Author Topic: London Spy: Ben Whishaw, dreamy lover/genius Ed Holcroft and sage Jim Broadbent  (Read 183866 times)

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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LONDONSPYFANFIC





Summary:
Back in the city after an evening with an idyllic fire under the starry night
on Kent's Isle of Grain had become strained, Danny makes things worse.











Oh Christ. No.

"I only meant..."

He rushes forward, flings both arms about Alex and instantly feels the thick, hot tears pool into the crook of his neck. Somewhere in the panic that's thrashing about his brain a voice screams out absurdly that the tears will scorch themselves into his skin and forever mark him with an acid burn reminder of what he's just done.

"I only meant... if it's something you want. Look, no, listen, forget it. Please. Please. OK? It's just because..." The words rattle out of him, half-formed and useless to stop the silent sobs.




“I don’t want you to stay with me just because I’m the first.
So, you should see other people.
You should.”


“I don’t want to.”



“I only meant…”


“I don’t need to.”




Alex is shaking in his arms and Danny is groping at his shoulder blades, cradling the back of his head. A group of women out for a fag stare at them with painted mouths agape, then look to each other and mutter.

And then it comes to Danny--Alex isn't shaking. Alex is straining to pull away. And when he finally lets go, Danny is condemned to face the tear-welled eyes again and it's the nearest he's come to a complete cataclysm.

"I..." Nothing else escapes Alex's parted mouth, though it struggles to form something more. Danny clasps at his cheeks, grips at his shoulders, as if touch could undo what his words are failing to.

Then Alex takes three strides back. They are wide enough to take him away from Danny and into the crowd that rushes past them, out of reach.

"No, wait... Alex."

Before Danny can shove past, the beautiful, stricken face turns from him and the tall, elegant figure slips from sight, swallowed up by the well of the tube stop.

"Alex! Fuck. Alex!"

"You OK, love?" One of the smokers shouts after him.

He spins about and, from the depths of the filthy hell of self-loathing he's mired in, he hurls his rage at her through the crowd.

"Fuck off. Fuck off! Fuck the fuck off!"


---------------


He's slumped on the curb, pulling at fistfuls of hair, crashed into by apologetic passer-bys. Ten frantic texts, five voicemails and three cigarettes later, he's given up. What's the point if Alex is on the tube? What's the point of chasing him to his doorstep and making things ten times worse by pleading and weeping into his intercom? What's the fucking point, generally?

What was he actually trying to say through his dismal, vile suggestion?

Refute me. Argue with me. Tell me you never would. Tell me I'm special. The one. Tell me we're special. Prove to me you love me.

Now what? Now there is only the gaping void of his petty rage into which he's flung the only thing that matters.

Text Scottie, seeking sympathy? He'll only get bollocked - the least he deserves.

He staggers up and winds himself into the crowd, towards the familiar neon labyrinth of Soho, in search of God knows what.


---------------


Tinker's is deserted and as sticky and depressing as he remembers. They're blaring out all the cringe-worthy clichés - ABBA, Erasure.

He orders a lager and slouches on a barstool, glaring about the grim, grimy interior. So that's what the place looks like when he's not out of his mind at three in the morning, getting groped, high or sucked off in the loo. Maybe this isn't even the same place, except the bleach-haired, emaciated barman with sarcastic weasel eyes claims to know him.

"Oh hey, sweetie. It's been too long. How's Jamie?"

"Who? Oh right."

It's been years. Jamie had been nicking the coke Danny had been getting by on selling. Jamie had announced he'd fucked two of Danny's friends then vanished.

A pot-bellied man and his Chinese boyfriend are on the dance floor and Danny stares through their clingy, awkward sway, into nothing.

"It's dead in here."

"Yeah, no shit. Closing down in two weeks."

Danny's eyebrow arches above his pint and the weasley man shrugs.

"Everyone tells you Oh, Soho. Gentrification, hipsters, tourists, Arabs, Russians. Whatever. Everyone also forgets that it's 'cause boys like you stopped turning up to buy our beer."

