urban exploring circels this building is known as “Villa Klodderkes”, a name
that doesn’t make any sense at all. First of all, it is not a villa; it is a
town house and god only knows what ‘klodderkes’ stands for. The town house
was built in the second half of the 19th century and had several purposes over
the course of its history. For a long time it was used as office space for a
nearby factory. Later it was used as a doctor’s practice, but its most recent
use was that of police office. The building was featured in several films and
television shows. In 2017 the building will be sold. We visited this town house
during a group event for the facebook group Scenes of Decay. As is often the
case in these situations, there was far too much talking and not nealy enough
photographing. As a result, I have only a few images to show form y visit…
Summary: When Jughead becomes an active member of the Southside Serpents, him and Betty are starting to grow further and further apart, as the boiling volcano of Riverdale’s Civil War is threatening to erupt in full force. Can a heart to heart with Alice Cooper and an old Serpent jacket give Betty and Jughead the hope they both need?
(This is huge so grab snacks and drinks. The Bughead scene ruined me. I apologize for all of this. Warning: full angst and sin ahead! I’m not describing it as much anymore cause after the Jughead I saw in the finale that’s a given but still, after I post this, I’ll crawl under my covers in blushing embarassment.😂 Here you go, lovelies! I hope you enjoy this! ❤️)
“On the second day he came with a single red rose
He said, "Give me your loss and your sorrow?”
I nodded my head, as I lay on the bed
“If I show you the roses will you follow?”
The snow is slowly melting
under the heaps of rain and so is her will to contribute to life these days.
The icy scenery that adorns Riverdale gives out under the rays of sun that
stubbornly peek through the pine trees and white oaks, ridding their leaves from
the coldness of nature, only to become shiny droplets of clear water that hold
the whole kaleidoscope of colors, just like tears and their colossal scale of
emotions. He is the ice, she is the stubborn sun; that’s what he tells her
through the sad darkness of each night that they lay together but further and
further apart. He says it as a compliment, in the most sullen John Wheelwright
fashion, but she accepts it gladly as her fingers form infinity signs over the
crackling ice of his golden heart. Her hair is golden too under the dim
moonlight, it’s a match made in heaven, and she vows that tomorrow she will try
to burn hotter than the December sun over the patches of snow that are
menacingly trying to turn him into a lifeless statue. And she does. But not
There was a creature that haunted the children of Hawkins, Indiana, a beast who hung on the edge of their dreams. He was gone from their memories when they woke, leaving only a cold, crimson feeling. And he would have stayed there, in the shadows of the mind, if not for one little girl. Drowning in fear, she ripped open a hole between worlds and set the monster free.
I have to say, I really love your oc! I was wondering, what's Vixen's backstory?
Let’s do this! Vixen’s bio has some small references to mine in real life, since she’s so heavily inspired by me in appearance and personality.
Name: Nicole “Vixen” Victoria
Nationality: Irish American
Orientation: A non commiittal shaky hand gesture. Heteroromantic.
Eye color: Turquoise-blue
Nicole “Vixen” Victoria was born in the industrial shit stain town of Erie, Pennsylvania in the USA. A lover of all things that made sound since she was able to walk, she sang with many small garage-only doomed bands all throughout grade school. Her odd name earned her the nickname “Double First Names”. She was a terrible student however, and flunked out just before she graduated high school, completely bored of the material.
Never going by her first name, most call her Vixen; her self given name. She chose it due to her love of foxes, and a characteristic canine snaggle tooth that popped out of her mouth whenever she smiled.
Her family was full of abusive drug addicts, and as such paid no attention when she slipped out of the house at age 16 to live a life on the road as a traveling singer and artist. She’s been all over the globe, and has plenty stories of her crazy escapades.
Her only consistent companion is a green cheeked conure, named Dragon. Dragon is fiercely territorial of her, and has only just accepted Murdoc; allowing him to come near when he’s around.
Around 25 years old, Gorillaz singer 2D found her crooning at a local club he was scouting out. He was impressed with her unique sound, and offered her a chance to sing some backing vocals for the newest album.
When she arrived at the Gorillaz’ studio, Murdoc was initially furious 2D went and hired a collaborator without his knowledge; one he hadn’t even heard of for that matter. Initially upon meeting her, he was instantly physically attracted to her, though still disgruntled about some “punker chick” nosing her way into his band. He didn’t start to become attracted to her mind until he learned more about her, and spent more time with her.
