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sanguinecharm · 4 years

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“ does such a thing as the fatal flaw, that showy dark crack running down the middle of a life, exist outside literature ? i used to think it didn't. now i think it does. and i think that mine is this: a morbid longing for the picturesque at all costs. ”

—— the secret history , donna tartt

ooc introduction ;

hello hi there ! my name is shannon , i use she / they pronouns && i’m from the not-so-good old united kingdom : and this is my trademark morally questionable son of a bitch , florence villiers-whiteley ! the moment i saw a ‘ murdered their partner for money & for their true love ’ concept i was basically like * eminem voice * THIS LOOKS LIKE A JOB FOR ME so i hope you love her as much as i do.

aesthetics ;

getaway cars , lists with names underlined & the dazzling milieu of company she never dreamed of ; blood money counted into the bank and onto the dresser , the sound of it scarcely reminding her of what she has done . the co-existing dark and light academia ; shining eyes and a retained ambition to be what her teenage self pleaded she’d become , but knowing that innocence is lost . but there was no blood , so she is spared of being lady macbeth scrubbing her hands clean .

silk-kissed skin and the adoration of her true beloved ; a secret buried six feet under , but the ever-present knowledge regardless : it is only certain that three can keep a secret when two of them are dead , but oh . . . she still has love and a beating heart . some women are not made to be mothers , and some women are not made to be daughters : she was not made to be either . look like the innocent flower , but be the serpent under’t .

reputation by taylor swift. lay all your love on me && money, money, money by ABBA. the secret history by donna tartt. sharp objects by gillian flynn. anna karenina by leo tolstoy. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind ( 2004 ) dir. michael gondry. townie by mitski. sweet but psycho by ava max.

basics ;

NAME : Florence Cordelia Villiers-Whiteley

NAME MEANING : “blossoming” / “daughter of the sea god”

AGE : Forty ( born 21 March , 1980 — Elmerton , Florida )

GENDER : Female ( cisgender )

ORIENTATIONS : Bisexual && biromantic ( moderate preference for women )

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Engaged ( previously widowed )

CURRENT RESIDENCE : Elmerton , Florida

NATIONALITY : American-British

LANGUAGES SPOKEN : English && French && Italian && Russian && German

OCCUPATION : Boutique owner , fashion designer , mother

TIME IN ELMERTON : Forty years ( whole life. )

personality ;

florence villiers-whiteley is an idyllic picture of a woman. always has been.

even when she was struggling she’d never admitted it : it is often those with the most to hide that curate themselves like this , but those envious of their station rarely consider this. since she’s got her hands on her late husband’s fortune & connections — ah, the power of sympathy — and made a success of the boutique , she uses her comfort to do as she would be expected to : aid the community where needed , donate to charities her husband cared for , etcetera . . .

it’s frighteningly easy to hide behind a smiling face.

MBTI : ENTJ-A ( The Commander ) — 68% Extraverted && 62% Intuitive && 81% Thinking && 64% Judging && 74% Assertive .

ENNEAGRAM : Eight , with a Seven wing

ASTROLOGICAL PLACEMENTS : Aries sun && Gemini moon && Sagittarius rising

HOGWARTS HOUSE : Slytherin

MORAL ALIGNMENT : Neutral Evil

THEME SONG : Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA

LANGUAGE OF LOVE : Receiving Gifts

RELIGIOUS BELIEFS : Atheist

appearance ;

it’s often noted that she resembles her british father , who abandoned his homeland to be with his first wife : not florence’s mother , it must be noted. the whiteleys have a way of ending up in a handful of marriages , which is humorously put down to descent from one henry viii ( through a bastard line , albeit , but . . . )

FACECLAIM : Keira Knightley

HEIGHT : 5 ft 10 in

HAIR COLOUR : Brown

EYE COLOUR : Brown

COMPLEXION : Fair

FASHION : Highly variant.

familial ;

