#walking Dead-Universum

[schattenverse]

#the walking dead #Serie #webisodes #walking Dead-Universum #walking dead webisodes

[afaimsblog]

Von wegen “Ruhe in Frieden” - Das Problem mit dem Serienfinale von “The Walking Dead”

“The Walking Dead” ist offiziell zu Ende. Montag Früh lief die finale Folge der 11. Staffel zum ersten Mal und ist seit dem auf Disney+ abrufbar. Das erste Drittel der elfen Staffel ist inzwischen auch auf Netflix eingetrudelt, und als Quasi-Halloween-Programm liefen zwei Drittel der finalen Staffel in diesem Herbst auf RTL Zwei. Damit sind wir auch einmal zur Abwechslung hierzulande in Abschiedsstimmung. Nur, dass wir natürlich ein großes Problem haben: Es handelt sich nicht wiklich um einen Abschied. Klar die Hauptserie ist aus, aber nicht nur die bereits existierenden Spin-Off-Serien gehen weiter, sondern es gibt gleich neue drei Spin-Off-Serien, die inhaltlich an die Hauptserie anschließen, und die Abenteuer von Figuren aus dieser über das Serienende hinaus erzählen.

Schlimm genug, dass diese drei Spin-Offs samt geplanten Inhalten, lange vor der Ausstrahlung der Serienfinales angekündigt wurden (und man daher von mindestens vier aktuellen und zwei ehemaligen Hauptpersonen wusste, die auf jeden Fall überleben würden), jetzt hat man trotz allen Versicherung von Angela Kang, dass das nicht der Fall sein wird, einen größeren Teil des Serienfinales damit verbracht die Spin-Offs vorzubereiten. Unwissende Zuseher dürften jetzt trotz allem annehmen, dass diese neu begonnenen Handlungsstränge in einer zwölften Staffel, die es nicht geben wird, aufgelöst werden.

 Und ehrlich gesagt hätte man aus den drei Spin-Offs sicherlich leicht eine zwölfte Staffel machen können anstatt drei verschiedenen Serien. Das Problem war aber wohl, dass man den Rest des Casts dann entweder weiterhin vorkommen hätte lassen müssen (sprich bezahlen hätte müssen) oder gezielt herausschreiben hätte müssen, was publik geworden wäre und nicht gut bei der Allgemeinheit angekommen wäre. Wenn man sich des Großteils des Casts entledigt und nur ausgewählte Autorenlieblinge beibehält, dann kommt das immer verdächtig herüber. Das hat schon bei “Once Upon a Time” einen schalen Beigeschmack mit sich gebracht und vermutlich dazu beigetragen, dass Staffel 7 die letzte wird, und eben nicht der geplante Neustart, der sie hätte sein sollen.

Also ja, ist nicht vollkommen unverständlich dass sie so vorgegangen sind, aber es ist und bleibt problematisch. Die Idee billiger wegzukommen, wenn man kürzere Staffeln mit weniger Cast produziert ist nachvollziehbar, aber zugleich gibt es gleich drei davon, was die Frage aufwirft, wie sehr sich die Kosten/Nutzen-Rechnung wirklich auszahlt, und ob die drei neuen Spin-Offs nicht im Grunde sowieso genauso viel kosten würden wie eine zwölfte Staffel.

Auf jeden Fall muss man dem Finale vorwerfen, dass die Spin-Offs diesem die Größenordnung, die es hätte haben sollen, geraubt haben. Im Grunde wurde nur der aktuelle Handlungsstrang beschlossen (und das nicht einmal so besonders beeindruckend), dann gab es zwar einen Zeitsprung, doch der ging nur ein Jahr in die Zukunft und hat nur wenigen Charakteren wirklich einen Abschied beschert, und danach ging es vor allem darum uns für zwei der kommenden Spin-Offs zu teasen, aber seltsamer Weise gerade nicht für den, der als Erstes kommt, und schon ein Startdatum hat. Und klar, es ist verständlich, dass sie, wenn sie den Comic gefolgt wären und einen Zeitsprung weit in die Zukunft gemacht hätten, die Spannungskurven der Spin-Offs beschnitten hätten, aber ein Ende, in dem man Rick und Michonne mit einer erwachsenen Judith und einem erwachsenen R.J, wiedervereint gesehen hätte, wäre ein Ende gewesen und nicht nur ein Teaser für eine kommende Serie. Und nur weil in ein paar Jahrzehnten später etwa ein Heilmittel für das Virus gefunden worden wäre, hätte man deswegen nicht gleich “Fear the Walking Dead” einstellen müssen, immerhin würde das ja nicht verraten was aus den Charakteren aus dieser Serie werden würde.

Aber leider wurden die Entscheidungen getroffen, die getroffen wurden. Die großen Tode im Finale waren zwar traurig und anrührend, helfen aber nicht über das Gefühl hinweg, dass das Ende von über zwölf Jahren und 11 Staffeln von “The Walking Dead” einfach nicht episch genug war um als solcher herauszustechen.

Es ist ja nicht einmal so, dass irgendeine besonders umstrittende Entscheidung für das Serienfinale getroffen wurde, die nachhallt, und das Internet spaltet. Im Grunde gibt es nichts zu bereden. Ein Finale, was weder zufriedenstellt, noch aufregt, hat in jederlei Hinsicht verloren. Dass es einfach morgen weitergehen könnte und im Grunde genommen nächstes Jahr auch einfach weitergeht, ist nicht so sehr das Problem wie die Tatsache, dass man das Finale mit genau dieser Grundidee geschrieben hat. Ja, der Staffel 11-Plot wurde beendet, aber die Geschichte der Serie eigentlich nicht. Es wurde keine verrückte Drachenkönigin getötet, kein Green Arrow beerdigt, kein reuiger Vampir hat Selbstmord begangen, es hat noch nicht einmal eine Heldin ihre Geheimidentität enthüllt. Natürlich haben die Spin-Offs Dinge wie Charaktere der 1. Stunde unter die Erde zu bringen und damit das Gefühl zu vermitteln am Ende der Geschichte angekommen zu sein, unmöglich gemacht, aber um ehrlich zu sein war die 11. Staffel insgesamt schon immer etwas inhaltsarm und mau. Durch die lange Laufzeit der Staffel, der Aufteilung auf drei Portionen, und der Tatsache, dass man bei den letzten acht Folgen fast schon das Gefühl hatte eine neue Staffel zu sehen, weil sie eben fast ein Jahr nach den ersten acht der Staffel kamen, war das Anseherlebnis sowieso schon seltsam genug, aber inhaltich hat man eher das Gefühl gehabt einen minderen Remix von alten Themen zu sehen, mit Pamela Milton als nicht nur den Titel nach neuen Gouverneur. Das Potential hier etwas anderes zu machen war da, aber das politische Hick-Hack der letzten Staffel war zu verwirrend und uninteresant um die wirklich wichtigen Themen einprägsam genug umzusetzen.

“The Walking Dead” hätte einfach ein eindrucksvolleres Ende verdient gehabt. Und so kann man stattdessen einfach an besseren Endpunkten zu Schauen aufhören, sei das nach dem Ende von Staffel 8, nach Ricks Abschiedsfolge oder nach der ursprünglichen Endfolge von Staffel 10 mit dem Ende des Whisperer Arcs - all diese Enden fanden lange nach der besten Zeit der Serie statt, aber zumindest waren es würdige Enden, die etwas zu sagen hatten. Das tatsächliche Serienfinale hat uns im Grunde nur gesagt, dass es genauso wie es bisher war auch immer weiter gehen wird. Was im echten Leben stimmen mag, aber für Fernsehserien eben nicht als Ende funktioniert.

#Blog #The Walking Dead #The Walking Dead Season 11 #TWD Universum #Series Finale #twd 11x24

[the-hidden-writer]

Like music drifting in the air (Invisible, but everwhere...) (3/3)

Part 3 Summary: A forbidden melody, a concert disaster, and a dead scientist. Julia gets more than she asked for on what should have been an ordinary day.

Words: 6,874 

AO3: [Here!] Part 1: [Here!] Part 2: [Here!]

Thanks for you patience with this fic and I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

CW: mentions of blood and injury

3. Siebren de Kuiper

Complex.

Julia tried to push her way through the panicked crowds, her heart racing.

There were people surrounding her on all sides; some trying to get to the exit, some tending to injuries, and others trying to find people they knew amongst the hundreds packed in the entry hall. She heard the sound of sirens- at least the emergency services had arrived.

Her mind was foggy and adrenaline was rushing through her veins as she tried to comprehend what had happened in the past thirty minutes.

Having finished work for the day, her manager had given her permission to sneak into the concert hall to catch the last piece of Sander Visscher’s grand new composition. Het Universum, the suite was called. It meant “The Universe” in Dutch and Visscher had claimed that it was highly inspired by Holst’s The Planets, with the intention of taking you on a journey through space but going farther than our solar system.

The first piece in the suite was “Vliegen”, the piece that was supposed to have debuted last year but had been taken off the programme due to the rehearsal incident. The second movement was “Tranen van de Maan”, meaning “tears of the moon”. Visscher didn’t reveal his inspiration for that one. The remainder of the songs continued to travel farther and farther away from the Earth, becoming grander and more complex in turn.

The finale (which Julia had entered to catch the start of) was titled “Zwart Gat” and had been very controversial behind-the-scenes. This was because according to her boss who had checked the sheet music beforehand, it was very irregular, in multiple senses of the word. There was no key signature nor time signature and there was a lot of unnecessary dissonance. Her boss didn’t use the words “badly written” but they were definitely implied. Visscher had argued back, claiming that the piece would be the pinnacle of his career and would work in a way that couldn’t be described on paper. Not wanting to upset the already highly successful maestro, her boss had relented. That wasn’t the cause for its controversy, though.

The problem was that the orchestra had never rehearsed it in full.

Her manager had once again confronted Visscher about the matter, claiming that he couldn’t expect to perform it for the first time in front of audiences anticipating a phenomenal finale. Nevertheless, Visccher insisted that the players had been practicing in their own time and all would be well for the concert. He did seem nervous about it though, her boss had confided in her. Julia personally tried to trust the old man and not dwell on it too much.

So that was the piece she had walked in just in time for. The guest announcer had introduced the piece (praising Visscher’s astounding new work and making an offhand joke to the audience about the De Kuiper Incident, which got her a few laughs) and the orchestra had begun.

All had seemed fine at first. The music itself was… difficult to describe. It was unlike anything Julia had ever heard before- there was so much dissonance, and instrumental timbres that clashed were being used anyway. Julia felt slightly sorry for Visscher knowing that her boss was probably right about the unfinished state of the piece.

And yet, somehow, it still managed to sort of work. It was able to have that strange trademark Visscher effect on her body. It was eerie and unsettling and some of it sounded wrong to her ears but she couldn’t say why. It began as a quiet piano solo but gradually more and more instruments were added until it was so loud that it felt like the sound was swallowing you whole, and for Julia standing at the very back of the hall, that was saying something. She had to give Visscher credit, for being named after a black hole, the piece was doing well to be able to create that sickening feeling in her stomach.

In hindsight, maybe that feeling was more literal than she first thought.

It was easy to get lost within the music, so she couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that people started to rise from their seats. It wasn’t until the entire room was floating a few feet in the air that the screaming started. Everything (and everyone) began to move upwards, higher and higher.

Amongst the panic of almost a thousand people, most of the players continued to play, and from where Julia could see through the floating bodies, it seemed as if Visscher was continuing to conduct in the air as well. Maybe they had been so focussed on getting this piece right in their first attempt that they hadn’t even noticed- it wasn’t that different from Visscher’s technique, after all. Either way, “Zwart Gat” accompanied the terror of the flying audience.

Nearly eight feet in the air, it wasn’t long before the sound of screams overpowered the orchestra. Julia had been frozen in fright- her mouth open but unable to make noise. The only thing going through her head had been: I’m going to die.

Then suddenly the room started to be dragged towards the stage, someone had let out a loud, guttural bellow…

…and everything fell to the ground.

The chaos that had ensued afterwards was just a blur in Julia’s brain. The music stopped, gravity suddenly seemed to work again, and lots of people were hurt. The fire alarm started blaring a few seconds later and those who weren’t injured hurried to call the emergency services.

Julia was lucky to land on her shoulder. It was sore, but it could have been a lot worse. She was a lot more worried about the elderly among the audience.

During the mayhem of everyone trying to get out, Julia felt as if she had a responsibility as a staff member to help. Hurrying backwards, she held the hall’s main doors open to let everyone else rush out. As she did, she heard speculation between the shouting and crying. Some sort of graviton attack seemed to be the general theory. She heard the word “Toblestein” a few times but had no idea what it meant.

Once everyone who seemed to want to leave was out, it suddenly occurred to Julia that she should probably check on the performers too.

So that’s where she found herself- squeezing her way through the people packed in the entrance hall to get to the corridor that led to the rehearsal room further inside, mentally trying to remember as many names and faces of Sander Visscher’s orchestra as she could.

After what felt like forever and with tears beginning to form in her eyes from the overwhelming sights and sounds of people around her, she finally managed to get to the quieter corridor to be able to break into a run to get to the rehearsal hall.

Forcefully pushing the doors open, she let out a loud sigh of relief at seeing the room full of the musicians who all seemed to look okay.

Pat, her violinist friend, rushed up to her.

“Julie! Are you okay?!”

Julia tried to get her breath back and a few tears fell onto the floor.

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice quivering. “What about you guys? Is everyone okay? Is everyone here?”

“Everyone here’s fine.” Said Pat, rubbing Julia’s back gently. “Not everyone’s here but everyone’s been accounted for on our group chat.”

Julia felt like crying again, but mostly out of relief now.

“Are you hurt?” Pat asked, and they left Julia’s side to grab a bottle of water from a table at the edge of the room. “Here, have some water.”

“Thanks.” She replied, taking the bottle and managing a few sips before noticing the lack of elephant in the room. “Wait, where’s Visscher?!”

“I think he’s okay too.” One of the other player’s spoke up, to which Pat nodded.

“Yeah, he brought us back here, apologized, told us to check our instruments, and left. No idea where he went.”

Julia had an idea.

She took a deep breath. “I’ll try and find him.”

“Hey, text me if you do, okay?” Said Pat. “Everyone’s worried about him. This was his big concert and for someone to attack with a graviton weapon…”

There was that theory again!

“Why is everyone saying that?” Julia asked, genuinely confused why everyone was jumping to that conclusion..

“I mean what else could it be?”

That was a good point. She literally helped manage the building so she knew for a fact that there was no technology in the walls or anything similar that could do it artificially, so what else would even have the power to lift the entire hall into the air?

“Yeah, I guess…”

With one final look around the room at the recovering instrumentalists, Julia left the rehearsal hall with one destination in mind.

As she walked along the hallway, trying to block out the sounds of distress from the entrance (at least the fire alarm had been turned off), she dwelled on the possibility of an attack. Graviton weapons were incredibly scary from what she had heard, but also extremely rare and difficult to get your hands on. Only the military had used them, so how would a terrorist get a hold of one?

But there was one much more worrying question:

Why?

This was just an orchestral concert, what would anyone have to gain by targeting it? She didn’t see any casualties among the audience (though there were a large number who were injured) so it wasn’t a very successful attack, if so. The only thing remotely special about this concert was that it was the debut of Visscher’s Het Universum suite…

…Was someone targeting Sander Visscher?

A newfound fear pooled in Julia’s gut as she knocked on the door to Visscher’s dressing room.

“Sir? Sir, it’s Julia, are you okay?”

There was no response.

Frustrated, she called out again. “Sir! Please, just tell me you’re okay and I’ll leave you alone.”

She had been so sure that he’d be in there! It was his number one place to avoid the crowds and he would need it now more than ever. Maybe he couldn’t hear her? Or maybe something had happened to him?

Suddenly concerned for his safety, Julia made a decision.

“Sander, I’m opening the door. If you don’t want me to come in then tell me now.”

She waited thirty seconds. No response.

Julia opened the door.

The room used to be an instrument storage room, but since the pre-existing dressing rooms were very small and cramped for a man of Visscher’s size, they had converted it into a dressing room especially for him. He’d been very grateful and had immediately decorated the room with little ornaments that didn’t really have a purpose but seemed to make the old man very happy.

They were going to remove the old upright piano from the room, but Visscher asked for it to stay. Playing the piano was a good outlet for stress, he’d said. Helped him calm his nerves.

As the door slowly swung open, Julia noticed that though the piano lid was open, it was not being played.

