#on the danny latimer case

[do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas]

I have not watched Rivals, but God do I want a fic with Alec and Tony as twin brothers. Don't make Tony sympathetic either, just have them reunite and Alec realizing that nope, he's a bastard and probably punches him in the face

[denaliwrites]

It's Been a Long, Long Time

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader

Summary: The two of you danced around your feelings like two tango dancers... who don't know how to tango.

Soundtrack: It's Been a Long, Long Time by Harry James

Requests: Open!

Warnings: Abundant dumbassery.

You'd known Alec Hardy since he first moved to Broadchurch.

He'd stepped into the cafe where you worked on his very first day with the Broadchurch police and ordered a plain black coffee and a croissant. A bit basic, you'd thought at first, but then you'd reminded yourself that not everyone needed sugar bombs and heavy breakfasts to get going in the morning.

Given he was little more than a (rather grumpy) twig, you'd come to the conclusion that he'd probably die of a heart attack if he consumed anything more than his plain black coffee and croissant.

He came in nearly every day after that, and nearly every day it was the same order. Sometimes he picked up an extra drink for his partner, or he ordered a fruit pastry instead of his usual croissant. One time, he'd ordered tea instead of coffee. But for the most part, for the better part of a year, it was the same thing, over and over.

The first few visits, he'd refused to talk to you beyond what was strictly required -- he gave you his order and a thank you, and then he was gone. Over the months, though, he opened up more and more. He'd never needed to tell you his job -- that was easy enough to guess once the Danny Latimer case reached the public. But other details, like that he had a daughter, or that he was a cat person, or that his favorite color was green -- those came after months of only receiving "my usual, please."

Even with him opening up, though, he was hard to get to know, and even harder to fall in love with... yet you managed both. Unfortunately, Alec was an idiot.

Your boss, Alec's partner Ellie, pretty much anyone who saw the two of you interact could see that you were crushing rather hard on the detective. Anyone and everyone, except the man himself.

At first, it drove you up the wall how blind he was to your affections -- you weren't exactly making any effort to keep it concealed, and in fact thought you made it rather obvious -- too obvious, maybe, if all of Broadchurch excluding the idiot in question could tell.

But then it slowly became a game to you -- how clear could you be yet still be misunderstood? Every day you played chicken with yourself -- would today be the day? The answer was always no, even when you gave him a heart-shaped cookie on Valentine's. You'd even said "on me." Hell, before that you'd even given him a peck on the cheek under mistletoe sometime around Christmas.

You were pretty sure any chance you had at romance with him was doomed.

At least, until the Farthing Wood Club Incident.

You hadn't exactly meant to witness a crime. It just sort of happened. You were cleaning up after an event you'd catered when someone broke into the event hall and started tearing through the place.

Quietly, carefully, you ducked into a supply closet and dialed the only person you could think to call -- Alec. Of course. You heard him pick up but didn't dare answer him, even as he got louder and more annoyed, to the point where you had to mute him.

He hung up, and panic flooded your system. Desperately, you called him again, only to put him back on mute when he picked up.

You were relieved when he didn't hang up.

Any thoughts you may have had about why were lost as footsteps approached the closet. They got so close that you could hear the man breathing and, instinctively, you stopped. Several moments passed before he moved on, and it took every ounce of self-control you had to keep yourself from gasping for breath.

He passed by again a few minutes later, then again a few minutes after that.

This repeated a number of times, to the point that you were starting to get dizzy from keeping your breath held in so many random intervals.

"Oi! Anyone in here?" you heard Alec's voice call from somewhere in the building, just as the man who'd broken in passed the closet. You heard Alec call your name, and it filled you with dread as you realized that now the intruder probably knew someone else was here.

You could almost hear the man's head turn towards the closet, but before he could open the door and find you, Alec's footsteps echoed closer -- and the intruder's footsteps made the sound of a hasty retreat.

You didn't allow yourself to breathe until the voice of Alec calling your name got close -- practically right outside the door. Then, with no hesitance or shame, you threw yourself out of the closet and into Alec's arms.

Without thinking, and with nothing in your veins but pure, unfiltered adrenaline, you pulled him into a relieved kiss.

He was pretty predictably shocked at first, especially as mid-kiss your body started shaking with sobs, but rather than push you away or even break the kiss, he simply... held you. Let you ride out the emotions in the way you seemed to need.

Finally, you pulled away, wiping at your tears and panting as everything came crashing down. "G-God, I'm so -- I'm so sorry," you whimpered, looking anywhere but at him. "I don't know why I did that. I just..."

"Hey," he started, pulling your attention back to him. He looked so... calm, so reassuring. "Everyone deals with situations like this differently. Believe it or not, that's not even the strangest thing someone's done t'me in a moment of high stress."

You managed to chuckle a little, but it came out somewhat hollow. "Really? You're gonna try to tell me someone's done worse than kiss you unexpectedly?"

"It wasn't entirely unexpected."

You blanched. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like I said, I've gotten weirder reactions."

Oh. That was... a lot less anxiety-inducing than you were expecting.

"Yeah, well. This wasn't really the way I pictured our first kiss going," you admitted with a sigh.

"Oh? You were picturing us havin' a first kiss?"

Fuck.

And the way he sounded so pleasantly surprised, it threw you off but filled you immediately with delight.

"Well, yeah, I've only been crushing on you since the day we met."

"Oh, why didn't you say somethin'?" he asked.

That brought out a barking laugh. "Alec, I've been dropping hints for months. Some of them were... I dunno, nuclear level obvious."

"Oh... well," he said, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. "Y'ken, sometimes ye just gotta say it outright for us to get it."

"Yeah, I learned that early on. I guess I just hoped I was wrong or something, maybe."

"It does explain a few things," he said thoughtfully.

You thought it explained most things involving the relationship between you two, but you wondered what he was thinking of in particular. "Oh yeah?"

"Well, there was that mistletoe just before Christmas... and again on New Year... and the heart cookie..."

Leave it to Alec to miss all but the most obvious of clues. Of course.

"Oh, Alec," you sighed. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Dunno. Grab dinner, maybe? After I file a report for this, of course."

[nyx-knacks-writes]

Just Remember That You're Still Alive

Spoilers ahead! (TW: mentions of cheating, divorce, murder, rape, etc. Stuff that the show [Broadchurch] is known to tackle. Also there is foul language.)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

For a beach town like Broadchurch, summer was undoubtedly the busiest time of the year. Wave after wave of tourists crashed down upon the town week after week, day in and day out, and tourists, as DI Hardy well knew, meant trouble.

Tourists, for the most part, were happy people with dopey smiles and loose wallets. They ran around gasping and gawking at everything, getting way too drunk, spending way too much money, and stirring up way too much shit. Bloody tourists. Needless to say, Hardy was perfectly happy to see the tourists shove off for the season.

However, despite his general disdain for the visiting population, Broadchurch didn't feel quite right without all the tourists milling around. After all, Hardy had first come to Broadchurch as one of the tourists, back when he was a little boy. Even when he'd come back to Broadchurch with Claire, it had been dead in the middle of summer, and the town's population had been accordingly swollen as compared to the colder months. All to say that he was used to seeing the town all busy and bustling and bursting with life. Now, as autumn swept in with her cool breezes and brightly colored leaves, Broadchurch had turned quiet, peaceful, and at times, just a little spooky.

Roundabout five in the morning, Hardy had found himself staring up at the ceiling from his bed, utterly incapable of going back to sleep. He tossed and turned and, for a moment, debated simply getting up and starting his day. But Daisy, so far as he knew, was sleeping soundly in the next room over, and the floors creaked, and the doors squeaked, and the kettle shrieked, and he just knew it would be impossible to run through his morning routine without waking her up. This would result in a grumpy teenage daughter on his hands. Not really an ideal 'first thing in the morning' scenario. He'd at least like to get the poor girl to school in a neutral mood rather than outright bad.

It was funny, he mused, resigned to an hour or so of continuing to stare at the ceiling, how catching murderers and rapists hardly even made him break a sweat, but the prospect of dealing with a crabby teen kept him firmly in bed like a scared little boy. But he didn't have to worry about screwing up the development of murderers and rapists as they grew into adults. One way or another, that had already been done. Daisy, on the other hand, was his sweet, precious daughter, his little girl who wasn't quite so little anymore. He did have to worry about screwing up her development. Actually, that had already happened, given the divorce and the cheating and the falling out with her mother, even though pretty much all the blame on those was down to Tess. So it was more on him to help her work through those unfortunate events and try not to put his foot in his mouth and/or get himself killed in the meantime. Sure. No sweat.

Alec shook his head and sighed as his thoughts meandered on over to Tess. Oh, Tess. He had dearly loved her, really. He was just... exceedingly poor at showing it. And that was being generous. He was missing her more than ever. After his unsuccessful attempt to reunite their family, and after taking Daisy back down to Broadchurch, and after the Danny Latimer trial and finally solving the Sandbrook case and catching Trish's rapist, well... his head had been quiet. He'd had more space for her in his mind. And she'd filled up that space about as quickly as it had become available. He knew that he really shouldn't be missing her. After all, her cheating had ultimately been the fuck-up (no pun intended) that had royally screwed up his career and caused the divorce. But he missed her anyway.

At the very least, she knew what it had been like to be a teenage girl, even if that knowledge was time-blurred, shadowy, and belonged to a bygone era. She better understood how to navigate the ups and downs and sideways-es of cliques and crushes and whacked-out-hormones making you think up was down and left was right. All he could do was threaten—er, instruct teenage boys not to play around with his daughter lest they incur the horrible, hair-raising wrath of DI Hardy.

A soft groan slipped out of Alec's mouth as the thought of teenage boys called to mind the Photo Fiasco from Daisy's first few months in Broadchurch. He was nearly certain that that had been the worst time of Daisy's life, perhaps tied with the divorce. She'd been new in town, she'd been completely at odds with her mother, she'd had a father who was busy just about to the point of being neglectful, and to top it all off, her shiny-new friends had turned against her and spread her intimate photos in what had to have been the worst betrayal poor Daisy had ever suffered.

Alec imagined it must have felt like the dreaded 'naked in school' dream come to life. Not that he thought she had any business taking those sorts of photos to begin with. He didn't care if she was technically an adult. The human brain didn't finish developing until, what, twenty-five? She still had a ways to go, and if she'd never taken the photos, the whole situation would never have come to pass. But that seemed like victim-blaming to him. Was that victim-blaming? It was true, logically, but... Maybe it was best he'd never said that to her. In any case, this was the sort of incident that tended to stick (oh, goody, another thing to screw up her development) both personally and professionally. It wasn't the sort of thing he ever thought would happen to his daughter. Maybe he could ask Miller for tips. She knew what it was like to be a teenage girl, despite not knowing what it was like to raise one. Yes, he could ask Miller.