Danny looks down and says nothing. The man has leaned on the bar and is twirling a beer mat, trying and failing to sound playful.

"'Cause you're all curled up on the sofa with your boyfriends, watching Netflix, picking out John Lewis dining sets--"
He's grinning at Danny. "Buying up flats in Brighton or, fuck knows, Milton Keyes maybe."

Danny feels a twitch of anger. He hates the place, hates the man.

"And what's wrong with sofas? What's wrong with dining sets?"

'It's boring, innit?"

"And what's wrong with being boring?"

"Nothing, except it's all gonna come out one way or another. You all just end up swapping partying for domestic dramas. Different kinds of kicks."

Danny opens his mouth and wants to argue but feels a vibration in his pocket. He dives in after it, shaking hands pawing about for his phone. He stares at the message: no words.












A night-time picture of Millennium Bridge.

He just manages to catch the arch of the barman's sardonic eyebrow as he scrambles from the barstool and for the door.











Summary last chapter:
Danny rushes forward, flings both arms about Alex and instantly feels the thick, hot tears pool into the crook of his neck. Somewhere in the panic that's thrashing about his brain a voice screams out absurdly that the tears will scorch themselves into his skin and forever mark him with an acid burn reminder of what he's just done.












It spans just over three hundred metres and he stands, he's quite certain, precisely at its halfway point.

A Western wind, sheared by the cables and the steel transverse arms of the bridge, hurls itself past Alex. He faces it, enduring its unforgiving gusts, and peers towards Embankment where the river, flanked by its luminous banks, bends into blackness and disappears from view.

He's cold. His eyes feel heavy and swollen. Hands in the pockets of his black wool coat, he keeps one on his phone, expectant. With the other he feels about and fondles the small object he'd purchased earlier that week.

He was there the weekend the bridge had opened to the public - he was twelve then. Already its worrying wobble had been noted and rumours swirled about the need to close it for corrective works. Even now, with dozens of retrofitted dampers devouring the resonance that had made it tremble, Alex thinks he can feel the slender structure shudder and sway beneath his feet. A psychosomatic sensation, he guesses. A fitting byproduct of his own nausea and fear.

Back then he'd been brought here by a tutor, a kind, jovial man with a love of bridges, applied learning and spurious outings with his private pupils. Another boy, an offspring to one of the few families on friendly terms with Frances, had joined them. Though they rarely spoke, Alex reasoned that shared lessons, shared age and presumed shared intelligence made the boy his friend.

Sat on the birch-lined green outside the Tate, pencils in hands and notepads in laps, they'd set about working through the problems of lateral movement and vertical loads assigned to them by the tutor. Within minutes, Alex had stood up and, whilst the other boy still scribbled furiously, read out his correct calculations one by one.

That same day, the boy had waited until their chaperone's attention was diverted and, in a low hiss and with a preteen's new-found relish for swearing, let his mind be known to Alex.

"Turner, how come you're such a fucking know-it-all?"

"I'm not..."

"Is it 'cause you're an arse-kissing faggot? Or an autistic freak, like everyone says you are? Or both?"

It didn't matter how much the adults coaxed, scolded, even pleaded. Alex did not say another word that day, nor for several days after.

The river is a strip of darkness before him, sliced through with the gleaming lights of Blackfriars bridge. Alex ponders how easy - all too easy - it is to believe that nothing lies beyond the bend.

It's been twenty minutes since he texted the picture to Danny.


---------------


"I was so worried. So worried. You scared me so much. I'm so sorry, Alex, I'm so so sorry."

"You want me to leave you."

"No...no! It's just..."

"How many?"

"How many... people I've done things with? Been with? What, Alex, what?"

"How many people should I sleep with?"

"Wait, you're not being fair..."

"To know what it should feel like?"

"It doesn't work like that, it's more if you're not..."

"What will it change? Please, tell me. How many people before..."