Sitting on the stool that looked so tiny compared to him was Sander Visscher. He was facing the wall to her left and his back was hunched with his head hanging low. His silver hair was disheveled and the glasses had fallen off his face. Although he was still wearing his impeccable tuxedo, his white bowtie was undone and hung loosely around his neck, and it even looked like some of the top buttons on his shirt were undone. His posture made it seem like there was some invisible force weighing him down.

He looked… drained. He didn't seem to have noticed the door had been opened.

“...Are you okay, Mr Visscher?” Julia asked softly.

He acknowledged her with the subtlest of movements; a slight tilt of the head which was only enough so that his red eyes could meet hers, brimming with tears.

Now able to see his face, Julia saw the stream of blood running from his large nose.

She forced herself out of shock and into practical-mode.

“S-Sir, your face!” Her eyes quickly scanned the room for tissues, but to no avail. “Is there a first aid kit in here?”

It took him a few seconds to reply quietly, turning his head away from her again. “No.”

His voice sounded hoarse.

Julia started to panic even more and moved to leave. “Don’t worry, there’s one in the rehearsal room. I’ll just go get-”

“No!” Visscher repeated, a little louder, causing her to freeze in place.

“Just let me-”

“No.” He said again, more resigned this time.

“Uh… okay?” Julia wasn’t sure what to do. If the elderly man had landed on his head then he probably needed immediate medical attention, but then again his face didn’t look bruised at all. Maybe his nose had started bleeding from stress? Either way, the maestro didn’t look as if he was alright in the slightest. She couldn’t just leave him there. “Is there anything I can do to help? Anything at all?”

“No.”

Well, this was going great. He wasn’t talking to her but he wasn’t making her leave, either. Which was probably a good thing.

“The emergency services are here.” Julia said after a few minutes of awkward silence. “There are paramedics out front helping people right now, I can fetch someone for you if you want?”

No response. The man’s eyes were squeezed shut.

“The police are here too.” She continued. “They’re searching the hall and trying to find out what happened. They think it was probably a terrorist attack with a graviton weapon-”

“No.” Visscher shook his head gently. “They won’t find anything.”

No..? “What do you mean? Do you know what happened?”

Julia silently prayed that Visscher wasn’t involved. There were another few minutes of tense silence.

“It’s my fault.” He said eventually, his voice cracking- causing a twinge in Julia’s heart. “I should have known better than to think I could live like this again.”

Now Julia was just confused. She shivered involuntarily as that inkling of fear traveled onto her skin. Something about this whole conversation was starting to feel off.

“What are you talking about?” She asked, unable to speak louder than a stage-whisper.

Visscher’s reply turned that inkling into downright terror.

“I did this. This is because of me.”

Before Julia had the chance to ask him to elaborate, she caught some movement through the corner of her eye. Some of the ornaments on the desk at the side of the room (a few model animals, a Newton’s cradle, a metronome) were floating in the air. She quickly turned back to Visscher, worried there was another attack, but the words fell away when she noticed his outstretched fingers.

Fingers pointed towards the desk. The desk where there were objects floating.

Every bone in Julia’s body told her to get out.

She didn’t move. “A-Are you doing that?”

Visscher said nothing, but he relaxed his hand and all the floating items clattered back onto the table. So… that was a new development.

Julia was trying her best to understand what was happening. She was failing.

“You…” The implications of this display were very, very bad. She thought back to the concert. “Why did you…?”

“I didn’t mean to.” Visscher’s voice was thick with tears. “I-I-I… I lost control, a-and I couldn’t see, and the music- oh, the music…”

So it was an accident, that was good. No, it wasn’t good, but it was better than if he’d done it on purpose. As for how he’d done it… Julia decided to ignore all of the questions racing through her mind and to focus on her crying colleague.

“It’s okay.” She said in an attempt to comfort him, taking a step closer to the man (whose shaky breaths were deafening in the small room). “I’m pretty sure nobody died, and you say it was an accident. Don’t blame yourself, Sander.”

“Siebren.” He said between the silent sobs that wracked his frame.

Thoughts started to zoom through her mind at a million miles an hour.

He said ‘Siebren’. Was that his actual name? Or was that the name of the person they needed to blame? The Dutch name seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite remember…

Her heart stopped.

Siebren… wasn’t that the first name of Dr. de Kuiper?

Siebren. Siebren de Kuiper. The De Kuiper Incident, an infamous failed attempt at creating a black hole that cost the lives of a number of scientists and astronauts. The De Kuiper Incident, the incident that had been joked about during the introduction of the suite’s finale, Zwart Gat. Zwart gat, dutch words that meant…

Black hole.

So many connections were starting to form, but she didn’t know what to make of them. Logic told her that this must be Siebren de Kuiper himself, and yet Siebren de Kuiper was dead. She wished she knew what he looked like so she could compare and disprove her notion.

As she fought the urge to pull out her phone and do a quick search, something must have shown on her face as Visscher- no, de Kuiper spoke up.

"They gave me a second chance, I… this shouldn't be possible-" He bent even lower down and his large shaking hands clutched the back of his skull. "Nnnngh…"

The words 'Are you okay?' didn't really feel appropriate anymore, so Julia just hesitantly took another step forward to show him that she was there if he needed it. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, though.

Sander Visscher, the polite old conductor she had come to know over the past few years, was actually Siebren de Kuiper the dead scientist, renowned for his failure?

A small part of her felt resentful that the only nice music director she knew was harboring such a massive secret. The bigger part of her recognized that the man in front of her, whoever he truly was, looked to be deeply in pain.

“Please let me get a doctor.” She offered hesitantly. “I swear I won’t say anything about… what you did. Who you are.”

He didn’t hear her. Still clawing his own head, his eyes were open and staring directly ahead at the wall. It was really starting to freak her out.

Julia quickly realized that his fingers were digging into where those scars had been, and felt the need to take initiative. “No no no, Sir, you can’t do that.”

She moved forwards, reaching out to gently pry his large hands away from his scalp, when the air crackled dangerously around her. Frightened, she pulled back in an instant. She could’ve sworn the very air had folded in on itself in front of her, as if creating an otherworldly barrier between them.

No touching, then. Got it.

As much as she desperately wanted to get help for what she now realized was an unstable man, she was struck with the memory of the conductor after his very first concert. Visscher, as she failed to think of him as anyone else, had been hiding away from the masses of people in this very room. The gratitude on his face when she’d told him she’d keep people away had never really left her. It was so genuine, so appreciative.

Yeah, Julia definitely couldn’t bring herself to get anyone, although she knew that he would be found eventually. Until then, she would stay here and make sure he didn’t truly hurt himself. Or at least she would try to do that to the best of her ability. She shut the door and sat down on the cold wooden floor.

She waited a whole hour.

The entire time, Dr. de Kuiper didn’t move from the piano stool. He wasn’t silent though, as his mournful mutterings and mumblings echoed around the small room. Every time Julia tried to respond, her words fell upon deaf ears. Eventually, his whispers turned back into sobs, and all Julia could do was give him space. By the end of the hour, she was glaring at the analogue clock as its ticking started to drive her to madness.

Their trance was broken by Julia’s phone pinging.

Dr. de Kuiper’s head snapped upwards, startling her more than the sound did.

Heartbeat getting faster, Julia slowly pulled her phone out of her pocket, trying not to take her eyes off the suddenly alert maestro. She glanced at the notification- it was a text from Pat. Then she read the message and her heart sank.

Siebren stared at her expectantly, almost as if he knew exactly what it said without needing to see it.

She took a deep breath.

“Overwatch is here. They’re looking for you.”

The way the man’s shoulders sagged as he let out the weariest sigh she’d ever heard made her wish she could take the words back.

If someone had told Julia when she woke up this morning that Overwatch would come to their building looking for Sander Visscher, she would have claimed the joke made no sense- it needed to be semi-realistic to be funny! But with everything that happened today, as well as Visscher’s real identity, suddenly the idea didn’t sound so far-fetched.

“How much time has passed?”

She was yanked out of her thoughts by the man speaking up for the first time in what felt like forever. He was looking at her again.

“Uhh, just over an hour, I think.” She answered, genuinely unsure.

Siebren sighed again. “Even sooner than I expected.”

“Should I…” Julia tried to think of a way to ask without being insensitive, “let them know we’re in here?”

He began to move, which made her think for a moment that he hadn’t heard her, although he was only turning himself around to face the piano keys again. With his back to her, he said. “They would find me anyway.”

“...I’ll take that as a yes.”

Her fingers shaking, Julia typed out a reply, then let out a long sigh and leaned back on the closed door.

Looking at the old man in front of her (or at least his back, as she could see his hands were shaking as they hovered over the piano keys) she was having a really hard time accepting that this wasn’t Sander Visscher.

Except it was. Visscher hadn’t changed, neither in appearance or personality. It was Sander Visscher, but it was someone else too. Someone who she was fairly sure she was never supposed to meet.

“Why is Overwatch looking for you?”

Julia knew it wasn’t her place to ask, but she had such a strong feeling that if she didn’t ask now then she would never find out. Today had been so strange and terrifying and after this revelation she needed some sort of closure.

De Kuiper sharply turned his head to look at her when she spoke, and a part of her felt so bitter when his eyes widened with recognition at the sight of her. As if for the first time, even after she spent over an hour here in this room, sitting with him and refusing to let him suffer alone, he realized that it was Julia in the room with him.

“I-I…” His sudden nervousness and stutter sounded so much like the Visscher she knew that it made her want to cry.

“Um…” He hesitated, and she could almost visualize his brain trying to catalog her presence and everything that had happened. When he spoke again, after a long sigh, the resignation returned. He seemed more lucid and had realized it was too late to backtrack.

“I hurt a lot of people. If I’m with them, it is safer for everyone.”

Julia definitely felt like crying now. After a few moments of absorbing the information, she opened her mouth to respond (comfort, reassure, anything-) when there was a sharp knock on the door behind her, causing her to jump.

Siebren seemed to spring into action, using his fingers to quickly wipe the tears from his face and using his undone bowtie to wipe the blood from his nose. Julia herself rose to her feet and, after noticing that the maestro had finished removing all evidence of pain from his face, opened the door.

She couldn’t help but let her jaw fall open at the sight of the Tracer on the other side.

They locked eyes. So many questions seemed to cross both of their expressions.

But it was only for the briefest of moments, because soon the hero’s attention was on Dr. de Kuiper, and Julia was left to gape at the Mercy who was also at the door.

“Hey doc.” Tracer said quietly, in a way that Julia had never heard from the screen.

The maestro- no, scientist was still facing the piano.

“It didn’t work.” He said quietly but with a hint of genuine frustration.

Mercy gave Julia a wary look before stepping forward and shutting the door behind her. Julia tried to suppress her inner fangirl and convey that she was only here because she’d been trying to help. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but she wasn’t sent out at least.

The doctor’s eyes were filled with pity. “I’m sorry, Siebren. I truly, truly am. I don’t know what triggered it to malfunction, but this isn’t your fault, so don’t you dare blame yourself.”

“But you don’t understand, it is.” Siebren countered angrily, turning to face the new arrivals. Julia winced upon seeing that his attempt to wipe away the blood with silk had resulted in smearing it across his cheeks. “I should have known this would happen! I was a fool to try and recreate it, I was too ambitious- I-It’s the same mistake as before, I-”

Mercy rushed forward and cut off his rambling with a loud gasp. “Siebren! Are you hurt? Let me take a look at you.”

She reached into her bag for something as Siebren pulled back.

“Ah, don’t worry. It’s only my nose. I think it’s stopped now.” It looked like he’d calmed down a little after being interrupted.

Mercy handed him a wipe. “That indicates that it broke rather than had a malfunction.”

Although she had no idea what they were talking about, Julia noted that Mercy’s voice had taken on a sadder tone.

“...Which means I will need to examine your head. I’m sorry.” The medic finished.

“I’m aware.” The man sounded far less angry now and more… defeated. There was a sad acceptance to his words. “Let’s go, then.”

“Wait!” Said Tracer. “You want to go now? Don’t you want a few days to settle? The check doesn’t have to happen straight away, right Ang?”

Mercy nodded. “She’s right. Come on, we’ll take you back home then we can fetch you when you feel ready. You’d only have to stay for a few days, I just need to make sure today’s incident didn’t cause any damage.”

Silently watching from the corner of the room, hope sparked in Julia’s heart. He’d only need to stay for a few days? The way they were talking about this situation made it seem like the man had been fretting over nothing and he was not being sent back to Overwatch (because apparently he'd been there before).

Which is why it shocked her when Siebren politely declined.

“No, thank you. It’s been a nice few years, but I don’t want anything else put into me.”

Something clicked in Julia’s brain as to what they could be talking about and she felt sick.

“I’m ready to go back.”

His response seemed to catch the Overwatch agents by surprise too.

“...Are you sure, doc? We’d be happy to have you back, but are you sure you’d be happy there?”

“It’s so good to see you again, Siebren, but we’re only here to check on you after what we heard. We aren’t by any means trying to bring you with us.”

Siebren stood up, and for the first time in forever Julia was struck with how tall the man was. She’d gotten so used to it that it had become an unimportant thing about him. But when standing in front of famous Overwatch agents, ones she greatly respected who looked so small compared to him, it seemed like his towering height helped with his argument.

He picked up his rucksack and reached across the room to place his few belongings into it. “Let’s go.”

Tracer shared a look with Mercy, and Julia could only guess what was said between glances.

“Right now?” Tracer hesitantly asked again to the man double her size.

Siebren nodded, all the sorrow drained from his face leaving it painfully neutral. “I’m ready. It's more painful the longer I stay here.”

Julia might have imagined the quick side eye sent in her direction. Her blood ran cold anyway.

Tracer looked ready to argue again when Mercy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you want to stop at your apartment? Or would you rather we collect your things?”

“You can do it.” He answered, voice lacking emotion. Like that dreaded music that started all this, it sounded wrong.

“Alright.” Mercy said. Her voice was calm and firm but her face betrayed her sadness and reluctance. Julia really wanted to speak up in defense of Visscher before he walked out of this room forever, but knew it wasn’t her place.

It hadn’t been her place to know any of this either…

Screw it.

“Please, Sir!” She called. All three heads turned to look at her in surprise. “Please don’t leave. Think about how successful you are! Are you really going to just leave that behind? This can all be covered up so easily- I’ll do it myself if I have to.”

The maestro’s mouth twitched.

She continued. “The music world loves you, your orchestra loves you, and I think Overwatch loves you too. Everyone only wants what’s best for you, and while you’re the only one who can make that decision, I don’t want you to make the wrong one. I care about you, Sander.”

Her eyes widened.

“S-Siebren.” She quickly corrected.

The Overwatch agents turned back to look at Siebren, whose lip had started to quiver. After a few seconds, the emotionless mask cracked, and the frown was evident on his face.

“I care about you all too.” He replied shakily. “I-I… I just can’t bring myself to stay here when I could hurt you again. Maybe… maybe we could keep in touch, though? I could visit, sometimes?”

It was phrased as a question that wasn’t directed at her.

Mercy smiled too, small and relieved. “Of course you can. Just say the word and we can arrange it.”

“I’ll fly you over anytime!” Tracer agreed.

After what felt like an eternity of a day, Julia finally smiled too. “I’d love that! Please keep in touch. I’ll miss you.”

Slinging his rucksack onto his broad shoulder, Sieben wiped away stray tears. “You’ve been very kind, my friend. This was not as bad as I imagined. Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never.”

Of all of the ways she thought today would go, she wouldn’t have been able to think this up even in her craziest dreams. Sander Visscher, the man that she’d gotten to know and befriend over the past three years, was a dead man in disguise. Not just any dead man, either. Dr. Siebren de Kuiper, the infamous astrophysicist whose name had become synonymous with Icarus. She’d never given much more thought to the man. Another scientist, another experiment, another failure- despite its epic proportions.

But after today… she might rethink what she took from similar stories. Who knows, you might just meet them in person.

“‘Scuse me love, is there a back exit we could take? We don’t want to scare anyone when we come out.”

It too Julia a second to register that Tracer was talking to her. When it clicked, she answered quickly.

“Oh, yeah! There’s a stage exit that nobody should be using right now. I can show you the way if you want?”

“Sounds perfect! Don’t worry about directions, I can find it quickly myself.”

Siebren cleared his throat.

“Er, do I have to walk?” He asked sheepishly. “After all this, I’m very tired.”

