sleep peacefully, braking with the slightest pressure and making the safest turns.

When you finally arrive at your condo, a brick structure surrounded by towering elm trees, it's nearing ten p.m. and fatigue is also washing over you in tiny, pulsating waves. You kill the engine, distant sounds of squawking crows and rustling leaves filling the atmosphere. Glancing at Carmen, you find that he's slowly waking up, the look on his face telling you he feels guilty for crashing so fast. And in your car on a supposed date, no less.

You had a nagging feeling this would happen, but you're honestly not disheartened by it in the slightest. If anything, he deserves some rest after everything he has to deal with. Apparently earlier today, Richie was stabbed in the ass by Sydney, as Carmen so bluntly passed on in his text message to you.

Pray tell, you had responded.

He probably deserved it, was his honest explanation. That's all you need to know.

You unlock your door and step inside your temporary home, flicking the lights on as you drop your tote bag to the floor. Carmen has only been over two times before, and yet he makes a beeline straight to your one-wall kitchen like he lives there.

"What're you in the mood to eat?" he asks, already pushing the sleeves of his jacket up to his elbows.

"You really don't have to. I know you're tired."

"No, no. Lemme whip somethin' up for you. I insist."

You cross your arms and toss ideas in your head. "Well, I've been craving a grilled cheese, actually. Think you can handle that, chef?"

A small smirk plays upon his lips. "Bread, butter, and cheese… what could go wrong?"

As Carmen searches your pantry and refrigerator for the ingredients, you sit on the kitchen counter and swing your feet while watching him effortlessly prepare your comfort meal. He's so meticulous with the way he smears butter on two slices of honey wheat bread all while fastidiously flicking on the stove's gas like he's cooking for a food critic. You grab a pan for him from the cupboard directly underneath you and set it over the flickering blue flame. His hip nudges your knee, teasingly scooting you out of his way so he can work his culinary magic.

As the bread toasts, he asks, "Where do you keep your cheese?"

"In the crisper drawer."

He nods and opens it, then tuts in disapproval. "Really? Kraft singles? You need the real shit, baby. Real, authentic American cheese. None of this processed garbage."

You hop off the counter and tug on the gold chain loose around his neck, pulling him closer. Your boldness might have something to do with the fact that he just casually called you baby. "My apologies, chef," you whisper.

His lips part, a thick silence hanging in the air. Your fingers hook around his belt loop, patiently waiting for him to initiate something. You watch his throat bob with a swallow. His eyes don't waver from your face. They hold so much hidden emotion, and you'd do anything to open the capsule to all of them.

"I'm not good at this kind of thing," Carmen murmurs, a tinge of regret swimming in his tone.

"What do you mean?"

He sighs. "I don't know. Intimacy, I guess. Kissing on a first date. Dating in general."

Your heart soaks up his insecurities. "You just have to let your body feel it," you say, your other hand sliding up his chest and into the hair that curls around his ear. “Let it come to you naturally. What is your body telling you right now?"

"It's telling me that if I kiss you right now, there's no going back." Carmen's gaze flashes to your mouth. "That I'll look back on this moment and remember that despite all the other parts of my life I fucked up, at least I did one thing right."

"Then I think you should listen."

Carmen inhales sharply and ducks his head, his lips clashing with yours, deep and hungry. His hands grip your waist, drawing you against his firm body. His nose slides next to yours as his mouth coaxes pleased noises from your throat. His own moans mingle with yours to create the perfect concoction. It's messy and uncoordinated, but it's human. Teaching him the ropes of how to let his good emotions rise up against the bad ones and bubble toward the surface.

The strong smell of burnt toast wafts your way, causing you to reluctantly pull apart from Carmen's needy mouth and blindly click on the stove's overhead fan so the smoke detectors don't wake the entire neighborhood.

"Didn't mean to be a distraction," you say coyly, backing away slowly and then spinning on your heel.

Carmen, flushed with swollen lips, says, "No worries."

Little by little, he's blooming like the petals of a rose, unfurling just for you. And he's a beautiful garden that's worth helping flourish.

——

#the bear fanfic #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto fluff #jeremy allen white #the bear #the bear fx

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blazehedgehog · 4 months

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What fired you up more this week: Prime’s incredible pixel artistry, or Sonicman vs. Mephiles?

