"THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE BOYS! THAT'S THE BEAUTY OF IT!"

[behindthec]

cut for hugeness, polls, brainstorming, recs, etc.



a few recs:

http://dys-topia.livejournal.com/4819.html
SHE WROTE IT!!!!!!!!! *dances* don't ask me why i like this pairing; it is too complex to explain. HOWEVER, everyone must write it now, in order to win my eternal love. please please please please please??

http://emmuzka.livejournal.com/296825.html
this is really disturbing, but amazing. read the warnings. i would LOVE a sequel.

http://community.livejournal.com/diedandreborn/46037.html
utterly delicious. oh god. more of this forever. sleepysex with top!ryan is my favourite. nnngggghh.

random, but BEST MOTHERFUCKING ICON EVER. the_randomist... ily.

also totally random, but something popped up in my gmail ads yesterday and it took me a moment to figure out why, and it's because the following line is in chapter 8 (i write all fic in gmail drafts): "Brendon steps outside, out the glass doors and down the path, past the hammock until his bare feet meet sun-warmed wood." HERE IS THE SCREENSHOT:



can't stop laughing, omfg!

so, okay. i really wish people wouldn't go anon just to tell me something they think i don't want to hear. (exception being when i know who you are but for privacy reasons you go anon to say something; that's FINE). if you go anon just to say something you're afraid to say logged in (said exception aside), dude, i'm not going to dislike you for expressing your opinion, especially when it's done nicely. i respect all opinions expressed maturely and politely. i don't care what you say to me; i have no idea who you are; even non-anon you're still just an icon and a username. we're all open and friendly here. don't be afraid.

i hate how so many people here seem to be (and often admit to once being) intimidated by me. what the hell is so off-putting about me? i talk to everyone. i answer every comment, message, and email (eventually). i hold open house posts for lurkers, where i've made some of my best friends. how am i intimidating? i don't get it. :(

i also i wanted to reply publicly to that comment about biting off more than i can chew, fic-wise, to explain how i write. first off, i am not planning on writing all these fics at once. :P i'll be choosing one, and the others will be put on hold. the way i work is, i have to write whatever fic i am obsessed with at the time. so i may have tons of ideas and planned-out fics in my mind, but when i actually sit down and commit to something, it has to be what i'm excited/obsessed/passionate about at that given moment; once i actually start writing it, i generally stay obsessed till i finish. this is why i so rarely take prompts or requests, and when i do, i make a huge prompt post and pick the one i connect with most. i have to really *want* to write the fic; i can't write based on what you guys want or when. for it to turn out well, it has to be what i want, when i want it. that sounds so selfish, but that's the only way it works. otherwise i won't enjoy it, and the quality will suffer. make sense?

also, the reason i'm so excited about this fic is because it would be my first real AU, and you know i've always been very meh about AUs in the past b/c they don't feel real to me, and i'm big on canon. but canon is stressing me out too much lately; i'm too attached to it, too affected by it, too dependent on it; i think it would be really emotionally healthy for me to write something that i have complete control over; where it doesn't matter if ryan's doing coke IRL or brendon has a girlfriend. plus i think it's a very important transitional step for me to take if i ever want to write original fiction someday, which i do. plus it's just indulgent and FUN, and i want fic to be fun again.

so, there's my reasoning.

moving on! okay, so clearly, there are as many people for kilts as against them. i personally still find them kind of ridiculous, though the fact that someone mentioned they were generally worn without underwear is a definite plus. idk. what do you think? feel free to post photographic support for your opinion in the comments, otherwise i'm going with no.

[Poll #1384130]

i could always set this in ireland too, considering i have a much stronger mental memory of irish accents than i do scottish (and i even PREFER irish accents). We went with scottish b/c sara had heard that ryan is part scottish, and we know brendon is, but… idk, i could definitely go irish. thoughts?

