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This is a fanfic I'm writing on LJ
Here 'tis
Title: Chapter 1 - Birth, Music, and Spiritus
Author: lucentvictrola
Rating: Somewhere in between PG and PG-13; nothing that bad, but mentions alcohol abuse and domestic abuse
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon eventually
POV: 3rd
Summary: Once upon a time, there were four lovely young boys who made music and traveled around the world falling in and out of love, and, of course, meeting their share of fairies, wolves, and witches.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys (too bad)! Inspired by ladyrocketdale. I own all the other characters, though :3 I don't really know the boys' histories, so yeah, it's inaccurate.
Author Notes: A mix of Grimm Brothers tales, folk tales, and the Into the Woods plot has been building up in my head for a couple days, and I just have to write something! The writing style is kinda childish on purpose. Sorry if it's confusing, but I'm kinda skipping around with the writing. No Brent, 'cause I don't feel like it, so just replace him in your mind with Jon.
Once upon a time, there was a man named George, and he married a beautiful woman, and they had a beautiful son. They named their son George Ryan. His skin was soft and his eyes bright and his hair a soft brown, and he grew up loved, at least for a few years. However, soon after George Ryan had gone from infancy to childhood, a wicked fairy named Spiritus came to live in their house. Her skin was sometimes red, sometimes white, sometimes dull yellow, and sometimes even clear, and she could be sweet or bitter, but she always had a bad effect on the house. She would dive into George's throat and make him do terrible things to George Ryan and his mother, things that he could never remember afterwards. George didn't know the true nature of Spiritus; he thought of her as a friend, a comforting presence, but, unbeknownst to him, each time he let her inside himself, she would dig her gnarled claws in deeper and deeper, and finally, when George Ryan, now just Ryan, reached adolescence, she refused to let go of George, and the unremembered incidents progressed even further, and Ryan, being fragile as a porcelain doll, was left with bruises and contusions to be constantly hidden from view. His escape from the world was hidden in the pages of his diary, covered in aubergine silk and tied with black ribbon. In it he would write song lyrics to which there was no melody and prayers to which there were no answers. Throughout the years, he would have fallen into darkness if not for a friendship with another boy named Spencer.
Spencer was always in motion, whether he was tapping out rhythms on tables and chairs and legs or wiggling his feet around to some unheard beat. When he was but young, his parents got him his first drum set on his seventh Christmas, with two tom-toms and a little bass drum, complete with a pedal. He would bang away on it day and night, and that was how he met Ryan. Ryan's father was not yet gripped fully by Spiritus, but she visited his blood frequently, and this was one of the times. George was reclining in the den, Spiritus next to him, the window open, and the TV blaring, when he heard pounding noises from the open window of Spencer's bedroom in the house next-door. He sent Ryan to tell the neighbors to silence the drumming, but instead, Ryan joined Spencer in the noise-making, reciting his early poetry to the beats. They became the best of friends, and Spencer let Ryan sleep over whenever Spiritus made George too crazy.
A few years after that, when the boys were just entering middle school, Ryan got his first guitar and Spencer was on his third drum set. They learned how to play songs written by other bands and practiced them three times a week in Spencer's garage. They played in as many talent-shows as they could get to, and that was how they met Jon. Jon played the bass guitar. He couldn't really do anything without a band, so he played riffs over his head and behind his back as his talent. Ryan and Spencer were in need of another musician to join them, so they invited Jon to play music with them. Their sound was much more full now, and Ryan's voice matured, but still, there seemed to be something missing.
Once upon another, near-but-far, time, a boy named Brendon was growing up sheltered in Las Vegas. His parents were devout Mormons, and he lived under their rules, but longed to break free. He would look towards the sky and wonder what was out there for him. His release came through music; he had a beautiful velvety voice and played piano, though the latter was at his parents' request. He would pound away at the keys with his long, nimble fingers, and compose melodies to which there were no words, only sounds. He would sing along with just vowels, no "sense" to the songs at all. Brendon desperately wanted beautiful words to match his haunting melodies, but the only muse that came to him wrote notes on the paper, not words. Until he found a talented poet, however, all he was able to sing were the round sounds in his throat.
