LOTRips - How to Disappear Completely
Mar. 15th, 2004 11:36 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hackthis_archiveI asked ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lalejandra to do some Viggo-character sketching for me, and she, um, she did a lot of sketching: 1. Collusion; 2. Collision; 3. Complicity; 4. Concussion
Naturally, I had to thank her, because well, that’s what you do when people are kind to you. She said she wanted this. Um, this probably wasn’t what she meant.
LOTRips
DM, BB, EW & VM in…
How to Disappear Completely
That there/ That's not me …
I'm not here/ This isn't happening
Dom’s body is fractured first thing in the morning. His arms are tangled in the bedclothes and his legs hang over the side of the bed as though they tried to escape in the middle of the night and never got far enough away. His vision is blurry, unclear in the light of day, and the ceiling is the same off-white as always. He shifts around, trying to extricate himself, and only makes things worse. He’s not sure he’ll ever get free. His duvet cover is like taffy, pulling at him and swallowing him up piece by piece. He wonders how long it will be before he’s smothered completely. He wonders if it's worth it to put himself back together.
Dom thinks that Humpty Dumpty probably jumped.
*
Mac leaves reading material on the kitchen table, and Dom flips through various tabloids whilst waiting on his tea. The pages rustle loudly in his ears, and he blinks rapidly at the spots of color that appear before his eyes.
The photographs are too blurry for Dom to recognise anything or anyone above the caption, but apparently he was seen having dinner with his new bit on the side. He wishes someone had told him he had a new bit on the side. He wishes someone had told him a lot of things he’s finding out the hard way, like how a little bit of fame is a scary, frightening thing that can make a mess out of the best friendship. Like how the press will follow you anywhere at anytime on the off-chance that you might do something worthwhile.
Dom never thought he needed photographic validation that he was doing anything worthwhile, but apparently, in this town that’s all that counts, and maybe someone did try to warn Dom at some point, but Viggo has his own issues. Dom can’t run to him every time things go pear-shaped. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want a little help, some guidance, anything to make this transition easier. Manchester and Los Angeles aren’t just separated by language, distance and the lack of football, and Dom had really thought Elijah was going to stick around, but again, apparently not. And a fat lot of good it does to have Elijah back now, if there’s always a chance he’s going to run away again.
Being abandoned once was enough for Dom, and if he could do it over again, he might not make the same choice. He might’ve learned to be happy in Glasgow. He might’ve at least given it a chance instead of being blinded by preternatural eyes and youthful enthusiasm. But that’s neither here nor there anymore.
If wishes were horses, Dom would need a racetrack to stable them all.
*
Dom’s journal is full of photographs from Wellington and London and Paris and Berlin and Glasgow and every other city that he’s visited in the last four years because of The Movie. He tells himself that he’s going to put the photographs in an album one day, and yet, he’s never quite got around to it. He’s not sure he ever will. Instead he tapes the photographs to lined pages and writes whatever comes into his head regarding what he sees. Each photograph is worth a thousand words, but each moment tells a story that could sell a million books or tens of thousands of papers.
Some of the photographs probably don’t mean anything to anyone else besides Dom. Most people probably wouldn’t recognise his feet without some sort of context, but Dom remembers taking the photograph after he tried to played footsie with Billy down at the pub. Dom remembers how Billy’s feet were always warm and Elijah’s feet were always cold.
Every time he compares Billy and Elijah, Dom always feels as though they were dating someone else. A different Dominic than the one he’s become since they both left him on his own, because they did leave him, whether or not he wanted them to. And Dom can still remember how clammy and pasty his feet got after he stood outside Viggo’s trailer for an hour in the rain after Elijah had gotten too close, and Dom didn’t know who to talk to or what to say.
Things could have been very different if he’d gone to see Bills instead.
*
Dom keeps his room much more orderly than he kept Elijah’s place. He does his best to make his belongings seem unobtrusive to Mackenzie, because this isn’t really his house. It’s home, for now, but Dom doesn’t want to impose. When he was with Elijah things were different, but he always tells himself that anyway, and now, Dom sleeps in the middle of the bed.
His limbs stretch from corner to corner as though he’s been tied to the mattress, and he shifts around as much as he likes without getting an elbow to the ribs. He lets the bed consume him until it looks as though there’s no one there. On more than one occasion Mac’s come in to wake him up and actually looked right over him.
*
When Viggo’s in town they have breakfast at Lulu’s or drinks at the Canal Club, because it’s right next to the beach and approximately three blocks over from Viggo’s house. It’s a good place to stagger to after a long day spent pasting photographs in journals and doing whatever Viggo does that leaves him with blue paint in his hair.
Over drinks and starters – tapas – they talk about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between. Ali and Christine and Henry and Manchester and Billy and all the things that have, in some way, made them who they are, are laid bare on the sticky tabletop where Dom drops one of his asparagus rolls. This is what they do, they talk and they drink, and then they talk some more.
