hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-01-09 10:08 am
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-01-09 10:08 am
LOTRips feat. BB
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kattiya’s has been asking for ages... ethrosdemon insisted it was only a matter of time...![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif){kind=small}
obsessedmuch started yammering about fuzzy hats…and I ended up strong-arming
shanalle for an icon to use.It’s been a while so the wheels are pretty fucking rusted, but whatever.
LOTRips
Billy’s life is a story recounted over and over again for the benefit of the press; although perhaps it’s not for their benefit as much as it’s to fill the word count for their copy editors and millions of readers that Billy will never meet.
Billy’s existence is jotted down and printed up as an inspiring story about a boy who overcomes unfortunate losses and humble beginnings to make the most of all the wonders of life. It’s a rather tragic story. It’s a rather overplayed story. It doesn’t leave room for exposition or exception.
The story of Billy’s life doesn’t tend to leave a lot of room for anything, full stop, which is probably why he hasn’t bothered to pay much attention to it.
Far be it from him to obsess over the fate of a figment of various reporters’ imaginations.
He’s adopted the rather generic actor's motto of: “All press is good press. All press is bad press. Don’t read your own press.”
He can’t remember where the motto comes from, but it seems rather valid at this point in his life, and he suspects that if he ever actually listened to the naysayers and the gossipmongers he would never leave the house. At the very least he would never have left Glasgow. He certainly would’ve never tried his hand at acting or writing or breathing for that matter.
He never would have met Dom.
He never would’ve done anything at all.
Fortunately for him, however, the only story he’s ever believed is the one he tells himself every day about how he can do whatever he wants.
He thinks that’s the only story that counts.
Black
Billy’s reality is bills and interviews and long messages on his mobile from his agent. Reality is frigid Glaswegian winters and long flights around the world to promote a movie that may be all Billy’s remembered for someday.
It’s a stark, bitter possibility.
It’s certainly not pretty or hope-inspiring, which is why Billy tells himself that this won’t be the case. But sometimes he’s not so sure. Sometimes Billy *knows* he’ll only be remembered as Pippin Took.
He tries to assure himself that it could be a far sight worse than being known as ‘that bloke that was in that really fucking cracking film that one time.’
In a life full of neutral colors and bit parts, at least his name will be in the black and white.
White
“What’s black, white and read all over?” Dominic yawns against Billy’s neck even as he’s poking Billy in the side with his entirely too bony elbow. Sleeping in first class is no easier than sleeping in economy, and across the aisle Elijah makes snorting noises and someone’s knee pops.
Billy shifts to get away but is held fast by Dom’s iron-fast grip on his shirt. If Billy were Dom’s favorite stuffed bear this might be a bit more appropriate, but as he’s not, Billy would still like to be able to breathe in the morning.
He attempts to unfurl the jagged fingernails clutching at his shirt, but gives up when Dom yawns again and holds fast.
“I dunno,” Billy says. “What?”
When Dom doesn’t answer after several minutes, Billy shakes him slightly to get his attention.
Now he’s curious. He wants to know.
Dom only cracks one eye open. “Eh?”
“What’s the answer?”
Dom opens the other eye. “What’re you on about?”
“You’re hopeless, you are,” Billy sighs.
“Of course I am, haven’t you read the papers? I’m madder than the fucking hatter.”
Billy smirks. “Heard it, Dom? I’m the one that started it.”
Gray
Dom has a vividly orange fuzzy hat that barely covers his head and leaves lint everywhere. He wears the hat every time he comes to visit Billy in Scotland, and the colour hurts Billy’s eyes to the point of distraction.
Every time Billy sees the atrocious hat he visibly winces and makes a concerted effort to look away. Dom sees this as incentive to wear the hat even more, and eventually he turns up with an equally appalling bright red scarf.
Against the gray Glasgow skyline, Dominic is bright like a peacock, and he stands out like a sore thumb or an image against a blue screen. Dominic is loud and vivacious, and Billy’s feelings for him don’t always stay in the clearly delineated boxes for best mate and co-worker.
Sometimes Dominic bleeds into other parts of Billy’s life, and Billy thinks that this might not be right. But when he tries to imagine life before Dom came along, all he can recall is a colourless void.
In Between
There are a million little gradations between black and white that a lot of people don’t take the time to see, and at the end of the day Billy can only be himself: actor, brother, grandson, best mate, whomever he really is.
He tells himself that it doesn’t matter what other people want him to be as long as he’s true to himself. He reminds himself that things aren’t ever as simple as people want them to be, and that even if he tried, he could never make everyone happy.
He’s never going to be exactly who people expect him to be, but he’s happy living his gray life in his gray city with the occasional splashes of bright colour, and that’s what’s important.
He’s happy being who he is.
His life is not just black and white. He is not just black and white. And he thinks that real stories, the ones worth knowing and reading about in life, are the ones that lie in that unexplored gray area in between.
-end-
Beta (10:20 am) and Improv (shake, bitter, iron, fate, obsess, fingernail) provided by
serialkarma. Remaining snafus are mine.
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the only story he’s ever believed is the one he tells himself every day about how he can do whatever he wants.
He thinks that’s the only story that counts.
You should take that to heart.
Oh, did I mention that Billy is in a movie with Russell? Oh, I did? Damn.
Reality is frigid Glaswegian winters and long flights around the world to promote a movie that may be all Billy’s remembered for someday.
It’s a stark, bitter possibility.
Crap, that's good.
In a life full of neutral colors and bit parts, at least his name will be in the black and white.
Beautiful, beautiful line, my dear. Yes.
Dom has a vividly orange fuzzy hat that barely covers his head and leaves lint everywhere. He wears the hat every time he comes to visit Billy in Scotland, and the colour hurts Billy’s eyes to the point of distraction.
Hey now. Lar's hat is black and mulicolored without any orange at all! Not even I have an orange hat. But I might make myself one because of this fic.
But when he tries to imagine life before Dom came along, all he can recall is a colourless void.
This fic has tons of great lines, but this is one. Oh, so sweet. Yeah.
He’s never going to be exactly who people expect him to be, but he’s happy living his gray life in his gray city with the occasional splashes of bright colour, and that’s what’s important.
Why do you resist the lotrips? You write it so well. Stop frontin'!! This is some great stuff.
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Dude, how do you not have an orange hat? You should totally have one. If I knew how to knit I would make you an orange hat that left lint everywhere. You know out of that really soft material that people use for hair bows. Do not tell me you never had ribbons in your hair when you were little. Man, don't even front.
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Write more lotrips. I'm going to see The Dead Sea Scrolls now.