MOTHER : Brooklyn Whiteley née Davis

FATHER : Philip Whiteley

SIBLINGS : Francis Whiteley ( elder brother , 43 ) ; Diana Whiteley ( younger sister , 30 )

PAST PARTNERS : Roman Villiers ( m. 2002 , died 2014 )

CHILDREN : Georgiana Villiers-Whiteley ( age 7 )

reference ;

SUBPLOT #1 ( muse BB ) : What I Did For Love ( I would give my soul for someone to bring the other half of the secretive duo and make it the sapphic ship of my dreams. Or just my unconditional love and support , whichever one you want. )

SUBPLOT #2 ( muse AN ) : The Devils Wear Prada… And Occasional Chanel ( Florence has a fashion frenemy ; don’t step too far in insulting them , because that’s her prerogative. Britney Spears pun intended. )

#fortyhqs.intro #intro | florence villiers-whiteley.

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fancifulbutsensiblething · 4 years

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Adventures in Auditory Agony

So I recently made a playlist of absolutely horrible music to drive around to, and the image of Ronan and Blue terrorizing the others with it popped into my head and refused to leave until I wrote this entirely self-indulgent fic to go along with the playlist. It’s v silly and also my first foray into writing TRC content, but...here we are.

Post-TRK/Pre-Epilogue Bronan friendship and gangsey shenanigans, rated T, read on ao3

In the week following Gansey’s graduation, something strange happened.

He hadn’t wanted to leave for a week, not when he was going to be leaving Henrietta so soon anyway. He’d disliked the plan even more when Maura had insisted Blue couldn’t go with him, that if she was going on this road trip with him and Henry, the Fox Way ladies needed to take advantage of every moment they had with her. Gansey couldn’t begrudge Maura time with her daughter, just as he couldn’t blame his own mother for wanting him to spend a little time with the rest of the Gansey clan before he took off again.

So he acquiesced to his mother’s demand-phrased-as-a-polite-request that he would spend a few days at home, on the condition that he could bring Adam along. Adam was even less thrilled than Gansey at the prospect of leaving Henrietta, especially when he knew Ronan wouldn’t come with them, especially especially when he remembered the last time he’d visited D.C. But Gansey desperately wanted company, and with Henry visiting his mother, Adam was the only option left, and he knew it. Besides, at Gansey’s suggestion, they’d added a few extra days for visiting some of the colleges Adam was applying to.

(Neither of them mentioned that the idea of some quality time together—just the two of them—before they each went their separate ways for the foreseeable future was an appealing one. They both thought it.)

The plan was met with mixed feelings by every party involved, but it went off without a hitch, and four family dinners, three college visits, two breakdowns in the Pig, and one emotional late-night heart to heart later, the two boys had returned to Henrietta.

For a while, Gansey noticed nothing amiss.

The first night back was a game night. As usual, Blue somehow managed to beat everyone at Super Smash Bros. despite passing up actually learning how to play in favor of smashing buttons at random. As usual, Adam was alarmingly good at Monopoly. As usual, Ronan got bored before they could finish a round and insisted on playing Cards Against Humanity instead. As usual, Gansey was terrible at every game but nonetheless seemed to have the most fun.

The next day was spent split off in pairs. Gansey spent some time at 300 Fox Way, helping out around the house and good-naturedly tasting Maura’s experimental teas before Blue got fed up with Orla, who was not in the least deterred from her usual flirtatiousness by the official nature of their relationship, and dragged him out of the house to 1) go for a drive, 2) make out in the back seat of the Pig, and 3) explore a local farmer’s market. The rest of the day was spent at Monmouth Manufacturing, though Adam and Ronan were nowhere to be seen. Ronan had been spending more nights at St. Agnes than Monmouth, though, so Gansey wasn’t surprised. All went as usual.

It was on his second full day back that Gansey realized something had happened during his week away.

After a lazy morning, everyone was gathered once more at Monmouth Manufacturing to go for a trip to the Barns. Ronan had volunteered to drive the BMW.