Julia answered before the others got the chance to. “Don’t worry, there’s wheelchairs out front. I’ll go grab one-”

“I don’t think that’s what he meant.” Mercy interrupted, before furrowing her brows in thought. “As long as there’s nobody around, I don’t see why not. Just don’t overdo it.”

“Wonderful!”

Julia watched in awe as Siebren (mood greatly improved) rose upward until he was floating a few inches off the ground.

“You can fly?!” Julia asked incredulously.

He let out a weak chuckle. “Ah, not exactly. It took me some time to master, but what I do is that I adjust my own gravitational field to counter that of-”

“You’ll have to save it for next time, doc, we’d better get a move on.” Tracer cut him off.

“Ah yes, of course. My apologies.”

Mercy, adjusting her bag as she prepared to leave, turned to Julia. “You understand that this is all highly sensitive information, yes? Siebren is officially recorded as dead in order to protect him, and his unique abilities should be kept as secret as possible.”

“Which means you can’t tell anyone.” Tracer added.

Julia nodded solemnly. “I understand. I can imagine they’d probably be very dangerous in the wrong hands.”

She didn’t like the way all three of them winced.

“I’ll also need your details, if that’s alright.” Mercy continued. “It will be a difficult one to cover-up so having somebody on the inside to help could be very useful.”

Okay, so even though she’d suggested it herself in the first place, the idea of being part of a grand cover-up scheme sent a thrill through Julia’s body.

“Right, yeah.” She said. Mercy handed her a very fancy-looking phone which she quickly punched her name and phone number into. “There you go.”

“Wonderful, thank you.”

Everything suddenly felt very final. Even though she’d already cried multiple times that day, Julia felt herself fighting back tears as everything caught up to her.

Mercy seemed to catch on.

“Don’t worry, this isn’t goodbye.” She leaned in closer. “I will make him talk to you, whether he wants to or not. More for his sake.”

The statement was so firm and determined that Julia didn’t doubt her in the slightest.

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Tracer said cheerfully, zipping past Julia to open the door. Mercy followed, with Siebren floating not too far behind.

He looked down as he passed by her. As he craned his neck downwards and she craned her neck upwards, she was hit with a bittersweet sense of deja vu.

He must have felt the same way, as just like their first interaction, he extended a hand for her to shake.

She held back tears and shook it, once again feeling so small compared to him.

“Thank you, Julia.”

His words struck deep within her heart as she realized that this was the first time he’d used her name since their very first meeting.

“Anytime, Sander.”

After one final satisfied smile and nod, she watched as Siebren followed his friends out and gently floated down the corridor, leaving Julia with more answers and somehow even more questions about the enigmatic maestro.

At least this time she knew how she could get them answered.

~-.-~

Misunderstood.

“It all happened so suddenly. One moment we were counting down, the next moment we lost contact and alarms started going off. It was terrifying.”

“How many people were in the control room at the time?”

“Oh, I don’t know. About fifty people? Not all of us were assigned to their team, I know that some were there for Horizon too, but I think everyone was keeping track of the experiment. History could have been made, y’know?”

“I’m sure that’s how they felt, too. How many people were on the station at the time?”

“Eleven people. Seven were astronauts that worked there, the other four were Dr. de Kuiper and his team of three.”

“And there were two survivors.”

“Yeah, they, uh… sorry, it’s still hard for me to think about. God, I… y-yeah, they were two of the astronauts. Furthest away from the event. They’d been injured by the gravitational anomalies, but they were alive. We believe that four were alive at the time, but two died in critical condition, unlike the ones that were closer because their bodies… B-But we didn’t know that until we regained contact.”

“Crushed?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“I understand, it’s hard to think about. We’ve only heard it, but actually seeing it must have been scarring.”

“It was.”

“I can’t imagine what that control room must have looked like.”

“Most of us were silent. There were alarms going off, but when something like that happens, or even when you have no idea what really happened, there’s nothing you can do but wait. I do remember Keller barking commands, though, since she was in charge of de Kuiper’s ground team. She might’ve said something to me, I don’t really remember.”

“Did you ever meet Dr. de Kuiper?”

“Never personally. I remember I asked him a question during his initial experiment pitch and then formally introduced myself when he was meeting his team, but I didn’t know him very well beyond that. I, um, remember he was passionate, though. I think a lot of his confidence had been transferred onto us, so none of us ever thought such a catastrophic outcome would even happen.”

“Do you think that he had any idea? Surely he must have considered that he could be leading his team to death?”

“Maybe. He tended to ramble a lot, I guess he was kinda endearing that way, so I’m not surprised about how loyal his team was. They knew the risks. I think for them, the worst outcome was a black hole swallowing our solar system, so this tragic middle ground wasn’t ever an option. Not for Dr. de Kuiper, at least.”

“And their skulls were crushed.”

“Um, yeah…”

“You were part of the team sent up afterwards. What did you feel as you boarded the station?”

“We were given a bit of warning, but I don’t think anything can really prepare you for something like that. I’m still in therapy, haha… sorry, I, er… it’s hard. The first thing we noticed was that the artificial gravity had failed.”

“Which, ironically, Siebren de Kuiper helped pioneer?”

“...That’s right. I never thought about that… damn.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I think that was the last thing on my mind once we’d gotten to the experimental chamber.”

“We’re yet to have that described, apart from the state of the bodies.”

“That was the biggest shock. The chamber was massive, set to withstand great amounts of force. There was a protective field-”

“Which failed.”

"'-Which is the part that failed, that's right. I made my way inside, and… there were these rings of blood in the air. Have you, um, ever seen a diagram of an atom?”

“Yes, and we can show one on screen.”

“Well… that’s the best description I can find. There were orbitals of blood and the contents of the room, slowly circling around. Collins, Jansen and Kappel were there too. What was left of them was circling around too, their limbs in gruesome arrangements. Then the nucleus of the atom, right in the center also floating, was…. Dr. de Kuiper. J-Just the same as the others.”

“Is it harder to describe him because he’s to blame?”

“S-Something like that, yeah. Um. No, otherwise he was just the same as the others. What did I say? Yeah, limbs all-”

Julia turned off the TV.

The documentary definitely shed a little light on the incident, but something about the way they presented Dr. de Kuiper (as a foolish, over-ambitious man with no regard for the safety of his team) didn’t sit well with her at all. Especially not since she knew the man personally, and anything they would probably go on to describe about him would have all been lies. She wondered if they would still talk about him that way if they knew he was still alive. She also wondered if Siebren had watched any of these.

For his sake, she hoped he hadn’t.

Whatever actually happened up there was his business, not hers, and probably not the world’s either. Maybe he’d tell her someday in the long email chain they had going. Or maybe not, she wouldn’t ask.

He seemed happy, and Angela (as she’d come to know Mercy by) reassured her that he was healthy too. It seemed like things had worked out for him.

She looked over to her laptop, where the screen still showed the sheet music for the new symphony he’d sent her. Something less ambitious, but equally beautiful. She knew that the orchestra that had commissioned him would be more than happy with it.

Yeah, she decided. Things had worked out in the end.

Thanks so much for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated :D

#overwatch #fic #sigma #sigma overwatch #overwatch sigma #siebren de kuiper #maestro sigma #mercy overwatch #angela ziegler #tracer overwatch #lena oxton #i'm really proud of this one

[gameforestdach]

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[3ddruckmuenchen]

Cosplay ist eine Kunstform, die immer beliebter wird. Dabei verkleiden sich die Fans als ihre Lieblingscharaktere aus Filmen, Videospielen, Anime, Manga oder Comics. Um ein authentisches und beeindruckendes Cosplay zu kreieren, braucht man oft viel Zeit, Geschick und Geld. Doch es gibt eine Möglichkeit, wie Sie Ihr Kostüm auf das nächste Level bringen können: 3D-Druck.   Was ist 3D-Druck? 3D-Druck ist ein Verfahren, bei dem ein Objekt Schicht für Schicht aus einem Material wie Kunststoff, Metall oder Harz aufgebaut wird. Dazu benötigt man einen 3D-Drucker, der die Anweisungen von einer digitalen Datei ausführt. Diese Datei kann man entweder selbst erstellen oder aus dem Internet herunterladen.   Was sind die Vorteile von 3D-Druck für Cosplay? Mit 3D-Druck können Sie Cosplay Elemente wie Waffen, Masken, Rüstungen oder Accessoires herstellen, die sonst schwer zu finden oder zu teuer wären. Außerdem können Sie Ihre Cosplay Elemente individuell anpassen und personalisieren, indem Sie z.B. die Größe, die Farbe oder das Design ändern. So können Sie Ihr Kostüm einzigartig machen und sich von der Masse abheben.   Wie kann man 3D gedruckte Cosplay Elemente herstellen? Um 3D gedruckte Cosplay Elemente herzustellen, brauchen Sie zunächst eine 3D-Datei des gewünschten Objekts. Diese können Sie entweder selbst mit einem 3D-Modellierungsprogramm wie Blender oder SketchUp erstellen oder aus einer Online-Bibliothek wie Cults herunterladen. Dort finden Sie eine große Auswahl an kostenlosen und kostenpflichtigen 3D-Dateien für Cosplay Elemente aus verschiedenen Themenbereichen wie Filmen, Videospielen, Anime, Manga oder Superhelden. Wenn Sie Ihre 3D-Datei haben, müssen Sie diese für den Druck vorbereiten. Dazu müssen Sie die Datei in ein Format umwandeln, das Ihr 3D-Drucker lesen kann, z.B. STL oder GCODE. Außerdem müssen Sie einige Einstellungen wie die Druckqualität, die Füllung oder die Stützstrukturen festlegen. Diese hängen von Ihrem 3D-Drucker und dem verwendeten Material ab. Nun können Sie Ihren 3D-Drucker starten und Ihr Cosplay Element drucken lassen. Je nach Größe und Komplexität des Objekts kann dieser Vorgang mehrere Stunden oder sogar Tage dauern. Wenn der Druck fertig ist, müssen Sie das Objekt vom Druckbett entfernen und eventuell nachbearbeiten. Dazu gehören z.B. das Entfernen von Stützstrukturen, das Schleifen von Unebenheiten oder das Bemalen des Objekts.   Wo kann man Inspiration für 3D gedruckte Cosplay Elemente finden? Wenn Sie auf der Suche nach Inspiration für 3D gedruckte Cosplay Elemente sind, können Sie sich an den Werken anderer Cosplayer orientieren. Auf Plattformen wie Instagram, Facebook oder YouTube finden Sie viele Fotos und Videos von beeindruckenden Cosplays mit 3D gedruckten Elementen. Dort können Sie auch Tipps und Tricks von erfahrenen Cosplayern erhalten oder Fragen stellen. Einige Beispiele für 3D gedruckte Cosplay Elemente sind: Das Lichtschwert von Obi-Wan Kenobi aus Star Wars Die schwere Blasterpistole von Han Solo aus Star Wars Der Iron Man Anzug aus dem Marvel Universum Die Wolfsmaske aus dem Videospiel The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess Die Armbrust von Daryl Dixon aus The Walking Dead Die Maske von Dr. Doom aus dem Marvel Universum Das Schwert von Alita aus dem Film Alita: Battle Angel   Fazit 3D-Druck ist eine tolle Möglichkeit, um Ihr Cosplay auf das nächste Level zu bringen. Mit 3D-Druck können Sie Cosplay Elemente herstellen, die sonst schwer zu finden oder zu teuer wären. Außerdem können Sie Ihre Cosplay Elemente individuell anpassen und personalisieren, um Ihr Kostüm einzigartig zu machen. Wenn Sie sich für 3D-Druck interessieren, können Sie sich online inspirieren lassen oder selbst kreativ werden. 3D-Druck ist eine Kunstform, die Spaß macht und Ihre Leidenschaft für Cosplay zum Ausdruck bringt. Gerne helfen wir bei der Realisierung von Cosplay-Stücken.   [author] [author_image timthumb='on']https://3ddruckmuenchen.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/transparentes-rundes-Logo-von-3D-Druck-M

uenchen.webp[/author_image] [author_info]Der Autor dieses Artikels ist 3D Druck München, Ihr kompetenter Partner für professionellen 3D-Druck mit deutschlandweitem Versand. Seit vielen Jahren sind wir im Bereich 3D-Druck tätig und verfügen über umfangreiche Erfahrung und Know-how. Unser Team besteht aus qualifizierten Ingenieuren, Designern und Technikern, die Ihnen individuelle Beratung, hochwertige Druckerzeugnisse und zuverlässigen Service bieten. Kontaktieren Sie uns gerne für ein unverbindliches Angebot.[/author_info] [/author]

[feguqerip]

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        negan comic tod

  PDF knitting pattern: Carl Grimes (The Walking Dead). 5,87 €. Wird geladen. Inkl Knitting fans of comic books and horror can now enjoy making their very own doll, inspired by Michonne, from Robert Kirkman's 'The Walking Dead'. She has been von A Jung · 2014 — Robert Kirkman erschuf in Form einer Comicserie54 die Geschichte von The Walking. Dead. Seit 2003 erscheinen Ausgaben der Comicreihe. Zwischen dem Comic und postapokalyptische Horror-Ästhetik des The Walking Dead-Universums 87. Anhand der obigen Ausführungen wird ersichtlich, Er verstirbt im Comic.

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[i-am-sylar]

[throneheiress]

tumblr: throneheiress

ask: lilxasskicker

Über mich: Flink, kampflustig und naiv. Ein junges Mädchen das sich gerne in verschiedene Welten entführen lässt und sich mithilfe ihrer Schreibpartner neue kleine Eckdetails für ihre Geschichte ausdenkt. Am liebsten jedoch in post-apokalyptischen Welten zu finden, wo sie dem Tot entfliehen  und ihren kampfgeist nicht nur den Untoten gegenüber beweisen muss. Besitzerin eines Husky-Rüden namens Riley und einer kleinen roten Katze namens Betty. 

//  Junges Apokalypsenmädchen, mit ursprünglichem Namen "Judith Grimes" dem The Walking Dead-Universum entsprungen.

  relatives: @gorodezki @donner-wetter

  relationship: -

schreibstil: Roman-& Normalstil. 

#userfakevz

[nbrook29]

Lmao I don’t know how this happened 😆

***

June 26th 2021, Saturday

When Sander wakes up, it’s to the early morning June sunlight hitting him straight in the face. There’s a vague smell of alcohol lingering in the air, and he groans pitifully when he remembers the amount of beer he drank last night; well, it wasn’t that much per se, but for his not-usually-drinking self it was a bit much, which would explain the sour taste in his mouth. He could be beating himself up for letting a little too much loose and messing up his rather strict rules, but it’s finally summertime and he was feeling so happy and free. Exams are done and over with, bigger gatherings are allowed again, and most importantly, the love of his life has just graduated high school and-

Wait. 

He blinks his eyes open, arm reaching to the other side of the bed expecting a warm body, but it’s met with cold sheets instead. 

Where did that love of his life go? 

Bones cracking when he sits up on the bed, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes like a little boy, looking around the room, a twinge of worry in his mind. Robbe was way more drunk than him yesterday, being a giggly, inebriated, lovely, messy mess that was barely standing when the party came to an end. Sander had to practically carry him to their cabin, with Robbe wrapped like a koala around his back, holding tight as he mumbled love declarations into Sander’s hair until he fell asleep, arm looped around his head and cheek resting on top of it. It was unbearably cute, but it was also a miracle Sander’s legs didn’t give out because as small as Robbe is, carrying his dead weight on his back is a challenge.

For a second, a dark scenario enters his mind, and he’s working himself up over Robbe maybe getting up at some point to throw up and being so drunk he choked in the bathroom (yes, he’s a tad dramatic), but then a scrap of paper lying on the makeshift bedside table that is his backpack catches his sight and relief washes over him. 

It’s clearly torned out from his sketchbook and he smiles before he even reaches for it.

Come and find me when you wake up x

Little hearts were added all around for good measure and then there’s another message below.

P.S. You’re so fucking hot xxxxx

Snorting, Sander thinks back to yesterday’s afternoon when he showed up to pick Robbe up with his dad’s car so they could meet everyone in Ostend. The way his jaw dropped wide open seeing his brand new look makes him feel very smug at the mere memory.

Right next to the note there’s that piece of confetti he put in Robbe’s long hair at the party, his boyfriend blushing so prettily when Sander told him he couldn’t find a flower as beautiful as him around so the confetti had to do for the time being. 

That’s Sander’s favorite activity: pulling a blush out of him with his sappy lines. Well, maybe after getting lost in their out of this world kisses. Or making love to him, slow and sweet or fast and dirty, Sander’s not picky.