[Poll #1384131]

also, bagpipes are out; i just went with them initially 'cause it was obvious. :P pianos, so much sexier than bagpipes. also, my first historical request: what other instruments were there in late 19th century scotland? anything guitar-esque? AUs are much easier for me to swallow (lol) if they maintain the basic canon of the characters being musicians. i want ryan to play something. also, i have some ideas for what to do with jon and spence and other bandom peeps, but if you have thoughts for them, let's hear it. i'm considering a side of joncer, maybe. idk. kinda cliche.

last night before bed my brain developed about 2k worth of dialogue for this fic, which is. a very good or very bad thing. some more brainstorming with soph last night:

Sophie: me: AND BY "THE WORLD" HE MEANS "MY DICK"
Sophie: WELL YES
lols
me: YESSSSS :D
or maybe oh god
5:11 PM
maybe he and brendon had this adorable ~courtship before
and they ksised and stuff
but never actually had sex
and before they could, ryan was sold as a slave!
Sophie: awww
me: so when they meet up again years later, they get to have their first time!
Sophie: i think they should flirt
me: total epic faily flirting
Sophie: def
me: brenodn can bring him fucking FLOWERS and stuff
5:12 PM
Sophie: omgggggg
and Ryan's all blushy and Idk-what-to-do-with-this-affection
me: i knowwwwww
Sophie: but also smiley
me: and they have to run off to the park at night to be alone, 'cause, ryan's dad
5:13 PM
Sophie: yess
and pls bden has to hrow pebbles at ryan's window
me: OF COURSE.
and climb the tree to his window while wearing his kilt :D
Sophie: AND RYAN CLIMBS DOWN AND IS FAILY AND BDEN HAS TO CATCH HIM
me: YES!!!!
5:14 PM
and they are all tangled and blushy on the ground
Sophie: like in the making of that green gentleman video
me: :LSKEJR:LIEFE YES!!!!!
that gif makes my life
Sophie: and bden's just like eeeeeeeee, I caught a ryro
gif?
i has no gif
just the dvd lol
me: EEEEEEE
oh, well, gifs of it have been made lol
5:15 PM
Sophie: well. yes
AND THE MOON IS OUT. AND RYAN IS PRETTY. AND BRENDON IS LIKE "... you're pretty"
5:16 PM
and it is cold so he has to give ryan is coat
except then ryan is a girl
lol
i fail at making them boys
me: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
THEY DONT' HAVE TO BE BOYS IN THIS
THAT'S THE BEAUTY OF IT
Sophie: YESSSSSS \o/
5:17 PM
maybe they should nearly kiss but then Ryan sez he has to go home
and Bden thinks they can ~nxt time
and then Ryan gets made a sex slave
me: AWWWWWWWWWWWW
ASKLERJAOFAPO3I
nooooo!!!
they have to have one kiss!!!
5:18 PM
Sophie: hahaha
fiiiiine
is your fic
lol
me: ONE KISS
BEFORE YEARS OF MISERY
come on
i just need to figure out how he gets all ~stolen. or if his father ends up broke and actually sells him. :/
5:19 PM
Sophie: HAHA I SEX OK
UM. SEZ
me: HAHAHAHA
you sex okay
Sophie: i do ok
i thinks he gets sold :/
me: i knowwww ugh
5:20 PM
Sophie: which is like. gah.
me: i KNOW
Sophie: and can Bden get pissed at his dad?
or something?
me: yeah, totally
i see his dad eventually committing suicide though
once he realizes what he's done
maybe he was drunk when he sold him
Sophie: yeah
makes sense. in a morbid way
me: UGH POOR RYAN
5:21 PM
Sophie: why are we writing such depressing aus?
me: I DON'T KNOW
Sophie: they are aus. WE COULD HAVE UNICORNS
me: KIK!!!!!
er, LOL!!!
Sophie: lolol
me: YES
BRENODN RESCUES RYAN ON A UNICORN
LIKE IN PRIZONER OF AZKABAN
prisoner, even
Sophie: OMG YES
me: AND ITS NAME IS SPARKLES
Sophie: omg lol
5:22 PM
:D
okay. srs bsnss

*headdesk* that last bit was a joke. most of this is a joke. :P

what i wanted is for them to have a kiss (or maybe sex, once), and then the next day ryan is sold into slavery. brendon is present for it all, he's hanging onto the bars on the back of the carriage where ryan is locked in, their fingers overlapping as brendon promises him, "i'll come for you, i promise." and such begins the Quest.

