Latest Posts by anera527 - Page 7

*finds angsty fic*

*whines every 5 minutes*

*screams intensely*

*leaps out of window whilst holding laptop*

*rolls in blood and tears*

*dies*

that was really good i’m gonna read it again 

David Tennant and Olivia Coleman behind the set of Broadchurch Series 2

Broadchurch cast members that were once in Doctor Who

David Tennant - DI Alec Hardy / The Doctor

Olivia Colman - Ellie Miller / Prisoner Zero

Eve Myles - Claire Ashworth / Gwen Cooper (Torchwood)

Arthur Darvill - Paul Coates / Rory Williams

Jonathan Bailey - Oliver Stevens / Psy

What I love most about Broadchurch, and it’s the thing I miss most with S2, is the element of the sea. The very first shot of the entire first series was of the ocean breaking along the shore and you’re able to hear its low rumbling. I love how that sound is utilized from the very first, because it’s letting us the viewer know exactly what to expect. And then the very last shot of series 1 is of the sea again breaking on the shore, and it’s come full circle in this way.

But the sea, and its sound, is utilized so much more than that. It’s our grounding in a way, a silent watchful presence that is always there. Broadchurch itself, as admitted by the cast and by Chris Chibnall himself, is a character and none more so than the sea it resides by.

The sea plays along the scene when Alec sees Danny’s body for the first time. And of course we know the significance of the ocean (and any body of water, for that fact) for Alec but still the ocean is itself in this scene, not just a foil for a character. The sea has witnessed Joe Miller laying Danny out on its beach. It’s known the Latimers’ loss hours before anyone else did.

Then you see it again as the opening shot in episode 2 of S1, but it’s faster now, and its tone is more of a crash. The setting has changed now, the investigation has begun into Danny’s murder. There are so many instances where the ocean is there, present as its own character and not just a reflection of the people of Broadchurch, and it helps the story along. It’s there, frothing and crashing, when Mark breaks down after Alec tells the Latimers that Joe murdered Danny, and as mentioned before it’s the very last shot of the first series. Still there. Still crashing along its shore. But this time its moaning is calmer now, less of a crash, ending the series on a melancholy, almost peaceful, note.

S2 didn’t include much of that, and it really disappoints me. We see it a lot when we find Alec contemplating on its beach and we often hear its sound but we rarely SEE the actual ocean shown as its own character again. And maybe with S3 we’ll be able to see a bit more of the ocean utilized again but Chris Chibnall definitely knows the power of water, and its played such a large part of Broadchurch as a whole I’m anxious to see how he’s going to use it when the next series comes along.

This post fascinates me because I love psychology and a few months ago I labelled the Broadchurch characters as to what personality type they were, and when I looked back at the list I’d made, Alec was INTJ.

Broadchurch: Alec Hardy [INTJ]

OFFICIAL TYPING by Charity / the mod.

Introverted Intuition (Ni): Alec is reluctant to draw conclusions on evidence until he has fully explored all the possibilities, but he does so internally without brainstorming with Ellie. He often says that he has “a feeling” about how things will turn out, but no evidence to support his hypothesis. Alec is so out of touch with “how things work” (lacking Si) that he fails at social niceties and customs, and sometimes over-compensates as a result (“I got you flowers… and chocolate… and wine; I didn’t know which to choose, so I got them all”). He is able to read people very well, in a short time, and gauge their abilities.

Extroverted Thinking (Te): He wants to finish the job and doesn’t mind who gets the credit. He demands facts, evidence, and “proof.” When confronted with a dead child, he immediately runs through all the usual procedures as well as makes due with the resources around him (including CCTV cameras). Alec demands a high work ethic from his employees and puts in the same hours himself. He has a frankness when dealing with people, and always points out the logic (or lack thereof) in their decisions. “I don’t care about anything but this case,” he says, inferring they can tell him anything that doesn’t have to do with the murder and it won’t wind up in his police report.

Introverted Feeling (Fi): No one knows he has a daughter; he does not open up about his marriage, his former cases, or his illness, instead preferring to deal with his guilt and pain on his own. Alec’s compassion is not often evident, but does run deep; his method in “protecting people” is to warn them not to talk to journalists and to threaten said journalists in order to get them to back off. He is rarely emotional in public and does not like to discuss his feelings.