Adam and Gansey followed the other two as they headed out of the apartment, watching amusedly at the scene unfolding. Blue had thrown herself sideways into Ronan, and despite her size, she’d managed to knock him off balance for a moment.

“Hey, asshole, cut it out,” he growled, mussing the colorfully clipped mess of her hair affectionately.

Blue huffed and attempted to shove his hand away. He redoubled his efforts. She ducked away, but he followed, and it quickly escalated into a chaotic tussle.

“‘M gonna shave it all off,” came Blue’s muffled voice from behind Ronan’s arm, “just to spite you.”

Adam laughed. The sound made Gansey grin.

“I’d shave it for you if you asked nicely.”

“No way. It’s a punishment, not a reward.” By this time she had freed herself and was grinning breathlessly back at him as she jogged up to the Beemer.

Then Blue climbed in shotgun.

Ronan was unfazed by this. He hopped into the driver’s seat, and Gansey saw rather than heard him answering her quip.

Gansey, however, was not unfazed. And neither was Adam, if the slight frown and amused quirk of his lips when he turned to meet Gansey’s eyes was any indication.

Gansey could only shrug and follow Adam into the back seat.

Blue rode shotgun in the Camaro more frequently than Ronan or Adam did these days, and on the rare occasion that any of them ended up in Adam’s piece of shit car, she had as fair a shot as either of the others. But if Ronan was driving, it had always been Gansey or, more recently, Adam in the front. It wasn’t that Blue and Ronan weren’t close—they were just about as close now as any of them, and it made Gansey’s heart feel like it was swelling up three times it’s regular size, like the Grinch’s in the old cartoon he and Helen used to watch every December. But Blue had never attempted riding shotgun in the Beemer if either of the others were along, and Ronan had never asked her to, and something about it felt significant when she casually swung herself into the front seat.

It was practiced, Gansey realized as he buckled his seatbelt. It was easy. What had Ronan and Blue gotten up to while he and Adam were away?

He didn’t have to wonder long.

Ronan wordlessly tossed Blue his phone, and she hooked it up to the aux that he’d dreamt to work in the BMW. This, too, was practiced and easy. Blue even knew his phone password.

Just as they screeched out of the parking lot, some kind of music that Gansey could only call aggressive blasted through the speakers. It wasn’t the murder squash song, which he appreciated, but it also wasn’t all that much better. It was all angry electric music and yelling and loud, so loud, but Blue and Ronan were both yelling the words and head-banging, which he had never seen from either of them. It was so strange, he had to glance over at Adam for confirmation that he wasn’t hallucinating. Adam stared back at him wide-eyed.

For a while they only watched in silence, and Gansey almost felt as though he were intruding on some kind of private ritual until Blue turned and began to teasingly sing some of the lyrics of the next song—a horrible, upbeat electronic sounding one—at him. From the few lyrics he could understand, it was about carrying out a relationship over the phone. It was more than a little pointed, and he found himself blushing at some of the more explicit lyrics.

Some of his discomfort evaporated when she laughed delightedly at him and returned to dancing in her seat, replaced by fascination.

Finally, Adam broke in, yelling to be heard over the music, “Can someone please explain what is going on?”

Ronan met his eyes in the rearview mirror and shouted back, “We’re going to the Barns, Parrish. Where have you been?”

“Or do you just mean like, the state of the world today?” Blue asked, turning to face him. “Because you will not believe what’s going on with climate change.”

“I mean the state of my good ear, which is on the verge of becoming my other bad ear. The hell are we listening to?”

Blue lowered the volume just enough that they could speak without having to shout, warding off Ronan’s dirty look with one of her own. “Our playlist. I wanted to name it “emo to the excreamo,” but Ronan kept insisting on names that were objectively terrible and we couldn’t compromise so now it’s a sad nameless little playlist.”

“For the record, ‘songs to commit crimes to’ is the perfect name.”

“It doesn’t make sense! I can’t commit ecoterrorism while blasting Britney Spears.”