5 minutes and he’s out the door after the quickest shower of his life, minty fresh and ready for a quest to find his other half. It’s still very early, the clock showing a few minutes past eight, and to be honest, Sander wonders how on earth is Robbe up and about already. He was fully preparing for a morning full of Robbe’s moans (not the good kind), cursing him for letting him drink so much and swearing on his life that he’ll never touch alcohol again.

The beach is almost empty, barely a few people lounging on the sand, and it takes him no time to spot longish brown curls flying with the force of the wind. Robbe looks lost to the world around him, sitting cross-legged and leaning back onto his arms, face turned to the sun to catch the early morning rays. A soft smile is dancing on his lips as he takes in the sight of the calm sea stretching till the horizon to the sound of whatever is playing in his headphones (probably Bowie because Robbe has a Master’s degree in his music now, courtesy of Sander Driesen) and he looks the most relaxed Sander has seen him in weeks. He looks beautiful.

And Sander is so so in love with him it hurts.

The boy must’ve sensed his presence because he turns around just when he’s a few meters away, his smile growing wide at the sight of him, squinting a little and wow, how does he look so good after a night like that? Sander wonders whether it’s his lovesick devotion that makes him see Robbe through a filter or if sleep did its job marvellously this time.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Robbe pulls at his jean jacket to sit him right next to himself and wastes no time before looping his arms around his neck, peppering his lips with good morning kisses.

“Hey, drunkie,” Sander teases once Robbe gets his fit, earning a half-hearted glare and a soft scoff.

“I was not that drunk.”

“You fell asleep on my head while I was carrying your butt to bed.”

“Well your head is very comfy,” Robbe states matter-of-factly, leaving no room for further discussion because he shuts up any snarky comment Sander may have had with another kiss. That’s a-okay with him, and he tangles his hand in Robbe’s gorgeous locks that he will worship till the day he dies, never missing an occasion to bury his fingers in the tangled strands. The other hand joins in the fun, tugging playfully at the earring he’s also a tiny bit too obsessed with and delighting in the high-pitched sound it pulls out of Robbe.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought you’d be dead to the world till at least noon.” Sander makes himself comfy in Robbe’s embrace, leaning against him and playing with Robbe’s long fingers that are resting on his stomach.

The boy huffs a quiet laugh, a warm puff of air tickling Sander’s neck. “I think it’s the sea breeze making me sober up quicker than normally,” he pauses, hand nudging lightly at Sander’s chin to make him lift his head back and meet his eyes, a soft smile on his lips as he continues. “That and also I think that I was less drunk on alcohol and more drunk on love.”

Sander may be the king of sappy lines, but Robbe has a few of his own up in his sleeve, and everytime he pulls one out, it makes him melt into a pile of goo. Sander crashes their lips together in a kiss that’s a little too heavy for a morning in a public space, but hey, they’re drunk on love and he doesn’t care, Robbe doesn’t care either, and there aren’t many people around them anyway so fuck it. He hums into the kiss, Robbe’s tongue grazing the roof of his mouth almost as by accident, and it’s so good, it always is.

“Last night, it felt so... life-changing, you know? And I don’t know why cause not that much is changing, really.”

“You’re graduating high school, it feels big.”

“Yeah, but I’m staying here for uni, I’m not moving or anything. I don’t know, I think I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic lately.” Robbe shrugs like he doesn’t really understand it, but doesn’t want to dwell on it either. There’s a small frown between his eyebrows though so Sander reaches to smooth it out with his thumb.

Then, something comes to his mind. “Maybe it’s because of us?”

Robbe’s frown gets deeper. “What do you mean?”

Sander turns around in his arms, nodding at the surroundings, voice laced with excitement. “You know this is the first time we have been at the beach since we met?”

Brown eyes blink at him in confusion, but then they light up and match Sander’s excitement.

“Oh my god, you’re right! Fuck, it feels like a different lifetime.”

A very miserable, shitty lifetime if you ask Sander. For both of them.

“I was so lonely back then,” Robbe sighs.

Sander notices a tiny shadow of sadness fogging Robbe’s eyes, like it always happens when he thinks back to that period of his life. Some wounds were cut too deep to fully heal, but Sander’s always there to bring him back to the present.

Tugging lightly on his hair to make him look back at him, Sander gives him a lopsided grin.

“Not gonna lie, I’m very pleased this time around the only person that’s allowed to kiss you is me.”

Robbe hums, a smirk brewing on his lips. “Hmm, I don’t know, I wouldn’t say no to a kiss from Jens I think.”

And Sander knows he’s doing it on purpose, absolutely loves to rile him up and play the “Jens” card when he wants to be snogged into submission. Robbe learned early on that even though Sander’s aware he’s just joking, his possessive streak always comes out in situations like this, making their kisses extra good and their sex extra hot.

“Careful now,” Sander breathes against his mouth, the pent up tension that accumulated last night and wasn’t relieved because Robbe was too drunk hitting him hard. It seems to be mutual because Robbe bites his lip seductively, impish smile letting Sander know that he’s getting the exact reaction he was hoping for.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna carry you to bed the way I did last night, but the finale will be a little different.”

Suddenly, Robbe’s smile turns softer, the gear change leaving Sander a bit confused, but he welcomes it with a chuckle when Robbe snuggles close to him, nuzzling into his neck and letting out a content sigh.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs sweetly against his skin, breaking and healing Sander’s heart all at once. 

“I love you too, cutie. In elk universum.” 

A giggle erupts from Robbe at the universe line. “It’s been a while since you said that.”

Sander presses a kiss to his temple. “I think I'm feeling a bit nostalgic too.” 

***

The beach is slowly starting to fill out with people and bursting their little bubble so they get up reluctantly to the sounds of their grumbling stomachs that demand late breakfast. They notice their friends in the distance, spreading a huge blanket on the sand and carrying armfulls of food, and they walk over to them slowly, smiling goofily at each other and swaying their joined hands, paying no mind to people around. 

“Hey, Sander?” Robbe says suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re gonna be dating a college boy now,” Robbe announces, and he sounds so proud and so adorable that Sander has to tease him a little.

He sighs, putting an extra edge of sorrow into it. “I think you’re getting too old for me, Robin.” A choked-off sound of pain follows, Robbe’s mellowy state not stopping him from jabbing his elbow in Sander’s ribs when he’s being a cheeky little shit. He should’ve known better by now - Robbe’s elbows are merciless. 

They arrive at the spot shoving each other playfully until Zoe yells at them to behave and sit their butts down like good boys to eat their food. They dig in without needing to be asked twice, their previous bickering forgotten as Robbe feeds him sandwiches, pretending they’re airplanes and making Sander and everyone around laugh hard.

This, today, yesterday, is a new memory. One that wipes away the angst he used to associate sea and beach with after enviously watching Robbe in the arms of someone else. 

This time, Robbe’s smiles are directed at him, his eyes are constantly seeking out him, hand slides surreptitiously into his hand, and Sander’s heart is bursting with happiness.

They’re going on a roadtrip this summer, just him and his favorite skater boy, and Sander cannot fucking wait. Just like he can’t wait for their future together.

And if there’s a ring sitting in his bottom drawer nobody needs to know for now. 

Robbe will find out in 55 days.

#wtfock #sobbe #my fics

[stefselfslagh]

ABBA: het mirakel van Stockholm.

Dit stuk verscheen op vrijdag 5 november in De Morgen.

Vandaag verschijnt Voyage, het nieuwe album van de onlangs gereanimeerde popgroep ABBA. Stef Selfslagh, al fan voor hij het woord hitparade kon uitspreken, loopt al weken te stuiteren.

Zoals een dead man walking die te horen krijgt dat de electrische stoel kapot is. Zoals een paleontoloog die merkt dat de botten die zijn hond aan het opgraven is brachiosaurusrestjes zijn. Zoals een Bart De Pauw-lookalike die erin slaagt om zijn cafécrush ervan te overtuigen dat hij niét Bart De Pauw is. Zó euforisch was ik toen Björn Ulvaeus en Benny Andersson op twee september aankondigden dat ABBA een nieuw album had gemaakt. 'Tien nieuwe liedjes', prevelde ik. Ik pinkte een traantje weg, trippelde naar Instagram en schreef onder de hoesfoto van de nieuwe Abba-plaat: 'Universum, alles is vergeven.'

Het voorspel was opwindend geweest, maar ook afmattend. In de zomer van 2018 luidde het dat ABBA tegen Kerstmis twee nieuwe nummers zou uitbrengen, 'misschien meer'. Een ABBA-loos jaar later klonk het dat er vijf nieuwe liedjes op komst waren, maar dat het nog niet duidelijk was wanneer ze zouden verschijnen. Toen kwam de coronacrisis. Hét moment om nieuwe ABBA-muziek op de wereld los te laten, dacht ik. Als één groep in staat is om ons door virologen bezwaarde gemoed op te vrolijken dan wel ABBA. Maar ook 2020 moest ik hunkerend - zeg maar: nagelbijtend, koortsdromend en soms net niet boven de pot hangend van de opwinding - doorbrengen. 

Mijn wanhoop werd weer hoop toen twee maanden geleden een bijzonder bericht mijn mailbox binnendwarrelde: 'Dear ABBA-fan, join us this Thursday for a special livestream announcement on YouTube.' Een paar dagen later zat ik met trillende lippen en een hartslag van 180 achter mijn laptop. 'ABBA are back together', joelde BBC-presentatrice Zoë Ball. Benny en Björn knikten instemmend, het beeld werd zwart, er steeg gejuich op van Sydney tot Stockholm en even later zongen Agnetha Fältskog en Anni-Frid Lyngstad de woorden die qua verlossing niet moeten onderdoen voor 'De Heer is waarlijk opgestaan': 'New spirit has arrived, we have a story and it survived'. ABBA was van het verleden naar de toekomst verhuisd, en met hen mijn geloof in een betere wereld. Een mirakel was het, zoniet van bijbelse dan toch van epische proporties.

Kreukvrije Joepie-iconen 'We wilden het doen voor we dood waren', verklaarde Benny Andersson op vraag van Zoë Ball de reünie van zijn groepje. 'Hoezo, dood?', riep ik vanachter mijn laptop. 'Jij, de pianoheld die al op Ryan Gosling leek nog voor Ryan Gosling geboren was? Agnetha, de zanggodin met de ogen vol chronische weemoed en de benen waar geen hetero cisman ooit op uitgekeken raakt? Frida, de meest gracieuze aller mezzo sopranen? Björn, de enige man ter wereld die waardig een nek-, oor- én voorhoofdtapijt weet te dragen? Jullie zijn in de fleur van jullie leven, begot. Dood! Hahaha!' 

Het brein aanvaardt maar wat het hart toelaat. En mijn hart zei: ABBA-leden worden niet lastig gevallen door spataders, artritis en botontkalking. Eens kreukvrije Joepie-iconen, altijd kreukvrije Joepie-iconen. Pas toen het interview van Zoë Ball met Benny en Björn al even bezig was en ik tussendoor ook wat beelden van Agnetha en Frida had gezien, begon het me te dagen dat de twee A's en de twee B's minder tijdloos zijn dan de muziek die ze hebben gemaakt. In de veertig jaar tussen Under Attack, hun laatste single, en Don't Shut Me Down, hun nieuwste, zijn de gewrichten stijver en de haren dunner geworden. Mijn suspension of disbelief smolt als een gletsjer op Antarctica.

Om te vermijden dat de jeugdherinneringen van oudere ABBA-fanaten al te bruut aan diggelen worden geslagen, zullen de ABBA-leden zich tijdens hun nakende concerten in Londen laten vertegenwoordigen door avatars: digitale reconstructies van hoe ze er in 1978 uitzagen. Zullen de fans uit de bol gaan voor een computergestuurde versie van ABBA? Daar kan je een glas ricine op innemen. Zal ik één van hen zijn? Welnee. Ook al zal ik het tot in mijn kist blijven betreuren dat ik ABBA nooit live aan het werk gezien heb: soms kan je beter fantaseren over hoe het had kunnen zijn dan je toevlucht te nemen tot een surrogaat-ervaring. Of in dit geval: een prostaatervaring. Al sluit ik niet uit dat ik volgend jaar een fanbocht van honderdtachtig graden maak en alsnog naar Londen trek. Mijn principes zijn van de weke soort. Zeker als er heupwiegende Frida’s en Agnetha’s in het spel zijn.

Meteen nadat de rëunie van ABBA wereldkundig was gemaakt, vroegen muziek-journalisten zich af of de groep het niet 'voor de money money, money' deed. Nog afgezien van het feit dat de woordspelingenpolitie hen daarvoor met het nodige machtsvertoon had moeten oppakken, is het een mallotige vraag. ABBA heeft wereldwijd meer dan 400 miljoen albums verkocht. ABBA Gold, hun greatest hits-plaat, staat al duizend weken in de Engelse hitparade. Hun songs worden elke maand zestien miljoen keer gestreamd. In de jaren zeventig was ABBA na Volvo het grootste exportproduct van Zweden. En begin deze eeuw heeft de groep een bod van één miljard dollar afgewezen om opnieuw samen op te treden. Wie denkt dat money voor ABBA nog altijd een dingetje is, denkt wellicht ook dat Bill Gates aan liefdadigheid doet omdat hij voor zijn belastingaangifte nog een aftrekpost kon gebruiken.

Abba Seafood Company Ik was negen toen ik op 9 januari 1979 uit bad kroop, mijn pyama aantrok, naar de woonkamer slofte en met natte haren voor de televisie ging zitten. Mijn gezinsgenoten waren naar Music for Unicef aan het kijken, een rechtstreeks uitgezonden benefietconcert in het VN-hoofdkwartier in New York. The Bee Gees deden mee, net als Olivia Newton-John, Earth Wind & Fire en Donna Summer. Plots kwam ABBA het podium op gelopen. Benny, Frida, Björn en Agnetha hadden hun Mamma Mia-kostuums voor de gelegenheid thuis-gelaten en verzamelden zich in eendrachtig zwarte outfits rond een witte piano. De beginakkoorden van Chiquitita werden ingezet, mijn pas uitgekuiste oren wisten niet wat ze meemaakten. Benny speelde een pianomelodie die me binnen de tien seconden op wolken deed lopen, Agnetha zong zich alle kamers van mijn hart binnen en zou er nooit meer uit weg gaan. 

Vier decennia gaat mijn liefde voor ABBA ondertussen mee. In de jaren tachtig deden mijn ouders mij op een kerstavond The Visitors cadeau, waarna ik naar mijn kamer stoof, de plaat op repeat zette en mij pas op kerstdag opnieuw liet zien. In de jaren negentig was het Leuvense stadsfestival Marktrock voor mij niets meer dan een excuus om nadien in café Den Allee op de tafels te kruipen en armwuivend Lay All Your Love On Me mee te brullen. Na de eeuwwisseling kocht ik in een Londense boekenwinkel ABBA: The Complete Photo Book, een naslagwerk dat erg dienstbaar bleek bij het restaureren van de ABBA-afdeling van mijn geheugen. Zeven jaar geleden bezocht ik in Stockholm het ABBA-museum, waar ik mezelf met behulp van hologramtechnieken tot het vijfde ABBA-lid promoveerde en als een gediplomeerd onnozelaar in de helikopter plaatsnam die op de hoesfoto van Arrival staat. 

En nu maak ik me dus klaar om de rest van het jaar non-stop naar Voyage te luisteren en iedereen al dan niet digitaal te belagen met ABBA-weetjes. 'ABBA was ook de naam van het Zweedse visbedrijf Abba Seafood Company!' 'Een Australische tv-special over ABBA trok meer kijkers dan de maanlanding!' 'Alle nummers op ABBA Gold werden minstens door één andere artiest gecoverd!' 'De fucking Engelsen gaven tijdens het Eurovisie Songfestival in 1974 geen enkel punt aan Waterloo!' Vrienden en familieleden die mij preventief uit hun tijdslijnen willen verwijderen: now is the time.

Gracias por la musica Of ik ook tot kritiek op mijn lievelingsquartet in staat ben? Laten we zeggen dat clementie een essentieel onderdeel is van mijn fanschap. Werkelijk elke faux pas heb ik ABBA vergeven: Gracias Por La Musica (de Spaanse versie van Thank You For The Music), het kapsel van Agnetha in de videoclip van One of Us, de stervormige gitaar waarop Björn een tijdlang ramde, de lyrics van Nina, Pretty Ballerina en zélfs I Have A Dream, het enige ABBA-nummer waarvan ik nog altijd vermoed dat het niet door Benny en Björn geschreven is, maar door twee toevallig in de opnamestudio bivakkerende amoeben.