also, thoughts for what ryan's dad's shop is? what kind of business? i have some ideas for how ry and bden meet; i think ryan sees him around a few times before, gets caught staring, etc., and then he finally runs into him (literally, b/c, cute) in the marketplace one day. and is utterly faily and shy and ends up running off. but bden just smiles after him because he's all hearteyes and stuff. ugh, so many ideas swarming in my head. all i want to do is sit and write them down all day, and instead i have to work. :(

i will jot down this one moment i don't want to forget. ryan and brendon sneak off during one point in their faily ~courtship and spend the afternoon by the river or something, sprawled on their backs watching the sun, and the subject of death comes up, and ryan talks about how you have to live each moment, b/c you could die the next (in typical melodramatic, morbid ross fashion :P), and bden's kinda quiet... and that night is the night he throws pebbles at ryan's window in the middle of the night (\o/!), and ryan opens up and lets him in (AHEM) and he's like wtf are you doing here dumbass, my dad will ACTUALLY MURDER YOU if he finds out. and bden just crowds him against the wall, breathless, their foreheads touching, hands joined, and says, "i know, i know, i just couldn't, what if we died and i'd never told you?" and ry's like, "told me what?" and bren says, "that i love you," like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and kisses him. UGH MY HEART. i really, really want them to have sex that one night, and then the next day ryan gets taken. :'( but, i also love the idea of them having their First Time years later... y'know... um... after ryan's been a SEX SLAVE for however many years, so, okay, maybe not. :P though, bden could teach him how sex is ~beautiful. *eyeroll* clicheeeeeeeeeee, ack! thoughts?

sigh. my brain. my life. enough of this nonsense.

Comments

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

COLIN. YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO MY BRAIN :P

Okay, I am warning you now, I couldn't help myself :P Ryan sees him, and knows him, and *still thinks he's there for the same reason any guy is*. And it kills him. Because somewhere deep inside of him, somewhere even he didn't know still existed, maybe the memory of Brendon was the last good thing in him. And now that's filth too. Now that's worse than filth.

Ryan doesn't even look up, he's putting on the whole show, 'cause god knows this guy's paying for it. The just off bow of his head, the way his legs are slightly further apart than they need to be to sit--everything is deliberate, and he knows just how it looks. His voice is flawless. "How do you want me, sir?" 10 parts fake submission, 5 parts seduction, tailored to perfection, not a hint of what he thinks of this scum. He hates the line in his mouth, maybe more than anything, the sick of powerlessness and obedience and submission, but it doesn't matter, because it's all an act. They can't reach inside him. No one can reach inside him, if inside him even still exists--no one can reach what's real, so it doesn't matter that it's sick, and it doesn't matter what they think they take from him.

"Ryan."

It's like an echo across the room--earthquakes in echoes and a breath on the night air drifting through time, fall leaves and snow. It's eight years since he's used that name--eight years since anyone's known it.

He looks up before he can stop himself--before he can tell himself not to, please not to...and everything's changed, just like that. Because there is still something left inside him. There is something left that they couldn't reach. And right now, his chest might as well be heaving open waiting for the filth to flood in and take it, because...Ryan looks down again before he can panic, tries desperately to think. He doesn't know what to do. He always knows what to do, he's good at this, he's brilliant, but...he can't. He can't. It can't be this. It can't have come to this.

The last goodness left in the world. The last memory of love, buried deep inside of him, deep where no one could touch, deep where no one could hurt it, even himself. The last, useless trace of faith. The last thing that was real.

Ryan thinks he'd maybe do anything for this to be a lie. There's a fleeting moment of madness where he thinks maybe he could run--maybe they're so used to him being good that they wouldn't know what was happening until he'd gone. He knows it wouldn't work. But...Ryan swallows, and presses the name as far from his mind as he can. He can forget that he ever looked up. He can forget that this is that face, that voice, that memory. He can pretend, in the tiny, subconscious part of his mind that still believes despite him, that this person was never here; that this never happened. This is just another paying customer, and Ryan will do what he does.

He knows he won't forget, though, even as he knows he doesn't really have a choice in this, knows there is no running, knows it's really very simple. This is hell, this is the last faint touch of light in a distant past turning to scum and bile and hate. Ryan doesn't know why he's surprised; it shouldn't be such a blow. Of course -he-'s just another mongrel. Of course he's no better than the rest.

Ryan doesn't look up again, and the way this hurts, the way this tears out his internal organs and his muscles and bones and shreds his skin in all the ways he thought he was too numb, too strong to feel again...the way this hurts is schooled from all but his eyes. His face is a work of art, as it always is, and his voice is the same. He bows his head a little further, because there's no role he can't play, nothing he can't do. If -this man- came here to fuck the innocent boy buried in Ryan's heart, then Ryan will tear that out into the open and give it to the filth, because he doesn't need it anymore, doesn't need anything. This is what he is. This is what he is now. The tone of Ryan's voice is carefully measured--the tilt of his head, the spread of his legs as deliberate as ever, and he murmurs, quietly, 10 parts fake submission and 5 parts seduction and barely even a trace of defeat--"You can call me that if you like."