Hardy shifted onto his side, watching as the deep blue of night gave way to a gray, foggy morning. At least it wasn't—nope, thought too soon. Rain began to patter down upon his window, and thunder rumbled outside like the snore of a giant. Even Mother Nature didn't want him to get out of bed. He rolled over to check the alarm clock and nodded to himself. Six o'clock. Good enough.

At last, DI Hardy lifted himself out of bed to face the day, ignoring the pops and pains that marked his age. He made his way to the door with a yawn and a stretch, mentally adding another task to the to-do list. He needed to take Daisy to school. He couldn't have his little girl arriving to school soaked, could he? After all, she'd complained before that the building was too cold. At last, he went to wake her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Another day was officially beginning, whether he was ready for it or not. Another day full of trial and error, failure and success. And he wouldn't miss it for the world.

[princeloww]

on today's episode of broadchurch's fucked up timeline: the short stories place pippa's body being found as (roughly) 15 months before the death of danny latimer. meaning, if alecs right on how long he was sick for, he was sick months before the sandbrook case???

[detective-inspector-hardy]

I know about this because I just happen to be in the places these people frequent. I don't know them. I don't interact with them on personal levels. Keep it professional. That's the key to people. You don't interact as a friend or a colleague. You don't get to know them, not really. Just a name and a greeting. You watch them, mostly. I was going to notify you, but why would you listen to a random foreigner on holiday? It's clear that he was puppeting his son. The way his son would behave around him made it all very clear, almost blindingly, in fact. I've studied child psychology and have been in situations like Tom before. Manipulated into being a puppet on a set of tightly wound strings.

It's also a small area. Small towns are like that. Being native to one myself, things get around, and there are always people watching. As for Susan's dog and the bloke that took him, that bloke is a suspicious one. Always out late at night. No one calls for a plumber at three in the morning, do they? My insomnia has me up at ungodly hours, so I take walks. I see him out a lot. Especially near the beach around these caravans. Saw him arguing with Susan. I know Susan because I helped her with her groceries one day.

And I know the Millers because I had to help Mrs. Miller with her toddler. They get into things they aught not to, and aren't aware you don't just run into the street when a car is coming. She's a rather nice lady. But it's Tom that I expressed concern to her over. Whenever she mentioned his father, he always looked very uncomfortable. I happened to be at the same restaurant they went out to lunch at one day and noticed Tom's distant and edgy behavior around his dad. Its obvious.

I've worked with children for over three years and know the signs of abuse. He's making Tom hide things, cover things up. Perhaps even try to get him to blame Mark Latimer for killing Danny. It's glaring you right in the face. You just can't see it yet. Not even his own wife, Ellie Miller. It's all rather sad. But I can't do anything about it.

I don't know if Mrs. Miller mentioned anything about me helping her with babysitting due to being unable to find anyone and being too caught up in the case. Probably not, as she's far more concerned with working on it. I do have my credentials and certifications, though. I'm also a writer staying here for a bit on this holiday so I can finish my novel.

Oh, and there's this other bloke that's just shown up in town. I've seen his face somewhere before. Something to do with the Sandbrook case. Very suspicious, too. He keeps nosing about and maybe even stalking someone. He asked me how far the police station was from where I was at, which was the local book shop. I said I hadn't any idea as I'm just a foreigner on holiday.

I then told him I met this nice lady because he complimented my hair. I then told him that it was the lady, with dark hair that was just walking about on the beach. When he kept asking where that woman I mentioned to him was, I said I didn't know. I just said I met this nice lady, and that she did my hair because I mentioned that I was going to a gathering with a friend and couldn't find a hairdresser in time.

He tried to corner me and grabbed me by the arm. A swift kick got him off, though. This is as close as a statement you'll ever get from me. I'm worried that this man will come after me if I stay around any longer. You never know the true intentions of people, as I'm sure you're very well aware of. I'm already on the run from someone else, and I don't need him nor the police here in this town to complicate things as I try and escape from it all.

-V

Are you telling me how to do my job? I don't appreciate it.

Let me get this straight - you are a tourist, novelist, and babysitter who just happens to "be in the places" suspects frequent. You happen to know all of these key people by being in the right place at coincidentally the right time.

You didn't come forward with your seemingly large amount of information because you didn't think you'd be treated seriously - due to being a tourist. However, you also claim to have personally known DS and Joe Miller and acted as a babysitter for them. You claim to know very intimate details about their home life. That's not something that would be dismissed due to tourism?

Were you only a babysitter more recently? After Joe Miller's arrest? In which case - are you now living in Broadchurch? Tourist back then, still here? For somebody on the run, you sound like you've been here a long time.

You are making extremely serious accusations. If you are still in Broadchurch, they will need to be officially and properly reported/processed. I can not respond to allegations over Tumblr. Please come forward, especially if you're worried for your safety. We can help you, especially if you're currently in danger.

I have very few doubts about the Latimer case. I think your story is bizarrely coincidental and muddled. If you are serious, you should have come forward at the time. Being a tourist means nothing - half of the town are tourists. If you have such detailed and intimate information, that is not an excuse for not coming forward.

I will not respond directly to allegations. I will say, frankly, that your story is strange and unconvincing. That aside, if you are serious about this, come forward. Please. If you are in danger, we can help. That is a promise.

If this is "as close to a statement" as I am going to get, then I am in no position to take it seriously. Especially when it comes to the Latimer case.

I'm more concerned about the harassment from this other man. If you are in danger, please seek help.

[arospec-dragon]

WHAT EXACTLY IS BROADCHURCH?

Please id like to know it seems interesting!

OKAY SO

Broadchurch is a story following Ellie Miller(Olivia Coleman), a d.s for the Broadchurch police, and Alec Hardy(David Tennant), the d.i for the Broadchurch police, pretty much doing their job. Season one they solve the murder of Daniel Latimer; season 2 they solve a supposedly cold case while the trial for Danny's killer is going on; season 3 they find who sexually assaulted a woman in the town.

Its not all dark and heavy though, there is some lighthearted parts, and the characters are really fun and their interactions are amazing.

[denimbex1986]

'...23. Sherlock – Series 2, “The Reichenbach Fall” (2012)

The triumphant conclusion (which, as it turned out, wasn’t really a conclusion) to Steven Moffat’s initial Sherlock run was a tour de force in TV suspense, pitting Benedict Cumberbatch’s eponymous super-detective against his greatest frenemy, genius villain Moriarty (Andrew Scott). All anyone could talk about for the next two years — until the third season finally arrived in 2014 — was that devilish cliffhanger when, right at the end of “The Reichenbach Fall”, Sherlock and Moriarty meet for the final time atop St. Bartholomew’s Hospital.

Moriarty offers his nemesis-slash-wannabe-boyfriend a choice: dive from the roof to his death, or allow his closest friends and loved ones – among them, Una Stubbs’ Mrs Hudson, Rupert Graves’ Lestrade and Martin Freeman’s Dr Watson — to be murdered instead. He then pulled his cruellest trick of all, putting a bullet into the roof of his mouth, forcing Sherlock’s hand. The result, Sherlock apparently falling to his death, fuelled rampant fan speculation for months. Until he turned up spick and span in the next season, that is...

20. Broadchurch – Series 1, “Episode 8” (2013)

Murder mysteries are a game of cat and mouse for both the characters on screen and the audience at home, as both try to beat each other to nail down the killer. Bad ones make it too easy, good ones pull the wool over our eyes and great ones change the rules entirely. After seven hours of Broadchurch hunting down the possible killer of 11-year-old Danny Latimer, we knew we’d leave hour eight with an answer, expecting a final-minute reveal born from some intense action sequence that would mask the tragedy in adrenaline.

Instead, halfway through the episode, the killer, Joe, our lead detective Ellie Miller’s (Olivia Colman) husband, gives himself up, sick of being consumed by guilt and shame. It knocked the classic whodunnit structure on its head, changing the focus from the murderer to the fallout of his crimes. There’s Danny’s parents’ grief, which is finally felt in all its horrendous weight now that there are no longer question marks over the case, the town’s reckoning with the aftershock of such a harrowing crime, and Ellie’s life imploding before her eyes. Even though many viewers had worked out that Joe was the murderer, the real shock came from the horror of what it meant to be right...

16. Fleabag – Series 2, “Episode 4” (2019)

Throughout its two seasons, Fleabag became a beacon of rare relatability. It was a show about a woman actively not trying her best, self-sabotaging to bury emotion and hoping that none of it ever found its way to the surface. In its fourth episode of season two, it finally did. The episode is a bait and switch of sorts, as Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s titular Fleabag takes rejection from her hot priest crush (Andrew Scott) as a challenge, aiming to get him to relent on his spiritual allegiances and give into some good, old-fashioned carnal sin. For so long, it seems as if it’s not working, despite the pair dancing around the kind of sexual tension that feels like lightning in a bottle. But then she finds herself alone with him in the church late at night. He has had a few drinks. What starts as Fleabag in control ends with her walls breaking, the vulnerability she feels with the first person she’s connected with since the death of her best friend Boo corroding the armour that’s kept her feelings of guilt and shame and sadness locked away. He commands her to “kneel” and, well… you know the rest...

11. Fleabag – Series 2, “Episode 6” (2019)

Bringing back Fleabag didn’t seem like a good idea. Its beautifully constructed first season felt like the classic case of a one-and-done, particularly because of its gut-punch ending (the reveal that Fleabag had slept with her best friend Boo’s boyfriend shortly before she had died by suicide). And we’ve seen worse shows tarnish their legacies with ill-thought-out second runs. But, as evidenced by its dominance on this list, Fleabag series two went on to eclipse that first outing by every metric. This finale is a devastating conclusion to Waller-Bridge’s tragic romcom, with Andrew Scott’s sexy priest ultimately choosing God over love. Before that, we get to enjoy her father’s wedding to her ridiculous stepmother (Olivia Colman), her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) finding love with her Finnish namesake and a deeply moving and funny sermon from the hot priest (“Love is awful. It’s awful”). And, boy, that ending. The grim, bus-stop bench, the CGI fox, the priest’s devastating reply to her “I fucking love you”: “It’ll pass.” I defy you to see a fox at night on the streets of London and not think of it. But somewhere in here there’s a glimmer of hope, a sense that we’re leaving Fleabag better off than we found her...