Viggo can be very social when he wants to be, and it seems as though he’s friends with the entire wait staff. Apparently it’s good to be king, and when Viggo laughs, Dom realises that he’s been thinking out loud. When Viggo asks him about his writing, Dom just shrugs; it is what it is and trying to explain what he’s writing about never works. He’s just writing about *him*, and the words that make him a part of how he is. When Dom opens his mouth, Viggo cuts him off with a wave of his hand. He says Dom should write what he is and how he feels. Viggo says that Native Americans think photographs steal your soul and that he’s not sure whether or not he agrees. Considering how many photographs of Orli Viggo has up, Dom wonders if maybe that’s what happened to him.
No one ever sees Orli anymore.
*
Dom sees Elijah on Mondays and Wednesdays and Saturdays when he’s not working and when Elijah’s in town. It’s not a relationship, not anymore; but they’re friends, and when Elijah’s not in town, Dom misses him. Correction: what Dom misses is the way things used to be. He misses the way Elijah used to consume him and inspire him and be everything Dom thought he wanted. Dom misses the rose-coloured glasses that he used to wear all the time, but he’s not sure he would want to go back to things being the way they were before. He has a name of his own and it’s not Elijah Wood’s Friend/Partner/Fellow Hobbit/Closeted Lover.
*
Dom doesn’t want to be defined by whom he dates or whom he shags or the photographs that aren’t actually him in various magazines. He doesn’t want people to judge him without knowing him and find him wanting. He doesn’t want Orli to turn into an impossibly irritating prat or for Viggo to try and paint himself in oblivion. Dom doesn’t want Billy to marry Ali, and –- and he would very much like a do-over whenever someone could grant him the time. More than all that though, Dom wants to stop feeling blurry, like he’s not all there. And, he wants to be famous and loved. He wants everything to be enough.
So perhaps he’ll have to make a few trades to get what he wants in the end. Maybe he should just start all over again. Maybe he should listen to Viggo when he says that he needs to stop defining himself by what he isn’t and start thinking about what he is.
He is still young.
He does have a place to call home.
He could do anything he wants with his life.
Maybe it’s never too late to start over.
Maybe he should start now.
-end-
Title and lyrics from the Radiohead song.
lalejandra to do some Viggo-character sketching for me, and she, um, she did a lot of sketching: 1. Collusion; 2. Collision; 3. Complicity; 4. ConcussionNaturally, I had to thank her, because well, that’s what you do when people are kind to you. She said she wanted this. Um, this probably wasn’t what she meant.
LOTRips
DM, BB, EW & VM in…
How to Disappear Completely
I'm not here/ This isn't happening
Dom’s body is fractured first thing in the morning. His arms are tangled in the bedclothes and his legs hang over the side of the bed as though they tried to escape in the middle of the night and never got far enough away. His vision is blurry, unclear in the light of day, and the ceiling is the same off-white as always. He shifts around, trying to extricate himself, and only makes things worse. He’s not sure he’ll ever get free. His duvet cover is like taffy, pulling at him and swallowing him up piece by piece. He wonders how long it will be before he’s smothered completely. He wonders if it's worth it to put himself back together.
Dom thinks that Humpty Dumpty probably jumped.
Mac leaves reading material on the kitchen table, and Dom flips through various tabloids whilst waiting on his tea. The pages rustle loudly in his ears, and he blinks rapidly at the spots of color that appear before his eyes.
The photographs are too blurry for Dom to recognise anything or anyone above the caption, but apparently he was seen having dinner with his new bit on the side. He wishes someone had told him he had a new bit on the side. He wishes someone had told him a lot of things he’s finding out the hard way, like how a little bit of fame is a scary, frightening thing that can make a mess out of the best friendship. Like how the press will follow you anywhere at anytime on the off-chance that you might do something worthwhile.
Dom never thought he needed photographic validation that he was doing anything worthwhile, but apparently, in this town that’s all that counts, and maybe someone did try to warn Dom at some point, but Viggo has his own issues. Dom can’t run to him every time things go pear-shaped. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want a little help, some guidance, anything to make this transition easier. Manchester and Los Angeles aren’t just separated by language, distance and the lack of football, and Dom had really thought Elijah was going to stick around, but again, apparently not. And a fat lot of good it does to have Elijah back now, if there’s always a chance he’s going to run away again.
Being abandoned once was enough for Dom, and if he could do it over again, he might not make the same choice. He might’ve learned to be happy in Glasgow. He might’ve at least given it a chance instead of being blinded by preternatural eyes and youthful enthusiasm. But that’s neither here nor there anymore.
If wishes were horses, Dom would need a racetrack to stable them all.