Murdoc and Vixen became inseparable, the two sharing more about one another then they ever had with anyone else. The band members all loved her immensely, and once it was made clear Vixen and Murdoc were together, ”only a weekend” of crashing in Murdoc’s room turned into living at the studio full time with them.
Vixen is a spicy, fiercely loyal, mischievous woman. Playful and childish, she likes to prank Murdoc and the other band members frequently. She can be found on the rooftop of kong studios during late nights, trying to come up with lyrics to new songs or sketching away in a giant sketchbook. She crawls into bed with Murdoc just before the sun rises.
HAMILTON: In the eye of a hurricane, there is quiet. I wouldn’t know firsthand, as I’ve never been in the eye, just on the ever destructive outside. But they all say, you can Google it, that for just a moment, there’s silence and a yellow sky. The silence is suffocating, whether the hurricane is metaphorical or not. You know, when I was seventeen, a hurricane destroyed where I lived. And somehow, impossibly, I didn’t drown. I couldn’t quite seem to die, as odd as it sounds. I couldn’t stay any longer, so I wrote. A rather descriptive account of what happened in that horrid storm, a letter to my father, really. Eliza keeps it with her to read when she misses me. I remember all the horror and destruction I attempted to describe. It seemed as if a total dissolution of nature was taking place. The roaring of the sea and wind, fiery meteors hurtling in the air, the prodigious glare of lightning, the crash of the falling houses, and the ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed, were all sufficient to strike astonishment into Angels and fear into the hearts of the fearless. That’s almost a direct quote from the letter, for I can’t forget exactly how I got here. I just wrote all of it down, as much as I could bear, and when I looked up from papers and ink-stained fingers, the whole town had their eyes on me. They passed plates around, raising funds so I could leave. Their kindness is still astonishing to to this day– a group of total strangers who decided to help me because I wrote so eloquently. They raised enough for me to book passage on a ship that was heading to New York. I wrote my way out of a hell I thought I would have to live in for the rest of my life. I wrote my way to revolution, to being Washington’s aide de camp. I was louder than the crack in that goddamned bell. I got out of everything by using those passionate words that spilled out onto the page as though I’d tipped a jar of ink. I wrote Eliza love letters until she fell for me, wrote her pages upon pages of how she was constantly appearing in my dreams. I wrote about the Constitution that Burr refused to help with, fifty one essays of good defense. And in the face of straight up ignorance, I went to Eliza, and said, we’re going to have a financial system. And the next morning, after a night of writing, I gave Washington the plan for the banks. And when my prayers to God were unanswered, I picked up another damn pen, and I wrote my own deliverance!
HAMILTON: Sir, I don’t know what you heard, but whatever it is, Jefferson started it. HAMILTON: There’s a million things I haven’t done, but just you wait. HAMILTON: You’re an orphan. Of course! I’m an orphan! HAMILTON: Sometimes I get overexcited, shoot off at the mouth. HAMILTON: Hey, best of wives and best of women. HAMILTON: Would you like to join us, or you could go back to doing whatever the hell it is you do in Monticello? HAMILTON: My dearest, Angelica. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day. Certainly you understand my reference to another Scottish tragedy aside from myself, so I don’t have to name it? Well, I must admit, they do think me Macbeth, because we share the flaw of ambition, and I’m apparently a pain in the ass for Jefferson, or should I said Macduff. HAMILTON: Angelica, tell my wife John Adams doesn’t have a real job anyways. HAMILTON: Well, hate the sin, love the sinner, right? HAMILTON: If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it. HAMILTON: I am not throwing away my shot! HAMILTON: If you stand for nothing, Burr, what’ll you fall for?