“Not with that attitude you can’t. You probably shouldn’t even fucking bother with the ecoterrorism if you aren’t gonna blast Britney Spears while you do it.”

Gansey’s head was spinning. “There’s Britney Spears on this playlist?”

“Obviously,” Blue shot back over her shoulder. It did not seem obvious to Gansey given that the current song was some kind of angry electric rock and that the playlist had been made by Ronan Lynch and Blue Sargent, but then again, nothing else about their current situation had seemed obvious to him ten minutes ago, either.

“I can’t blast anything as bop-worthy as Britney Spears, or I’ll get caught and then I won’t be able to commit more ecoterrorism.” This Blue directed at Ronan. “You must be a terrible criminal.”

“Fine. ‘Songs to get murdered to’ works just as well.”

Blue punched him in the arm. “That’s insensitive! Gansey’s been murdered!”

Ronan barked out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah, by you and your kiss of death, Maggot.”

“For the record,” Gansey interjected, “Jane’s kiss of death was vastly preferable to the thousands of hornet stings.”

“What a compliment.” Adam raised an eyebrow and looked from Gansey to Blue.

Ronan snickered. “Congrats, Sargent. Kissing you is slightly better than getting stung to death.”

Blue’s reply was interrupted by the sound of “it’s Britney, bitch,” from the stereo, which sent her scrambling to set the volume to its previous ear-bleeding level.

They carried on like this for a while, Ronan pushing 20 over the speed limit and Blue scream-singing lyrics to songs that almost all had to do with sex, cars, or both. Gansey thought the one about a dreamer in a Beemer seemed a little on the nose, and sentiment Adam voiced moments later.

“I can’t help it if I’m someone’s muse,” came the reply. Blue snorted loudly, and Ronan reached over and pinched her on the exposed skin between the top of her knee socks and her ripped shorts. She slapped his hand and squirmed away.

At one point, Blue sang (if you could call it that, when it was really closer to talking or shouting but set to music) the intro to a song that began, “Hey you lil piss baby,” leaning across the center console to get in Ronan’s face, without missing a single word. In fact, Gansey realized, she knew at least some (if not most) of the words to all of these songs, and he wondered just how many times they’d listened to them together.

The fact that they had coordinated dance moves and established which of them sang specific parts when there were back and forth elements solidified for him that the answer was…many, many times.

This coordination was amusing for the most part. An amused smirk played across Adam’s lips as he watched their stupid dances, and Gansey was just ruminating on how happy and carefree both of them seemed, open in a way he rarely saw from either of them, when their performance jolted him out of his reverie.

Blue was moaning. Loudly.

It was part of the song, of course, the singer’s desire to — like rabbits, with a moan in place of an expletive, blaring over and over through the speakers. Ronan was singing along with the rest of the lyrics. Blue contributed the…interjectory sounds, and apparently took this role very seriously.

When her eyes, glinting mischievously, met his in the rearview mirror, he realized she was doing this on purpose. To mess with him. His mouth finally caught up to his brain, and he spluttered a scandalized, “Jane!”

She threw her head back and cackled gleefully. Ronan fist-bumped her. Gansey’s face felt hot.

“I think you’ve become a bad influence, Lynch,” Adam shouted, but he was failing to suppress his smile.

“If anything,” Ronan shot back, “Sargent’s been a bad influence on me. She’s the one that found most of these songs.”

Gansey wondered at that. He wondered all through the suggestive and outright explicit of the next song as well. He wondered at Blue’s ability to sing along without so much as a blush, all while he tried very hard not to think on any of the images his mind conjured up in response.

But of course, she was dauntless and outspoken in everything she did. He smiled at the mental image of her playing these songs for Ronan, ranting all the while about how women in media are sexualized for male gratification but expected to keep themselves modest and pure, the double-edged sword that is the masculine perception of female sexuality, and raging against the vilification of the women who wrote songs expressing that sexuality while men could objectify women in their song’s as much as they pleased. Gansey wished he could’ve been there for Ronan’s response.