Sonicman vs. Mephiles, no contest.

Sonic Prime having a bad pixel art flashback sucks, but it's more of a "they're at it again" scenario. We've already had at least two of these just in Sonic Prime alone, in the first batch of episodes. Though it's fair to argue this one might be worse in some ways. Sloppy tile placement, mismatched art styles, weird proportions, mixed pixel resolutions, choppy framerate... somebody tried, maybe, but they didn't try hard enough.

We had the same problem with the credits for the first Sonic movie, something they corrected for the second Sonic movie by hiring very talented pixel artists straight out of the community (shoutouts to Mit and Crepe).

No such luck here. Given the show's production schedule, maybe it makes sense they wouldn't swap out for more talented pixel artists. But they needed to do a LOT better.

Sonicman vs. Mephiles, on the other hand... You wouldn't think I'd care, but even back when people were still in shock over how bad Sonic 06 was, everybody still loved the absurdity of Sonicman.

Both characters have kind of been ignored for their connection to Sonic 06, but Mephiles has been slowly gaining some traction. He's turned up in games like Sonic Runners and Sonic Forces Speed Battle, he's gotten his own plushie, and just next month he's getting his own action figure courtesy of Jakks Pacific.

Comparatively, Sonicman has gotten almost nothing. Outside of fandom memes, his main claim to fame was being referenced in the Archie comics for one panel, one time, as a Power-Rangers-style TV show airing on Breezie's entertainment network. A future issue was supposed to introduce him properly, as well as the rest of his sentai team, but the book was canceled before that happened.

So Sonicman deserved a win, in my opinion. And the race was so close, it was hard not to get really, really invested in it. The last 48 hours of the Sonic Channel poll was a lot of back and forth between Mephiles taking the lead and Sonicman taking it back. It was kind of harrowing. I was on the edge of my seat.

And, goodness. The fan art it generated. It's been said, but it almost didn't matter who won, because the outpouring of cool images this resulted in is worth the battle alone. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10]

#questions #Anonymous #sonic the hedgehog #sega #sonic team #sonic channel #mephiles #sonicman #sonic prime #pixel art

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madaboutmunson · 1 year

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Ok because the other two little fics were so well liked my brain could stop thinking about it.

So we've got how the song in question was written, the song when Corroded Coffin make it big, so consider this one the last time that song is ever played live by Corroded Coffin.

It starts with a little shocker so I've hidden the story under a read more so people don't accidently read it, in case it upsets anyone, but trust me when I say it's not all doom and gloom 😉 I got you 💚

The day the news of music legend Eddie Munson passing breaks, it plunged the world into deep, dark despair. A shocking departure that stopped newsreaders in their tracks to announce it.

The bombshell news was plastered everywhere for weeks, billboards, posters, newspapers, magazines, murals, tv show opening monologues, and this thing slowly emerging, the internet, had its forums full of theories as to what had happened, as no announcement had come from the Corroded Coffin camp as yet.

There was no sign of illness or injury. No accident or crime details. He seemed to have just...died.

The outpourings of condolences from countless heavy metal icons, hundreds of celebrities, some of which you would never have even guessed, liked Corroded Coffin, millions of fans worldwide held candle-lit vigils and sang their songs sombrely acapella in meeting places all around the world.

A week later, the band finally released a written statement.

"It was during the hellish times of high school that Eddie found us, protected us, guided us and forged this band of brothers that would go on to conquer not just our fears but the entire world. Impossible dreams came true countless times over, but now we sit in a waking nightmare at the loss of our leader, so now our time must come to an end.

A band is a sum of its parts, and with any one of us gone, this is simply not Corroded Coffin anymore. So it is with the deepest sadness but no regrets we have to say goodnight to you one last time.

Thank you for sticking by us all these years.

Remember to look out for one another.

HFC 4 Eva

The Remains of Corroded Coffin"

With the statement is an announcement that there will be a tribute show organised by Corroded Coffin, but they declined to play all but one song, which a special guest on guitar.

A month later, the tribute show goes ahead, but no stadium can hold it due to demand, mainly because the band had to fulfil Eddie's final wishes.