Kritiek geven op ABBA was iets waar de rest van de mensheid zich maar mee bezig moest houden. Een taak waar die mensheid zich overigens met plezier van kweet. Robert Christgau, criticus van het New Yorkse weekblad The Village Voice schreef over ABBA: 'We have met the enemy and they are them.' En een Zweedse krant kopte ooit: 'They write garbage'. Zeker in de jaren tachtig was zeggen dat je van ABBA hield hetzelfde als verkondigen dat je ervan genoot om de natte oksels van obesitaspatiënten af te likken. Je werd er niet om bewonderd. 

In 1992 zorgde U2-zanger Bono voor de rehabilitatie van ABBA door tijdens een concert in Stockholm Dancing Queen te zingen. Hij ontving Benny en Björn op het podium en stak zijn bewondering voor hun muziek niet onder versterkers of flight cases. Het bleek een cruciaal moment in de muziekgeschiedenis. De mensen die van hun imago nog nooit van ABBA hadden mogen houden, beschouwden de goedkeuring van Bono als hét signaal om hun ABBA-gène overboord te gooien. Het genie van de groep werd plots algemeen erkend, zelfs highly unusual suspects begonnen ABBA-nummers te coveren. Portishead deed SOS, John Grant Angeleyes, Richard Thompson Money, Money, Money en Ash Does Your Mother Know. Je hoefde niet langer te faken dat je van Laurie Anderson hield, ABBA was officieel gevalideerd. De geschiedenis had nog maar eens haar verhelderende werk gedaan.

Little black dress Terugblikkend heeft ABBA altíj́d al een gespannen verhouding met de tijdsgeest gehad. Al in de jaren zeventig lapten Björn Ulvaeus en Benny Andersson alle heersende muziektrends aan hun plateaulaarzen. Terwijl de wereld viel voor art rock en trash punk, maakte ABBA dartelende popliedjes. Terwijl de televisiepodia bestormd werden door geïntoxiceerde rockers die hun gitaren kapot sloegen, keken de meisjes van ABBA lieflijker in de camera dan Soeur Sourire ooit is gelukt. Je kan je met terugwerkende kracht afvragen wie tegendraadser was: de ontelbare groepen die Captain Beefhaert en Jethro Tull imiteerden of ABBA, dat vanuit een idyllisch hutje op het eiland Vissgö de ene Val-Saint-Lambert-heldere melodie na de andere in de platenbakken dropte.

Ook I Still Have Faith In Me en Don't Shut Me Down, de twee vooruitgestuurde songs van Voyage, getuigen van muzikale koppigheid. Björn Ulvaeus en Benny Andersson hebben niet de minste moeite gedaan om het ABBA-geluid naar 2021 te katapulteren. In de nieuwe ABBA-songs zit geen zuchtje hiphop, geen greintje R&B, geen snippertje autotune. Zelfs het enige stukje ABBA dat vandaag in had kunnen zijn - de nekmat van Björn - is niet meer. ABBA is het muzikale equivalent van the little black dress: nooit hip, maar ook nooit uit de mode. 

Velen hebben al geprobeerd om de lange houdbaarheidsdatum van ABBA te verklaren. Sommigen verwijzen naar de stemmen van Agnetha en Frida, die minstens even goed met elkaar kunnen opschieten als die van The Beach Boys. Anderen hebben het over het harmonische vernuft van Benny en Björn, dat ervoor zou zorgen dat ABBA-liedjes langer dan andere deuntjes in onze buis van Eustachius logeren. Muzikologen van de universiteit van Oxford hebben zelfs aangetoond dat de muziek van ABBA in compositorisch opzicht even ingenieus is als die van Mozart. Een vergelijking die me nog altijd van pas komt wanneer ik overgebleven ABBA-haters uit het hoofd probeer te praten dat ABBA wegwerppop maakt. (Waarna ze meestal met hun ogen beginnen te rollen en ik de discussie afrond door te zeggen dat ze hun koude hart dan maar moeten meenemen in hun graf.)

Lachen, huilen en dansen Maar de beste verklaring voor de onweerstaanbaarheid van ABBA komt - je zal het altijd zien - van een journalist. 'Wanneer je ABBA-melodieën hoort, wil je tegelijkertijd lachen, huilen en dansen', liet muziekrecensent Jan Gradvall onlangs optekenen. De nagel op de Zweedse kop. ABBA mag dan upbeat popmuziek maken, er waait altijd een melancholische wind doorheen. Gimme, Gimme, Gimme (A Man After Midnight) nodigt uit tot hedonistisch feesten, maar onder de sensuele beats schuilen sombere lyrics: 'Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away / Take me through the darkness to the break of the day.' Knowing Me, Knowing You heeft een veerkrachtig refrein, maar de strofen die eraan voorafgaan druipen van het echtelijk verdriet: 'In these old familiar rooms, children would play / Now there's only emptiness, nothing to say.'

ABBA-muziek, dames en heren van de smaakrecherche, is gelaagd. Net zoals het leven zelf. De existentiële mijlpalen waar ABBA zo graag over zingt - verliefd worden, uit elkaar gaan, je onschuld verliezen, loutering vinden - gaan altijd gepaard met een combinatie van gemengde, soms tegenstrijdige gevoelens. Waar liefde is, is er ook angst. Waar verlies is, is er ook winst. Waar ontreddering is, is er ook begeerte. ABBA capteert die sentimentele meervoudigheid. Hun songs vertolken de enige waarheid die het predikaat 'universeel' verdient: life is sweet, life is bitter. En precies daarom herkennen we er ons zo goed in.

Vanavond zal ik - een Bolleke en een doos Kleenex binnen handbereik - voor het eerst naar Voyage luisteren. Een blik op de tracklist leent zich alvast tot ongebreideld speculeren. Wordt When You Danced With Me een dansvloermagneet à la Does Your Mother Know? Of een smachtende break-up-song genre SOS? Fladdert Little Things uit onze boxen als een instrumentaal niemendalletje? Of als de kersthit die Benny ons op twee september beloofde? Is I Can Be That Woman een feministische hymne waarin Agnetha haar seksegenoten oproept tot voluntarisme? Of een liefdeslied waarin ze vaststelt dat ze veel te vaak haar eigen grenzen overschrijdt om aan de verwachtingen van haar beau te voldoen? 

Vanavond weten we het. Tot het zover is, verlies ik mezelf nog eens in het wondermooie Don't Shut Me Down. In de laatste strofe zingt Agnetha: 'You asked me not to leave / Well, here I am again.' Gelukkig hoef ik geen cassettebandje meer terug te spoelen om die woorden keer op keer opnieuw te beluisteren.

[timextoxhajima]

HOSTIS, Chapter XVII: Et Universum Parallel, A Parallel Universe

Previous Chapter (XVI: Adsumo)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz) ft eric

Genre (by chapter): drama, angst

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

A/N: *this is a sad hours warning send me an ask if you cried or smth idk bec i’m pretty i’m gonna cry writing this chapter :”)*

“where has my other ares gone?”

“morning!” 

the nurses and staff nearby look up at your greeting, and they say it back with such cheer and wonder in their voices, though you were sure they wished they were in bed.

the dress shirt that wasn’t yours was folded nicely into a plastic package in your briefcase, and you didn’t want it hanging around your house like a ghost reminding you that lee hyunjae was a person who had to deal with for the longest of times.

he was staring at his computer screen with his chin in his palm when you walked in without knocking, and you were expecting him to throw something at you, maybe even call you a name that would hurt your pride.

but he doesn’t.

“this shit is yours,” the plastic crinkles loudly when you pull it out. for a moment, your heart winces because you spent a considerable amount of time ironing it.

it was a dress shirt after all.

“take it back.”

the item was held out at arms length, and again, you wait for him to snap at you, to bring it over to him so you had an excuse to throw it instead.

but he doesn’t.

the look on his face was blank, emotionless, tired.

the chair creaks when he removes his butt off the leather and he slides the white coat off the backseat, turning on his heels to walk towards you.

his silhouette against the light coming in from the window behind his desk floods out his features, but he keeps a safe distance from you when he takes the wrapped dress shirt from you and places it on the small sofa seat right next to the door.

“thanks,” he says, with absolutely no weight of sincerity or energy. “i gotta go for my rounds so get out of my office.”

he brushes past you without physically running an arm into your shoulder, and he doesn’t wait for you to leave by holding the door open. 

he just walks off.

a parallel universe, also known as a parallel dimension, alternate universe, or alternate reality, is a hypothetical self-contained plane of existence, co-existing with one's own. 

and you were convinced that not only did you just wake up in one, you were now living in it.

someone must’ve kidnapped lee hyunjae and replaced him with someone else. 

every second ticks by relentlessly, and those seconds become hours, and hours become days.

it’s been days since hyunjae has said anything remotely mean to you.

it’s been days since hyunjae has had some kind of a conversation with you.

maybe it was his rounds. 

maybe he lost a patient to another doctor because of a worsening condition. 

the pantry door whirs open while you were filling your flask up with warm water, and the soft sound calls for your attention.

he doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say anything to you, only walking past you to that refrigerator he had you up against not too long ago, stealing kisses when doctor kim walked in on the two of you.

now he was just treating you like you were invisible?

“you look like shit, just so you know,” your lips meet the mouth of the flask as you turn and lean your hip against the counter. 

“didn’t know i dressed to impress.”

a box of eclaires was removed from the refrigerator and he stuffs one into his mouth. 

what game is he playing now?

why was he so distant all of a sudden?

“busy with work? i haven’t heard your annoying ass much in the last... what, three days? or did you fuck up along the way and couldn’t bring yourself to show your face?”

not a muscle in his face twitched as he finishes the eclaire in his mouth, and he slides the box back into the refrigerator.

“you have your problems to handle, and i have mine.”

a frown crawls itself onto your forehead, and something in your heart cracks. 

where has my other ares gone to?

“but i suppose for old times’ sake i could send you home today, you seem like you miss me.”

that was more like it, but why does he sound so... sad?

“i’ll see you in the carpark after work tonight.”

not once do his eyes look at yours when he speaks, and he leaves without another word.

you should have known it better; you should’ve known yourself better, but you don’t. 

what was this difficulty you were finding in your lungs that was preventing you from breathing? what was this feeling of dissatisfaction in your gut when he doesn’t bother to rebut you?

you were so used to listening to him cutting you open with his words after you start a fight with him, so much that now when he doesn’t, it feels like he’s playing you. it feels like you’re just talking to a wall. 

it feels like he’s done entertaining you.

it should’ve felt better. you should’ve felt happier that the fight or war you’ve been fighting for a decade is seemingly coming to an end. 

but you don’t.

was he simply becoming the more professional one at work? did he finally realise that it wasn’t worth it for him to consistently try to break you? was he the first of the two of you to decide that this fight has gone on way too long, and that it was time to stop?

no.

he’s not that quick to resign. 

not to me.

how much does god hate you to put you into the same space as him again, even after ten years, for you to realise that you missed it?

no, it can’t be.

i just missed the free ride home, that’s all.

the lamps along the road paint the asphalt ground a bright amber, but the heavy weight in your chest refuses to remove itself. 

like a tumor nestling itself into your heart, you worry if your knowledge of neurology was enough to fix whatever was wrong with you, provided you could even figure it out first.

again, the silence buries itself in the back of your skull like a piece of metal, like you had split your skull open and you needed it as an implant to help you recover. 

you were drowning in the lack of exchange, the absence of physical touch, the loss of rivalry. 

there was absolutely no reason for you to be so destroyed when everything you hated had finally stopped.

really, grinded to an abrupt stop. 

the vehicle pulls up to your house and he clicks the gears into parking, both arms tightly gripping onto the steering wheel with his eyes looking dead ahead. 

the gentle whirring of the air conditioner in the car was the only thing you could hear besides his heavy breathing, or yours, you couldn’t really tell anymore.

you hesitate for a moment, watching the lines on his forearms come alive again. any other day and you would’ve felt like he was trying to rile you up, but there was something wrong with his energy tonight, you just couldn’t put a pin on it. 

“are you okay?”

the words come out so soft, like a whisper goodnight, like lovers afraid to say goodbye, and you struggle to recognise your own tone, your own choice of words, the very fact that you even bothered to ask him that.

but he turns to you without removing his grip from the steering wheel, and the way he digs into your eyes nearly made you want to throw up.

not from hatred, not from resentment, but because that tumor in your heart responded to his gaze.

the moment freezes, leaves rustling outside your open window, an occasional dog barking in the distance; nothing but him looking at you like you were a statue and you searching his face for any sign that you could decode.

nothing.

he turns away.

“why wouldn’t i be? anyway, we’re here now, so get out already.”

a bodily reflex sends a scoff up your throat as you pull your head away, one hand already on the door handle. 

yet a warm mass lands on your arm to hold you back and some part of you disintegrates into his lips when he kisses you for the first time in almost a week. 

his grip on your arm loosens before he pulls away, and strange, unfamiliar chills down your back, shiny, glimmering eyes looking into yours with just inches between your faces. 

he turns back to the steering wheel and looks ahead, his still manner telling you that he was just waiting for you to get out of the car.

so you do just that.

but why does it feel like you were walking away from him, when you were just going home?

he says something so softly as you shut the door, and you forget about it, thinking that if it was important, he’d text you about it anyway or find some way to get his message across if he really didn’t want to face you anymore. 

but why doesn’t he?

you were sure he said something, but he doesn’t bother yelling at you for closing the door in his face when he said it. 

the car drives off and you notice the moon for the first time in a long time. 

you’ve spent so much time looking down at your feet, making sure that you don’t trip over his shoes, that you’ve completely forgotten that the moon existed. 

you’ve spent so much time trying to be wary of pride and love, that you’ve lost control of what either meant. 

the car disappears in the reflection off the window of your backyard as you walk up the stairs to your front door, the grave feeling of loss and confusion starting to engulf you the same way you were worried your parents were going to choose their careers over their own child.

but that was because you were scared they would love their profession over you.

what were you scared of when it comes to lee hyunjae?

the moon hung outside your backyard glass panes like a round, yellow ball in the sky, the dark hallway that led you into the living room pushes you back into some situational memory. 

his hand around your throat, pushed up against the wall, and you were nothing less than happy about removing his report. 

“son of a gun deserved it anyway,” you hum under your breath, throwing your keys into a small container sitting on top of the shoe rack. 

the air in your apartment was eerily still, the switch clicking when you pushed it down with the lightest of efforts. every little sound, every little move, felt so overwhelming for some strange reason.

sensory overload was the correct term.

you would’ve covered your ears to cancel out your thoughts but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway.

not when you couldn’t even decipher what was going on in your head.

the device in your back pocket rings, and you watch the screen light up when you grip it in your hand.

unknown number: y/n! it’s eric!

unknown number: i just wanted to see if you were available tomorrow night for dinner?

unknown number: and also to make sure that this is your number 

eric?

pleasant surprise, but your heart no longer does a little jump like it would’ve done four weeks ago. 

you: omg eric

you: how did you get my number?

eric: you didn’t hear this from me

eric: but i managed to hack into the hospital database and dug out your number

you: hack into the database? should i be worried that an intern can hack into the system?

eric: oh, god no. i didn’t hack, i just didn’t realise my account could get me into the database. i tried, and got in.

you: an intern account gets you into the system? strange...

eric: anyway, are you available tomorrow for dinner?

you: yeah, i’m clear

eric: alright, cool. i’ll totally head over to the nrd to get you at 6pm

you: where are we going?

eric: you’ll see tomorrow ;)

you: mysterious, aren’t we?

eric: you’ll see tomorrow, i’m sure you’ll love it. 

you lock your phone and leave it on the kitchen island, the cold, hard surface not a stranger to your back and your skin where it shouldn’t have been in the first place.

the thought shoves itself around in your mind, the stubbornness of such an intangible object so difficult to remove, you wonder if it was ever going to go away on its own.

the night sinks into your blood as the moon hung itself to bare. you try to recall the last time you looked at the moon without thinking about anybody, and it hurt to feel like you should’ve been with someone else under this gorgeous moonlight. 

the familiar corpse that displayed itself across the sky comes round again, and it soon gets hidden behind all the windows of the building.

sanitizer and disinfectant’s become your own scent, the only thing that greets you when you push into the office.

there was nobody next door, but you could tell he was already in because his briefcase was sitting on the floor by his table.

again, you don’t even see his shadow today. 

eric sends you little text every now end then to encourage you on your rounds. you found it a little redundant because there was nothing much to “encourage”, nonetheless, you felt motivated. 

the corpse was staring at you in large, red, digital numbers every time you were at a lift. 

faces that brushed past either earned a polite smile from you or zoned-out eyes.

the research department greets you like a home you didn’t want to return to, the only thing there that yearned for your attention was eric. 