9. Doctor Who – Series 3, “Blink” (2007)

Every episode of Doctor Who leans on existential wonder, conjuring concepts of the far reaches of time and space as the Time Lord navigates existence. “Blink” is a fascinating non-linear episode that introduces arguably the most terrifying monster yet – The Weeping Angels, lightning-fast creatures that can send someone through time with a single touch.

The perspective is switched from the usual Doctor and companion to place you in the shoes of Sally Sparrow, a normal girl roped into the world of the Doctor. She is tasked with deciphering the Doctor’s cryptic messages as he warns of the Weeping Angels. However, they turn into stone statues if they are laid eyes upon by a living creature – hence the iconic phrase “Don’t Blink”.

This anxiety-inducing episode prompts you to think at every moment what would I do? Every little action could prove to have deadly and unchangeable consequences. The prospect of being whisked away into another time is an unbearable thought. It is one of the best episodes of the show as it exemplifies everything wonderful about Doctor Who; evoking horror, mystifying time and space, as well as drawing upon emotion as the results of these life-changing stakes steadily come to fruition...

3. Fleabag – Series 2, “Episode 1” (2019)

“This is a love story,” says Fleabag (Phoebe Waller-Bridge) from the floor of a restaurant bathroom, dabbing at her bloody nose. So begins the opening episode of Fleabag’s triumphant second season, which turns a family dinner into a tense negotiation, punctuated with cigarette breaks for gasps of air and set to the operatic thrum of classical music.

Arguably the great achievement of the episode is managing a seamless recap of the previous season, reintroducing all of the faultlines within the family while adding a new face to the table in the Priest (Andrew Scott). The tension ratchets up as an annoying waitress hovers in the wings, Fleabag resists the temptation to bite over and over again, and her sister Claire (Sian Clifford) looks as though a vein in her temple might blow like a pipeline from the effort of holding her emotions in. Andrew Scott’s performance throughout the season is astonishing, but the charm he brings to his introduction is irresistible. Among a table of family members who don’t get her, here, finally, is an equal to tempt Fleabag into opening her heart fully. You can see it in her face as she shrugs him off during one of those cigarette breaks, and he says, in that sing-song voice: “Well, fuck you then.”...'

[koifishhies]

this is actually so interesting and you’re so right. most of the people i watched broadchurch with found karen really fucking annoying, and i mean i get it. i did too at first.

the thing with journalism is, in theory, it’s an overwhelmingly GOOD and VITAL thing. it keeps knowledge in the hands of the people, gets stories out there, and exposes corruption. that’s why it is often considered so egregious when authority figures target journalists. not to get too deep but journalism and journalistic integrity is the backbone of a democratic society.

but in execution, the need to make money can lead to the industry becoming overwhelmingly shallow and corrupt, as many things in a for-profit society often become. we see this clear as day when karen tells the latimers how, if danny had been a little blond girl, they would be getting so much more coverage.

it’s a difficult line to tow. karen, to me, knows this better than anybody. she fights for the families and to tell their stories, but in order to do that effectively, she has to play the game. does she cross the line at times? absolutely. and you can bet she knows it. but it’s a necessary evil, to her.

when she first approached chloe about danny’s doll, every person i’ve ever watched broadchurch with had the same visceral, grossed out reaction. they saw it as skeevy and manipulative. and it fucking was. but in the end, it was the latimers themselves who eventually decided they wanted danny’s case to be more public; and they reached out to her. she really didn’t cause any harm, in the end.

this becomes even more overwhelmingly clear when she runs into ellie in the last episode. she literally warns her, “don’t talk to anybody.” she KNOWS how gross and exploitative the industry is. she KNOWS when to play the game, and when to step back. i really, really like her character in that sense.

alec knows this well, too. he understands it. but that doesn’t make it any less shitty to deal with. did karen mess up on sandbrooke? technically. only because alec made sure she did. that was his way of playing the game back at her. diverting her attention from his family, by being the scapegoat, until the proper time came.

when the truth does come out though, i like to think karen comes to understand. it wasn’t the right time for the truth back then, and he did what was necessary because he cared for his family, AND for the victims families. and that breeds mutual respect.

oh god when karen white confronts alec at the trader’s hotel saying “i won’t let you do that to another family” and he just. stares. he was going off at her a moment before, but now he just stares. then the scene cuts. oh my GODDDDD YOU CAN SEE THE WAY IT’S EATING AT HIMMMMM

like yes alec already has a habit of just blankly not responding. he’ll follow through with a conversation and then just hop off halfway through (*cough* autism *cough*). but this time, his silence is different. it isn’t him not knowing how to respond, it’s him ACTIVELY FIGHTING TO HOLD HIS TONGUE

he made a decision to take the blame for tess and daisy’s sake, and now he just has to sit there and take it, to cope with his own decision. you can see him gritting his teeth, coming to terms with that in that moment, and it’s ONLY something you can notice in hindsight once you know about sandbrooke

[somethinglikethatyeah83]

HE GOT AWAY: Alec Hardy

Pairing: Alec Hardy x Reader

Warnings: Threatening, mentions of death, knifes and you get stabbed. Broadchurch stuff, I guess? Set during the Danny Latimer case so massive spoilers for season 1

Summary: You know who Danny's killer is, but only because he comes to have a word with you...

Word Count: 2.33K

Alec wasn’t home, still in the office. I’m still off after having Violet but Alec had wanted to get back to work as soon as possible for the Danny Latimer case. 

Which I think I’d just solved.

Joe Miller stood in my kitchen, a place I felt as a sanctuary, holding an eight inch knife pointing in my direction. I didn’t know if I would be able to step in this room again after tonight, if I got out alive. Joe, though, was nervous. Completely and utterly unstable as he shook in front of him. His interrogation against me was evidently unplanned, as I recognised the handle from my kitchen drawer. But his stance was wary, which meant I had a chance of getting out alive.

My gun was in the living room, on the highest bookshelf so Violet couldn’t get to it, but still in reach of me, just in case anything happened. I couldn’t get to it at the moment, though. The last time I used it must have been a good 6 months ago, and I couldn’t even remember if it had any bullets in it, but maybe that was for the best. A scared still hormonal mother with a gun? Never a good idea. And maybe just the notion of getting shot would be enough to get Joe to cave. If I could get a hold of it. 

“Joe-”

“Shut up!” He shouted, shaking the knife at me. He had tears in his eyes and that fearful look that scared me. He could do anything and I wouldn’t be able to stop him.

“Don’t make this mistake.” I warned, holding my hand out in front of me, a good distance. “You’re unstable and scared- I don’t blame you-”

“Scared and holding a knife, do you really want to take that risk?” He threatened, feet glued to the wooden floor, but staring at me with an intensity that only a murderer could have.

“Put the knife down, Joe.”

“Why should I?”

“Remember I’m with the police. I’m married to the detective inspector and best friends with the DS, your wife. You kill me, here, tonight, everybody is going to know. Alec will leave no stone unturned until he finds my killer and when he finds you, which you know he will, he won’t be merciful.” I tell him, watching as his face dropped and it clicked in his head what he was doing. Clicked that what he was doing made no sense at all. “You already have Danny’s life on your conscious, do you really want mine?”

He was so close to caving. To handing the knife in and letting me take him down to the station. But then the phone rang, my mobile sat on the counter, lit up with Alec’s number.

Joe’s face hardened. “Answer it, put it on speaker. Act normal.”

I reached down and answered it, hearing the chatter of the office, Alec’s voice calming me even though he had no clue that a murderer was in our kitchen, threatening to kill me.

“Darlin’, was there anything you wanted me to pick up from the shops on the way home?” He asked, from over the phone, in a moderately perky mood compared to how he would be if he knew. 

I stuttered, stumbling over my words and the nerves took a hold. Joe’s stare for worse. “We need tomatoes for dinner.” I told him, saying the first thing that came into my head because there was a murderer in my kitchen. 

There was silence over the phone, but only for a second. It would probably be the last thing I said to him. I probably wouldn’t make it out here alive and he would have no clue. I’d die here tonight and leave Violet without a mother, Alec without the love of his life, the one person he can tell everything and anything. 

What would Ellie think?

I hadn’t even thought of her. Her husband was a murderer, and she had no idea. Her husband, the father of her children, Tom and Fred, was a murderer. None of them had any clue. And if I didn’t get out here alive tonight, no one would ever know until Alec found out. Joe would walk free.

“You alrigh’, love?” Alec asked from the other side, his voice high and laced with worry. He knew something was wrong, and Joe would make me pay the consequences for that.

I swallowed, steadying my voice, my eyes still staring at Joe to make sure he didn’t move. “Yeah, perfect. Violet’s already asleep upstairs so we’ve got the evening to ourselves.”

“Lovely. I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Love you.” 

“Love you too, Alec, so much.” I tell him, and I could almost hear the smile on his face as he says goodbye again, and ending the call. 

I flip my phone over quickly, turning to Joe again who still has the knife pointed in my direction. He’s still scared but he’s managed to mask some of it. Definitely still unstable, though, and I still might have a chance to let him cave.

“You’re really going to kill me?”

“Why shouldn't I?” He negotiates, taking a step closer to me, which now has my back against the door. I want to stay as far from him as possible, but if he steps closer there’s nowhere else I can go. “You know what I’ve done. You’ll get me arrested. If I get you out the way, Tom and Fred will still have a father. Do you really want them to lose me?”

“Do you want Violet to lose her mother?”

“She isn’t my kid!” He shouts, making me flinch. He can’t control his anger, the tears of frustration falling from it but also a higher chance of another murder here tonight. 

I took a deep breath. “How would you feel if you lost Ellie, huh? It’s the same situation, Joe. How is she going to react to you killing Danny and me?”

“She’ll never find out.”

“You know she will.” I shook my head, swallowing and watching as he got closer. Closer to giving in. “You can’t just refuse it. You can either spend your life riddled with guilt for Danny and I, or you can go with grace and get better. Settle your mind.”

“No.”

“All you have to do is come with me. I’ll take you down to the station. You can confess and serve the time you deserve.” I negotiate, knowing I was helping. Knowing I was so, so close to getting him to cave. I had a chance to get a murderer off the streets tonight and I was as sure as hell going to do my best. “You killed a child, Joe, there’s no escaping that. You can at least go with some dignity, instead of making it worse.”