Dom’s journal is full of photographs from Wellington and London and Paris and Berlin and Glasgow and every other city that he’s visited in the last four years because of The Movie. He tells himself that he’s going to put the photographs in an album one day, and yet, he’s never quite got around to it. He’s not sure he ever will. Instead he tapes the photographs to lined pages and writes whatever comes into his head regarding what he sees. Each photograph is worth a thousand words, but each moment tells a story that could sell a million books or tens of thousands of papers.
Some of the photographs probably don’t mean anything to anyone else besides Dom. Most people probably wouldn’t recognise his feet without some sort of context, but Dom remembers taking the photograph after he tried to played footsie with Billy down at the pub. Dom remembers how Billy’s feet were always warm and Elijah’s feet were always cold.
Every time he compares Billy and Elijah, Dom always feels as though they were dating someone else. A different Dominic than the one he’s become since they both left him on his own, because they did leave him, whether or not he wanted them to. And Dom can still remember how clammy and pasty his feet got after he stood outside Viggo’s trailer for an hour in the rain after Elijah had gotten too close, and Dom didn’t know who to talk to or what to say.
Things could have been very different if he’d gone to see Bills instead.
Dom keeps his room much more orderly than he kept Elijah’s place. He does his best to make his belongings seem unobtrusive to Mackenzie, because this isn’t really his house. It’s home, for now, but Dom doesn’t want to impose. When he was with Elijah things were different, but he always tells himself that anyway, and now, Dom sleeps in the middle of the bed.
His limbs stretch from corner to corner as though he’s been tied to the mattress, and he shifts around as much as he likes without getting an elbow to the ribs. He lets the bed consume him until it looks as though there’s no one there. On more than one occasion Mac’s come in to wake him up and actually looked right over him.
When Viggo’s in town they have breakfast at Lulu’s or drinks at the Canal Club, because it’s right next to the beach and approximately three blocks over from Viggo’s house. It’s a good place to stagger to after a long day spent pasting photographs in journals and doing whatever Viggo does that leaves him with blue paint in his hair.
Over drinks and starters – tapas – they talk about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between. Ali and Christine and Henry and Manchester and Billy and all the things that have, in some way, made them who they are, are laid bare on the sticky tabletop where Dom drops one of his asparagus rolls. This is what they do, they talk and they drink, and then they talk some more.
Viggo can be very social when he wants to be, and it seems as though he’s friends with the entire wait staff. Apparently it’s good to be king, and when Viggo laughs, Dom realises that he’s been thinking out loud. When Viggo asks him about his writing, Dom just shrugs; it is what it is and trying to explain what he’s writing about never works. He’s just writing about *him*, and the words that make him a part of how he is. When Dom opens his mouth, Viggo cuts him off with a wave of his hand. He says Dom should write what he is and how he feels. Viggo says that Native Americans think photographs steal your soul and that he’s not sure whether or not he agrees. Considering how many photographs of Orli Viggo has up, Dom wonders if maybe that’s what happened to him.
No one ever sees Orli anymore.
Dom sees Elijah on Mondays and Wednesdays and Saturdays when he’s not working and when Elijah’s in town. It’s not a relationship, not anymore; but they’re friends, and when Elijah’s not in town, Dom misses him. Correction: what Dom misses is the way things used to be. He misses the way Elijah used to consume him and inspire him and be everything Dom thought he wanted. Dom misses the rose-coloured glasses that he used to wear all the time, but he’s not sure he would want to go back to things being the way they were before. He has a name of his own and it’s not Elijah Wood’s Friend/Partner/Fellow Hobbit/Closeted Lover.
Dom doesn’t want to be defined by whom he dates or whom he shags or the photographs that aren’t actually him in various magazines. He doesn’t want people to judge him without knowing him and find him wanting. He doesn’t want Orli to turn into an impossibly irritating prat or for Viggo to try and paint himself in oblivion. Dom doesn’t want Billy to marry Ali, and –- and he would very much like a do-over whenever someone could grant him the time. More than all that though, Dom wants to stop feeling blurry, like he’s not all there. And, he wants to be famous and loved. He wants everything to be enough.
So perhaps he’ll have to make a few trades to get what he wants in the end. Maybe he should just start all over again. Maybe he should listen to Viggo when he says that he needs to stop defining himself by what he isn’t and start thinking about what he is.
He is still young.
He does have a place to call home.
He could do anything he wants with his life.
Maybe it’s never too late to start over.
Maybe he should start now.
-end-
Title and lyrics from the Radiohead song.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 12:27 pm (UTC)This is so beautiful and hurtful and it. Just. Oh. I feel for Dom, I really do -- this Dom, anyway, the one who doesn't understand why things happen the way they do.
Wah.
Also: Considering how many photographs of Orli Viggo has up, Dom wonders if maybe that’s what happened to him. No one ever sees Orli anymore.
That cracked me up. Gina and I were just talking about what a loser Orli is.