None of that made the upbeat, electronic excuse for music any more aurally appealing, unfortunately.

One song ended with sudden bursts of horrid, metallic clashing sounds at a volume so painful that he, Adam, and even Blue covered their ears. She reached to lower the volume, but Ronan slapped her hand away.

“Come on, Ronan,” Gansey yelled, “this isn’t even music! It’s just…screeching!”

Ronan threw a wolfish grin at him over his shoulder. “I know. It sounds just like the Pig when she breaks down. Does it turn you on, Dick?”

Gansey let out a deep sigh, but before he could defend himself, the song had changed and Blue had let out a little excited yelp.

“I just remembered!” she gasped, grabbing for Ronan’s phone. “Henry gave me a song to play for you. You’re gonna love it.”

Ronan sneered. “I don’t trust Cheng’s taste in music.”

Blue only waved her hand dismissively and fiddled with his phone until a new song, not dissimilar in style to the rest, was playing. A few verses in, Adam began laughing, a full, joyous laugh rarely heard and positively contagious.

“It’s perfect for you, Ro,” he gasped out.

Ronan had to concede that a song about only answering the phone for your boyfriend’s personalized ringtone was rather fitting, even if Henry was the one to recommend it. He didn’t fight Blue when she added it to the playlist, and his threats following her announcement that she was making the song Adam’s ringtone were halfhearted at best.

Looking from Blue and Ronan’s bickering to Adam’s gasping laughter, Gansey tried to take in and file away every detail. He wanted to be able to look back on this moment when they were spread out across the country, to remind himself that the separation was only temporary. His chest felt like it was going to burst.

By the time they got to the Barns, it was his eardrums that felt like they were going to burst.

“Next time,” he groaned, stepping out of the car and into the Virginia summer heat, “I’m bringing ear plugs.”

#oof haven't written any fanfic in a long time #i'm out of practice and not used to these characters y'all #but this idea has been living in my head rent free for like...a week #caroline writes #bronan #the gangsey #the raven cycle #trc #trc fic

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camillemontespan · 5 years

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famous couples [a beaumont bash]

Had this in my drafts for ages, here you go, some light short Saturday fluff!

@jovialyouthmusic @sirbeepsalot @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @moonlightgem7 @pug-bitch @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @ibldw-main @emichelle @katedrakeohd @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @drakesensworld @gardeningourmet @star-spangled-eyes @mskaneko @msjr0119 @iplaydrake @notoriouscs @dcbbw @drakewalkerisreal

These gifs are relevant!!

************************************************************************************

'I am this close to breaking up with you.'

'Liar. You love this.'

'I really, really don't.'

Drake shuffled on his feet awkwardly, wishing he could look away from the mirror for five seconds but he couldn't. He was just staring at himself in horror.

Camille looked so pleased with herself. 'I am such a genius!'

Drake closed his eyes. 'This close, Camille..'

Camille giggled and twirled around. 'I feel so..'

'Cringe?' Drake interrupted. 'Embarrassed? Wondering if you should reconsider every one of your life choices?'

Camille gave him a wink and kissed him happily. She picked up her bag and grabbed his hand. 'Aaaah so excited!'

Drake chuckled. He had to laugh at her giddiness. She had been planning this for weeks and now her plans had come to fruition just perfectly for Maxwell's Beaumont Bash.

Drake was wearing a double denim outfit with a denim cowboy hat and asshole sunglasses. Camille was wearing a long patchwork denim dress, a blonde wig and rhinestone jewellery. It was tacky, it was embarrassing but it was iconic. Tonight for the Famous Couple's theme, they were... Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears at the VMAS.

**********************************************

'OH MY GOD!' Maxwell screamed when he saw them arrive at the Beaumont Manor. He was wearing the knight outfit Leonardo di Caprio wore in Romeo and Juliet. 'I love it! IT'S BRITNEY BITCH!'

Camille giggled and twirled before adopting an Southern voice: 'Y'all watching me?'