“are you excited for tonight?” eric’s bright, child-like eyes were flitting gorgeously across the span of your face, and for a moment you feel like you were his most important person.

“can’t i know where we’re going?” you pout and notice hyunjae coming out the lift with a file of research material, and he walks to another research officer nearby to ask something.

“no, of course not!” eric rolls his eyes and squints at you. “unless you don’t eat beef.”

hyunjae nods and has the file opened out in his palm, his pupils flying across the page as he flips it. 

“uh... no, i’m not...”

hyunjae struts past your row, attention still mounted to the file while he walks to his cubicle behind you. 

“not what?”

he sees you for a moment. 

but he drops the file on his table and sits down, the clacking on the keyboard sounding like a nightmare from not long ago.

“i... don’t don’t eat beef.”

“oh, that’s a relief.”

“you do realise that question literally tells me we’re having steak or something tonight, right?”

the intern blinks at you innocently before nodding his head, and you give him a light punch to his shoulder, light chuckles run through your throat in soft vibrations.

eric talks to you about steak back home in LA, but you don’t really absorb anything. he sounds like you when you were begging for your parents’ attention; talking about unimportant things.

were your parents like this too?

the lift dings and a familiar faces comes out between the metal doors. he looks tired, less spirited, but somehow more at ease. 

“lee,” he calls out, and you hear the clacking on the keyboard halt. “come with me on my rounds in fifteen, i’d like to introduce one of my patients to you. he just came out of an operation and i’ll be transferring it to you.”

doctor choi reaches hyunjae’s cubicle and the younger male stands up, his jawline suddenly looking extremely glaring to you. 

“okay, i’ll go back to my office to get my patient files.”

they continue the conversation, and eric continues his. 

later that day, the pantry door greets you like the gates to hell, and you see hyunjae standing inside, mug in hand, back against the door as he looks out the window.

why am i here?

the door whirs open when you find yourself pressing your staff ID to the scanner and you grab some tea sachets. 

“you look stressed, messed up a report or two?”

silence.

confusion tightens your facial muscles, and you struggle to find something to do with the tea sachets.

he doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything, only the slight heave of his shoulders when he breathes.

“am i talking to a ghost now? or did you finally realise that you were just fighting a losing war?”

again, nothing.

hyunjae gives his mug a rinse in the sink next to you, his warmth almost within reach. he avoids your eyes, avoids looking at you altogether, and he leaves.

you wanted to yell at him for ignoring you, but it was a hospital, and you are a professional. 

the sky starts to cry for you, for your confusion, for your lack of grasp on the situation. 

it really feels like you were a lost child in a maze, and you were nowhere near figuring the way out.

droplets of rain were trailing after each other on the window of your office, the orange sun completely disappearing behind those dark, dark clouds despite the rain having stopped.

each drop hits another and it runs down the glass. 

knock knock

“come in,” you call out without looking over your shoulder.

“hey! you ready to go?” 

the greeting earns your attention and you watch eric holding onto his bag like a child. the sight puts a smile on your face and the rain on the window pane bids goodbye to you as you walk over, fingers coming round the handles of your briefcase.

eric holds out a hand for you, like he was asking you to dance.

your spirit ascends a little at the contact, and eric’s grin was so gorgeous.

his warmth was gentle, comforting; it does feel like you were holding a child’s hand.

“are you interested on eating anything else? since you already know we’re going to a steakhouse,” the reflection of the two of you was staring back at you, your hand in his and he was just about a head taller than you. 

if you were with someone else, you’d need to tilt your head higher to even meet his eyes.

“mm... how about--”

ding

the light from the lift pours out around the person inside, and the look on his face crushes your spirit in ways you couldn’t understand.

“hyung!”

hyunjae’s left eye brow twitches, but nothing else moves. 

his legs tear him away from the lift and the wind that brushes across your face when he walks past you offers his scent. 

the only scent that took you away from sanitisers and disinfectant.

why was the day so draining when you barely did anything?

you didn’t go out of your way to do anything big or tiring.

the private room of the restaurant was providing you a gorgeous view of the city outside, and the food was nothing less than great.

yet for some reason, you don’t feel whole.

eric spends most of the dinner talking about his life in LA, why he came back, how he became a neuro-research intern... his life in LA, why he came back, how he became an intern... his life in LA, why he came back and how he became and intern.

my life here, why i’m here with eric, and how i became one half of two areses.

i am half full, but i feel half empty.

half. fifty percent. 

my aphrodite is sitting right infront of me, but why do i feel like i need ares more?

i am ares, so why am i not enough?

if i am brutal, then he is cruel. 

and ares is both.

ares is nothing without the two.

the scent appears in your nose against your will, and the warmth on your thighs melt through your skin into your bones. the taste on your tongue pushes you into a loss of control, and your press your peach tinted lips against each other. your fingers brush your neck where foundation was no more because you didn’t need it. 

half of two is not whole.

i am not whole.

not without him. 

“eric--”

“and i was just so psyched to--”

“eric.”

he stops, the brightness in his face doesn’t fade but his hands start to droop when he notices your eyes staring into the table cloth like you had just seen a dinosaur on it. 

“...are you okay?”

your heart is shaking in your chest like it was having an earthquake, and the nerves in your head start to spark like they were malfunctioning gears.

“i... i need to go.” the briefcase gets wrapped in your hold again, and you pull out a credit card to hand to him. “pay for it with my card and i’ll get it back from you tomorrow--”

“wait, y/n, where are you going?” he stands up, and you realise you were already turning on your heels. 

your body was reacting to your feelings faster than you could process them. comprehending that on its own was enough to uneven your breathing, much less keep your composure in front of him.

where am i going?

the silence was deafening, and you see that split second that eric’s eyes softens into something more mature, something more understanding.

like he knew.

“are you going to look for hyunjae hyung?”

there was a throbbing inside you, but you couldn’t tell if it was from your head or from your chest anymore. eric eyes bury themselves into your soul, and you realise that he was never your aphrodite. 

aphrodite was never yours to begin with.

you were half of two for a reason.

eric crosses the space between you and pulls you into a tight hug. a gulp forces itself down your throat when your chest huffs itself against his.

he pulls away and steps back, giving you a small punch to your shoulder.

“i’ll see you at the office tomorrow, and i’ll pay for the dinner. we’re still friends, right?”

your card gets extended out to you, your teeth grinding against each other in your mouth as you take it from him.

“of course.”

eric nods with satisfaction, sending you off on your way.

“y/n.”

the handle of the door was cold, and you turn to see that you were leaving aphrodite alone in the room.

“your number? i didn’t get it from the system.”

a pause, like he was trying to read your face. 

“he gave it to me.”

how much does god have to hate you for you to spend ten years fighting a war, only to have you wish you weren’t...

because you were in love with the person you’ve been fighting?

the whitening knuckles on your fist urges you to release your hands, the cab coming up around the corner. 

the living room light was dimly lit, so maybe the only thing that was illuminating the house was the kitchen light.

you pay for the cab and your shoes get damp from stepping into a puddle on the pavement.

water dripping from trees and plants into puddles ring like bells in nature, the gravel crumbling behind you as the cab drives off.

the skin on your fingers come into contact of the wooden door, and you stop yourself, wondering if this was right.

your pride. your ego. your desire to win.

what was it worth if you no longer knew was love was?

love was younghoon carrying your bag when he knew he didn’t want to.

love was eric trying his very best to find some way to contact you, sending you texts to encourage you. 

love was him leaving you alone after he realised this was no longer a war fuelled by hatred. 

the sound that emitted from the contact shivers through your fist as you knocked on the door.

i need my other ares, for we are not whole without one another. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 17.5: Inevitibilis

A/N: WHOOO LONG CHAPTER BUT ARE YOU GUYS ALRIGHT HAHAH

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #eric son #the boyz #the boyz lee hyunjae #timetohajima hostis #the boyz eric

[afaimsblog]

San Diego 2023, Fans kommen, aber sonst keiner? - Eine Con während der Streiks

Die diesjährige SDCC ist nicht gerade ein Mega-Hit, was die Panels und Gäste betrifft, um es vorsichtig zu formulieren. Schon vor Beginn des ersten Streiks hatten die ersten großen Franchises beschlossen gar nicht erst hinzugehen. Deswegen sah das dann bekannt gegebene Programm eher ungewöhnlich aus und hielt sich leider auch nur ein paar Tage, da die Schauspieler sich gezwungen sahen ebenfalls zu streiken zu beginnen, und da man den Besuch auf einer ComicCon als Promotion der bösen Studios, gegen die man ja streikt, ansieht, durften sie keine Panels besuchen, in denen sie für zukünftige oder vergangene Projekte von US-Studios werben, sprich in den meisten Fällen dürften sie gar keine Panels abhalten, es sei denn es würde sich um rein britische oder europäische Projekte handeln, doch selbst in diesen Fällen gab es so eine Art Loyalitätswelle, die dazu führte, dass das sowieso schon rar gesäte Programm noch mehr ausgedünnt wurde und die Panels, die abgehalten wurden, jetzt ohne die Stars auskommen mussten.

Doch das hielt diejenigen, die der Streik eigentlich treffen sollte, nicht davon ab trotzdem ihre - um so stärker besuchten - Panels abzuhalten. AMC tut ja sowieso so als gäbe es keinen der beiden Streiks, da im Rahmen des "Walking Dead"-Universe Panels verkündet wurde, dass es zweite Staffeln von "Dead City" und "Daryl Dixon" geben würde (letztere Serie hat mir ihrer Ausstrahlung noch nicht einmal begonnen), doch wer diese Staffeln schreiben und drehen soll dürfte AMC sich gar nicht erst fragen. Ursprünglich hieß es ja, dass unter den neuen Spin-Offs, die Rick und Michonne-Serie die sein wird, die von Anfang an zwei Staffeln haben sollte, doch diese Behauptung wurde inzwischen zurück genommen. Diese Serie hat jetzt kurzerhand doch noch einen neuen Titel erhalten und heißt "The Ones who live" (yep, wir halten immer noch den Contest für den dümmsten Seriennamen im TWD-Universum ab) und hat einen ersten Teaser erhalten, während die anderen beiden Serien eigentlich immer als Mini-Serien beworben waren, bis Lauren Cohan auf einmal von "fünf bis sechs Staffeln" für "Dead City" sprach, und nun kriegen Daryls Solo-Abenteuer auf einmal auch eine zweite Staffel, was wohl sowieviel heißt wie Cliffhangar-Enden für diese beiden ersten Staffeln. Mehr heißt es nicht, denn wie gesagt, ist es momentan nicht möglich diese bestellten zweiten Staffeln zu drehen.

Ähnlich realitätsfremd gab sich das "Star Trek"-Panel, das aber vor allem schon existierende Staffeln beworben hat. So darf die neue Staffel von "Lowe Decks" nach heutigem Stand im September veröffentlicht werden, was es ganz gut macht, dass die Crossover-Folge mit "Strange New Worlds" die nächste an der Reihe gewesen wäre und irregulär von Paramount+ anlässlich des Panels vorzeitig veröffentlicht wurde. Das heißt aber nicht, dass wir eine längere Pause zwischen den Episoden bekommen, außer die Reihenfolge der Episoden wird geändert, da es einen Extra-Trailer für die erste Musical-Folge in der Geschichte von Trek gab mit Startdatum für die erste Augustwoche, aber noch eine Folge zwischen der Crossover-Folge und diese Episode liegt, sprich offenbar wurde die Crossover-Folge als ComicCon-Special veröffentlicht, was dazu führt, dass in dieser Woche zwei anstelle von nur einer "Strange New Worlds"-Episode kommen. Gewisse Fans regen sich natürlich jetzt schon über die Existenz einer Musical-Folge in "Star Trek" auf, weil es ja offenbar normal ist ein Crossover mit einer Zeichentrick-Comdey-Serie mit etwas fragwürdigen Canonstatus zu machen, aber seltsam und falsch ist die Darsteller singen und tanzen zu lassen. Nun, wie auch immer, dass Staffel 3 von "Strange New Worlds" in echter Gefahr schwebt wegen der Streiks geaxt zu werden, wurde großzügig ignoriert und stattdessen wurde eine fünf Minuten-Szene aus der fünften Staffel von "Star Trek: Discovery" logischerweise ohne konkretes Startdatum abgesehen von 2024 veröffentlicht. Und nicht zu vergessen die großartige Ankündigung, man habe auf die Fans gehört und werde die erste Staffel von "Star Trek: Prodigy" auf BR und DVD veröffentlichen, was der größte Faux-Pas von Paramount seit der Ankündigung wie die vierte Staffel von "Discovery" international erscheinen wird war, weil ... wir hatten eigentlich alle angenommen, dass die Staffel sowieso auf DVD erscheint, soll das heißen, dass die nie vorhatten sie so zu veröffentlichen und es jetzt nur tun, weil sich die Fans darüber beschwert haben, dass die Serie von Paramount+ gelöscht wurde? Bedeutet das, dass wir in Zukunft nur noch dann BR/DVD-Veröffentlichungen von den Star Trek-Serienstaffeln kriegen, wenn die nicht auf Paramount+ zu sehen sind, also dass es keine Veröffentlichung der letzten Staffeln von "Picard" und "Discovery" für die physikalischen Medien geben wird solange die Staffeln streambar sind? Oder hat Paramount ernsthaft nicht verstanden, dass es uns darum ging, dass wir die so gut wie fertig gestellte zweite Staffel von "Star Trek: Prodigy" sehen wollten? Nun, wie gesagt Paramount hat die Stimmung der Fans und deren stinknormale Wünsche ja in letzter Zeit öfter als einmal falsch eingeschätzt, also vielleicht denken sie wirklich, dass wie uns damit den Größten aller möglichen Gefallen tun.

Wie gesagt wurden die meisten anderen geplanten Panels verschoben und das entsprechende Material teilweise anderswo veröffentlicht. Rotten Tomatoes hat zeitgerecht ein Making Of zur zweiten Staffel von "Good Omens" herausgebracht, das vermutlich in Wahrheit für das gestrichene Panel auf der ComicCon gedacht gewesen war. Groß eingeblendet unter den Interviews mit den Darstellern ist dabei das Datum wann die gemacht wurden, damit ja keiner denkt, dass die Briten das böse Amazon unterstützen würden. Das wird ganz witzig, wenn sie das für die Dauer des Streiks das jetzt bei all ihrem ja schon lange vorher zusammengestellten Promo-Material machen müssen, vor allem auch, weil man dann sieht wie lange die Drehabreiten zu all diesen Sachen schon her sind, wenn sie dann endlich veröffentlicht werden, was der Öffentlichkeit vielleicht endlich bewusst machen könnte, dass das wahre Problem des Streiks uns als Zuseher erst in zwei Jahren im Kino und auf den Streaming Services so richtig treffen wird, und dann hoffentlich nicht schon seit zwei Jahren anhält, aber das ist momentan leider nicht auszuschließen, da kein Interesse von Studio- und Streaming-Seite aus besteht mit auch nur einer der beiden Gewerkschaften zu verhandeln, während die SAG sich unterdessen mit einem winzigen Indepent Studio geeinigt hat um zu zeigen, dass es nicht um Geld an sich geht, sondern um faire Bezahlung und Behandlung, aber das wird Netflix, Warner, Disney und Co. genauso kalt lassen wie alles andere auch.

Die überlegen unterdessen Filme nach hinten zu verschieben. Allen voran Warner überdenkt sein Winterprogramm und will den zweiten Teil von "Dune" und den zweiten "Aquaman"-Film (ja, der lebt immer noch, auch wenn alle so tun als wäre "The Flash" das Ende vom DCEU gewesen, das hat nie jemand außer den Fans behauptet, da es ja wie gesagt immer noch diesen Film gibt und der Beginn des neuen DCUs für 2025 angesetzt war mit James Gunns Superman-Film, der sich wegen des Streiks jetzt sowieso nicht an dieses Datum halten kann) auf 2024 zu verschieben, was keine dumme Idee wäre, aber nichts löst. Aber immerhin sprechen wir hier von Warner, an Lösungen waren die noch nie interessiert.