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Oh dear god this scene. Coliinnnnnn. Must go to bed before I start writing entire scenes of your goddamn fic XD Seriously. This *scene*. Boyyyyyys. qli3bt49qrekljbqare;t4;o. The amount of *hurt*...I am *not* going to commentfic this entire thing *exercises self control*, but, Ryan tries to stick to the lines, something to cling to, something to anchor him, to let him act, and Brendon's just saying his name again, and again, until...he comes over. He's right there. Ryan knows in a second his hands will be on him--knows it will be unbearable. He drops to one knee in front of him, close enough for Ryan to be sick, and whispers "Don't you remember me?"
And Ryan makes himself say it. Ryan makes himself trample on the truth and turn it to hate, and whispers back, carefully toned, professional as ever, still and submissive and tailored to please--"I've missed you."

It hurts more than all the years of abuse--because it was true. Because he really did. And...for this.

There is a sharp breath out and in inches from his face, the gasp that says the line worked. All Ryan's lines work. And he ignores the memory screaming inside him, and waits, obedient and consummately professional, for the touch that he thinks might finally break him once and for all.

[lolab.livejournal.com]

SKHOIFUPAWO4JALKSEPVOIAURNAKJDHOIEHTHAIUOVIA4IRHAOW4IR

DON'T FUCKING STOP THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[happichick17.livejournal.com]

THAT IS AMAZING!!! I am so on the verge of tears right now, and I want more, and I want the previous parts, and I want it all!

This fic needs to be written. As in, if it isn't I will be crushed, and cry, and make it up in my head, but it will be nothing compared to what it could have been.

This is a Need not a want, a Need. Like Oxygen, but more important.

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Haha, that was off the cuff 3am commentfic ;D The real version will be better. Definitely :P

Haha, dw, I'm pretty sure we're on it :D I hope we're on it, lol :) I like it a lot XD

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Commentficcing some more of this out 'cause it's been spinning round my head all week :D All just commentfic, all rough as it gets, forgive crappiness, lol :S

The touch doesn't come. Or rather...it doesn't come when it should, then it does, a moment later, but it's wrong, all wrong, too gentle, too kind, fingertips tentative on his knee when Ryan would give almost anything for this to be rough and purposeful and unmistakable, and it takes all his control to stop his limbs shaking. And that voice again, quiet, barely a breath. "Ryan..."

Ryan has lines for this. There are lists of people who want this to be sweet, the occasional women particularly but a fair share of men as well, clients who would prefer not to remember that they're clients, and Ryan has lines, but...
Soft, deeper--older--than in Ryan's memory; "Ry, talk to me..."
Lines and everything he's built here are rapidly falling apart, and it's all he can do to obey, to speak, to cling back into the standards that he probably murmurs in his sleep now. "What would you like tonight?"
It's all wrong, and he flinches away almost before the line's out, and the half of Ryan that's far, far too glad of that to be safe, and the part of him that's furious because he's good, and no one's drawn back from him in years are both drowned out by the part that is just fucked, completely lost, and doing more drowning than searching in the frantic effort to stay above water.
"No," the voice that isn't anyone, barely even sounds the same murmurs, standing again, "No Ryan, no, I...I've got to get you out of here." Louder, more firm. "I'm going to get you out of here."