Drake groaned and Maxwell turned to stare at him,his eyes huge. 'Drake.. Oh my god, I've never been so happy!'

Drake closed his eyes. 'Lap it up, Max.'

'Jesus, Drake, what's Camille done to you?' Leo called, laughing as he and Olivia entered the Manor.

Olivia was wearing a dark wig and a floor length black dress with a thigh split. Around her thigh was a holster which carried a fake gun and hopefully a fake dagger. Leo was wearing a suit and sunglasses. 'Umm.. Matrix?' Maxwell guessed.

Olivia rolled her eyes and looked at Leo with distaste. 'I told you they wouldn't get it.'

Leo grinned. 'We're Mr and Mrs Smith!'

'As in Brad and Angelina?!', Camille squealed. 'I love that film! Still Team Aniston though.'

Olivia laughed dryly. 'Team Jolie actually.'

Camille pretended to be offended. 'We're having words later.'

Maxwell let out a scream when he saw Hana. 'My Juliet!'

Hana giggled and skipped into the room. She was dressed in a white dress with giant white angel wings, like Claire Danes. She twirled and Maxwell picked her up in his arms, giving her a kiss. 'You look beautiful! Angelic! I will worship you all evening!'

He put Hana down and she clapped a hand over her mouth when she saw Drake. 'Oh my god! I know who you are! You're Justin and Britney at the VMAS!'

Drake groaned. 'Hana, you lived such a sheltered upbringing, how the hell do you know about this costume?'

'Because it was iconic!' she shrieked, jumping up and down. Camille joined in, clapping her hands, so excited she was that even Hana Lee knew who they were supposed to be.

She whipped around to Drake. 'See?! Iconic!'

'I need alcohol..' He replied dryly, sloping off to find the bar.

'Hey Drake!' Maxwell called.

Drake turned. 'What?'

'What month is it?' Maxwell asked.

Drake frowned. 'May?'

Maxwell then adopted a strange voice and sang 'It's gonna be MAAAAAY!'

Drake rolled his eyes. Of course, Maxwell was singing 'It's Gonna Be Me' by N*SYNC. Of course, Drake was dressed as the one guy in the universe, who for some reason, couldn't say the word 'me' properly without making it sound like he was getting his balls squeezed.

Camille looked put out. 'Guys, he looks amazing!'

Drake found the bar and ordered a whiskey.

'Drake, how are you?' a voice asked. Drake turned to see Bertrand was standing beside him. He was dressed like Hugh Jackman from The Greatest Showman.

'Hey Bertrand. You're not in couples costume?'

'Maxwell had already paired up with Hana,' Bertrand explained. 'Besides, I am the leader of this Bash, the conductor if you will, the showman of this event -'

'Yup, I get it,' Drake sighed.

Bertrand frowned. 'Who are you supposed to be?'

Drake felt a wide smile tug on his lips. Throwing his arms around a bewildered Bertrand, he cried, 'Oh Bertrand, thank you! I'm staying with you all night!'

**********************************************

Kiara and Penelope turned up as Thelma and Louise, going to great pains to carry a cardboard cut out of Brad Pitt's character from the film.

'Who are you supposed to be?' Hana asked.

'Thelma and Louise!' Penelope told her. 'A tale of two bad ass best friends. Who needs men when you have each other?'

Olivia dry heaved.

'I've never heard of it..' Hana mumbled. Drake stared at her with his eyes looking like they could shoot fire.

'Hana, how have you heard of Britney and Justin at the VMAS but you haven't heard of fucking Thelma and Louise?!'

Hana was about to respond when she was interrupted by Liam rushing inside, apologising profusely for being late.

'Sorry I'm late, very unkingly behaviour!' he said, giving Maxwell and Bertrand hugs. 'But my outfit took forever!'

They were all staring at him in horror. 'Liam.. What are you dressed as? And why have you got those mannequins?' Camille asked.