Extroverted Sensing (Se): Even though he is very ill, Alec continues to work—pushing his body beyond its limits, into a total collapse. He is so eager for a physical human connection that he propositions a woman, who says no only because she’s “afraid [he will] collapse on top of me.” He has almost no connection to his own inner sensations, and as a result, overdoes it; he is also semi-reluctant to engage in his environment on a regular basis, down to his eating habits.

My two favorite relationships in the series.

The more I watch Peter Capaldi the more I NEED him to make an appearance on Broadchurch.

Preferably as Alec’s dad. Think of the drama. And the eyebrows. And the loud Scottish angry outbursts.

‘United’ is my favorite movie ever. Seriously.

Just watched this video about a real life marriage and the husband recounts he proposed to his wife by saying to her, “If we’re going anywhere we’re going down the aisle because I’m too tired, too sick, and too old to do any other damn thing.”

And she just calmly says back, “Well of course I’ll marry you.”

And now all I can think of is the fact that this exchange is EXACTLY how I’d imagine Alec telling Ellie he wants to marry her.

🐌🐌🐌If you receive this it means you make someone happy! Go on anonymous and send this to ten blogs who make you happy or some you feel need cheering up. If you get some back, even better. 🐌🐌🐌

Thank you so much! It’s definitely made my day and I hope what I write makes you happy too! x)

The Irony of Chris Chibnall for me is not the fact that he is my favorite television/film writer. A lot of television and film writers are people you can fall in love with. It’s the same with books. Reading specific authors I never tire of Tolkien or Rowling or CS Lewis. I love Gene Roddenberry (of the original Star Trek franchise) and his creativity mixing science with a flair of myth and legend and the wonderings of the yesterday and how the past fit in with the Enterprise’s crew and their respective futures as such.

But Chris Chibnall is just plainly ironic for me.

I’ve only ever really watched things he’s written if they’re tied up in my David Tennant obsession (but really, is that really that impossible?) but starting off I honestly had no idea who Chibnall was. I started off in the Doctor Who franchise and lo and behold my favorite Tenth Doctor episode of Series 3 was ‘42′. I was impressed by the way the writer had written the Doctor so vulnerable and frightened and in such a spot that it fell to Martha, his companion, to do the saving.  It was a surprising and refreshing change from the normally stoic and triumphant Doctor.

Then I watched ‘United’ on Netflix shortly after I’d finished with David’s seasons of DW. United is one of two of my absolute favorite films ever written (and my favorite DT project to date). I love history but I fell in love with United because of the emotions felt throughout it all. It’s a quiet believable movie with terrific acting but most of all believable writing. Chibnall, I feel, makes you love these young boys who nearly all lose their lives in the plane crash that nearly cripples Manchester United. It’s writing perfection in my opinion.

Then I came over to Broadchurch and holy crap I was blown away within fifteen minutes of the first episode. Everything about the show drew me in: the characters, the scenery, the acting, the MUSIC, and of course the writing. Chibnall is able to blend humor and darkness, secular and religious, discovery and heartbreak, and weave them all together to make devastating beauty.

It was only after I had watched all of Broadchurch and had watched United again that I realized all that I had actually seen had been written by the exact same man. The writer I had been so impressed with since the beginning even though I would never have guessed he had written my favorite Tenth Doctor DW episode, favorite movie, and favorite tv show was shown to have written them all after all.

Chris Chibnall impresses me as a writer because he seems to understand humanity and how we work as a species. He can write pain and love and loss and make characters that stand out and stay with us. And of course that’s helped along by the wonderful and talented actors and actresses who play those characters, but it was Chibnall who created/built on them to begin with, and that’s why I love him so much.

It just still makes me laugh at the irony that I would have already loved so many of the projects he had done without ever realizing that he was the one who wrote them.