Ryan sits, and breathes. Breathe. It's just a line. It's not the first time he's heard it by any means, and if he hasn't wanted to believe it like this since the early days, since the first few times when he did believe it, that means nothing. It's an easy lie, such an easy lie, sweet, meaningless promises made by sick, heartless men who like control, and Ryan doesn't fall for easy lies. Ryan has two very simple, well-acted alternative responses to that particular promise, in fact; pathetically fawning, credulous expressions of gratitude where appropriate, the equally easy lie that he doesn't want out, that he wants 'only to serve' for others, and Ryan's good at judging what they want to hear. Right now, he wouldn't have a clue, and that's terrifying. The former takes more acting, though, and Ryan's having enough trouble staying sitting on the bed right now, so he falls back on something like the latter, tailored as best he can, and begs himself to sound believable. "You don't have to," he murmurs, and his voice is steady, at least, "I want only--"
"No. No." It's loud enough, firm enough to cut Ryan off mid-sentence, and Ryan's pretty sure that's the intention. "No, look, Ryan, please--I...wait. Wait." He comes close again, drops back down to Ryan's level, and leans in, and Ryan can't help the way he tenses...but that's as close as he comes. "Is someone watching the room?" A whisper in Ryan's ear.
It takes Ryan a moment to process, but at least it's an easy answer. "You pay for privacy here, sir. This is a high class establishment. There is no one closer than the men you would have seen in the hall for security, unless you'd prefer--"
But--the name--the name he can't keep out, an ache in his head--Brendon Urie--draws back, just far enough to catch Ryan's eyes, just far enough that Ryan can't look away. "Really?"
His eyes are huge, and just exactly the same as they were a world away and eight years in the past when someone who wasn't Ryan, wasn't, really, saw them differently, and never forgot. His voice is still a whisper. "Then...why? Ryan...I...please..."
Ryan doesn't know what he's asking for. Ryan doesn't know anything, because nothing makes sense, because none of this makes sense, but he's inches away, eyes wide and inescapable, and Ryan doesn't get it, doesn't understand at all, but he knows what he's meant to do, and so...he does. He half-shuts his eyes, tilts his head, leans in, slowly...and Brendon jerks away so quickly he trips over his awkwardly bent legs and falls backwards on his ass.

:P And out of character limit, lol...

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

[Sooooo...there's further confusion. Ryan, terrified of the consequences if someone paying as much as Brendon is walks out of here because Ryan's not keeping it together, steels himself and attempts to seduce Brendon, Brendon freaks out but sticks to his guns, Ryan, unsuccessful, comes to the ~brilliant conclusion that he must have realised after coming in here that this is sick and changed his mind (Ryaannnnn), freaks out 'cause driving high paying customers away isn't going to be without consequences, Brendon swears he isn't going tell anyone and that it wouldn't matter anyway, 'cause now that he knows it really is Ryan he's going to *buy* him in the morning...which Ryan stubbornly takes all the wrong way, with all the bitterness and mistrust cemented inside him. More Brendon heartbrokenly flailing, but Ryan's over the acting now - he doesn't believe Brendon's motives are pure, but he believes he's not going to go complain to management and demand Ryan be whipped or anything, so he's just cold, cold and immovable and blank. Annnnnd...]

"I don't want to hurt you, I don't want to own you, I just want you to be free."
Ryan doesn't look up, doesn't move, doesn't know anymore whether he's meant to pretend to believe or not. "I've never been free."
Brendon doesn't come closer, but the air between them shakes with how clearly he wants to, leaning forward into the space, hands reaching out (always). His voice is still gentle, like Ryan's something fragile to be handled. "That's not true, Ryan. I...I remember you free."
Ryan is many things, but he is not fragile, and he's going to say something, really, something involving sensible words, going to politely laugh that it's not as simple as wandering in here and kidnapping the star act with pretty words and stories, he would have, really, but...
That voice is stronger now, and just a little younger, somehow. "You were free the night you kissed me behind your father's house."

(cont. next comment...)