“No!” He shouts, his whole body shaking with fear, and confusion, and I know he knows I’m right, but he’s fighting it out of fear. He doesn’t want to go, and I don’t blame him, but he deserves it. 

He shakes his head, slowly taking small steps towards me. Each step has my heart rate speeding up. This was it. I was going to die tonight and there was nothing I could do about it. Alec and Violet would be left alone, without a mother and a wife.

“Joe, don't do this.

“You can’t stop me!” 

“She can’t.” Alec’s voice came from behind me. I hadn't even heard the door. “But I can.”

But it wasn’t quite enough. Everything happened too quickly after that for me to keep track. Joe grabbed my wrist and spun me around so I was facing Alec, and the cold metal of the knife was held up against the sensitive skin of my neck. Alec had his gun pointing at Joe, who I could no longer see, but feel his hand on my wrist.

“Joe, don’t do this.” Alec warned, eyes darting between Joe and I. “Killing a police officer is worse than murdering a child, the time you’ll spend in prison will almost double.”

“That’s all I’ve been hearing from her, ain’t it? For the past half an hour.” He sounds disgusted when he refers to me, looking at Alec. 

“Put the knife down.”

Joe didn’t say anything. The tension was too thick, the air was warm and the anger that spilled from Alec was worse than I’d ever seen it before. This could go either way, one would end up with me dead, or a murderer in prison. I knew which one it would be immediately.

And there it was.

An excruciating pain in my abdomen, blood in my ears and dripping onto the floor. There was muffled shouting, a deep Scottish shout and some smashing that resembled that of glass, I wasn’t paying attention. But it didn’t matter. All the chaos didn’t matter, not anymore. Because a murderer was getting away because I’d let him. Joe was getting away.

“He’s getting away…” I murmur, reaching my hand out to the window. It all felt so far away now.

Alec was above me, though, I knew that much. I could just about feel his hand in mine. “You’re going to be fine. Bob’s called an ambulance, we’re going to get you to a hospital.”

He was getting blurry, though, and slowly further and further away from my reach.  I knew I was about to black out but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Joe was getting away and I was about to die. Alec and Violet would be left alone.

“He’s getting away…”

I could hear the heart monitor, and when I tried to move, a dull ache still throbbed in my abdomen. The smell of sheet vinyl and cheap PPE plastic overwhelmed me, but at least it told me where I was; a hospital. 

At least I was alive.

Part of me knew that wouldn’t let me die in our kitchen that night, but most of me knew that chances were I wouldn’t. Joe probably only just missed a vital organ, and I still could have died from blood loss.

But I didn’t. I was alive. I was alright. Alec and Violet still had a wife and a mother.

And there they were, sitting right next to me in the hospital bed. 

He sat bolt upright when he saw my eyes open, Violet cradled in his arms, sleeping softly. It was obvious the second I looked at him that he hadn’t had a wink of sleep for however long I had been out. 

“You’re awake.”

“I’m alive.” I told him. “That’s more important.” 

Alec nodded, shuffling closer to me in the hospital chair he’d been given. I reached out for him to pass my Violet but he shook his head.

“They’ve said you’re not allowed to hold her until the wound has fully healed. And no pressure on it at all, so when you sit down you have to sit up straight. And no work until it’s fully healed, too.” He lectured, evidently worried for what my reaction would be.

No work and no daughter? Now that was just cruel.

“Shit, seriously?”

“I’m sorry. As soon as you’re allowed, I’m sure she’ll be clinging to you.”

I shrug, looking over at her in Alec’s arms. She was so cute, asleep. Not knowing that her mother had nearly been murdered. By someone that had held her, someone that knew her. I hadn’t even thought about it.

“Joe. It was Joe.” 

“Aye, I know.”

I looked up at Alec who had a nervous look in those gorgeous eyes of his. “How could we have missed it? How could it be someone we know so well?”

Alec shrugged. “I don’t know.”

It was time to ask the question I’d been avoiding. “Have you told Ellie?”

“No.” He shook his head. “She wasn’t in the right frame of mind after she heard what happened to you and I wouldn’t want to make it worse. She had to be told in a civil place, where she can’t do anything to harm anyone or herself.”

“I can’t believe he got away.” I started unconsciously tapping against the hospital blanket I was shrouded in. I couldn’t believe that I had let him get away. I thought I’d either die in the room or a murderer would be off the streets, it hadn’t occurred to me that he could have ran away.

And what would Ellie think? She would find out soon enough and I really don’t think she would be able to handle anything like this at the moment. Tom and Fred would lose their father and Ellie would lose the man she thought she could trust the most.

“Don’t blame yourself.” Alec murmured, holding Violet with one arm and taking my hand in his spare one. “There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

I leant back against the pillow. “I know, I just- he was right there. If I’d had cuffs on me I could have arrested him there and then but I wasn’t at work. I don’t even think the gun has bullets in it.”

“If it hadn’t been for you, if you hadn’t kept him busy we wouldn’t know it was him. Now we know who to look for. We’ll find him soon.” Alec assured, squeezing my hand.

I looked up at him and smiled. He sent a soft smile back as my thoughts started spiraling again. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

Alec laughed slightly, a fond smile on his face. “You told me we needed tomatoes. You hate tomatoes. I knew you only would have said that as the first thing that came into your mind. I knew you were in danger.”

“Thank goodness you know me so well.” I smile. “I love you.”

Alec grinned down at me, nodding. “Love you too. And we’ll catch him, promise.”

[okay-j-hannah]

The Schoolteacher

Broadchurch : Fic

Alec Hardy x Reader

Word Count: 3168

Warnings: mentions of Danny Latimer... the evident fact that I am in love with any character David Tennant plays

Request: “I have a fic request with Alec Hardy. He and Y/N have a crush on each other but secretively. There's someone else who also likes Y/N (could be Olly?) and doesn't hide it and it makes Alec very jealous. To the point where it's hard for him to hide his attraction for her anymore. she keeps choosing him in little ways and is different with him and more affectionate with him than with the other guy. To anyone else it would be so obvious she wants Alec. He starts to feel really nice and proud getting all this attention from her and in the end he finally understands she's in love with him and they get together. 😂 That's it!!” Anon​

A/N: Hardy has found himself enamored by a local teacher he thinks is smitten with someone else

Danny Latimer Case; Day Two

(Y/N) moved to her whiteboard, writing down the days objectives for reading and math. Her hand was shaky, smudging her words with the marker. She struggled to take a breath with her mind screaming the conversation she had with the headmaster earlier.

It pounded in her ears and made her arm weak enough she had to drop it. Behind her, burning like a beacon was his desk – still with his name on it.

Danny Latimer.

A sharp rap at the door frightened her.

“Sorry,” said a scruffy man, “Sorry to disturb you.”

She forced a smile, “Not at all. How may I help you?”

He took a few steps into the classroom. His clothes were rather rumpled for a detective inspector, if she was seeing the badge in his hand correctly.

“I’m detective inspector Alec Hardy. I’m working the Latimer case.” He tucked his badge back in his pocket, “I’m told you were his schoolteacher.”

(Y/N) needed a second to catch up, “Uh, yes – yes I’m Danny’s teacher.” She closed her eyes, “I was.”

“We’re going to need statements from anyone that was remotely close to Danny, and that includes you. You have a distinct advantage being his teacher. You were in contact with him frequently and saw interactions with parents and classmates here. We need to know if there was anything suspicious you saw leading up to his death.”

He was rather forward, she thought. Perhaps that just came with the job. She was rubbing her hands together harshly.

“I couldn’t say there was anything suspicious that I saw.”

“Well, a formal statement and questioning would be needed regardless,” he peered around the classroom, stopping his gaze on Danny’s desk. “If you’d find a time to meet at the station we can clear you Ms. …?”

“(Y/L/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” she said quickly, but backtracked, “Wait, you don’t think I had anything to do with it, do you?”

“We can’t rule anyone out at this time, Ms. (Y/L/N),” he said with little to no inflection in his voice. “The purpose of the questioning is to clear you of suspicion.”

Her initial reaction was to take offense – to be angry. But it was a simple enough task, and it would make sense to rule out people closest to Danny first.

“Of course,” she said.

This Alec Hardy was hard to read, she thought. It was a little off putting how impassive his face was, then again that could be from years of experience remaining in control of sensitive information. It was slightly amusing when she thought of it like that.

“Whatever I can do to help.”

“It’s appreciated,” he mumbled, “Now uh… you didn’t see Danny come in yesterday.”

“No,” she muttered, no longer amused by his impassiveness. “I marked him absent. Thought he might be sick.”

Hardy was gruff, “So it didn’t mark you as strange at all?”

“No, not at all.” She found a sudden ache in her throat, and she sniffed.

He must’ve realized he forgot to be human because he quietly said, “I’m sorry for your loss. I heard he was a good lad.”

“Yes, he was,” she smiled at the thought, “Thank you.”