"...if you're not sure I'm the one for you. You never tell me I am. You never tell me..."

"...before I can come back to you?"


---------------


In time they both stop crying and sway slowly and silently in each other's arms. Alex feels the embrace weighed down with the sadness of uncertainty, of things left unsettled and unresolved. The heavy load of truth, of answers, rests entirely with him.

The truth is I'm terrified.

Over Danny's shoulder, through the soft dark hair the wind has torn to wisps in front of his eyes, Alex watches the Thames. Somewhere past the river's dark bend, amidst gleaming bridges that stitch the city's halves to itself, Alex knows of another passage across. An underwater tunnel, concrete and lit with sickly fluorescence, connects his place of work to Whitehall. It's an internet rumour, a fantasy of conspiracy theorists, and he's walked it a hundred times. It burrows through the river like fear through a heart.

He dreams of flooding it. Of bricking it up.  

I know you are special because I am scared for you. For us.

"I'd like us to go home, Alex."

I love you because I am afraid.

He nods and lets his hand be clasped and guided by Danny's. The other he lets slip back into his coat pocket and coil about the empty vessel of the cryptex drive.





Notes:

- A missing scene I wrote some time ago, now polished up and with even more angst!
- Synchronised footfall was responsible for the vibration which caused the Millenium Bridge to close almost immediately after it opened in June 2000.
- A rumoured tunnel under the Thames is supposed to connect MI6 to the seat of British government
- Enough with the angst. Time for some glorious make-up sex in the next chapter.





ALSO, FYI:


« Last Edit: January 17, 2017, 08:15:51 pm by Aloysius J. Gleek »
"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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Where can I see this show?


By at least two ways, Chuck--

Amazon Video (Streaming) NOW (which you own and keep forever, I think):




or buying the 2-disc DVD (which will be released next month, April 12, also on Amazon):



Hard to believe, but--in less than 2 hours (on the East Coast) it will be April 12, and the 2-disc London Spy DVD will be released on Amazon--go to town! 

 :o ::) 8) :D


"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline CellarDweller

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  • A city boy's mentality, with a cowboy's soul.
Thanks for the reminder!!!


Tell him when l come up to him and ask to play the record, l'm gonna say: ''Voulez-vous jouer ce disque?''
'Voulez-vous, will you kiss my dick?'
Will you play my record? One-track mind!

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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Thanks for the reminder!!!






You're welcome, Chuck! I received my pre-ordered Amazon DVD today (I know, I know--I already have the streaming version, what can I say?  ::) )
and it's a VERY clear, crisp copy of the Amazon streaming version, which, isn't utterly as perfect as the original November 2015 British BBC2 version (some music copyright issues, I guess) but FAR better than the BBCAmerica version, which, I hear, was butchered/bowdlerized (because, of course, Americans are children and can't be shown, you know, NAKED ASSES BEING FONDLED.  :o ::))

The DVD also included a very short 7:09 'bonus' (hey, that's 7:09 more than the Brokeback DVD bonus!)--some of it was already shown in little youtube snippets, Ben Whishaw, Jim Broadbent, Charlotte Rampling and Tom Rob Smith (the writer/series creator) speaking, but it was nice to hear Ed Holcroft (NOT very like Alex at all, he's very animated!) and the production team: Laurie Rose the cinematographer, Lisa Marie Hall the production/set designer, and (Handsome! Gorgeous!) Jakob Verbruggen the director, who has a lovely smile and a hugely cute Flemish accent--yup, a new major crush!  :laugh: :laugh:  

If you decide to order the DVD, I hope you like it, Chuck!   :)





"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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LONDONSPYFANART_GOD_DOES_IT_ALL_THE_TIME
http://hanni-bells.tumblr.com/archive




Tagged: #ben whishaw   #fanart   #my art   
#ugh im weak for puppies and this man makes me cry








  
Tagged: #ben whishaw   #london spy   #fanart   #digital art   #my art
#Im Never Gonna Do Realism Again

"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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LONDONSPYFANARTJO
http://j000000.tumblr.com

Just WOW, Jo's new comic
is VERY impressive--heavy
stock cover with DIE-CUT
openings ("0000001") and
silver ink. Amazing!