Unterdessen freuen sich manche Fans online, dass auf der ComicCon nun endlich wieder Künstler im Mittelpunkt stehen. Was jemanden der ein Schweinegeld für eine Con wegen eines gewissen Film - oder Fernsehstars oder einen Panel zu seiner Lieblingsfranchise bezahlt hat und nun das wofür er bezahlt hat nicht bekommt, aber nicht trösten wird, im Gegenteil! Zu denken die Mehrheit der Leute würde heutzutage auf die SDCC gehen um ein Autogramm von ihrem Lieblingscomiczeichner zu kriegen geht leider an der Realität vorbei. Aber offenbar sind dieses Jahr ja alle damit beschäftigt die Realität zu verdrängen und zu verleugnen. Es gibt genug Leute, die gescheit im Internet reden und nicht mitbekommen haben, dass Hollywood von gleich zwei Streiks auf einmal lahm gelegt wird und denken der Hass von ihnen und ihresgleichen hätte endlich gewonnen und dafür gesorgt, dass Projekte verschoben und gestrichen werden. Momentan befinden sie sich leider in guter Gesellschaft, da keiner wahrhaben will was momentan wirklich los ist. Spätestens nächstes Jahr wird das dann aber so oder so nicht mehr zu verdrängen sein, weil sich bis dahin entweder alles in Wohlgefallen aufgelöst hat und sich die Projekte wie nach Covid staplen oder Hollywood endgültig implodiert ist und es gar nichts mehr zu bewerben und vorzustellen gibt.

Aber bis dahin wird es noch "interessant" für uns alle werden, wenn die einzlenen Betroffenen Parteien endlich aufwachen und was sie dann tun. Aber das ist eben kein Thema, das zur Comic Con passt.

#Blog #san diego comic con #SDCC2023 #The Walking Dead #Star Trek #DCEU #Good Omens #Paramount #Warner #star trek: strange new worlds #star trek: lower decks #star trek: prodigy #star trek: discovery

[armyofthedeadstream]

Army of the Dead Film Online Ganzer Deutsch Stream 2021

Film stream - https://army-of-the-dead-de.blogspot.com/

Dave Bautista ist nicht das, was man als "starken, stillen Typ" bezeichnen würde. Kaum verborgen unter dem riesigen Körper eines Superhelden - eine Rolle, die er mehrfach in Marvels Guardians of the Galaxy-Filmen gespielt hat - liegt ein Herz voller Emotionen. Er ist anfällig für Wutausbrüche und Frustrationen und hat keine Angst, auf dem Bildschirm zu weinen. Mit 52 Jahren ist er etwas älter als Ihr normaler Hollywood-Action-Typ. Er trägt das Gewicht all dieser Jahre in jeder Linie auf seinem verwitterten Gesicht. Er sieht aus, als könnte er dich fertig machen, ohne ins Schwitzen zu geraten - und dann mit der Schuld und Schande ringen, was er für den Rest seines Lebens getan hat.

All diese Eigenschaften machen Dave Bautista zum perfekten Hauptdarsteller für Zack Snyder, einen Filmemacher, der das letzte Jahrzehnt damit verbracht hat, die Ikonographie der Helden von DC Comics auseinander zu reißen. Er verwandelte Superman in einen widerstrebenden Retter, der von Selbstzweifeln geplagt war, und machte Batman zu einem sadistischen Rächer des Verbrechens. Snyders neueste Version, Army of the Dead, ist eine hochkarätige Kombination aus Zombiefilm und Überfallfilm. Über den Nervenkitzel hinaus ist es jedoch Snyders Gelegenheit, die Themen seiner letzten DC-Filme und insbesondere den Schnitt seines Regisseurs der Justice League über reumütige Väter fortzusetzen, die versuchen, zerbrochene Beziehungen zu ihren Kindern inmitten apokalyptischer Spielereien zu reparieren.

Hier kommt Bautista ins Spiel. Er spielt Scott Ward, einen pensionierten Soldaten, der den Verteidigungsminister aus Las Vegas rettete, nachdem er plötzlich von Zombies überrannt worden war. Der Ausbruch von Vegas wurde letztendlich durch den Bau einer Mauer um Sin City eingedämmt. Jahre später ist das Militär bereit, den Ort ein für alle Mal zu zerstören, um keine weiteren Probleme der Untoten zu verursachen. Nachdem die Regierung abgelenkt ist, erkennt ein wohlhabender Casino-Magnat (Hiroyuki Sanada von Mortal Kombat) eine Gelegenheit und rekrutiert Ward, um ein Team zusammenzustellen, das 200 Millionen Dollar aus dem Tresor seines verlassenen Casinos holt, bevor die Bomben das Geld auslöschen.

Ward wirft Burger in einen fettigen Löffel, der seiner erwachsenen Tochter Kate (Ella Purnell) entfremdet ist, und beschließt, nichts zu verlieren. Also trifft er sich wieder mit einigen seiner alten Freunde (einschließlich Omari Hardwicks Vanderohe, einem philosophischen Krieger, der eine riesige Kreissäge als Waffe mit sich herumträgt) und rekrutiert neue Hilfe (wie Matthias Schweighöfers Dieter, ein schrulliger sicherer Cracker ohne Zombietötungserfahrung ) um nach Vegas zurückzukehren. Sanadas Tanaka besteht darauf, dass der Überfall ein Kinderspiel sein wird - eine frühe Montage schneidet seine Beschreibung des Plans mit Zeitlupenaufnahmen von Wards Crew ab, die mühelos Zombies auf ihrem Weg zu Glück und Ruhm schlachtet -, aber kein Filmüberfall ist jemals ein Kinderspiel . Noch bevor Ward und seine Firma sich nach Vegas schleichen, gibt es Komplikationen. Kate verlangt, sich dem Team anzuschließen, um einen vermissten Freund zu finden, und Tanaka fügt seinen rechten Mann (Garrett Dillahunt) der Gruppe hinzu, und er hat offensichtlich nicht die besten Interessen der Mission im Herzen.

Snyders allererster Spielfilm als Regisseur war ein Remake von George Romeros Dawn of the Dead, eine entmutigende Aufgabe, die er mit beeindruckendem Selbstvertrauen und Können bewältigte. Snyder kehrte zum ersten Mal seit über 15 Jahren wieder in die Welt der Zombies zurück und erfand eine lebendige neue Version des Genres. Das Hinzufügen von Überfallelementen verleiht der bekannten Formel bereits einen neuen Ton und Geschmack. Darüber hinaus entwickeln Snyder und die Co-Autoren Shay Hatten und Joby Harold eine interessante Möglichkeit, beide Klassen von Zombies - die langsamen, durcheinandergebrachten und die schnellen, intelligenten - einzubeziehen, indem sie in den Ruinen von Las Vegas eine ganze Zombie-Gesellschaft gründen . Die Entdeckung der Bräuche und der Kultur dieser Gesellschaft (zusammen mit den Motivationen des Anführers der Zombies, gespielt von Richard Cetrone) verstärkt die Intrige, als Ward und seine Männer immer tiefer in feindliches Gebiet vordringen.

Es gibt gewichtige Ideen, die an den Rändern des Rahmens auftauchen - die Situation in Vegas führt zu einer Flüchtlingskrise in den Vereinigten Staaten, und die Behandlung der Überlebenden, die „unter Quarantäne gestellt“ wurden, enthält beunruhigende Parallelen zu unserer postkoviden Realität - aber meistens Snyder scheint jetzt eine tolle Zeit zu haben, die sich endlich keine Sorgen mehr darüber macht, was DC-Fans (und vor allem, was Führungskräfte von Warner Bros.) von seiner Arbeit halten. Sein dystopisches Las Vegas ist voller wilder Bilder, wie eine Zombie-Häuptlingin in einem zerfallenden Showgirl-Outfit und ein untoter Tiger, der auf der Suche nach frischem Fleisch über den Strip streift. Snyder bietet die erforderlichen Action-Sequenzen, die von etwas namens Army of the Dead verlangt werden, aber er findet auch viele Möglichkeiten, die Zuschauer zu überraschen.

Zack Snyder setzt sein ruhmreiches Comeback mit einer hirnspritzenden, actiongeladenen neuen Version des Zombie-Genres fort. Army of the Dead ist ein Überfallfilm, der in einem von Fleischessern überrannten Las Vegas spielt. Denken Sie nicht daran, dass Ocean's Eleven The Walking Dead trifft. Der Film stellt ein Zombieszenario mit einem viel raffinierteren Gegner auf. Hervorragende praktische Effekte und Make-up-Design tragen zum grausamen Gemetzel bei. Eine saftige Nebenhandlung und eine lange Laufzeit sind negativ, aber nicht genug, um den Film nach unten zu ziehen. Army of the Dead wird ein Monsterhit für Netflix sein.

Army of the Dead beginnt mit einer frenetischen Montage, die die Hauptfiguren vorstellt und die Erzählung umrahmt. Ein Unfall führt dazu, dass Las Vegas von Zombies befallen wird. Das Militär umgibt die Stadt mit einer Barrikade von Containern, um die Untoten zu bereinigen. Am Stadtrand wird eine Quarantänezone eingerichtet, in der Vertriebene untergebracht und überwacht werden. Es werden strenge Maßnahmen ergriffen, um sicherzustellen, dass sich die Infektion nicht über die ehemalige Stadt Sin hinaus ausbreitet. Dave Bautista spielt Scott Ward, einen Ex-Militärmann, der mit seinem Team von Las Vengeance aus Las Vegas geflohen ist. In der Folgezeit wird er von einem Casino-Mogul (Hiroyuki Sanada) mit einem lukrativen, aber gefährlichen und zeitkritischen Job angesprochen. In seinem Tresor stecken 200 Millionen Dollar. Er will das Geld, bevor die Regierung die Stadt am 4. Juli in vier Tagen zerstört. Ward versammelt seine Söldner (Omari Hardwick, Ana de la Reguera, Tig Notaro) sowie einen Safecracker (Matthias Schweighöfer) und einen triggerfreudigen Social-Media-Influencer (Raúl Castillo). Die Mission wird komplexer, als er gezwungen ist, seine entfremdete Tochter (Ella Purnell) und eine zweifelhafte Kojote (Nora Arnezeder) anzuwerben, um die Stadt zu infiltrieren.

Zack Snyder hatte sich bereits 2004 mit der fantastischen Dawn of the Dead sein Zombie-Verdienstabzeichen verdient. Er verändert das Spiel komplett, indem er die Untoten mehr als sinnlose Orgelknabber macht. Es gibt verschiedene Arten von Zombies, die nicht nur herumwirbeln und tatsächlich eine Agenda haben. Das Erreichen des Tresors ist nicht einfach nur ein Weg durch das Gewölbe. Das Team muss sorgfältig einen Weg zu seinem Ziel aushandeln. Aber nicht jeder auf der Mission hat das gleiche Ziel. Snyders Handlung ist nicht die abgestandene Zombie-Runderneuerung, die wir unzählige Male zuvor gesehen haben. Es ist erfrischend, wieder ein wenig Kreativität im Genre zu haben.

Army of the Dead hat eine Fülle von CGI, aber die Kreaturen- und Make-up-Effekte sind herausragend. Es gibt Szenen, in denen Blut und Eingeweide auf das Kameraobjektiv spritzen. Arterien sprudeln wie Springbrunnen, die Haut wird zerrissen und der Darm wird wie Nudeln gezogen. Ich bin kein Fan von extremem Blut, aber die Verschwörung rechtfertigt ein Blutbad. Das ist kein Folterporno. Die Aktion hat einen menschlichen Tribut, der Sinn macht. Der Tod ist in diesem Film nicht einfach oder schmerzfrei.

Die üblichen Schwächen von Zack Synder sind vorhanden. Army of the Dead läuft zwei Stunden und achtundzwanzig Minuten. Die Länge des Films führt zu einigen unnötigen Pausen. Zum Glück nimmt die Aktion wieder zu, aber eine engere Bearbeitung hätte das Tempo verbessert. Es gibt auch Melodramtöne, da Dave Bautista und Ella Purnell eine angespannte Vater-Tochter-Beziehung haben. Es ist absolut unglaublich und gezwungen. Trotzdem sind sich Snyders Fans seines jüngsten Verlusts sehr bewusst und verstehen, warum das Thema Versöhnung so wichtig ist.

Army of the Dead ist ein lustiger Publikumsmagnet von einem Regisseur, der eindeutig wieder im Groove ist. Es ist der erste Film in einem neuen Zombie-Universum mit einem Prequel, Army of Thieves, das für später in diesem Jahr geplant ist. Army of the Dead ist eine Produktion von The Stone Quarry. Es wird am 14. Mai im Kino erscheinen. Gefolgt von einem Streaming-Debüt am 21. Mai auf Netflix.

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[gameforestdach]

Ein neues Spiel namens 'The Walking Dead: Destinies', basierend auf der TV-Serie The Walking Dead von AMC, ist möglicherweise durchgesickert. Das Spiel versetzt die Spieler in die Rolle von Rick Grimes, dem Protagonisten der Serie, der aus dem Koma aufwacht und einer Zombie-Apokalypse gegenübersteht. Das Spiel geht über die bloße Wiederholung der Serie hinaus und ermöglicht es den Spielern, Entscheidungen zu treffen, die den Handlungsverlauf beeinflussen. Hier ist, was wir bisher erfahren haben: The Walking Dead: Destinies wird es den Spielern ermöglichen, über 15 Charaktere aus der Serie zu kontrollieren. Es umfasst vertraute Orte und behandelt Ereignisse aus den ersten vier Staffeln der TV-Serie. Es wird von GameMill Entertainment veröffentlicht und am 14. November 2023 veröffentlicht. Das Spiel wird auf allen gängigen Spieleplattformen erhältlich sein, darunter PS4, PS5, Xbox Series X/S, Xbox One, Nintendo Switch und PC, und kostet 49,99 $/€49,99. Zurück ins Walking Dead-Universum In 'The Walking Dead: Destinies' wachen die Spieler im Körper von Rick Grimes auf, umgeben vom Chaos einer Welt, die von Untoten überrannt wird. Der bisher veröffentlichte Ausschnitt des Spiels zeigt ein wahlgesteuertes Gameplay, das es den Spielern ermöglicht, den Verlauf der Handlung der TV-Serie zu verändern. Du kannst Allianzen bilden, schwierige Entscheidungen treffen, kämpfen und dich im Netzwerk der Beziehungen bewegen, die die ursprüngliche Serie geprägt haben. Gameplay und Mechanik Das Spiel bietet eine Vielzahl von Waffen, vom Revolver über Schrotflinten bis hin zu Katanas. Darüber hinaus scheint es, dass verschiedene Spielelemente in die Handlung eingewoben sind, wie beispielsweise Ressourcensammlung und Basisverwaltung, die eine wichtige Rolle beim Überleben sowie bei der Spielentwicklung spielen könnten. Interaktive Handlung The Walking Dead handelt immer davon, schwierige Entscheidungen in einer gnadenlosen Umgebung zu treffen. In 'The Walking Dead: Destinies' werden diese Entscheidungen deine Reise formen und eine interaktive Handlung bieten, in der deine Entscheidungen erhebliche Auswirkungen auf die Ereignisse und das Schicksal deines Charakters haben können. Walking Dead-Erinnerungen Beliebte Charaktere und Orte werden eine wichtige Rolle in dem Spiel spielen. Es wird Ereignisse aus den ersten vier Staffeln der Originalserie behandeln, was langjährigen Fans die Möglichkeit gibt, bemerkenswerte Momente wiederzuerleben, und Neulingen die Gelegenheit gibt, in das Walking Dead-Universum einzutauchen. Abschließende Gedanken Während wir auf den 14. November 2023 warten, sind Spieler auf der ganzen Welt darauf erpicht, erneut in die Schuhe (oder vielleicht in den Hut) von Rick Grimes zu schlüpfen. Dieses Mal sind sie jedoch nicht nur Beobachter der Geschichte, sondern gestalten sie selbst. Während die Spieler gespannt auf 'The Walking Dead: Destinies' warten, laden wir dich ein, deine Gedanken und Erwartungen zu dem Spiel mit uns zu teilen. Lass uns wissen, auf welchen Charakter du dich freust und welche Entscheidungen du in dieser untoten Dystopie treffen würdest.

[holly-hep]

The Beauty of Being Numb | Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Index 

Chapter Five: Klaus Does Something Stupid (and no one is surprised) 

-Close your eyes, dummy!

-I can't! Every time I close my eyes, I see a diarrhetic hippo about to shit on my face. It's terrifying! 

(Y/N) laugh can be heard all over the mansion. 

-What is that even supposed to mean?