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
Here 'tis
Title: Chapter 1 - Birth, Music, and Spiritus
Author: lucentvictrola
Rating: Somewhere in between PG and PG-13; nothing that bad, but mentions alcohol abuse and domestic abuse
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon eventually
POV: 3rd
Summary: Once upon a time, there were four lovely young boys who made music and traveled around the world falling in and out of love, and, of course, meeting their share of fairies, wolves, and witches.
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys (too bad)! Inspired by ladyrocketdale. I own all the other characters, though :3 I don't really know the boys' histories, so yeah, it's inaccurate.
Author Notes: A mix of Grimm Brothers tales, folk tales, and the Into the Woods plot has been building up in my head for a couple days, and I just have to write something! The writing style is kinda childish on purpose. Sorry if it's confusing, but I'm kinda skipping around with the writing. No Brent, 'cause I don't feel like it, so just replace him in your mind with Jon.
Once upon a time, there was a man named George, and he married a beautiful woman, and they had a beautiful son. They named their son George Ryan. His skin was soft and his eyes bright and his hair a soft brown, and he grew up loved, at least for a few years. However, soon after George Ryan had gone from infancy to childhood, a wicked fairy named Spiritus came to live in their house. Her skin was sometimes red, sometimes white, sometimes dull yellow, and sometimes even clear, and she could be sweet or bitter, but she always had a bad effect on the house. She would dive into George's throat and make him do terrible things to George Ryan and his mother, things that he could never remember afterwards. George didn't know the true nature of Spiritus; he thought of her as a friend, a comforting presence, but, unbeknownst to him, each time he let her inside himself, she would dig her gnarled claws in deeper and deeper, and finally, when George Ryan, now just Ryan, reached adolescence, she refused to let go of George, and the unremembered incidents progressed even further, and Ryan, being fragile as a porcelain doll, was left with bruises and contusions to be constantly hidden from view. His escape from the world was hidden in the pages of his diary, covered in aubergine silk and tied with black ribbon. In it he would write song lyrics to which there was no melody and prayers to which there were no answers. Throughout the years, he would have fallen into darkness if not for a friendship with another boy named Spencer.
Spencer was always in motion, whether he was tapping out rhythms on tables and chairs and legs or wiggling his feet around to some unheard beat. When he was but young, his parents got him his first drum set on his seventh Christmas, with two tom-toms and a little bass drum, complete with a pedal. He would bang away on it day and night, and that was how he met Ryan. Ryan's father was not yet gripped fully by Spiritus, but she visited his blood frequently, and this was one of the times. George was reclining in the den, Spiritus next to him, the window open, and the TV blaring, when he heard pounding noises from the open window of Spencer's bedroom in the house next-door. He sent Ryan to tell the neighbors to silence the drumming, but instead, Ryan joined Spencer in the noise-making, reciting his early poetry to the beats. They became the best of friends, and Spencer let Ryan sleep over whenever Spiritus made George too crazy.
A few years after that, when the boys were just entering middle school, Ryan got his first guitar and Spencer was on his third drum set. They learned how to play songs written by other bands and practiced them three times a week in Spencer's garage. They played in as many talent-shows as they could get to, and that was how they met Jon. Jon played the bass guitar. He couldn't really do anything without a band, so he played riffs over his head and behind his back as his talent. Ryan and Spencer were in need of another musician to join them, so they invited Jon to play music with them. Their sound was much more full now, and Ryan's voice matured, but still, there seemed to be something missing.
Once upon another, near-but-far, time, a boy named Brendon was growing up sheltered in Las Vegas. His parents were devout Mormons, and he lived under their rules, but longed to break free. He would look towards the sky and wonder what was out there for him. His release came through music; he had a beautiful velvety voice and played piano, though the latter was at his parents' request. He would pound away at the keys with his long, nimble fingers, and compose melodies to which there were no words, only sounds. He would sing along with just vowels, no "sense" to the songs at all. Brendon desperately wanted beautiful words to match his haunting melodies, but the only muse that came to him wrote notes on the paper, not words. Until he found a talented poet, however, all he was able to sing were the round sounds in his throat.
<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3