One of which was causing the most problems, Eddie wanted every member of the Corroded Coffin fan club to get the first refusal on a space at the tribute show. So no matter where in the world they were from, they were invited and their travel expenses paid, or something set up so they could join the live feed.

Eddie had jokingly set up the fan club at a merch table in the early days. It got you a Corroded Coffin badge, a hand-painted d20, a poster, access to a monthly newsletter/comic and a hand-drawn membership card signed on the back by the band, all for the price of five dollars. As the band grew, the fan club pack stayed the same, except the merch was better quality, it had to be mass-produced, and the price was lowered to one dollar.

The band also often had membership cards on their person or gave them out for free to fans that wanted them through their music charity for kids living in low-income areas.

So as you can imagine, there were thousands of potential attendees, but if you didn't have the card, you weren't getting in, no matter how much money you had or how famous you were.

The crowd is a sea of Corroded Coffin fans of all ages and all walks of life.

The first people out on stage are Corroded Coffin.

All of them.

The three band members wheel out an enormous coffin encased in rusted metal sheets with haphazardly driven rivets to keep it together, standing up tall, onto a platform at the back of the stage. They do this in absolute silence. The crowd is so hushed that on the recording, you can hear the ting of someone dropping a can.

Then the chants start, "Eddie! Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!" Hauntingly fierce like an army ready for battle, they know they can't win.

It spreads across the ocean of fans like a ripple of deafening voices.

Then the concert begins. Not only is the lineup littered with some of the most famous musical artists in the world, but also many of Eddie's favourite bands, and to introduce each of them is a celebrity pairing.

Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley. Prize-winning journalist and film director, respectively.

Tech Whiz Kids Dustin Henderson and Erica Sinclair.

Internet entrepreneur duo Jargyle.

Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers. Heads of a missing children's charity.

Award-winning scientists Mike and Will Byler.

Novelist Lucas Sinclair and Skateboarding legend Mad Max.

Then lastly, a fan favourite, Eddie's Uncle Wayne. He had made a cameo appearance in every video they had ever made, was on every concert video and was always thanked in the album notes.

"It is my greatest honour that the boys chose me to introduce the last performance of the evening. I know this song was his favourite, and many of yours also. So without further ado...Sadly, for the final time, Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Corroded Coffin," he shouts finally over the crowd's roar as flames shoot out of the sides of the coffin on stage, and the three remaining members walk out.

They say nothing and launch into the heaviest song Corroded Coffin ever wrote.

A lead guitar joins in but with no guitarist to be seen.

As the song draws to a close, a man walks out in a denim battle vest a little too snug for him, his hair voluminous but dishevelled. He's holding the prop guitar.

He swings it around, smashing it into the floor behind him, and with an almighty swing back in front of him, the guitar must know this is its last show because the body splits in two. The man rips the neck of the guitar out of the body and holds it above his head. The fake blood spills out of his mouth, and the tears flood down his face as he punches the air in time with the Eddie chants before he blows a kiss at the crowd and then one at the coffin.

There is a curtain call for all involved as pyros and flames fill the air around the stage until the last fan leaves the area. Then the curtain finally drops.

Everyone heads backstage or to the trailers behind it for food and drinks.

All except one person. Steve Harrington.

He looks around to ensure the coast is clear, approaches the giant coffin structure, and puts his hand on it, still warm from the flames.

"I never did find the right time to tell you this, and it looks like I'm too late." The tears prick his eyes again, and the first one that escapes down his cheek causes the rest to follow in droves.

His sobs are so loud he covers his mouth to quiet them for fear of anyone overhearing, "I love you, Eddie. I just didn't know how to say it, I-I d-didn't know if you felt the same, so I'd act like I didn't care and hoped you'd make the first move, but you didn't. And then you got famous, and were gone. I saw you a handful of times, and every time I wanted to tell you, something got in the way, or I chickened out, you know, because...well, because maybe you'd reject me and hate me or worse, you'd want what I did, and the press would eat you for breakfast. It would have ruined everything you built, and I couldn't handle that."

He runs his hands through his hair, bows his head, and presses his forehead against the warm sheet metal. "I couldn't take that chance because I loved you so much, so very very much, Eddie." He plants a kiss on his fingertips and presses it against the name plaque on the coffin. He lets out a final guttural sob. "See you on the other side, Munson", he manages finally and walks away.