BURR: Love doesn’t pick its victims personally. It just consumes you whole, but we love anyways. And if there’s a reason I’m by her side while so many have tried and failed to make this work, I am willing to wait for it. I always wait for it. My grandfather was a fire and a brimstone preacher, but my thoughts don’t line up with his. There are so many things you can learn that all those hymns and homilies don’t teach you. My family…my mother was a genius, a composer of many manuscripts. My father commanded respect. He helped found Princeton University and was the first significant president of the college. When they died… they didn’t leave any instructions, or a how-to, or a guide to life. They just left a legacy behind that I need to protect. And just like love, death affects all. But we keep living, we rise, and we fall, and we make mistakes.(begins to get more agitated/upset) If there is any reason why I’m still alive when everyone who loves me has died, then I am waiting for that reason. I can control that. I am the one thing in life I can actively control. I’m inimitable, an original… and no one gets that I am not behind in anything, I am never late. I’m running this race at the pace I want to go at. I’m not at any kind of standstill, I am lying in wait. But Hamilton… Alexander Hamilton.I know I always say ‘talk less’ and ‘smile more’, but I am beyond done with Hamilton.Here he is, facing this endless uphill climb, going so quickly like he has nothing to lose. And I don’t think he does. His pace is relentless. He doesn’t waste any time. Just like always, Alexander Hamilton is rushing past me with all these opportunities. It takes so much strength to tell myself to wait for it. My time will come soon. I can’t help but wonder… what is it like in his shoes?
BURR: And me? I’m the damn fool that shot him. BURR: Talk less, smile more. BURR: Hey, geniuses, lower your voices. Keep out of trouble and you’ll get even more opportunities. BURR: I’m a trust fund, baby, you can trust me. BURR: Now Lafayette, though we have our disagreements, you must admit we all do have one thing in common? We’re reliable with the ladies. BURR: Here’s the pièce de résistance: no one else was in the room where it happened. No one else saw how the dirty deal was done. Think about it. You never really know how the game is played. You just assume that it happens, but you’re never in the room where it does. BURR: Alexander Hamilton… what did they say to you to get you to sell New York City down the river? What, did Washington know about the deal? There was a presidential pressure to get it through? BURR: The Schuyler sisters! You know, there is nothing like spending summers on the internet, but why aren’t you out in the city? Your clothing is impeccable, you clearly have money. So why slum it and make videos instead of coming out in the real world? Are you searching for the internet equivalent of a street rat to give you ideals? BURR: How do you write like you’re running out of time? Are you running out of time?
KING GEORGE: Now, all you Americans say that the cost of my love is too high, and you aren’t willing to pay the price. But still, you lot cry into your tea when you watch me go by, you bunch of Anglophiles. By the way, it was totally rude when you chucked it into the ocean. Sure, you were upset, but that was uncalled for. But still, why so upset? Don’t you remember the arrangement we made when you went away? Now you’re making me mad! Please, remember despite our distance, I’m your guy. You’ll be back eventually. You’ll see soon enough that you still belong to me. You’ll remember how well I served you! We’ve stuck together throughout everything. And when push comes to shove, I will send a fully armed battalion to remind you of my love for you! (hums a bit of the da da da’s from the song) You know it’s bullshit, right? You whine and cry about how our love is draining and you simply can’t go forwards! I promise you, you’ll be the one complaining when I am gone. But don’t you dare change the subject, cause you’re truly my favourite subject. You’re sweet, submissive… my favourite, loyal, little peasants, with me forever, and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever… and you can’t deny that you’ll come crawling back to me, just like last time. I’ll fight the fight and win the war… for your love and praise, of course, what else? I’ll love you until I die! And when you’re gone, I’ll go mad. So pretty please with a cherry on top don’t just throw away this thing between us. And once again… when, not if, push comes to shove, I will slaughter your friends and family in cold blood to remind you of how much I love you! (begins to hum/lowkey sing the da, da, da’s from you’ll be back)Everyone’s with me now… or at least, you will be! (starts to hum again)
ELIZA SCHUYLER HAMILTON
ELIZA: Hi, I, uh, don’t really know how to work this thing. Could I sound anymore cliche?. I mean, it is Angelica’s after all, and I really shouldn’t be touching it. But it doesn’t matter, for now at least. She’s not here, she’s out somewhere with Thomas Jefferson trying to convince him to include women in the sequel, still have no clue what that means… and was I supposed to say that? I don’t really think I should be recklessly announcing her plans, but she’ll probably have a new one next week so I guess no harm, no foul. Nothing against Ang, she’s my sister and I love her with every last piece of me, but sometimes, sometimes I feel like she’s always striving for something new, like nothing is ever enough and it never will be. While I, on the other hand, have finally found my enough. Well, I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself, it’s the person who I think can someday, somehow, somewhere could possibly be my enough. And that’s what, more like who, this video is about. Alexander Hamilton. Now, I know what you’re thinking, that he’s just some poor little orphan boy, trying to fight his way through the war just to make a name for himself. Well, though that isn’t entirely wrong, he’s also so much more. More than I could even explain. Just, well, the next time you have the chance to see him, look into his eyes, it’ll answer everything. They’re so deep, filled to the brim with endless dreams, you could drown in them, get lost in them, build an entirely new world in them. To him it seems that not even the sky’s the limit, because there isn’t anything he wouldn’t, or should I say, couldn’t do. And god, when I’m around him I can’t help but feel, well, helpless. But in a good way, well as good as helpless can get. My knees turn to jelly, acrobats take over my stomach and my heart races. I’ve only met him once and though Angelica doesn’t seem to believe in love at first sight and Peggy sticks to flirting even though she’s far too young to, I really think he could be the one. That night, it was like a page out of a fairy tale book. The Winter’s Ball, or what Angelica like to call it, a revel with a few too many rebels.