He seemed awkward with the conversation now, excusing himself soon after. She stood there pondering the new detective inspector. She couldn’t help but remark on how his messy attire and bedhead were rather attractive.

~~~

Day Four

They had held a community meeting with most of the town. (Y/N) sat there with her dear friend Olly, a member of the newspaper. She listened to Inspector Hardy with keen interest. She seemed to trust him though only knowing him a few days.

He had conducted her questioning the day before and ruled her not a suspect. She had a perfectly sound alibi and had no motive for murder.

It was strange though – she was so interwoven into the Broadchurch community that they were bound to run into each other more often than not. Just that morning she was picking up donations from Jack Marshall’s shop to bring to the church and met Hardy on his way to ask more questions.

He seemed to regard her a bit more kindly than the bluntness she got when they first met.

“There’s something off about him,” Olly whispered to her, rubbing shoulders.

“About the inspector?” she scoffed, “You think there’s something off about everyone – everyone’s got a newsworthy story hidden in the closet.”

He smiled, “I’ve just heard things.”

“Gossip, you mean,” she crossed her arms, “You’re making assumptions again.” She wished Olly would stop with the news. He had good intentions, but newspapers had the dastardly habit of twisting fact into more eye-catching fiction.

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, leaning to whisper in her ear, “If it weren’t for me you’d be front page news.”

She smacked him away, laughing, “Right, because it really would’ve been bad for my misspelled banner to be front page.”

“Your reputation as a grammar teacher would’ve been ruined. ‘Breaking news: schoolteacher can’t spell charity on the local fundraiser.’”

She laughed again, “My hero.” She noticed Olly staring at her a bit longer than she’d liked. There had always been a little schoolboy crush with him. But how was she supposed to tell her childhood best friend she wasn’t interested in him?

She was grateful for the interruption by the detective inspector, “DI Hardy!”

“(Y/N),” he said lowly. His gaze fell on Olly for one hard-eyed second. “Eh… how are you?”

She crossed her legs, smiling at him, “Fine, thank you.” It was funny to hear him try at pleasantries. “How can I help you?”

“I need help with Paul Coates, and I know you’re a volunteer for the church.”

“So I am,” she said. She eyed him up and down.

He noticed. “I er… I need you to come with me to question him.”

“Oh, I’ve never played detective before,” she pinched Olly and stood, “I’ve got a staff meeting later tonight, so I’ll need to be back before six.”

Hardy nodded, stepping back so the pair of them could leave together. He was impassive as ever, barely saying a word, and led the way to his vehicle. (Y/N) bounced beside him, a natural merriment to her steps.

“Do you think Father Coates did it?”

“I can’t discuss those points of the case with you.”

“Right, sorry, of course.” She sat on the passenger side, “We’ll have to think of other things to talk about.”

“We could just not talk.”

“Well, that’s frightfully dull.”

He began the drive, expression set in a pout. She peeked at him and smiled down at her hands. She picked at her fingers, a sort of anxious habit.

“Why do you need my help?”

Hardy pouted some more before saying gruffly, “You seem trustworthy.”

“That’s good,” she laughed, “This should be good fun – driving about, investigating, collecting clues.”

“It’s not meant to be good fun.”

“Then why do you keep doing it? You should enjoy your job.”

“I do enjoy my job.”

“But you wouldn’t call it fun?”

He gave her an almost crazed look, “Chasing child murderers isn’t supposed to be fun. Neither is teaching by any stretch.”

She snorted, “Teaching? I think it’s loads of fun.”

“Snotty kids messing about while you describe one plus one. Sounds like a grand old time.”

“It is,” she snickered, “I find enjoying your job makes you an all around happier person, DI Hardy. And you don’t seem the type to enjoy your job.”

“Why? Because I don’t seem happy?”

“No, you don’t.”

He was silent after that. No rebuttal was made against her words. She looked at him hard and picked at her fingers.

She couldn’t help but smile, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll make the day more enjoyable.”

Hardy just thinned his lips and didn’t reply.

Though the rest of their time together wasn’t terrible. He looked to her for opinions and though didn’t strike up another personal conversation, he made sure she was near him to help with clue catching.

~~~

Day Twenty

(Y/N) walked into the news station, eager to hear of any new developments in the case. It was all a massive jumble of questions and no answers to her.

Alec had asked for her help numerous times by that point. It seemed he thought better when he spoke his ideas aloud to her. (Y/N) graded papers or made lesson activities while he did so. She figured he just wanted the company of someone that didn’t hate him.

She went to Maggie, side bag full of student assignments and projects, “Hello, there!”

“Good morning, (Y/N), dear,” she replied, taking her reading glasses off, “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I was just hoping for an update – something you’d heard before the papers.”

“I’m not Olly, (Y/N). You know I can’t give out that information.”

She smiled, “I know, I thought I’d run into Olly here.”

Maggie shook her head, leaning in her chair. The wheels were already running in her head, “I thought you were volunteering with that DI Hardy character. Shouldn’t you be telling me of any new developments?”

“Alec just has theories; not all of them have hard evidence,” (Y/N) said, taking a seat, “And he has a vendetta against the newspaper.”

“You calling him Alec now?”

“That’s his name,” (Y/N) laughed.

“I never liked Alec,” came a male voice, “Alec.” It was the detective inspector coming through the front door, “Nobody calls me Alec.”

(Y/N) tossed a pen at him, it hit his chest and fell to the floor. He frowned at it.

“You’re meant to catch it,” she giggled, “What’re you doing here?”

He looked anywhere but at her, “I was looking for you.”

(Y/N) smiled, sifting through her side bag of assignments, “Am I surprised?”

Maggie eyed the pair of them, suspicious, “Olly will be here any minute – said he was only popping out to grab something.”

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“I’m surprised you managed to walk through those doors. By the way you talk of the news you’d think you would burst into flames being in here.”

He stared at her for a few seconds before cracking the smallest of smiles. “I thought I’d risk it.”

“Just to see me?” she said sarcastically, “How charming.”

“(Y/N), I was wondering if…”

“I’m back!” In came Olly, sporting his expensive camera and a huge bouquet of flowers. “(Y/N)? Brilliant, I got these for you.” He placed the bouquet in her hands quite without her prompting.

She seemed awkward in receiving them, “Oh, lovely, Olly. Really lovely.”

Olly seemed a bit crestfallen at her dimmed response. Judging by the state of his breathing he had run to the flower shop and back to fetch them.

“How did you know I was coming?” she asked, standing to place the flowers near the window.

“I didn’t,” Olly said, eager and breathless. “But I got them to give you sometime today.”

She sighed, unenthusiastic with the gesture, “Thank you, Olly.” And she went to kiss his cheek, just as she usually did in greeting. They were childhood friends after all.

It wasn’t difficult to notice the way Alec ground out his next words.

“I’ll be seeing you later, (Y/N).”

~~~

Day Twenty-Three

“Can I tell you something?”

(Y/N) walked the pier with Hardy, arms swinging about. She looked to his sullen face.

“No.”

“Olly’s been a bit persistent lately.”

Hardy stared across the water, “Good?”

She made a face and he missed it, “I don’t know. I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

He cleared his throat, kicking his shoes into the ground, “Has he made any moves?”

“He asked me to a late lunch today.”

“But you didn’t go?” Alec turned to her, “Can’t have – you were at the press conference over lunch – I saw you.”

She smiled, “Yeah, I decided to see your conference instead.” She met his look, “I – I knew you’d probably want me there.”

He kept his face impassive, but something about his demeanor straightened out. As if he was pleased.

“Here,” he reached into his suit jacket, “Thought you might want these.” He extracted a rather crumbled couple of flowers.

She took them merrily, “Thank you, Alec! Oh, how nice.” She reached to squeeze his hand, “I love them.”

He looked at her as if he didn’t fully believe her, but his chest puffed out a bit like he was proud of her response. “It’s nothing really. Some parishioners gave them to me on my way out of the church.”

Apparently it was too difficult to say he wanted to give her some flowers. (Y/N) had the sudden realization that maybe Alec had the desire to outplay Olly.

~~~

Day Thirty-Eight

Alec stirred in his bed, feeling the thin cotton of the blankets around him. Something tugged below his nose and threaded his arms. Something was warm in his hand.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“You’re a complete knob, you know that?”

His eyes creaked open and he spotted why his hand felt warm.

“What’re you doing here, (Y/N)?”

“Wondering if you were waiting before or after you were dead to tell me you’ve got a heart condition.”

He blinked a few times to clear his head, “They told you?”

“I’m the only one who’s visited – said I was family, didn’t I.” She squeezed his hand, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.”

She laughed. Did her voice sound tight? “Complete rubbish. You’d collapsed; barely breathing.”

He squirmed, “I don’t need your concern.” But the way he held back at her hand said differently. (Y/N) knew that too.

“They want you stuck here for another couple days.”

“I’ll be out of here by tomorrow.”

“You will be no such thing,” she scolded, “You’re going to stay right here. And if you get any ideas about sneaking out, I’m going to be here to stop you. You hear me?”

Alec rolled his head on the pillow, looking at her with his plain face. But this time, his silence spoke volumes, bringing life to his bright brown eyes.

“Good,” she said shakily, “Cause I’m not going anywhere.” She sat back, hand still in his, and breathed heavily.

It was quiet for a while, (Y/N) growing weary and nodding off. A few fingers were on the bridge of her nose.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked.

“I’m all right.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” But she smiled at him.

It was an hour later that she dozed off, slouched in the armchair. Her grip had slackened, but Hardy had made an effort to keep ahold of her hand. He ran a thumb over her knuckles, completely distracted until someone gasped at the door.

“Sir!”

Alec angrily shushed her, “Get out of here, Miller!”

Ellie crept towards the bed, mouthing, “Sorry.” She was staring gleefully at the sleeping (Y/N), a finger between her teeth. “What’s all this?”

He sighed, grumbling, “I’ve had a fainting episode.” He retracted his hand from (Y/N)’s slowly, distracting himself with fixing his blankets.

“And she’s…”

“Just visiting.”

“So am I – but you don’t see me groveling for your hand.”

Alec brushed her off, “What do you want, Miller?”

“To see if you’re all right. But now that I know you are… I want to hear that you’re going to do something about her.” Ellie folded her arms, whispering to keep (Y/N) asleep.

“Who says that I want to?” He grumbled when she gave him a deadpanned stare. “All right, who says that she’d want me to?”

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Ellie giggled, “She wants you to.”

~~~

Day Forty-Six

“You’re not going to drink that, are you?”

Alec looked up from the microwave, “It’s still perfectly good tea.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s perfect or good. But it sure is tea,” (Y/N) laughed.

He joined in quietly, “You want some?”

“No, but I’ll make a fresh pot if you wait twenty minutes,” she slapped his hands away and made to fill the teapot. “I’m sure you’ve got a few theories you need to stew over.”

Alec took a step back, sitting down to rest his heart. “You’ve stuck around.”

“You know I’m going to need a little more than that to go on, DI Hardy.”

“I mean… I haven’t – haven’t scared you off.”

“Are you stating that or asking?” she set the pot to a boil, searching for cups and teabags, “Cause either way, I’m still here.”

He knotted his fingers, “I’ve noticed.”

She peered over her shoulder, “It surprises you.”

“Believe it or not I don’t have a very wide social circle.”

That made her laugh. He squared his shoulders, pleased with himself again. She leaned against the counter, folding her arms.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Oh, really,” she mused, “And what might that be?”

“I’ve made certain deductions about the time we spend together.” He swallowed hard, eyeing her with his light eyes. “About the options you’ve been presented.”

She squinted at him, “My options?”

“You could’ve made any number of choices, but since I’ve known you… you’ve made a consistent string of them.”

“Please tell me this is going somewhere,” she smiled beautifully.

He rubbed at his hands, “I’ve started picking at my fingers because of you.”

“Anxious habit,” she muttered, getting a little nervous then. “What’s got you worried?”

Alec cleared his throat, “I can only conclude that you’ve made a decision.” She widened her gaze at him, wanting the answer already. “And now I have to see if I’m right.”

He stood from his chair and addressed her fully. (Y/N) lifted her chin, confused but having a funny idea what he might be asking her.

“(Y/N),” he took a breath, “How would you feel about maybe… going out… to dinner… with me?”

Her mouth fell open, eyes wide as Alec stood on his tip toes. It was silent for much longer than he would’ve liked.

“Was I wrong?” He sounded so nervous.

She started laughing, really properly laughing. She bent at her knees, a hand over her mouth. Alec was positively baffled at her response.

He looked at her crazed, “Well?”

She started walking towards him, “Of course I bloody would! I always thought you were so much of a knob you’d fail to notice I’d chosen you. I wanted to see you!”

“Oh, right…” his shoulders released the tension his was holding, “Brilliant, yeah.” He nodded his head a few times, “Good, good, good that.”

(Y/N) stopped her laughing, but her smile was blinding, “You make me laugh like no one else, Alec.”

“And you drive me crazy,” he practically snorted, “And I’m going to need you to stay as long as you’re willing to.”

(Y/N) now stood toe to toe with him, reaching a hand to his face, “Whatever I can do to help.” And she kissed his cheek, relishing in the bob of his throat.

“Right – good, good.”

She laughed again, “So where are we going to dinner?”