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Ryan knows his face slips, just for a moment, and he can't bring himself to care. Not this. No. Anything but this. He pushes it away, searches for his harshest pride, his years of hate, how much he is not fragile anymore, how much his heart belongs to no one, not himself and not the world. "Maybe you'd just like to think that."
Brendon flinches, visibly flinches, but he doesn't back down. "Maybe you're too...hurt...to remember it, maybe you can't believe it, but you were free, you were..." he trails off, shakes his head, cuts himself short. "And you're going to be free again."
And Ryan hates the part of himself that wants to believe he means it--not believe it's true, because it's impossible, Ryan knows that--but to believe that he--that...Brendon Urie...means it, that that's why he came...Ryan looks up at the roof, away, and it's easier to find himself, the him he knows and understands. He lies back on the bed, eyes on polished beams and the soft light that he hates, and feels the ghosts of a thousand different hands on him, the shadows that stroke across his skin when the room's empty, and it's easier...easier to remember how little it matters. He can breathe, like this; and not looking at him, at Brendon Urie across the room, it's so much easier to remember the truth. "Do you think you're the first to want me to 'come away with you'? More men than you'd believe--and women, women too--have wanted me to 'fall in love' with them. There are men who bring me chocolates, gifts...tobacco, once, even, though I wasn't permitted that...it's all very nice. Half the people who enter this room would like to think about me wanting them freely. You're certainly not unique. But it doesn't work like that." Ryan doesn't look up, and he doesn't see the heartbreak on Brendon's face. "You say I'll be free, free like you remember me...you think I'll, what, come away with you for free and save you paying? You can have me, you can have me tonight if you want, you've paid for it, and you can have me again next week if you pay again, but you can't think that--"
"That's not what I meant!"
Ryan keeps his eyes on the ceiling, light shattered into soft-edged triangles by the lanterns. He can hear Brendon breathing across the room, and it's funny how that seems like the most familiar thing in here, heavy breathing, always in his ears, a sickening kind of comfort in its familiarity as much as a threat.
Brendon's voice is quieter again when he pulls himself together enough to speak, not yelling, but the touch of desperation isn't gone. "I swear. I swear, Ryan, on anything, everything, I...I don't want anything from you. I just...I just want you to be happy. I...god, Ryan, I'm going to buy you out of here and then you never have to see me again, I don't...well, no." He sighs, but it's frustration more than resignation. "I do care. But...you can, I don't know, emigrate to Australia if you want. I'll give you whatever you want. Anything. Every cent I have. And you never have to see me again. I just...I couldn't save you eight years ago. I'm going to this time. I spent five years looking for you, Ryan. I've spent the last three sending charity money to slave-stealers in your memory and hating myself for giving up. I'm not getting this close and leaving you here."

Ryan can't look. He doesn't believe. He doesn't. The lanterns sway in the breeze through the window, and the lights dance in shadows on the ceiling. His voice sounds too different, too small, and it's wrong, because he doesn't believe, he won't, and this isn't safe, and he can't stop it. "I don't understand you."
Brendon sounds stronger than him, more sure than him, and that's more dangerous than anything. "You don't have to understand me. You just have to...well, no, I guess you don't even have to trust me, really, they won't care what you think as long as I've got the money, I suppose? So you don't have to trust me. I know you probably can't. You've made that pretty clear. But I will get you out of here. Whatever they want for you, I'll pay it, it doesn't matter. You're going to be free again. I swear."

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

(okay, and that's really it, done rambling, but before Brendon leaves to try to buy Ryan, when Ryan finally believes it really is Brendon, the Brendon he remembers, and he really is here to try to save him, he finally says his name, and it's, like, a big thing for him. To actually say Brendon's name out loud, to acknowledge him, believe in him...he breathes it like it's a knife at his throat or maybe the key to his chains, like it's fire and water on his tongue, sparks on his lips, and it hangs between them like a new promise, a new vow neither really fully understands, and that there's no way they can keep, but that, somehow, they know they have to, deep inside. Saaaaaaaaap :P)

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

OMG omg omg omg and, ok, almost done, really :P So Ryan knows Brendon's not going to be able to buy him, knows the guy's not going to sell, and he tries to tell Brendon this, but Brendon's all nope, doesn't matter how much, I'll pay it, you'll see. No one is ever going to hurt you again.
And Ryan sort of laughs bitterly under his breath, "I'll believe that when my regular Saturday client doesn't walk in here tomorrow night."
And Brendon huffs it off, insists, he's going to do it, come morning, Ryan's going to be free, ladadadada...
But then, of course, the guy won't sell. And Brendon argues lots, but to no avail. So Brendon needs time to think of a rescue plan, so he says fine, if you won't sell, I'll pay for another night, I'll have him again tonight. But the guy says sort of sorry, booked, how's tomorrow. To which Brendon (in his head) is all ~NO. So he says he'll pay more than whoever's meant to have Ryan tonight, but it's sort of a regular, this guy pays every Saturday night thing, and the owner's not willing to lose that, so he refuses, but Brendon obviously won't give in, and he pretty much just stays there all day arguing, and gets into a full on, like, bidding war, and ends up paying some HUGE, astronomical amount of money, but he gets Ryan. And when he goes up to Ryan's room, Ryan's waiting, undressed as per customer preference, expecting this other dude, and Brendon walks through the door ready to be all ha, see, I might be halfway to broke but I told you...and then he sees Ryan, and it's just like...shit. And Ryan just sort of stares, and can't believe it, 'cause he knows how much money would have to be involved for his owner to turn away a regular client like that, and it's just like..."What did you do?"
And Ryan's just there, eyes wide, more emotion in his face than Brendon got out of him all last night, and Brendon can't speak, doesn't know what to say anymore, and he just sort of goes "Um..."
And Ryan's still staring, disbelief, barely daring to believe, and he whispers, breathes, "How much did you pay? How do you...how do you even have this kind of money?"
And Brendon just shrugs, and says "I promised no one would ever hurt you again. I meant it."