ELIZA: No. No more excuses, Alexander. For once in your life, can you just look around and put everyone and everything else out of your mind? Can you just realize how lucky we are? To be alive. To be in love. To be having a child, a son, our son. Shouldn’t that be enough? ELIZA: Angelica, tell this man John Adams spends the summer with his family. ELIZA: That was amazing, Angelica. I would say screw the revolution also, but, history is happening now. Just look at what you’re doing, look around at what’s happening in Manhattan! We’re so lucky to be alive right now, and I’m so glad I was alive to hear you tell him off. ELIZA: Why do you write like you’re running out of time? Come back to bed, Alexander. That would be enough. ELIZA: You and your words. You were always so obsessed with your legacy to the point where you weren’t making sense anymore. Paranoid in every paragraph on how the public percieved you, because that’s all you ever cared about. ELIZA: Just for you to let me in. For real this time. We’re about to start a family and I need to know that you’re leaving more than just a chapter for me in the narrative we know they’ll write about you someday. I just want to finally have an idea of what’s really going on in your mind. That’d be enough for me.
ANGELICA SCHUYLER CHURCH
ANGELICA: (notebook and pen in hand) There has to be something here. (flips through, before pauses on a page), Well not this, (flips page pausing again) or that. Too cheesy, too dry, what was I even thinking? (continues to flip) Too funny, not funny enough, not funny at all, no, no and no (flips to a new page). Looks like I’m starting from scratch, again (begins to write). To the groom, to the bride. From, me, who has absolutely no clue on how to write a wedding toast. (tears out page crumpling it and throwing it) Wow. Angelica Schuyler has no clue how to do something, that’s a first. (looks up) And even better she’s recording this monumental moment, while talking in third person.It’s not that I can’t write. I write a lot and well, not like Alexander, but if I’m being serious, no one’s anywhere near Alexander’s level, much less pace when it come to words. I mean these drafts aren’t even that horrible, they’re just, not perfect. Which the toast needs to be and I will make sure of it, because this, this needs to be the perfect toast for the perfect couple, who will have the perfect wedding and the perfect love story. One to go down in history. Because, if you haven’t heard, Alexander and Eliza are getting married a week, a week from well, now. Which leaves me with exactly 168 hours to put together that perfect wedding speech, because I, Angelica Schuyler, am the maid of honour. And Alexander, boy, he already left utterly large shoes to fill after proposing in the most perfect way. How he manages to step up in every aspect of his life, I don’t understand, he’s even moved from one Schuyler sister to another, in a single night.. I know Eliza’s already accidently told the whole world about our night at the winter’s ball, but like we all know there are two sides to every story, and if she ever were to hear mine - she can’t, that’s all. And she won’t.
ANGELICA: I’m just saying, if you really loved me you would share him. ANGELICA: In a letter I received from you two weeks ago, I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase. It changed the meaning. Did you intend this? God, one stroke and you’ve consumed all my waking hours. ANGELICA: Three reasons. Number one: it would look super suspicious to Dad if all three of us were clustered in one room. Number two: aesthetic. Number three: I don’t want you in my room. ANGELICA: Yes, but there are so many new ideas in the air! We can make this country greater than it’s ever been before. We can have equality for everyone! Just look around at what’s happening! Look around for these people that can change the world!