~~~

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[doctenwho]

A Dinner In (H’sCFS Pt. 2)

Hello! You’re welcome to request a sequel to anything, even if you didn’t suggest the first prompt! Glad you’re liking the writing, and apologies this took so long! Thanks for the request!

This’ll make more sense if you read the first fic first, as it’s a continuation of Hardy’s Cure for Sadness, as requested! 

Warning: None.

Word Count: 3,464

Summary: Read prompt above!

(Photo is not mine! Credit goes where credit is due! :D)

It had been a few weeks since that day you’d been blah when Alec had taken you out for a very late dinner in an attempt to cheer you up. You’d ended on good terms, him walking you out and watching you leave before retreating into the hotel for the evening.  

And you weren’t quite sure what the drink on your desk the following morning really meant. Especially when nothing else had followed the late-night outing.

You’d seen him since, of course, as the secretary of the office, but you hadn’t really talked more than before. More than the usual hellos and the customary inquiries about each of your days.  

More often than not, there was a tea, or a coffee on your desk, and you were certain it was Hardy’s doing, if by the way he ducked his eyes away from you whenever he saw you sipping the beverage was anything to go off.

You returned the favor, setting teas on his desktop whenever he was out and about, waiting for him when he returned from the chill of the late morning—you always got one for Ellie as well, and she always gave you a wide grin as she put on a show of sipping it.  

Most of the time Hardy would duck his head when he noticed it, but a few times he’d smiled at you. You weren’t always around when he’d return, even if you tried to be. Sometimes he snuck in while you were swamped with work.  

You weren’t quite sure where the two of you stood.  

He’d said some really sweet things to you, and you’d almost gotten the feeling that they two of you were on an almost date, but you weren’t sure. Hardy was a peculiar lad. You knew he liked you, but you weren’t sure if he like liked you...  

God, you sounded like a middle schooler with a crush thinking things like that.  

But the things he’d said had made your heart flutter in such a warm way—it was hard to forget. The thought of him made you smile, and you couldn’t deny the butterflies in your stomach when you'd come into work to find you fellow secretaries giving you that knowing look before you were could catch on the paper beverage cup with your name scrawled across the side if the cup.

You still hadn’t gotten the chance to really thank him for what he’d done. It would’ve been easy enough to just walk out the door, but he’d gone the extra mile to invite you along. It was nice to know that at least one of your co-workers kept you in mind and noticed when you weren’t quite right.  

You weren’t sure how to thank him for it, if you were honest.  

It had been one of your fellow receptionists who’d proposed inviting him for a meal back at your place. That had been accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a similar knowing glance.

The thought of inviting the man who was technically a boss of yours over to your home had seemed foreign at first, but you’d quickly warmed up to the idea. You liked to cook, and you’d been told by friends and family you were pretty good at cooking.  

Now you just needed to figure out how and when to invite him. Despite the two of you working together, and leaving each other little offerings of beverages, you’d never seen him not completely focused on Danny Latimer’s case.  

And whenever you happened to see him on his way in, or out, you were usually completely busy with phone calls, paperwork and townsfolk being annoyed that they actually had to wait to speak to an officer.  

He’d still shoot you a tiny smile, and sometimes a wave of his hand that was more or less just a flick of his hand, when he happened to catch your eyes across the room. It was the little things like that that made you heart skip a beat.

Hardy was alone in his office when you finally worked up the gall to ask him to your place for dinner. The door was open ajar, and when Ellie had seen you hesitating by the doorway, she’d shot you a grin and gestured you in from her desk.  

You took a breath and pushed the door open, tapping your fingers on the door as a warning as you entered. He didn’t look up from his computer even as the door squeaked. “I told you to run through those cases before coming back, Millhur. You’d can’t possibly have finished already- and if so, go again.”

“Not Ellie,” you bit the inside of your cheek, shuffling where you were standing.

Hardy’s attention shot up from the computer and he stumbled to stand up, “oh, ah, oh, sorry ‘bout that... What can I do for you, (Y/N)?”

He moved around his desk to lean against the other side, arms looking for something to do before he settled for crossing them across his chest. You hid a smile, stepping closer into the room, but still keep your distance.  

“I uh, I never did thank you for... y’know, that night...”

“Oh,” Hardy blew out a breath, head ducking in an understanding nod. His hair fell over his eyes as his head turned downwards, “you don’t have to thank me, really, I’m glad I could help. And... I had a good time to, you were good company after a long day.”

You hoped your cheeks didn’t flush as brightly as they felt like they did at the tenderness in his voice, “I uh, well, I wanted to invite you over for dinner as a- a thank you? You were so kind when no one else even noticed and... I’d like to return the favor?”

“Dinner?” Hardy raised an eyebrow, looking unsure. His arms uncrossed, but instead his palms settled on the desk as he leaned back thoughtfully. He was contemplating it, and you had half a mind to wave him off, and offer an easy out.  

“You don’t have too-”

“No,” Hardy said easily before wincing back like he hadn’t meant to be quite so abrupt, “uhm, I mean, I’d like to come have dinner with you... if you’re sure? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m sure,” you promise with a surprised smile. It’s small, but happy. Hardy returns a smaller one, body relaxing just slightly where he’s leaning against his desk. “Are you free tonight? Or, uh, when are you free?”

“No, I’m free tonight,” he nods, smiling at how flustered you are. It’s weird, you decided, but not a bad weird. Just... strange. He isn’t much better, just as antsy as you, but you’re hanging onto the hope that inviting him over will result in the same light conversation and easy atmosphere as it had when the two of you had grabbed dinner at the Trader’s Hotel.

It had been a lovely evening, and when the two of you had let yourselves let your guards down, you’d had a good time together. Hopefully tonight would play out the same.

“Perfect,” you give a light laugh, playing with your fingers in front of you, “does six work for you? I uh, I get off at five today.”

“How about six-thirty?” Hardy offers awkwardly, looking apologetic, “Millhur and I’ll be going to check out a lead on the Danny Latimer case, and I don’t expect us to be back before six at the latest. Wouldn’t want to be late...”

“Six-thirty works,” you chirp, flashing him a grin. “That’s perfect...” you rattle off your address for him, before stepping back towards the doorway, “so, uh, see you tonight then?”

“See you tonight,” he nods, finally stepped away from his stiff lean against the desk.  

You slip out the door as Hardy returns to his desk. He gives you a small wave as you pull the door shut behind you. You let out a nervous breath.  

When you turn around, you’re met with a grinning Ellie Miller, “so... how’d it go?”

----

You’d waved Alec and Ellie out when they’d left on the lead that Hardy had mentioned. Ellie gave you a thumbs up, and Alec’s eyes shifted from you to Ellie, where his attention dulled to annoyance. She didn’t seem phased by it, and you didn’t doubt that he wasn’t always so stiff around her.

You wondered what made you so different to literally everyone else in the building that Hardy barely gave the time of day too as you typed out some documents to be sent up to the officers.  

You returned home by five fifteen, in a rush to get started on food. You didn’t know a lot about Hardy, and you certainly didn’t know what he liked. You remember Ellie mentioning something about him barely ever accepting food from her, and that he tended to not accept anything greasy,

You settled on remaking what he’d ordered that night at the Trader’s Hotel. He hadn’t eaten much of it, but he’d ordered it, so he had to have liked it.  

You found a bottle of wine you’d stashed away that had been a gift from someone at some point, but you couldn’t quite remember who’d given it to you. It would be good for tonight though, and compliment the meal. You hoped.

When the meal was cooking, and your place had been tidied up for company, you disappeared upstairs to change into something a bit nicer.  

A knock on your door came at exactly six-thirty. You smile to yourself at Alec being so punctual. It fit his character; you decide.  

You rushed to the door, smoothing your clothes down before pulling the door open and flashing a smile at your guest. For a second, he looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. He brushed himself out of his shock, letting a small smile curl on his lips at the sight of you.

He ducks his eyes away from you as he shifts from foot to foot. There’s a bottle of wine in one of his hands and a small bouquet of tulips in the other. He looks uncertainly between his hands before his eyes raised to your face, “hello.”

“You’ve brought flowers?” You blinked, shaking your head and smiling to yourself at the small act that had your heart beating out of your chest, “they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, uh,” Alec swallowed nervously, “I wanted to bring chocolates as well, but Millhur told me it was weird. I don’t... y’know,” he gestured the hand holding the wine bottle between the two of you, “much. Should’ve brought more?”

“No,” you told him, “this is sweet, thank you.” He hands you the flowers and you take them into your hands and hold them against your chest, “please come in.”

He follows you through the threshold, toeing his shoes off as he goes. He follows you into the kitchen, setting the wine beside the one you’d found earlier, while you work on finding a vase for the flowers. They’re beautiful and easily make you heart skip a beat.  

“This smells delicious,” Hardy’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. It’s an honest comment, and means a lot coming from Hardy—even if it is just pleasantries.  

“Oh, thank you,” you let out a light laugh, moving to set the flowers on the table as a center piece. “I wasn’t sure what to make, so I went with what you ordered because I know you like it. Ellie mentioned you didn’t much like greasy foods, so... I hope this is okay?”