‘Secrets’- Alec/Ellie

“Secrets” Ellie sometimes worked on the nights Alec didn’t. They had worked through their odd shifts together for the past few months and had set up a sort-of system that left their respective families running smoothly—or more smoothly than had been tried before. On those nights she came in the front door to general mayhem and disaster: Fred’s toys strewn everywhere, Tom and Daisy seated in front of the telly playing fifa, and Alec generally dozing off on the couch. She didn’t mind most nights when that happened. It was a relief hearing the house noisy and creaking like it had before her life had fallen apart; it brought her some semblance of normalcy. Tonight, however, she slipped through the door to find that there was no mess of toys on the floor, no Fred sleepily babbling to himself, no Tom and Daisy shouting their way through their game, and no Alec seated on the couch. The lights were all off save the kitchen’s, from which she heard the clanking of pans and utensils. Almost concerned she removed her shoes and shrugged off her coat. “But wouldn’t be that be too much vanilla? If it’s real?” Daisy’s voice put her at ease as she approached. Silently Ellie reached the doorway of the kitchen and found that Alec’s daughter was seated on the edge of her kitchen chair in the corner watching her father. “No.” Alec himself was standing at the counter nearest the sink, mixing something in one of Ellie’s silver mixing bowls that she hadn’t seen in months. He was focused entirely on his task (whatever that was) and paid no mind to the fact that Ellie was home. To Ellie’s surprise she came to realize that there was music playing in the background—and not just any music. Classical. Cello and piano, harmonizing together. She had rarely listened to such music herself but tonight for some reason she found the song beautiful. “What’s all this, then?” She was tired (it had been a difficult case to wrap up) but it always buoyed her spirits when coming home to her odd ragtag family. Daisy turned to her with her wide sunny smile. “Dad’s trying to poison us tonight.” “Oi,” Alec protested, twisting slightly to glare at his daughter. His arms, Ellie noticed, was speckled brown. Curious she stepped closer and looked over his elbow. “I’ve made these plenty of times before and you haven’t died yet.” “Yeah, but that was years ago,” Daisy protested with a smirk. “In your old age you may have mixed up the recipe.” “Just for that you’re not getting any. You’ll have to watch us all die from them.” Alec’s sometimes downright black sense of humor was well-known in this household. Ellie rolled her eyes. “Brownies, Hardy? Really?” “Why not?” he countered. Baffled by the out-of-character actions of the man she knew so well she turned to Daisy, who sat with one elbow locked over the top of her chair. “I bought Dad a CD today,” the girl explained; her smirk had not lessened. “He came here and started listening to it and now here we are.” “Making brownies.” Ellie’s tone still conveyed her confusion but she chose to leave it be for now. As long as they didn’t turn out completely inedible she wouldn’t ever turn down chocolate. Which reminded her… “Why do you have the cocoa powder out?” A pause. She frowned as she lifted it up. “When did I even buy cocoa powder?” “Proper brownies are made from scratch, Miller. That bagged shite you buy from the store is just that: shite.” He was back to concentrating on his job, mixing in a cup of flour to the mix. The song in the background changed in pitch, picking up in pace. Ellie frowned again as her ears picked up a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. “Wait, I know this song. Where have I heard it?” “Probably on the radio,” Daisy replied. “It’s ‘Secrets’ by OneRepublic. This is The Piano Guys version of it, they like to mesh up songs and add their own twists to them.” The case of the said CD scraped lightly against the table as her long fingers dragged it closer so she could read the back of it. “Um… ah, yeah, they call it ‘Beethoven’s 5 Secrets’.” She tilted her head as she listened to the swell of the full orchestra in the song. “It’s cool, I guess.” From Daisy that meant the song was beautiful. Ellie couldn’t help her smile and stealing a quick glance at Alec she saw his own eyes were soft hearing his daughter’s admission. She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow, a wide grin pulling at her mouth. “Never would’ve pegged you down for a classical kind of guy.” In the dim lighting it was hard to see the flush of red that started to creep up his neck but she knew him well enough now to see the change. “Good to know I can still surprise you, then.” “I was always hearing classical music growing up,” Daisy commented idly, playing now on her phone. “I always thought it was Mum who decided to play it but she threw all of the CDs out after…” She stumbled to a halt, horror flashing over her face as she looked up. “Oh, God, Dad, I didn’t mean to say that,” she groaned, her own skin flushing as she realized the potential hurt her words could cause. It did hurt him, Ellie could see that, but Alec had never allowed his hurt to affect his daughter. “It’s