WASHINGTON: Alexander, there’s a genuine reason I haven’t given you a command yet. It’s not because I enjoy playing cat and mouse with you and constantly finding you writing endless rants about the people I chose instead. It’s not that you aren’t smart enough, not capable of doing so, or that I don’t believe in you. I put all of my faith in you when I first hired you, Alexander, and I know that you know that, it’s just coming from fear. The only way to put it is that you remind me a lot of me when I was just younger. I wasn’t lying when I said I felt the same way as you did when you first came knocking on my door. My head was always filled with fantasies of dying like a martyr, like yours is. But I also wasn’t lying when I said dying is far easier than living. I thought you would figure that out with time, but it was rather foolish of me to believe that. The point of this, Alexander, is that I was only a bit younger than you when I was given my first command. May 24th, years ago, was when I lead my men straight into a massacre. We attacked a party of French soldiers. Killed ten. Though only now I realize how small that number is. They weren’t the only ones killed, some of my men died on the same soil they did, and it was all because of me. I was so blinded by the fact that I was finally being put into command, that in the meantime I made every mistake. I learned I had no control in who lives, who died, and who tells your story. With every mistake I made, the shame began to rise in me, the excitement replaced with fear and regret, because in that moment in time I realized history had it eyes on me. It was ready to trace every step, every decision, and every right and wrong that was ahead of me. It was ready to put my name down in the textbooks and have children dissect everything I did from that day on. That was when I realized that there was no turning back. I was far past the point of no return and had to either choose a position of power or forever be remembered as the one who wasted away. On that day I thought I was ready for battle, but I wasn’t. I had finally realised it was time for me to rise up and take the lead. I had to let my walls down and put the country and it’s people in front of me. I couldn’t make decisions for me but for them, because I had hundreds of people relying on me, a scared man with the blood of angry soldiers on his hands, who laid awake at night planning his days and regretting the past ones. That’s why I shielded you, Alexander, because I didn’t want you to become that man. I can’t protect you anymore, because then you’ll never be ready. The only way to truly learn is from experience. The troops are waiting in the field for you, Alexander, and if you choose to accept, from this day onward, history will have its eyes on you. It will be by your side everyday, analyzing your every move and mistake. But for now the pen is in your hand and you are writing your own history. For now you are writing your own story to be left on this very earth for as long as it lives. Remember, from here on in, the world is watching you and every single thing you do.
WASHINGTON: Frankly, it’s a little unnerving that you would let your ideals blind to you reality. Hamilton, if you could please start drafting a statement?WASHINGTON: I want to warn against partisan fighting… come on, pick up a pen, write it all down. WASHINGTON: The people are asking me to lead. I’m doing the best I can to get everyone I need onboard, but I need to ask you— will you be my right hand man again? I know it’s a lot to ask to leave behind the world you’ve always known.
THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE
LAFAYETTE: The unrest in France will lead to onarchy. Onarchy? How you say? How’s ou say, anarchy! LAFAYETTE: Et il dit qu'il est pas l'ami qui est comme une mère. LAFAYETTE: What you’re missing is that the, in your terms, “shitty dude” was a minion of King George III, and he said that King George would come for you. LAFAYETTE: Femme la bouche, and watch it. LAFAYETTE: As the kids say, let’s be real. No one bounces back as quickly or is such a practical and brilliant strategist as Hamilton, oui? LAFAYETTE: Well, Alexander, don’t you think everyone deserves their five minutes of fame? LAFAYETTE: I’m Lafayette, America’s favourite fighting frenchman, here with your favourite bastard, orphan, son of a whore and a scotsman… and a turtle lover. LAFAYETTE: What happened to honesty being valued? LAFAYETTE: Why is Burr here, again? LAFAYETTE: You are the worst, Burr.
LAURENS: But we’ll never be truly free until those in bondage are equal to us! It’s do or die, just wait until I come over leading the first black battalion! LAURENS: Look, when you’re living on your knees you rise up. It’s all you can do. So tell your brother that he’s gotta rise up, and tell your sister that she’s gotta rise up. When are these colonies gonna rise up? LAURENS: I’m not your mom. If anything, Hercules is the mom friend. LAURENS: Did you actually fall asleep at your computer though? Again? LAURENS: Yeah. Last time, he had drafted a letter to me telling me he was going to buy me a turtle to proclaim his love, and when he fell asleep, his head hit the send button. And then, his friend Ned told me about the time he sent Congress twenty seven emails within an hour about the financial system of America, and the last one was a bunch of jumbled letters from when his head fell on the keyboard. LAURENS: Raise a glass to freedom, cause they won’t ever take that away! LAURENS: What can I say, man, I like turtles. LAURENS: Well, if it ain’t the prodigy of Princeton College! LAURENS: The revolution’s imminent, Burr, what do you stall for?