Dom wants to stop feeling blurry
*wibble*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 12:44 pm (UTC)*nods*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 05:33 pm (UTC)Shit. Now you're really making me want to write 'The Third Man' - it's this BB/DM/EW thing I'm pondering. Three pieces. Three POV's. Everybody feeling like they're the odd man out between the other two.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 05:36 pm (UTC)*sends 3v0l fic writing vibes across the continent*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 09:21 pm (UTC)I knew I was in trouble when you dropped that nursery rhyme and Billy started talking about seeing Dom in his sitting room when he was miles away with the wombat. I think he's angry. *pets Billy*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 05:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 09:19 pm (UTC)Now look what you've done... Yes, we accept the precious.
*tries to pin-down who goes first, gets gang-pressed*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 12:43 pm (UTC)You make it so I can't give coherent feedback.
Maybe he should listen to Viggo when he says that he needs to stop defining himself by what he isn’t and start thinking about what he is.
You do realize that you've written about us, too, right? Our generation, in general. Fighting against being defined by others and being defined by what we're not.
Of course you realize this. You are a smart cookie. *luffs*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 05:34 pm (UTC)How very Hulk-like of you.
Maybe he should listen to Viggo when he says that he needs to stop defining himself by what he isn’t and start thinking about what he is.
You do realize that you've written about us, too, right? Our generation, in general. Fighting against being defined by others and being defined by what we're not.
I was reminded of this by a line in A's 'Collision', and then my brain was all, *exactly*.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 01:11 pm (UTC)What
Dom thinks that Humpty Dumpty probably jumped.
I adore that entire first section with an unholy passion. The imagery as setup is fucking fantastic.
Viggo says that Native Americans think photographs steal your soul and that he’s not sure whether or not he agrees. Considering how many photographs of Orli Viggo has up, Dom wonders if maybe that’s what happened to him.
This was so deliciously subtle -- I loved it. I had to read it twice to determine whether the pictures stole Orli from them, or if Viggo's soul was consumed by obsessing about Orli. And both interpretations work so well!
I want to chain you up in my basement and make you write for me all day.
And I mean that in a non-creepy way ;)
no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:14 am (UTC)I always try and get in at least one triple entendre and/or impossibly vague reference before breakfast. I go with the Buffy motto 'could you just vague that up a little more?' *winks*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 01:17 pm (UTC)Those little poignant lines; it's like being slugged in the gut as you read them, the little details make it so real. Wow.
Each photograph is worth a thousand words, but each moment tells a story that could sell a million books or tens of thousands of papers.
No one ever sees Orli anymore.
More than all that though, Dom wants to stop feeling blurry, like he’s not all there.
Fantastic.
But I'm sorry, I'll stop gibbering. Just wanted to let you know I kinda liked that. :)
no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 01:50 pm (UTC)I'll probably follow you all the way to hell if you just write something. Then again, I'm happily drunk right now (it doesn't make your fics any less wonderful that they are, just my English less English ^^')
no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:15 am (UTC)*dies laughing* I do use a lot of long titles in this fandom, hmm. I shall think on this.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 05:15 pm (UTC)*nods*
He wants a do-over and oh dear, Orli has been stolen from them.
And the poor woobie doesn't want to be a bother, he just wants to be unobtrusive at the same time as wanting to be seen for himself.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 05:22 pm (UTC)No fair.
no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 05:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 06:02 pm (UTC)i love this in ways that are probably unhealthy and illegal.
Viggo says that Native Americans think photographs steal your soul and that he’s not sure whether or not he agrees. Considering how many photographs of Orli Viggo has up, Dom wonders if maybe that’s what happened to him.
i also truly, madly, and deeply love these tiny little references you make to orlando, the subtlety of them, the absolute grimness. it's terrifying.
the imagery throughout the whole thing is amazing. how dom seems to be forgetting pieces of himself wherever he treads, how lost he seems, how young he is, the way he observes and feels things, it just makes you want to reach out to him. i love the dom/viggo dynamics, how dom looks up to viggo in so many aspects, the importance and weight of their relationship; of all relationships portrayed here, actually. ('sides, you always leave me with this vague urge to torture and maim elijah, and it's fun.)
i'm glad that, though you make him suffer, you always deliver an ending with a bit of hope, tiny as it may be.
and now for the happy conclusion omgyis.(okay, no, i'll stop. no, seriously. i will. seriously. no, really. really. *coughs*)no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:17 am (UTC)Excellent. This means my job here is done. *rubs hands together gleefully*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 06:07 pm (UTC)Oh, *wow*.
This Dom is just so wistful and confused, I want to cuddle him and tell him it'll all be all right. WAH.
But mainly what I wanted to say is that your word and metaphor choices are fantastic. There is nothing not working here. May I reiterate: *wow.*
no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-15 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-16 09:18 am (UTC)