And planning ensues, with Ryan being pessimistic and refusing to hope, and Brendon coming up with lots of ideas that couldn't work until he figures out the ~brilliant rescue plan that ends up getting him caught.

*dies* Boyyyyyyyysssss...god, this so owns me :P I'm hopeless XD

[lolab.livejournal.com]

asemkjhalisfjpaowkje4ro;aweijpfoaijw3poi!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YOU ARE FUCKING AMAZING I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES. SRSLY. OMG.

MOAR MOAR MOAR???

[lolab.livejournal.com]

ALSO I REALLY WANT THEM TO HUG AT SOME POINT IN THIS SCENE. WHICH. WOULD PROBABLY BE SO INAPPROPRIATE AND CAN'T HAPPEN BUT OMG I WANT IT, RYAN ALL HELPLESS AND NAKED AND BREAKING DOWN, AND BRENDON HOLDING HIM AND TELLING HIM IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY. UGHHHHHHH ES;RLKJAPVOAIJW3P94AJP9W3J9P

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

OH GOD OH GOD I KNOW ME TOO. IT HAS TO HAPPEN. SOMEHOW. WE WILL FIND A WAY. THIS IS SUPER-INDULGENT SLAVEFIC. IF YOU WANT IT, IT HAPPENS :P

LIKE, LIKE, SO...so Ryan's just there, sitting up on the bed, and the stuff I said before's been said, and Brendon's done his 'I meant it' thing, and Ryan just can't cope. It's too much. He's confused, he's lost, he's dangerously close to hoping and he can't, he can't, and he braces his arms against the bed, digs his fingers into the mattress, looks at his hands and just breathes, just tries to breathe, but it's too much, it's all too much, and he can't, he can't, he doesn't know anymore, he doesn't understand, and he's breathing too fast, he's starting to hyperventilate, and Brendon's kind of caught in the middle of the room, not wanting to push the boundaries, not wanting to come into that space, but Ryan's not listening, he's saying Ryan's name, begging him to calm down but Ryan's not even hearing him, until Brendon snaps and rushes across the room, sits on the very edge of the bed, puts his hands on top of Ryan's where they're pressing too hard into the sheets and begs "Ryan, Ryan listen to me, Ry, come on, calm down, it's okay..."
And Ryan looks up, or he lifts his head at least, Brendon can't tell if he's looking, but Ryan lifts his eyes, and, his breath stops, the hyperventilating, it stops, and he's not breathing at all, just staring, eyes too wide, confusion, confusion and fear, fear above all else, fear because he needs control, he always, always knows exactly what's going on because that's all he has, and now that's gone, he doesn't understand, he doesn't know what's happening or where it's going or what he can trust, and he just stares for one moment, one moment of not breathing that Brendon thinks is never going to break...and then Ryan crumples, all the tension leaving him like a cut rope, sobbing silently, shaking, and Brendon knows it's a bad idea, knows he shouldn't, but he can't go back across the room and watch Ryan sob into the sheets, he just can't...so he stays, takes his hands from on top of Ryan's and slowly, slowly wraps his arms around Ryan's shoulders, holds him, just loosely, just holding him together, not holding him there, but just stopping him falling apart. And Ryan makes some unidentifiable noise, an almost silent whimper of something, but he doesn't pull away, just shakes, and shakes and shakes, and sobs quietly into Brendon's shoulder when Brendon shifts a little closer. And Brendon holds him, and prays. He prays for a plan. He prays for some way to become clear, some way he can get Ryan out of here, and help him, and fix this. And when nothing comes, when no god descends to give him answers, he just keeps holding on, and whispers promises into Ryan's hair, promises it's all going to be okay, somehow, and keeps on praying that somehow, it'll be true.

[alphabetatoast.livejournal.com]

OK, actually kinda ~crying right now with how awesome this is.
It is not possible to understand how much I want this fic now.

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Haha, glad you like it :D Yeah, same, lol :P

[lolab.livejournal.com]

YES!!!!!