HERC: Tear this dude into pieces. HERC: I am not the mom friend, I am the party friend. I just like making sure you guys are okay and that Alex here doesn’t mess up his neck. HERC: Wait, again? He’s done this before? You’re going to give yourself arthritis! HERC: Do you realize the amount of dirty jokes I could make right now? HERC: Hercules Mulligan, baby. You knock me down, I get the fuck back up again. HERC: You must admit he does have a point, I mean there are just so many to deflower. HERC: Just shut up and listen to Laf. HERC: Sarcasm, such a beautiful form a self defense. HERC: Ohhhh our boy’s in love!
It’s just outside of Columbus, just closed off from the city. You came here because everyone talked about how nice it was, how lovely, how special. How everyone in Columbus wanted to live here. It was costly, but it seemed worth it. Everyone was so welcoming to you, wearing their nice clothes and big smiles. But after a few weeks, it feels strange– why won’t they stop smiling?
Everything is so white here. White people with their white teeth and white pearls and white tile floors and white houses and white picket fences, it’s as though the entire town has been bleached. In fact, everything here kind of smells of bleach.
One man owns the town. His name is plastered on every building. You’ve never seen him leave his mansion, you’ve never seen him at all. No one has. Sometimes you wonder if he’s actually there.
Every house must be built the same way, every building a similar style, every school the same style. You must follow the rules. You don’t question it– you’re too scared to.
The school kids all wear the same clothes in different colors, bought from the same store, with the same hair, and the same voice, the same face. They are all the same. You begin getting them all mixed-up. You can’t find anyone different. You wonder what happened to them.
The housewives all gather together at a high-end cafe for brunch every friday. They all talk loudly about the same college their children all happen to be going to, and how happy they are. They lean in and whisper quietly and rushed and something about it feels wrong. One of them meets your gaze. It becomes dead silent. They go back to talking loudly about their lovely husbands and lovely children and lovely lives.
A woman stands in front of your house every morning at 9:08 exactly. You mention it to your neighbor who says, “I’ve never seen a woman at your house.” The woman stops coming.
You know it’s safe because they told you the police circle the neighborhood every hour. “It’s so safe here,” they all tell you, “so, so safe.” You see a flicker of something in their eyes– was it fear?
Ever since you moved in you haven’t been able to sleep. You confide to one of your neighbors and they suggest you go to the town’s doctor. He prescribes you medicine and doesn’t tell you the side effects. You take it anyway.
Every neighbor has a dog. Every other night at three am, they bark and bark. Sometimes they get loose. One of them attacks the child from across the street. You don’t see the child or the dog again.
You begin having nightmares you can’t wake up from. A man standing at the end of your bed, staring. An owl hoo-ing at your window; its eyes are dead and remind you of the people in the town. You stop taking the medicine.
There have been five suicides in the little you’ve lived there. You try to read about them in the town papers, but they aren’t there. No one talks about them. No one acknowledges them. Everyone just smiles.
You haven’t left the town since you got there. Something tells you to, but every time you try the car breaks down. You call a mechanic and he asks you why you’d want to leave. “Everything you need is right here.”
A neighbor invites you to their party. You go. A lady with diamond earrings begins talking to you. You notice a stain on the edge of her high heels. It’s the first time you’ve seen a stain in this town. It It looks like blood.
They don’t like you here. One woman says “it seems you aren’t assimilating well.” She says it with a smile, but the words give you chills. You don’t know why, but it scares you.
Your neighbors maid stops by your house. “Get out,” she says. It’s not a threat, it’s a warning. But she’s too late. You can’t.