He takes a last look back over his shoulder as he wipes the tears from his eyes, and Steve swears he sees the thing move.

He shakes his head and takes a few more steps, he can hear Eddie cursing under his breath in his mind, and it makes him smile.

But then Steve freezes to the spot because there is a loud clang behind him. He doesn't want to turn around and fix Eddie's coffin, but who else is going to do it, right?

"Well, that was suffocating!" Eddies voice rings in Steve's head.

Steve steels himself and prepares to see the worst as he turns back towards the coffin, only to find the front of it completely off its hinges, and standing draped in his guitar, with crumbs in his hair and hat with two beer cans in with straws, is one, very alive Eddie Munson.

Steve cannot move. He mutters, "Oh god, I've finally lost it."

Eddie looks at Steve with a perplexed look on his face, "Ah, yeah, you have" he puts his hands on his hips, "Keeping a secret like that from me for like a decade. First of all, how fucking dare you wait until I end everything to tell me, and secondly, get over here, you big stud, and give me some well overdue sugar."

"What...the...fuck..." Steve fearfully whispers to himself, "I'm actually insane."

"Eddie!!" Dustin's excited voice rings out behind Steve as he charges forward, embracing him.

"Hey, watch my guitar, you little shrimp!" Eddie giggles and Ruffles Dustin's hair.

"Wait a second now," Steve says, finger pointed out in front of him, slowly stepping forward, "You can see him?"

Now it's Dustin's turn to look confused at Steve. He scoffs out a laugh, "Well, of course, I can! Are you feeling ok, Steve?"

"But...but...but he died...again...is he like... immortal, or something. Like a-a vamp.. vampire?" Steve tries gingerly, moving closer, one hand still stretched out in front of him like he's trying to ward off something evil.

Dustin and Eddie look at one another in confusion and start laughing.

"Steve, have you sampled some of the special backstage treats?" Eddie asks and turns back to Dustin, "I mean, that might explain why he also just confessed he's had a massive boner about me for over a decade!"

"Really?" Dustin says curiously, and Eddie nods as he takes off his guitar. "Wow."

Then the others start piling onto the stage, all of Eddie's nearest and dearest, and all of them are smiling and laughing and joking, except for Steve, who is watching this happen around him until he erupts.

"How can you all be so god damn normal about this??!!!!! He's just come back from the dead. Not like last time when he passed out. He's been dead for like a fucking month, and your all just-just fucking OK WITH THAT??!!" Steve is yelling at the top of his lungs, hands gesticulating wildly at them all, still keeping his distance, and the group falls silent.

"Oh, no, honey," Joyce says soothingly, walking towards Steve. "It's ok, it must be really scary to see this kind of thing, but you remember, right? It's all just for show." She turns and whispers to Hopper, "I knew all those bumps to the head needed looking at."

"FOR SHOW?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR SHOW?! IT WAS EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE" Steve starts counting on his fingers, "It-it was on the news, and-and in all the papers, and-and the fans did all those vigils" He points accusingly at the band, "You were at least three of those!!"

Robin's eyes go wide "Steve, it's me, Robin. Hi!" She approaches him slowly, "I'm real. We're all real here. Everything is ok" Once Robin is within arms distance of Steve, he pokes at her and squeezes her arm to make sure she is, in fact, real, "OW!! Jesus!!!"

She bats Steve's hands away, "Ok, enough. Listen, did you open the fan club mail this month?"

"The fan cl-? What the hell are you talking about?? Is this a nightmare? Am I dead??!! Is this Hell??!!!" Steve shouts into the air.

"In this month's fanzine, it explained everything. The band wanted to stop and spend time with their families and start new projects, but the press was getting to a fever pitch with them. Gareth had his bins rifled through. Jeff couldn't even take his kid out for his birthday without getting hounded. So Eddie came up with this plan. That way, no one gets blamed for breaking up the band. It just is no more." Robin explains compassionately to Steve.

"So the whole crowd, all of you and the bands, they all knew it was fake?" Steve asks quietly whilst everyone is still staring at him and Robin.