“Yes, of course,” Hardy nods, standing off to the side of the counter before he pauses, “you asked Millhur about me?”

“Uhm,” you let out a nervous laugh as you rubbed the back of your neck, “yeah... I just wanted to make sure I made something you’d like as well and... she spends the most time with you, so I thought I’d see what she suggested?”

The look on Alec’s face is an emotion you can’t quite place; or maybe it’s a mix of a few. You don’t know him well enough to decipher what emotions are crossing his features. His eyes are following you uncertainly, like he doesn’t really believe you’re real. He’s leaning against the counter with his hands intertwined together in front of him.  

“Should be done now, are you ready to eat?” Alec shakes himself from his stupor as you move towards the meal you prepared. You grab the pot of your dinner off the stove top and direct Alec to grab the salad bowl from the fridge. You grab two wine glasses, as well as the bottle Hardy brought and take those to the table where Hardy is seating himself.

You take the other seat.  

You both serve yourselves the food.

The first few minutes are quiet while you eat, and then Alec offers a soft, “this is really good, (Y/N),” and from there conversations sparks.  

It’s light and easy, like you’d hoped. That same atmosphere from the bar, but in the safety of your home which made it even better. You spend some time getting to know each other, talking softly between bites of food and sips of wine.  

“A daughter?” you ask, taking a bite of food. He’d been talking about a few of his favorite cases from his time working at Sandbrook, and had mentioned his Ex, and daughter.  

Conversations had taken a more intimate turn this time around than when the two of you were at the hotel. Maybe It's because Becca’s not eavesdropping from across the room, but Hardy seems more at ease. It didn’t feel odd to ask, and you were genuinely curious about him and his life.

“Yes,” he nods, lifting his glass to his lips, a smile on his lips at the thought of his child, “Daisy. She, ah, she lives with her mother in Sandbrook still. I... I don’t get to see her often. I don’t have a lot of free time—especially not with the Danny Latimer case active. She’s, ah, she’s fifteen.”

“Daisy sounds lovely.” You smile as you take a sip of your own wine. You’d both steadily made your way through a glass each, and Hardy had topped you both your glasses up. “We're lucky to have people like you and Ellie who are putting so much time and effort into finding the person who did that to him... It can’t be easy to leave her, and I know Ellie misses her boys during the long days and late nights.”

Hardy gave a little nod, attention on his plate. He’d eaten a lot more of his food than he had at the hotel. You’re happy he likes it, from what you’ve heard from Ellie he’s very picky. The wine he’d brought it very good too, and accompanies the meal better than the one you had on hand would’ve.

The two of you continue to chat while you enjoy your meals.  Hardy told you a bit more about some of his favorite cases, and the odd arrests he’d made back before he was a Detective Inspector. You, in turn, told him a bit about yourself, and your friends and family. Your receptionist job wasn’t very exciting, but you had good stories to share from other aspects of your life.  

The two of you finished up dinner, but continued talking over the wine when the food was gone.  

Hardy was actually pretty good company. Maybe it had been the fact that Becca was watching the two of you the last time you’d shared a meal, but here and now, he seemed to be letting himself relax just the slightest.  

“It really was quite good,” he told you with a smile as he set his cutlery on his finished plate. Your heart thrummed pridefully at the fact he’d finished his meal, unlike at the hotel where he’d eaten very little. “Thank you for this, it’s been lovely.”

“It’s no problem,” you told him, turning your head to hide your cheeks heating up. You stood gracefully, grabbing your own plate, before reaching over to grab Alec’s as well. “I’ll just get the dishes.”

He pulled his plate back before you could take it, following your lead and standing as well. “Let me help.”

You opened your mouth to promise it was fine, and that you didn’t need any help. He was a guest after all, and this was a thank you of sorts for being so kind to you—letting him wash the dishes with you didn’t really scream ‘Thank you!’ or express your gratitude for him being so much different than everyone else working at that building.

“I insist,” he watched you with a light smile, “please? You cooked for me, so I should at the very least help you tidy up?”

You couldn’t say no to that.

Hardy was good at washing dishes. You dried between tidying everything up, putting things away as you dried them. Conversation was still light and fun, and it didn’t even really feel like you were doing chores with Alec.  

While he was distracted with the pot you’d cooked the meal in, you couldn’t help but take him all in. Stood at your sink with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His suit jacket had been abandoned on the back of his chair. He was so focused on the dishes he didn’t even notice your attention straying to him, fond smile on your lips.  

You’d never really imagined a domestic Alec Hardy, but now that you were seeing it, you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to forget it. He was just so much different from DI Hardy. Still the same personality, awkwardness and quirks, but he was more relaxed. He smiled more, and didn’t seem quite so uptight—which you assumed just came with the position of DI.  

“(Y/N)?” he called, and you forced your attention back. He was holding out a wet wine glass, with one eyebrow raised curiously. He smiled as you took the glass with a sheepish grin, turning back to the sink and picking up one of the few remaining dishes.  

Together you tided up the kitchen like it hadn’t even been used that day. It was nice to not have to worry about doing it later, or even the following morning before you headed to work.  

“It’s already nine?” Alec’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to look at where he was glancing at the time on your microwave. You really hadn’t thought it was so late.  

“Time really flies,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowed in surprise.

“Indeed,” Alec gave a light laugh, “I guess I should be on my way then.”

You thought about inviting him to stay later, but then you remember your early morning tomorrow, and you assume Alec will be getting in around the same time as you. You need some sleep if you plan on functioning tomorrow.  

“Did you need a ride home?” you ask as you follow him to the dining room to retrieve his jacket. He shakes his head with a light smile as he slips the coat on.

“You’ve already done enough tonight. Dinner was lovely, and I couldn’t ask you to drive me back to the hotel. I don’t mind the walk, it’s not too far anyways.”

You fight down the rejection in his words, smiling anyways. “Alright.”

You lead Alec to the door, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him step out into the chill of the night. You don’t really want him to go. 

You wonder where the two of you stand, even after this dinner. Will things just go back to the way they’d been before like after he took you out to dinner? Did this mean something? You’d hoped this could’ve... maybe led to more, but he doesn’t seem keen on it. “Goodnight, Alec.”

The man turns back to you with a little smile before stepping back through the threshold of the house, cupping the side of you jaw with his hand as he pressed his lips against yours. You’re stunned for a second, but then you’re kissing back, smiling into it.  

He pulls back first, leaving you breathless. His hand lingers for a moment, before he’s letting his touch fall away and he’s slipping his hand into his pocket, “goodnight.”

You watched with lidded eyes in an almost stunned silence as Alec disappears into the night. You watch his retreating back as you lift your fingers to touch against your tingling lips, smiling softly as you replay the kiss in your mind.

When he’s gone from sight, you shut your door, lock it and then lean against it with a happy sigh.  

You don’t have to wonder where you stand with Alec Hardy anymore; he’s made that completely obvious.

<><><><>

Thank you so much for taking the time to read! I hope this was suffice? It was fun to write, so thank you for the prompt!

As always, if it wasn’t what you were looking for, feel free to prompt me again! It might take a bit though :( Anyways! Have a good morning/day/night! <3

[princeloww]

Broadchurch was too slow and too sad, so I got high and tried watching it again, which made it significantly better, and now I'm on season 2 episode 2. I'm fucking frustrated that this case is dragging on, especially since I have past trauma of a similar (but less deadly) nature to Danny Latimer. Also, I figured out tje killer was Ellie's husband by episode 6.

Also, yay heart arrhythmia representation. You almost never see it. However, overall, Broadchurch is not a show made for me.

But i have to watch all of it b3cause my New Year resolution was to watch David Tennant's entire filmography.

I LOOVE broadchurch I personally genuinely couldn't stop watching it on my first watch

I remember setting my alarm earlier so that I could watch the start of an episode before school.... and also watching it on the way to school... and hiding in the school library struggling to get it to load because I was so desperate to find out what happened next

Everyone's tastes are different, though. Have you watched Around the World in 80 Days yet? It's quite serious as well and has got sad and emotional moments but it goes much quicker and has an overall much lighter tone, with quite a few funny moments, so you might enjoy that a bit more. If you haven't watched it yet, that is

Another quite light-hearted DT show is There She Goes, which I barely see anybody talking about. I'm not sure if you've seen it, but it's very good. It's a lot more slice-of-lifey and almost sitcom-y than Broadchurch/ATWI80D, with a formulaic sort of structure, but I found it quite endearing and enjoyable. It's got some very sad moments (such as DT's character crying to his absentee father), but they're paired with lots of light stuff.

I wish you luck on your resolution :)

[matt0044]

The Insidious Appeal of “Monty’s Vision” Conspiracies.

(warning: I will hold back on major spoilers for Broadchurch but I might dip into minor ones for the sake of my points).

Season Two of BBC’s crime drama, Broadchurch, takes place in the fallout of the solved murder of young Daniel Latimer where the killer is put on trial and pleads not guilty despite that we saw them confess to everything. The legal team defending the perp spends much of the new courtroom drama twisting events of the previous seasons to make their client look like the real victim.

Much of the lawyer’s words spin a yarn that suggests that what was official reported of the case’s resoluton was fabricated at best. She suggests that Alec and Ellie were desperate to bring in anybody with the pressure put on them that they beat a confession out of who we know was the killer.

They even try to pin Danny’s father as the true perpetrator due to an affair he was having on the night his son died, suggesting Mark killed his son in desperation to keep him silent. I don’t think I have to tell fans of the show that this nearly made me sick to my stomach. We knew what the truth was. We saw the truth in Season One yet here’s this slime ball trying to rewrite the narrative.

What made it chilling was that I could imagine myself as the impartial jurors, hanging onto every word and starting to actually think, “Maybe... she’s right.” They weren’t there to see what the detectives investigated. They weren’t there to see the killer caught and confess up front. What if the story wasn’t as straightforward as officials claim it to be? What if... there was more?

Isn’t that more hooking? Wouldn’t it be more... satisfying if it wasn’t as straightforward as, “boy killed, killer arrested,” but rather a complex web of deceit? It might not be the truth and is clearly based on extrapolation rather than actual concrete evidence... but it sounds like a damn good story, don’t it?

And that is how the “Monty’s Vision” discourse sustains itself.

Tell me which narrative sounds more compelling:

“Monty Oum regularly collaborated with Miles Luna as well as Kerry Shawcross to flesh out his raw ideas for characters and storylines, It was a team effort that involved many others contributing be it off-the-cuff or long term. After Monty’s passing, Miles and Kerry took it hard but knew that it was important to see RWBY through the best they could with their ever expanding team.”