Hello- lots of questions... In Broadchurch, Tess wears black in every scene but the one in 2x5 with Daisy. When Miller meets Tess she is in black, but Hardy and Miller both in crisp white, representing good and Tess is in black for- bad? Is she really an antagonist? Considering that Tess has not done anything wrong to Hardy besides the obvious Sandbrook scandal. And why is she in white in the dinner scene with Daisy? Another clue from the colourist - is Tess only ever good to Hardy around Daisy?
But Tess is an antagonist in the strictest sense. In film terminology, an antagonist is defined not as “evil” or a “villain” (though they may certainly be that) - they are a force for change. They generate the conflict that drives the story. The antagonist in Broadchurch, the driving force for change, is of course Joe. But Claire, Ricky and Lee are antagonists too, since they present obstacles and problems of their own to our protagonists.
Tess, too, is an antagonistic transformative force. She turned Hardy’s world upside down. She generates conflict in that she is what separates him from his daughter. She refuses to reopen the Sandbrook case when he asks (because of “personal inconvenience” and to protect her career, ugh) and as his ex-wife, he is hung up on her emotionally.
To reiterate, an antagonist is someone (or something) that forces the protagonist to change. They make the protagonist realise what they need within themselves. Hardy is utterly broken by what Tess did to him, and what he needs is to let this pain go, relinquish the doubts and insecurities it caused, and accept that he deserves love.
So Tess is an antagonist - she is the antagonist against whom Hardy must struggle to achieve emotional growth. She is the antagonist who stands in the way of him having a family. She bars him from being able to engage in a healthy relationship with someone else, since he still desires the family he had with her, and accidentally calls her “love.”
If Hardy does overcome this antagonist by working through his issues, the outcome will be: he’s no longer in love with Tess; he will no longer struggle with trust issues or self-esteem; he will be in a position to enter into a new relationship.
A relationship with whom?
His true love, Ellie Miller.
In S1, Ellie replaced Tess as his DS, and her friendship allowed him to get over the trust issues Tess had engendered in him. In S2, Ellie’s assistance in solving Sandbrook, and the way he was able to tell her all his emotional troubles (finding Pippa, her being the same age as Daisy, etc) meant that Ellie gave him the support he needed from Tess in that crucial moment, when she let him down in every way. Ellie is a rock for Hardy, and all the support he sought from Tess, he receives from Ellie.
Ellie and Tess are deliberately compared and contrasted. They are cast to look similar - same age, same build, same brown hair. Both worked as Hardy’s DS. Ellie basically fills the space Tess used to occupy in Hardy’s life, both at work and in his home. But personality-wise, Ellie and Tess are exhibited as exact opposites. A workmate propositioned Ellie - she refused. A workmate propositioned Tess - she had an affair. Tess kept secrets from Hardy; Ellie says “there are no secrets between him and me.” Tess is selfish, Ellie selfless. It goes on.
This is reflected in the camerawork too. You’re right to pick up on Tess in black v. Ellie in white.
They’re basically opposing mirror images of each other. Hardy, meanwhile, is in white to match Miller.
The scene with Daisy, I think she’s in light blue, and she’s literally let her hair down to show that she’s in a relaxed, informal setting. In terms of colour, blue is always more significant. Blue stands for bluebells, the blue ocean, Joe’s blue coat; it stands for the murders. It stains everyone in the town, from Ellie to Beth and others; it absolutely permeates Hardy’s life.
This is the scene after Hardy wakes up, after vividly hallucinating about all the people who are metaphorically drowning him:
Blue and dark shades surrounding Hardy; green and white and brightness for Miller. She is the focal point of this shot, and is a literal bright spot. Notice the placement of the hands, done deliberately so it looks like they’re touching, Ellie gripping the bed frame as hard as she can, like she’s holding his hand by proxy. (This is a beautifully composed shot ok I love it.)
aaaand cue Tess.
She gets nothing but blue curtains around her. True, this whole scene is done in cool colours, and Tess gets to wear red - but the placement of those curtains - almost like water - is deliberate. She is one of the people who is drowning him.
tl;dr There is always a dissonance between what the protagonist wants and what the protagonist actually needs. The purpose of the antagonist is to expose that dissonance, make the protagonist realise what it is they truly need, and push them to make positive change within themselves. Hardy wants his old family back. He says as much to Tess. But what he needs is to let Tess go, and let the past go. She’s toxic and abusive, and he needs to move on. And, of course, he needs Miller. In his own words: “I need Miller.” Tess is the antagonist who will force him to realise this. She is the antagonist who stands in the way of the family he craves and the loving partner he desires and the daughter he adores, and he must overcome her if he is ever to achieve happiness.
prompt: you started sitting by me at lunch because I’m alone at my table but we never talk to each other
Lunch. It was the time of the day when people gather in an enormous room, chatting, eating, and whatever activities they tend to do when they’re around their clique.