Klaus closes his eyes. 

-No! No... It's awful! 

-How am I supposed to make you sleep if you don't close your eyes? 

-Will you take that terrific hippo out of my head? 

-Yes. 

-I trust you, girl- he points at her accusingly as she laughs again. 

Klaus lies down on her bed, closing his eyes and covering with the knitted blanket. (Y/N) puts a hand on his forehead, her eyes glowing, trying to make him sleep... But Klaus starts making noises again. 

-Nop, the hippo it's still there. 

-Klaus, I can't concentrate, stop!- she laughs. 

-Then sing to me- he opens one eye to look at her. 

-I can't sing in English. 

-I know... Sign me that german song you sang me at rehab, remember? 

-And you'll stop mentioning the diarrheic hippo? 

-Oh, sure. 

-Okay. 

He closes his eyes again, and she lays beside him, her right hand on his forehead. 

-Guten Abend, gut' Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht, mit Näglein besteckt, schlupf' unter die Deck': Morgen früh, wenn das Universum will, wirst du wieder geweckt.

She stops singing, noticing Klaus is already snoring and that she feels uncomfortable and dipsy. She can't see the hippo, but can definitely sense how awkward it made Klaus feel. 

-Goodnight, meine Liebe. (my love) 

(Y/N) gives him a small kiss on the forehead and lays beside him, close to him, but not enough to touch him. 

When her alarm goes off the next morning, she opens her eyes slowly, adjusting to the light, expecting to see Klaus on the other side. But to her surprise, his spot is empty and cold. 

Still sleepy, the girl gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom, but he isn't there either. She peeks inside his room and Diego's, but he isn't anywhere to be seen. 

Barefoot, she intends to go to the kitchen, but when she walks past the living room, she hears some grunting from the living room. She enters the room to discover a mess on the floor and Klaus sleeping on a couch with only his underwear on. 

-No... No... No...- he was having a nightmare. 

-Klaus- she kneels and shakes him a little-. Klaus, love, wake up. 

-No!- he wakes up, sweating and hyperventilating. 

-Hey, it's just me- she touches his arm, calming him down. 

-Oh...

Without caring (Y/N) is there, he crawls through to floor to his coat, searching for drugs. 

-Shut your piehole, Ben!- he says to the empty chair at his right. 

-Is Ben here?- (T/N) looks around, as if she would be able to see him too. 

-He's always up my ass... Said with love- he blows a kiss to the chair. 

She watches as he stands up and lights a cigarette. For a moment, she can't look away, her gaze passing all over his body with admiration. 

-Can't smoke eggs- he says, making her look away blushing. 

-I'm sorry, do you want eggs?

-No, I said I can't smoke eggs... Can you lend me money? 

-I'm not fonding your addiction, Klaus. 

-Fine- he walks to the showcase on the wall-. One of these had gotta be gold-plated, right? 

She wants to stop him, but she's too distracted looking at his butt. 

Suddenly, someone clears their throat, scaring both adults. 

-Christ on a cracker!- Klaus screams looking back-. Pogo?

-My apologies, Master Klaus- he looks at him recriminating-. I have a query for you. 

-Oh? 

-Items from your father's office have gone missing. In particular, an ornate box with a pearl inlay. 

(Y/N) turns to see Klaus with a disappointed look as he turns to see the empty chair. 

-Oh, really? You don't say. 

-Any idea where it went?

-No, no, no... No idea- then he whispers-. Drop-dead. Would you shut up!? 

-Excuse me?- Pogo is impressed at his words. 

-Pogo, I didn't mean you, I just... I...- He sits next to (Y/N)-. You know, there's been a lot of stuff I've been dealing with. Just a lot of memories coming up. All those good times. Well, not so many good times as really awful, terrible, depressing times. 

-The contents of that box are priceless. Were they to find their way back to the office, whoever took it would be absolved of any blame or consequences. 

-Oh, well, lucky bastard. 

-Indeed. 

Pogo leaves the room and (Y/N) sights, standing up to pick up the mess her friend had made. 

-Where's the box, Klaus?

-At the pawnshop. 

-The one next to the Chinese restaurant? 

-Yeah. 

-Okay- she throws at him his pants-. Get dressed, we're going to get it back before I go to work. 

-You have a job?- he frowns. 

-At the flower shop, downtown. 

-Oh, nice- she wants to be mad at him, but can't-. I don't have money, though. 

-I'll pay for it, but you ain't going alone anywhere with my money. 

-Fair enough.

An hour later, the pair parks in front of the pawnshop. 

-Okay, here's the money. You get in, buy the box and then come back to the car and give it to me. Get it?

-Yes, boss!- she smiles at him. 

Klaus gets off the car and does what she told him. 

-Great! Now you just gotta go back to the house, put the things inside, and give it back to Pogo. 

-There's a problem with that.

-What?

-I don't have what was inside. 

-What?- she almost screams-. Where did you leave them?

-At the dumpster behind the Academy. 

-You're unbelievable- she starts the car-. Okay, no problem. We're going to the flower shop, I'll ask the day off and then we'll go to the dumpster. 

It was very hard to convince Ren, the owner of the shop, to give her the day, but in the end, she managed to convince him after mentioning it was to spend time with Klaus. 

-Oh, god... He came?- (Y/N) nod, excited-. Jesus girl, I can't you believe you actually found him. Will you finally stop talking about him every three minutes? 

-I don't do that!- she blushes.

-All of our customers know who he is!- Ren looks through the windows, at her car-. Is that him? 

-Yeah. 

-He's cuter in person- he tries to get a better look at him. 

-I know. So... Can I have the day off? 

-Just this one time, Voss- she gives little jumps of happiness-. And I want all the details later, alright? 

-Okay, bye! 

The next hour, Klaus and (Y/N) look through the trash, trying to find whatever Klaus thew away. But there was nothing, he didn't even remember what the box had. 

-What do you plan on doing now?- she asked as they entered the mansion. 

-Well, nothing, of course.

-You're a mess, Klaus.

-I...

-Hey! I was looking for you!- Five interrupts them-. Klaus, I need your help. 

-Why?

-I need you to pose as my dad so I can get some information. Put something professional on, we're leaving in half an hour. 

-Oh, sure, boss... Will I get something in exchange?

-$10

-$20 

-Okay- Five's irritated. 

Klaus climbs the stairs and (Y/N) looks at Five with a raised eyebrow. 

-Which information?

-It's none of your business. 

-Oh, but maybe I can help, you know?- Five ignores her and starts climbing the stairs-. I can convince a person to give you their life saving in the blink of an eye! 

-You have powers?

-Yeah. 

The kid stands in the middle of the stairway, examining her. 

-That'll work better than Klaus, ok. $20 for your services. 

-Oh, no, thanks. I don't want money- she stands in front of him-. I'm just doing it so Klaus doesn't get money for drugs. 

-Ok. You heard me, wear something formal, you have 30 minutes. 

-I'll ask Grace for one of her dresses. 

They walk to Klaus's room, where he is buttoning up a rather extravagant blazer. 

-Klaus, forget it. I'll take your girlfriend instead. 

-I'm not... 

-Why?- he pouts. 

-Well, first of all, you're wearing clown clothes. 

-What? This is my nicest outfit- he speaks softly, offended-. Wait! I got an idea. You know what's better than a mom? A mom and a dad! We can pose as a married couple with a sweet teenage kid. 

-Oh, God- Five looks at (Y/N), who got lost at the mention of married-. Yeah, fine, whatever. But I'll just give you $10... And we'll raid the old man's closet. 

-As long as I get paid- (Y/N) looks at Five concerned but he blinks and eye at her. 

-When the job is done! 

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x you #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #tua

[leinwandfrei]

Endlich ein Ende in Sicht - die Schwierigkeit des Abschließens

Der April hat einige Bewegungen in der Serienwelt mit sich gebracht. Nachdem das Arrow-Team nach schwachen Quoten der aktuellen Staffeln mit der verkürzten 8. Staffel einen Abschluss der Serie angekündigt hat und somit nach Gotham auch die zweite Serie des (im Vergleich  zu Marvel) kleinen DC-Serien-Universums ausscheiden wird, schloss sich das Kreativteam von Supernatural an. Nach 15 Staffeln soll die Langzeitserie (endlich) beendet werden. Nachdem ursprünglich nach der 5. Staffel (2009!) vorgesehenen Ende (der ersten von mehreren Apokalypsen) soll dann mit der nächsten Staffel tatsächlich das Ende erreicht sein. Auch The Big Bang Theory (TBBT) hat die letzte, 12. Staffel angekündigt.

Somit tritt eine Generation an Serien ab, welche in verschiedenen Sparten den Serien-Hype der 2010er Jahre mit vorangetrieben oder vorbereitet haben. Die beiden Titanen der modernen Serienkultur (also Supernatural und TBBT) haben ihren Höhepunkt schon lange überschritten und enttäuschen zusehends die einstig begeisterten Zuschauer, mit jeder weiteren lieblosen und inkonsequenten Folge die ergänzt werden verlieren sie an Renommee. Dieses Problem ist keine neue Entdeckung. Schon Akte X (1993-2002, 2016-18; 11 Staffeln) bewies was mit einer überstrapazierten Story und einer zu lang ausgedehnten Serie passiert: ein Qualitätssturz sondergleichen. Gotham sollte daher lobend hervorgehoben werden. Das Kreativteam hat sich zu einem kontrollierten und nicht durch Zuschauerzahlen erzwungenen Serienende mit der 5. Staffel entschieden, was ihnen die Möglichkeit gibt, mit Anstand abzutreten und sich an Serien wie Breaking Bad, Bates Motel oder Lost anzuschließen.

Serien mit kontrolliertem Abschluss sind gegenüber den überstrapazierten Langzeitserien, wobei hier irgendwann finanzieller Erfolg aller Beteiligten in den Vordergrund rückt und zu erzwungenen oder von den Fans abgelehnten a-Toc-Abschlüssen führen, in der Unterzahl. Beispiele hierfür sind neben Akte X auch Gilmore Girls und The Walking Dead. Akte X und die Gilmore Girls wurden dann noch nachträglich um weitere Staffeln ergänzt, ohne aus diesem Fehler gelernt zu haben. Manchmal ist es besser im besten Moment aufzuhören, eine verbrauchte Empfehlung für auch diesen Bereich des Lebens. Langzeitserien funktionieren in der Regel nur dann über ein Jahrzehnt hinweg, wenn es Reihen ohne eine inhaltliche Kongruenz innerhalb aller Staffeln ist. Krimireihen wie der Tatort oder Dr. Who funktionieren aufgrund von wechselnden Protagonisten bei gleichbleibender Grundkonstellation und sich verändernder Zeitumstände. Zudem ist bei Dr. Who der Kultstatus ein entscheidender Faktor, welcher kaum aus dem Rezeptionsverhalten herauszulösen ist. Im Bereich des Krimis gibt es auch bestehende Figuren, welche aber nicht im Rahmen einer fortlaufenden Serie sondern immer wieder in Neuadaptionen aufgegriffen werden. Hierzu lassen sich neben Sherlock Holmes und Miss Marple auch die britischen Ermittler aus Serien wie Inspector Barnaby, Lewis, Morse und der junge Inspector Morse zählen.      

Natürlich kommt es auch vor, dass kontrollierte Abschlüsse nicht den Geschmack oder die Erwartungshaltung der Fans treffen. Beispiele hierfür sind etwa How I met your mother oder Dexter, aber immerhin kann dann die Handlung als geschlossen und nicht abgebrochen behandelt werden. Damit wäre dann auch die dritte Gruppe an möglichen Serienabschlüssen erreicht, das Abbrechen aufgrund von einer nicht erwarteten Absetzung der Serie. Viele Serien kommen nie über die erste Staffel hinaus, andere versanden bereits mit der Pilotfolge im Kanon der vergessenen Ideen. Durch den großen Serien-Hype der letzten Jahre war es vielen ungewöhnlichen und mutigen Projekten möglich tatsächlich umgesetzt zu werden und wider Erwarten der Beteiligten auch über eine Staffel hinaus geführt zu werden. Wie lange diese Produktions-Oase noch Bestand haben wird ist fraglich. Der Streamingdienst Netflix ist ein entscheidender Motor für die momentane Phase der kreativen Freiheit im Bereich der Serien. Wenn aber die Finanzierungsressourcen einmal aufgebraucht sind und die Begeisterung für das staffelweise Serien ansehen abklingen sollte, ist es fraglich, wie die weitere Entwicklung in diesem Bereich sein wird. Die Kinofilmproduktion geht momentan den Weg des Risikos und der kreativen Auslagerung. Die Produktionskosten der Blockbuster steigen stetig an während gleichzeitig die kreativ oft eigenwilligeren, kostengünstigeren Indie-Produktionen blühen.  Mit dem Abschluss der oben genannten Serien wird nicht die Apokalypse im Serienuniversum begonnen. Aber dennoch wird die Frage aufgeworfen, wie sich das stetige Wachstum dieses Bereichs in der Zukunft wohl entwickeln wird. Hollywood ist ein Sinnbild für das Verfliegen von Erfolgsphasen. Die goldene Ära des amerikanischen Kinos ist als endgültig verflogen anzusehen.

Insgesamt bleibt festzuhalten, abschließen ist schwer und manchmal schmerzhaft. Serien binden ihre Zuschauer dadurch, dass sie eine gewohnte Welt aufrechterhalten, mit welcher man nostalgische Erinnerungen oder einen bestimmten Lebensabschnitt verbindet und sich davon einfach nicht verabschieden möchte. Ebenso wird es auch den Produktionsteams der Serien gehen, welche viele Jahre ihres Lebens innerhalb einer künstlich erzeugten Familienkonstellation verbringen und davon nur mühevoll Abschied nehmen können. Dennoch ist es im Fall von Supernatural und TBBT an der Zeit abzuschließen und Abschied zu nehmen. In Deutschland wird dieser „Abschied“ durch die zeitversetzte Ausstrahlung bzw. den DVD-Vertrieb weiter verzögert. Die finale 15. Staffel von Supernatural wird, gemessen an den bisherigen Rhythmen, erst 2021 in Deutschland auf DVD erscheinen. Bei Gotham ist noch nicht einmal klar wann die finalen Staffeln erhältlich sind und ob sie nacheinander oder als Doppelpack vertrieben werden.  Anfangen und Abschließen sind die wohl komplexesten Prozesse bei fortlaufend erzählten Geschichten, egal ob in Form eines Buchs oder einer Serie. Nur selten gelingt der perfekte Absprung und häufig enttäuschen Auflösungen und Abschlüsse in genau dem Maße, indem sie ursprünglich die Fantasie des Zuschauers anzuregen vermochten. Viele Ideen sind großartig, aber zum Abschluss ungeeignet. Nicht nur bei Horrorfilmen verlieren die Produktionen in dem Moment ihren Reiz, wo das unfassbare und noch vage emotional vermittelte Gefühl eines bedrohenden Grauens ein Gesicht oder eine visuelle Entsprechung bekommt. Der Zauber ist sofort gebrochen, die Authentizität der unterschwelligen Vermittlung verschwunden und unwiederbringlich verloren. Bei einer Serie kann sich dieser Bruch aber mühevoll über mehrere Staffeln verschleppt einstellen und plötzlich versteht man als Zuschauer die eigene einstige Begeisterung nicht mehr. Das Weitergucken wird zum Fortsetzen eines zur Gewohnheit gewordenen Prozesses, ein Festklammern an fiktiven Fluchtorten aus dem Alltag oder an Erinnerungen an vergangene Lebensabschnitte. Der Zuschauer kann sich letztlich mit neuen Welten behelfen, die Beteiligten an den Projekten und insbesondere die Hauptdarsteller wie Hauptverantwortlichen hingegen sind noch enger gebunden. Für sie dürfte der Abnabelungsprozess ungleich schwieriger sein. Zudem ist es schwierig andere Rollen anzunehmen, wenn man (wie Jared Padalecki und Jensen Ackles) über ein Jahrzehnt lang nahezu ausschließlich in einer bestimmten Rolle wahrgenommen wurde. Die beiden nachgedrehten Staffeln Akte X zeigen, dass die Bindung an solche Figuren eng ist und über Jahre weiter bestehen kann. Daher ein großes Lob für Produktionsteams denen der Absprung von der Woge des Erfolgs im richtigen Moment für Schauspieler und das Produzenten-Regie-Team gelingt. Aus der Erfolgs-Chance für die Zukunft kann auch eine Einbahnstraße werden.         

#gotham #akte x #supernatural #tbbt