fine, darlin’,” he assured her, and his voice was even enough to mask the damage done by those words. He glanced over at Daisy with that smile he gave only her, a brief quick flash of white before he went back to finishing up with the batter. “They were just CDs, after all. You’ve helped me start my new collection.” Daisy’s expression calmed a bit. Her fingers unclenched from her phone. “Soppy again, Dad,” she informed him with learned teenage disdain covering up her own guilty feelings. There was a story behind those lost CDs, one it seemed that Daisy knew some extent of, but the set of Alec’s mouth told Ellie it was better for her not to ask about them yet. Instead, she briefly slipped her arm around his slender waist and murmured she was going to take a shower and went on her way upstairs. Fred was asleep in his bed already; Tom, sitting in his room with his computer in his lap, explained to her that the CD that Alec had started to listen to had played a piano/cello instrumental of ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ and the youngest Miller had fallen asleep right there amidst his toys on the living room. Ellie made a mental note to try and play that song every night from then on. Her shower, while quick, was gloriously refreshing and served to soothe the frayed nerves that had sprung up during the course of her day. When she made her way into her bedroom, she found Alec waiting for her on the bed clearly waiting for her. “Shouldn’t you be waiting on your brownies?” He shook his head. “Daisy volunteered to take them out when they were ready.” She could smell them cooking already and they were already making her mouth water. She could feel his eyes on her as she changed into her pajamas; she knew that expression well enough she could see the sharp light in his eyes as he looked her over. Joe had never looked at her with the same hunger that Alec did. He had never loved her with the same intensity. She felt more than heard him stand and walk up behind her; mere seconds later he was wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her close, and she hummed in satisfaction as she felt his lips at her neck, the scruff of his beard tickling the crook of her neck. “Hope the kids weren’t too much trouble today.” “Never are,” he assured her with just an edge of that husky growl she had quickly learned to appreciate. His touch was steadily growing lower and lower and she smiled to herself. “You’re going to embarrass your daughter if she ever walks in on us doing this, Hardy.” “She’ll learn to knock before entering, then.” His tone was dismissive. She saw that he still had speckles of batter on his arms that he had missed wiping off and felt a thrill deep in her stomach wondering what she could do to clean the rest of it up off him. Damn it, she couldn’t let them do anything yet. The kids weren’t all in bed yet. “What about Tom?” she managed to ask. His ministrations paused as he realized where she was getting at. By the slight intake of breath she heard at her ear she knew he saw where she was coming from even if it was frustrating and she mildly disappointed when he drew back slightly. She turned instead to face him. “After brownies?” she asked hopefully. “Aye.” It was going to have to do. They settled for laying on the covers of the bed in their usual positions with Ellie braced against the headboard and Alec’s head in her lap as she stroked his hair. She could hear the strains of classical music floating up from downstairs, the deep mournful rumble of a cello oddly spiritful in the calm atmosphere of the household. “What classical artists do you like, Alec?” she asked suddenly. The use of his name let him know the seriousness of the question. He was quiet for a moment. “Depends. My mum always listened to Bach. Mozart. I think I liked Beethoven the best, though. Loads of others, I can’t remember them all. I had all those mixed tapes, with a lot of different artists on them.” “And what’s the correlation with baking brownies?” She saw a flash of a small grin on his face, softened with remembrance. “I was always watching Mum bake while she listened to classical. She said that what we love can be incorporated into everything we do. She’d always ask me if I could taste her love for her music in her food. I’d always tell her I could.” He was quiet for a long moment, thinking, then finally explained why Daisy’s words had hurt him so much earlier. “I’d bake Tess anything she wanted while listening to that music. I never told her why and she never asked.” Love. Simple, pure love. Ellie marveled again at the simplicity of some signs of it in life. It was, after all, the simple small things that mattered the most. She was sure that she was going to hear that CD played more often and she found she didn’t really mind that at all.

Title cover of my Broadchurch/Doctor Who crossover currently a WIP.

you know it’s really hard to obsess about just one fandom. just really freaking hard, it’s like you look at people who can be into Harry Potter for ten years of their life and I’m just over here thinking HOW DO YOU STAY IN ONE FANDOM FOR 10 FREAKING YEARS I DON’T HAVE THAT KIND OF TIME

First Avenger