Vs.

“Monty Oum wrote the whole of RWBY volume by volume on his own, considering ideas from Miles and Kerry when need be. He was a visionary, an auteur who had to deal with corporate stooges looking for a quick buck. With his passing, Miles and Kerry saw to it that they make RWBY into a shameless cash cow with nary regard for quality of the story or action.”

Admittedly, I skimmed a bit on both but a former fan of RWBY would find more satisfaction to their frustrations with the latter narrative. It’s not enough for Monty to have died while leaving big shoes to fill. It has to be an secret plan to ruin his vision for the sake of capitol. What, is the show... just not doing it for you anymore period?

Thus YouTube grifters like Hero_Hei get to make bank over the dissatisfaction of miffed fans looking for an answer, peddling stories of “what’s happening behind the scenes” that are hyperbolic at best and fabricated at worst. They need to keep this hate train a-chugging because any acceptance of the truth means that they can’t get the views the need.

The worst part? I get it. I’ve occasionally fallen for the some of the less egregious conspiracies for fear of the worst. However, Tumblr Meta as well as actually good video essays such as by Hypeathon helped me realize that it really wasn’t anything shady despite these bad takes worming into my mind.

Ask yourself this: Is a video essay or blog post convincing because it’s based on actual official sources or because it’s just like something you saw on HBO?

[enigma2meagain]

The Insidious Appeal of the “Monty’s Vision” Conspiracies by Matt0055.

He makes a pretty compelling point in regards to why the Monty’s Vision Conspiracy tends to stick so hard. Be sure to go and throw the guy a like or something, especially his post on Reddit.

WARNING: Spoilers for the Crime Drama Broadchurch!

(warning: I will hold back on major spoilers for Broadchurch but I might dip into minor ones for the sake of my points).

Season Two of BBC’s crime drama, Broadchurch, takes place in the fallout of the solved murder of young Daniel Latimer where the killer is put on trial and pleads not guilty despite that we saw them confess to everything. The legal team defending the perp spends much of the new courtroom drama twisting events of the previous seasons to make their client look like the real victim.

Much of the lawyer’s words spin a yarn that suggests that what was official reported of the case’s resoluton was fabricated at best. She suggests that Alec and Ellie were desperate to bring in anybody with the pressure put on them that they beat a confession out of who we know was the killer.

They even try to pin Danny’s father as the true perpetrator due to an affair he was having on the night his son died, suggesting Mark killed his son in desperation to keep him silent. I don’t think I have to tell fans of the show that this nearly made me sick to my stomach. We knew what the truth was. We saw the truth in Season One yet here’s this slime ball trying to rewrite the narrative.

What made it chilling was that I could imagine myself as the impartial jurors, hanging onto every word and starting to actually think, “Maybe… she’s right.” They weren’t there to see what the detectives investigated. They weren’t there to see the killer caught and confess up front. What if the story wasn’t as straightforward as officials claim it to be? What if… there was more?

Isn’t that more hooking? Wouldn’t it be more… satisfying if it wasn’t as straightforward as, “boy killed, killer arrested,” but rather a complex web of deceit? It might not be the truth and is clearly based on extrapolation rather than actual concrete evidence… but it sounds like a damn good story, don’t it?

And that is how the “Monty’s Vision” discourse sustains itself.

Tell me which narrative sounds more compelling:

“Monty Oum regularly collaborated with Miles Luna as well as Kerry Shawcross to flesh out his raw ideas for characters and storylines, It was a team effort that involved many others contributing be it off-the-cuff or long term. After Monty’s passing, Miles and Kerry took it hard but knew that it was important to see RWBY through the best they could with their ever expanding team.”

Vs.

“Monty Oum wrote the whole of RWBY volume by volume on his own, considering ideas from Miles and Kerry when need be. He was a visionary, an auteur who had to deal with corporate stooges looking for a quick buck. With his passing, Miles and Kerry saw to it that they make RWBY into a shameless cash cow with nary regard for quality of the story or action.”

Admittedly, I skimmed a bit on both but a former fan of RWBY would find more satisfaction to their frustrations with the latter narrative. It’s not enough for Monty to have died while leaving big shoes to fill. It has to be an secret plan to ruin his vision for the sake of capitol. What, is the show… just not doing it for you anymore period?

It's how many have bought into that one open letter even to this day. It's the classic if cliche story of the creative versus the corporate. Of an honest man's vision versus unscrupulous greed. What's the one thing that most Millennials advocate for most than eating the rich?

Thus YouTube grifters like Hero_Hei get to make bank over the dissatisfaction of miffed fans looking for an answer, peddling stories of “what’s happening behind the scenes” that are hyperbolic at best and fabricated at worst. They need to keep this hate train a-chugging because any acceptance of the truth means that they can’t get the views the need.

The worst part? I get it. I’ve occasionally fallen for the some of the less egregious conspiracies for fear of the worst. However, Tumblr Meta as well as actually good video essays such as by Hypeathon/Team SKGA helped me realize that it really wasn’t anything that... bombastic.

I always asked myself this whenever I run into this: Is a video essay or blog post convincing because it’s based on actual official sources or because it’s just like a documentary you saw on HBO?

Check here for other RWBY related posts: https://enigma2meagain.tumblr.com/rwbyposts

[daydreamingatnight209]

Hi everyone! Sorry for another long hiatus but I’m back again! This fic is from the tv series Broadchurch, which I will 100 percent recommend! Please let me know if you want to be added to my David Tennant Taglist!

As usual feedback is always welcome ✨💕

ALL IMAGES AND PROMPTS CREDIT GOES TO THE CORRECT OWNERS AND THE SHOW.

“It is okay to cry”

Alec Hardy x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings- Angst but with a fluffy ending 💞

—————————————

The Danny Latimer Case was harder on you then expected. Watching a guilty man walk free was never easy but there was something about watching Joe Miller walk free angered you like never before. You watched as it destroyed the Latimer family and those around, including his own son Tom and his wife Ellie. You watched as Hardy put himself in hospital more then once over the case and his resolve to bring this to an end and an end was brought just not the end people were hoping for.

You were exhausted. All the long hours you put in alongside the small team at Broadchruch and the emotional turmoil that you had put aside and endured was finally catching up with you. You couldn’t keep up the brave face any longer.

——————————

Ellie Miller was not having a good day.

She had just seen her husband walk free of a murder that should of put him behind bars for a number of years.

She felt as if the weight of the world on her shoulders as she left the court room, DI Alec Hardy beside her. That’s when she heard the heavy, rushed sobs in front of her.

It was Y/N.

Ellie braced herself, stopping Hardy in his tracks.

“Oi, what was that for?!” His thick Scottish accent breaking through in surprise.

Ellie said nothing but pointed in Y/N’s direction on the steps outside the court building.

“They are crying”

Alec just looked at Ellie with confusion,

“Well what do you want me to do about it”

He asked.

He didn’t mean to sound rude but Hardy didn’t really do well around other peoples emotions as he spends so long repressing his own.

“Go and comfort them” Ellie hissed, Couldn’t he see that was the obvious answer?!

“And... how do I do that?” Alec continued, dancing on the balls of his feet, refusing to make eye contact with Miller.

Miller was in disbelief, how was this guy even married at one point?!

“Start by giving them a bloody hug” she states slowly.

Alec meets Millers face with his eyes wide. Was it fear or confusion?

“With... what?”

Miller just scoffs and shoves the awkward bean pole towards the weeping detective.

——————————

You didn’t realise that your boss had taken a seat beside you before you wiped your eyes and looked up after your cry.

“Oh! Sorry boss. I didn’t see you there” you cough trying to rid the air of any tension or surprise.

Alec didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arm around you, awkwardly at first. You knew he wasn’t big on affection so you decided to ignore it, just grateful that he was there to comfort you in the first place.

You don’t know how long the both of you sat there but you didn’t mind. The longer you sat the more comfortable you both became. Eventually Alec stood up and took you with him. Shaking of his blazer he wrapped it around you before in casing you again, placing a gentle, almost air like kiss on your forehead.

“It is okay to cry” He whispered before releasing you and walking away.

It was okay to cry ...

[redfoxwriter]

Another Case

Prompt:

Person A: “Fucking hell, they’re like bloody vultures out there!”

Person B: “This is exactly why I wanted to keep this whole thing low-key.”

Person A: “Yeah well it’s a bit too late for that, and we weren’t exactly given much of a choice.”

(Not my prompt, click to see the original prompt.)

Characters: DI Hardy, Ellie Miller, Reader (Gender-neutral)

You’re a detective who transferred to the Broadchurch precinct and a case is up!

You arrived in Broadchurch right after a case you have successfully solved a case in Plymouth a month ago. Right on the third day of work, your boss, also known as DI Hardy, called a meeting of a new murder cases. As you recalled, Broadchurch doesn’t have a lot of murder cases, accept for the murder case of Danny Latimer. So when a news like this came, everyone started working really fast.

“Y/n, meet me in my office. You too Miller.” DI Hardy said with a serious tone.

You both went inside his office and sat on the chairs in front of his desk.

“Sir, do we have a new case?” Ellie asked with an anxious face.

“Yes we do. But it’s a case we are not so fond about.” he replied. He put to identical files on the desk and push towards us. You opened the yellow, neat file and see there has been a photo of someone that seemed to have been stabbed in the back. Quite literally. 

“No...” Ellie whispered. Everything flashing in her eyes of the previous murder case.

“We’re going to the scene wight now but I need the both of you to keep everything low okay? I don’t want anyone to know about this havoc.” DI Hardy gave a stern look as us as a warning.

You both nodded and off you three went to the scene. It was only a few minutes drive to the place.

“Fucking hell, they’re like bloody vultures out there!” Miller shouted at you and Alec so you two could hear her.

“This is exactly why I wanted to keep this whole thing low-key.” DI Hardy replied with the same level of loudness.

“Yeah well it’s a bit too late for that, and we weren’t exactly given much of a choice.” Miller said.

The crime scene is flooded with many reporters and police officers. “Who do you think did this?” “How could you, police officers, allow a murderer on the loose? Again?” reporters asking all sorts of ridiculous questions as you, Alec and Miller walked to the murder scene. “Damn... they’re all so... how do you say this...?” you asked. “Ridiculous?” Miller answered.

You all arrived at the actual scene of the crime. Gloves were being worn and you squatted down to see splattered of bloods on the floor. This is going to be a long day.