Robin nods but then adds, "Well, not the other bands. We couldn't risk it, but we and the fans are loyal enough to keep a secret. Plus, if anyone even tries to say they've seen him, they'll be labelled like those Bigfoot-spotting people."

Steve shakes his head, "But I'm not a member of the fan club?!"

"The absolute audacity!!! What, you fucking love me, but you're not a member of my band's fan club? What kind of half-assed groupie are you?" Eddie shouts, astounded and a little insulted at Steve.

Jeff turns to Eddie, "You knew he wasn't, man. You made him that special membership card at the hideout for valentine's day, but you never gave it to him, remember?"

"Shut up!" Eddie says through gritted teeth at Jeff.

Steve stands more confidently, his hands on his hips, "Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah, that's right", Gareth laughs, "And then when we were talking about this, you said you'd call him and tell him yourself, Eddie, remember?"

Eddie bites his bottom lip and tries to look as innocent as he can from under his hair, smirking over at Steve, "Did I say that? Really? Funny thing that... I don't remember"

Steve's eyes go wide, "Why, you little shit!!" Steve runs and lunges for Eddie. Eddie is laughing and yelling as he's being chased around the stage by Steve, who eventually captures him in a bear hug when he runs the wrong way around the drum kit.

"urgh...god...let me..." Eddie struggles angrily and tries to wriggle free as Steve squeezes him.

"Oh-hoh no, you are going nowhere, you little prick!" Steve says, squeezing him tighter, making Eddie's face screw up, "What you did, was so not cool!"

"I...only...did...it...cus..." Eddie tries to talk, but it is difficult. He can hardly breathe.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Excuses. You wanted to make me look like an idiot!" Steve says with an unimpressed tone.

Eddie's face is turning pink as he frantically shakes his head in a no.

"Oh, you didn't? Then why?" Steve says, loosening his grip enough for Eddie to take a breath.

Eddie's body sags a little as he takes a deep breath, "Because... I wanted to see if you'd be sad if I died." Eddie says quickly, "I mean, I didn't expect you to agree to headline and the whole speech, you know?" Eddie says, trying to hold back an adoring smile.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head in disbelief, "You made me go through a month of grief to see if I would be sad if you died?"

"Well...it was supposed to be just a day, but then I got genuinely distracted by everything, and then it was two weeks later, and then I thought I could surprise you by jumping out of the coffin, and you'd be overjoyed and I'd say something romantic to maybe win you over, like..." Eddie looks everywhere but at Steve as he details everything.

"Like what? What could you possibly say to make up for that, you complete shithead!" Steve says with an angry squeeze, making Eddie wince and groan.

"That I fought an army of angels and the hordes of hell for one kiss from your sinfully perfect heavenly lips because you're my muse, my love." Eddie manages to get the words out with a struggle.

"What?" Steve says, lessening his grip.

"The songs I write, the ones with my name next to them on the albums, they're all about you," Eddie says as he catches his breath.

"What?" Steve says again, wholly bewildered and fully releases Eddie.

"Our first number one, the one that got a Grammy, and was used in a bunch of movies. That's about you. The um, slow one with the choir on the unplugged album, that's about you. The one we close the shows with, the one with no words, that's about you too. And loads more," Eddie says, adjusting his clothes, looking back up at a dumbfounded Steve, "What? You had no idea? You don't remember? in the garage? You corrected the spelling of sleeve, but it was supposed to be Steve. I just forgot to cross the t" Eddie looks between Steve's eyes for a glimmer of comprehension.

"Ohhh", Steve says finally and points at himself and smiles.

Eddie smiles back at this lovable weirdo and nods.

Steve claps his hands together and looks pleased as punch, turning to the others still pointing at himself with a look of happy surprise.

Everyone nods at him except for Mike, who throws his hands up, "Are you kidding me? The song we danced to at our wedding was about Steve??? Oh my god!" Mike has to be consoled by Will and Nancy.

Steve eventually turns back to Eddie with a massive smile on his face.

Eddie plays with his hair and looks coyly up at Steve swaying from left to right, "So I dunno, do you maybe wanna come live on a secret island with me for a few years until people forget about me, maybe? I mean, I'll have to get my hair buzzed first, and um, lose the whole rockstar get up" Eddie looks up hopefully and gives a cute little shrug.

Steve folds his arms and taps his lips thoughtfully, "Hmmm."