13th April 2016
“Memento” is finally done!
Here’s some photo of it! : D

Hello again! Someone asked me
about how much this fanbook is.
It’s 250NT (about 8~9US$), but
that’s the book itself, you have to
plus the shipping fee and paypal
fee and the fanbook store’s fee, etc.
It depends on where you live cuz
the shipping fee is most likely
much more than the book itself!
« Last Edit: January 17, 2017, 08:17:14 pm by Aloysius J. Gleek »
"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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LONDONSPYFANARTJO
http://j000000.tumblr.com

 :o :D



14th April 2016
Some more LS doodles!
I just sent my book to TRS today!
wish me luck! : D

« Last Edit: January 17, 2017, 08:18:06 pm by Aloysius J. Gleek »
"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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Hmmmm--


LONDONSPYFANARTJO
http://j000000.tumblr.com





HA!
Couple of months ago, but--
It just made me remember:
the glasses!
Very cute!

 :D :-*



SLASH LONDONSPYFANARTSKYLOCKED
 


           






skylocked has now
'Chibi'-fied that joke--
and gif-ed it--
LOVE it!



SLASH LONDONSPYFANARTSKYLOCKED


skylocked:

“The laws of Nature are written in the language of mathematics.”
Or the Alex equivalent of: I love you too
@cassellate and I were discussing Alex, this happened.

Bonus:



tagging the 00(s)QAD so far: @sterekfluffer @megaikemen @chlorobenzene
#q   #I SHIP IT   #q/alex   #00QAD
4 months ago  > skylocked



http://skylocked.tumblr.com/post/135095187560/the-laws-of-nature-are-written-in-the-language-of




CLEARLY
referencing,
by the way--
(although skylocked
has turned Alex's
PENTAGRAMS into
HEXAGRAMS--oh well!)

 ::)


LONDONSPYTHE PRODUCTION_THEMIND_OF_ALEX



https://lisamariehall.wordpress.com/2016/01/05/london-spy/
I love the
semi-transparancy
of that hex-tile
word balloon--
SO clever!

« Last Edit: January 17, 2017, 08:19:10 pm by Aloysius J. Gleek »
"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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LONDONSPYFANARTJO
http://j000000.tumblr.com



More of Jo's
London Spy 'manikins'
(formally known as 'Chibi')
Alex in bunny ears--



16th April 2016
My friend requested a “bunny ears Alex” comic.
I hope she likes it : D




Clearly referencing
(I  think):





LEFT IMAGE ONLY https://www.tumblr.com/tagged/edward-holcroft-icons credit to @iconsdhampir BOTH RIGHT IMAGES onlybluecould and skylocked-angulema-warrior




AND--




LONDONSPYFANARTANDSLASH LONDONSPYFANARTJOHANIRAE



London Spy Danny / Alex | The relationship in their imaginations
You thought - stranger, seduction!
Not that I’m presuming you’re seduced by me - process ongoing…



« Last Edit: January 17, 2017, 08:19:58 pm by Aloysius J. Gleek »
"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"

Offline Aloysius J. Gleek

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SLASH LONDONSPY00QFANARTBISHO
Bisho / 26 years old / March 12 Argentina / Drawings / Art / Yaoi / Bishonens OC


Ben Whishaw as Q
with glasses--and tears.
Woah!






SLASH LONDONSPY00QFANARTGomibacO
Apr 02, 2016 Source: powerpuffyourself.com


Ben Whishaw as Q
with glasses--and NO tears.
PowerPuff GIF!

« Last Edit: January 17, 2017, 08:20:45 pm by Aloysius J. Gleek »
"Tu doives entendre je t'aime."
(and you know who I am...)


Cowboy Curtis (Laurence Fishburne)
and Pee-wee in the 1990 episode
"Camping Out"