Clique. You didn’t have one. You were just a transfer student who moved into Kyoto months ago. Adjusting was hard, of course. Stains from the town you moved out from were still embedded on you. Friends who eventually turned into family were hard to let go of and you must admit that you have’t moved on from them yet. That’s why you’re still that silent newcomer, trying to blend with the background. The people surrounding you barely talked to you and just looked at you like you’re some kind of mystery they’re not willing to solve.
Mystery. That was how Akashi Seijuurou saw you. But unlike the others, he’s already done observing you. He’s sure that he already managed to know what he needed to find out about you after all the weeks of watching you from afar. It was a skill he managed to pick up during middle school and he say that it’s pretty useful until now.
Your heart thumped real fast as you noticed the presence of the redhead in front of you, holding a tray with a sandwich, an apple, and a boxed juice on it. A pair of crimson eyes landed on you and you swore to the heavens above that this was going to be one of the most awkward moments in your entire life. Akashi’s lips curved into a smile, ignoring the chattering noise from the background. Hayama was trying to call him to join the team for lunch, but Akashi didn’t have plans to say yes to him. The team captain knew that he waited for so long already just to finally have the guts to talk to you - not to mention, sit with you during lunch period.
“Hello, (l/n)-san,” he smiled, trying his best to create a friendly aura for you to see. Akashi knew that he has a resting bitch face and he’s a very intimidating person to interact with. A struggle, it truly was. But this was how desperate Akashi was. “Would you mind if I sit with you?”
You tried your best to come up with a solid answer. The truth was, you didn’t know if it was fine. Sure, he’s trying to be friendly and all, but Akashi never talked to you…and never did you expect that he’d actually do it. You were a nobody, a no one, a nothing. Akashi, on the other hand, was known by everbody. He was basically everything. He had the beauty, he had the brains.
“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” He then gently placed his tray on the table, making sure he wouldn’t be able to leave a single scratch on the opened book in front of you.
Fuck, you thought. Were you thinking about it too much? Way to go, (f/n).
“You’re reading this?” he asked, referring to your copy of The Secret Garden “I never knew you liked classics.” It was a lie, of course. Akashi knew every single detail he could possibly get in a span of two months.
“I-I am,” you stammered, getting all flustered because of that heavenly smile he’s wearing. It was absolutely gorgeous. “M-my friend from the place we moved out from gave me that as a farewell gift. She always knew I liked classics.”
“Is that so? Well, I can’t really question your taste in genre. It takes a long process for a work to be considered as a classic. A tedious one, too. But it’s really worth it all, don’t you think?”
You then started to return the smile. The question moved you a little deeper into the conversation. Soon, words left your mouth as if Akashi was just an old friend you’ve managed to ran into the supermarket and now the both of you were catching up. You never thought that it would be this easy to talk to someone like Akashi Seijuurou and he felt the same for you. It felt as if it came naturally as breathing and it made you feel light-hearted in a way. Who would’ve thought Akashi Seijuurou would be the one to make you feel this way?
Throughout the conversation, Akashi noticed more quirks and idiosyncrasies of yours. He thought that he knew everything about you already, but that moment he realized that he had tons of things yet to find out about you. And maybe this time, he wouldn’t need to take note of every single detail and just wait for them to naturally come to him. That one hour of lunch felt like days to Akashi, as if everything went in slow motion, though he thought that it was not really enough.
“I’ll walk you to your next class. Pre-Calc, right?” the redhead offered as he stacked up your lunch trays.
“Y-y-you don’t have to.”
“I insist. I need to thank you for letting me sit with you for lunch.”
“It’s just a small thing, Akashi-kun. I’m really okay going there on my own.”
“(l/n)-san, just let me. In all honesty, you intrigue me, so please, let me do this.”
That wasn’t the last time Akashi Seijuurou sat with you. Thanks to him, the loneliness you’ve been suffering from for weeks quickly sublimed as his presence slowly took its place.