"OH, MY GOD! Could you grown-ass idiots just kiss already? I could be solving the mysteries of the goddamn world, ok? But instead, I'm stuck here waiting for a long-haired freak and his little ex-sailor boy bride to figure out what everyone else knew years ago!!" Erica shouts, exasperated.

"Apart from Mike", Dustin whispers.

"Yeah, except Mike, who is also on team dumbass!" Erica adds.

"Hey!!" Mike says, annoyed, and is immediately swamped by Will, Joyce and Nancy as Hopper pats Erica on the shoulder with a smile.

"Get offa me, sasquatch!" She says, rolling her eyes.

"Well, you heard the lady," Steve says with a smile walking with an over-the-top swagger towards Eddie.

Eddie grins mischievously, jumps up to grip onto Steve like a koala on a eucalyptus tree, and kisses him, once on the lips, with an audible mwah sound.

Steve looks at him with a laugh, "I hope you've got more where that came from because you've got a lot to make up for, Eddie Munson."

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betterthanapokeintheeye · 8 months

Text

The End is just the start of a new adventure

Jason Anthony (as he was back then) started Discworld Monthly back in 1997, the first issue was created on Terry Pratchett's birthday that year.

Terry gave his permission for Jason to create and write Discworld Monthly on the basis it sounded like perfectly normal fan activity to him.

We got invites to launch parties, birthday parties, book proofs used to drop in the door, and the phone would occasionally ring and it would be Terry wanting to know something. In emails Terry used to inform us and berate us in equal measure BUT he always appreciated that we didn't expect anything of him and thus Discworld Monthly was always treated kindly by him.

When Terry died, we managed the outpouring of grief from the fandom, spoke his name and gave our time to the mass of journalists who wanted someone to talk about Terry. We did this to keep those same journalists from Rob Wilkin's and Rhianna Pratchett's doors. Circling the wagons as one might say to allow them time to grieve. Protect them we did and protect them we still do.

However, we always wondered how much longer we could keep producing a monthly newsletter. Would there be enough news for us to carry on?

We managed to continue for 7+1 years. It hasn't been easy.

As it turned out, whilst there is news, sharing the news has become problematic. The internet, whilst wonderful, is also a myriad of trip hazards. We've had our wrists slapped more than once because we posted information that was under embargo, which we wouldn't have published if we had known it was! Our sources have always been from the publishing industry websites - if they don't state information is under embargo, how does anyone know?

We also came under fire from the fandom itself because someone decided they didn't like us. In our opinion Trolls should not stay under bridges, but they should at least be fought when they try to take your head off.

We've had good times though. The memories of the good stuff will always outweigh the bad. The friendships created in 26 years will endure.

Terry Pratchett once said "Discworld Monthly, Better than a poke in the eye with a blunt stick"

Which is true although sometimes we think being poked in the eye with a blunt stick would have hurt us less.

It is time for a change. A big change.

Discworld Monthly is no more. 26 years of newsletters is a huge achievement and as a fan run entity, self funded and self written, we can hold our heads high and proud.

THANK YOU for all your support over the last 26 years. To all those who wrote articles, readers letters, every email, every comment meant the world to us. We hope you continue to support us.

So what is next ?

We decided to broaden our horizons, and do what we did for Terry, but for more authors. We will remain a fan-run entity, but we will use our 26 years of experience to get news out about our other favourite authors alongside the news about Terry's works.

It will always be about fantasy books and it will be a little more ... wild shall we say?

We are sure you have already guessed the name of our new news site.

But just in case..

Drum roll please....

May we present..

Better than a Poke in the Eye, a fan-run news site about your favourite bunch of comic fantasy authors.

What does this mean? It means we will continue to produce the news about our favourite authors' works but we are not constrained to JUST Terry Pratchett. We can share our love and passion for Jasper Fforde, Ben Aaronovitch, Robert Rankin and more.. We can shout out how much we love TANK GIRL and other comic fantasy literature.

It means we can do MORE...

The rebranding will take a few weeks. We will archive the Discworld Monthly issues but it means you will still be able to read back issues. Our social channels will all be converted to our new name and we will still be at events shouting not just Terry's name but others too.

Excited? You bet we are!

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