YES YES YESSSSSS

[lolab.livejournal.com]

WE,JRSAL;KJV;LAKWJ4RL;KAWJ;LEI;LANW4KLJEAWHPFAW45IORAWPOIUFPOAIW45PIOAW4P9AW5

there are so many things/lines i'm going to use in the real one, swear to god. omg. WL;EKJ;AOSIJFA OMG. &YOU;!!!!!!!!!

the one thing that will be different is ryan will tell him, scoffing, "you don't think men haven't tried [to buy me]? he won't sell. he'll never sell." and it's true. ryan's owner makes more off him in a month than even kings could afford to pay. plus his owner is very attached to him, wants him for himself. i don't see his owner as an evil violent type, more like a very fucked-up, insecure type... bad, yes, but more difficult to hate him than if he were abusive and violent. he has this incredibly warped view that he's "protecting" fragile boys like ryan. he'd only go nuts if he thought ryan were trying to escape. i'm interested in exploring him as a character. if i were writing a novel i'd give him a whole back story. maybe i will.

YOU ARE AWESOME AND YOU NEED TO WRITE MOAR NAO!!!!!!!!!!!

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Guh, *yes*, I love that, that's awesome. The idea of the owner having a bit of character depth and being fucked up and insecure and having convinced himself into this warped, mad sort of idea...just, YES. And being attached to Ryan. Definitely. Nnnnnnn. So much yes. You own my soul :P

I did write Spencer a whole ridiculous after Ryan's sold on story but it's kind of out there and I don't know if you'll hate it, lol XD

[miarae.livejournal.com]

ajdsjfsjfsdkfjdkgfjfgnernr324iredf,zmcx,.c

LOVE
LOVE
LOVE

*has no further brain to comment*

[lolab.livejournal.com]

yesssssssss. i'm glad you like it! we will have fun with him.

YOU WROTE?? GIVE ME!!!!!! WHERE?! WANT!!!!

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Haha, I'm not sure I've actually written any of it down yet, lol :S It all exists in my head. I will, though :D Just not right now, as I have to get ready for work in half an hour :( It sort of links in with my idea of maybe how Bren's story could go after Ryan's taken, though (well, it links in a significant number of years later). I'll have to type up the whole idea and see what you think :D :D :D

[guilt-lines.livejournal.com]

ugh. so goooooooooood.

want all of this fic so bad now (as if I didn't before lol)

<3

[alphabetatoast.livejournal.com]

His voice is flawless. "How do you want me, sir?" 10 parts fake submission, 5 parts seduction, tailored to perfection, not a hint of what he thinks of this scum.
OHMYGOD this just made me feel so much in one second I thought I was about to explode...

AND THEN YOU GO AND DO THIS:

He bows his head a little further, because there's no role he can't play, nothing he can't do. If -this man- came here to fuck the innocent boy buried in Ryan's heart, then Ryan will tear that out into the open and give it to the filth, because he doesn't need it anymore, doesn't need anything. This is what he is. This is what he is now. The tone of Ryan's voice is carefully measured--the tilt of his head, the spread of his legs as deliberate as ever, and he murmurs, quietly, 10 parts fake submission and 5 parts seduction and barely even a trace of defeat--"You can call me that if you like."

JUST IDEK. IDEFK....... 32GYWFBNVWHUEFNJEF8R2T7T4BE73W

SORRY, BRB, DYING OF AWESOME. AND HEARTBREAK. AND KEYSMASHES.

Just, that is such complete and utter genius, that Ryan thinks Brendon is just like all the others - that he's got absolutely nothing left to cling on to? Just, such perfection.

I'm gushing now so I'll stop. <3

[j-plash.livejournal.com]

Yeah. Ryyyyyyyan. Well, and Brendon, 'cause god what this would do to Brendon, but...Ryan. This whole scene and the few after have totally been invading my brain all day at work, lol :S Boyyyyyys. I so hope this fic turns out as awesome as we all want it to, lol XD

[alphabetatoast.livejournal.com]

OhMyGod, Brendon realising Ryan thinks he's just like all the others??? Being all like "How could you think that of me?? Do you really believe me capable of that or do you not know me at all??"
OHGOD. Actually crying now. :(

And then Ryan's all like "I don't know who you are anymore. I thought I did but you're here and you're like a stranger now. The boy I loved once is dead"

Just... 04HNE0KAD8YN3QE0NEW89BNEWNW

Potential for some major angst here. Good. Colin'll like that. :P