Liam grinned. He arranged the six female mannequins who were dressed in medieval garb and let out a laugh. 'Well, I don't have a wife or a girlfriend to dress up with but I wanted to stay on theme so.. Introducing..'

He pointed at each mannequin as he spoke. ‘Catherine of Aragon, Anne Boleyn, Jane Seymour, Anne of Cleeves, Catherine Howard and Catherine Parr!’

‘Oh god..’ Drake whispered.

‘And I..’ Liam said grandly, before sweeping into a bow. He was wearing a medieval outfit too with a fancy hat and sword by his side.

‘I am King Henry VIII!’

#trr fanfic #one shot #trr

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louisinmadrid · 6 years

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you could just list them? and maybe bold your favorites? if you want xx

30STM (sucks sucks sucks)

Against the Current (x2)

Anne Marie (MY LOVE MY DARLING MY RAY OF SUNSHINE CANT WAIT TO SEEHER NEXT YEAR AGAIN)

Arran George

Bagarre (sucks)

Bastille

Beats in Black

Bigflo & Oli

BORNS

Britney Spears (so much dancinggg)

Bruno Mars

Calum Scott

Catfish and Bottlemen

Christine and the Queens

CLOVES

Cœur de Pirate (ilysm)

Daniel Docherty

David Guetta

Demi Lovato

Depeche Mode

DJ Snake (suckssss)

Dua Lipa (THAT VOICE THAT ENERGY also “fuck, i’m one sweatybitch”, yes it was almost 40°C)

EBEN

Ed Sheeran (i cri e d)

Eddy de Pretto

Ego Kill Talent

Ella Eyre

Evanescence

Fall Out Boy

Fred Page

Halsey (i’ve been following her for years and watching her now… i’mso proud)

Harry Styles (proud doesn’t even BEGIN to cover it)

Henri PFR

Her

Hozier

Imagine Dragons (DAN I LOVE YOU AND EVERYTHING YOU STAND FOR)

Imany

Iron Maiden

Jain

James Bay

Jamie Lawson

Jess Glynne

Julia Michaels

Juliette Armanet

K.Flay

Kaleo

Kamelot

King Princess (so so so gay)

Kodaline

L.E.J.

Leave’s Eyes

Mabel

Maren Morris

Marina Kaye

mewithoutyou

Mostly Autumn

Naé

Niall Horan (i screamed so loud god how amazing, and lord did I crymore than ever)

Nickelback (but i left early sodoesnt really count)

Nightwish (my fav band!)

Nothing but Thieves

Oscar and the Wolf

Paramore (EPIC EPIC EPIC)

Parov Stelar

Passenger

Paul Kalkbrenner

Pitbull

Portugal the Man

PVMNTS

Rag’n’Bone Man

RAYE (x2)

Rilès

Rita Ora

Shaded

Shaka Ponk

Steph Grace

Suzanne

The Chainsmokers

The Faim

The Killers (x2) (i lost it, thats it, thats all there is to say)

The Script

Tom Walker

Visions of Atlantis

Why Don’t We

Wild Youth

Within Temptation (my other fav band. i sobbed my way through Forgiven….Hits way too close to home)

Years & Years (happiness!!! gaysss!!! positivity!!! )

Zara Larsson

And i’m sad ‘cause Lady Gaga cancelled and I was abroad forShakira though I had tickets for both ☹

#gaelle parle #music #that took forever damn #Anonymous

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sorenserotonin · 7 years

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Momentary Losers

AO3 Link

chapter 2 chapter 3

Summary: Richie and his bandmates get back from a tour to meet Stan's boyfriend Bill, and Bill's small and anxious best friend Eddie. From the moment they met, Richie was infatuated, but he was sure Eddie hated his guts. How could he not? Richie was everything Eddie wasn't. Little did Richie know, everyone has a little bit of a "Total Disaster" in them.

Ships: Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak, Stanley Uris/Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh/Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon/Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris/Mike Hanlon (eventually)

The crowd was loud as fuck. Richie, Bev, and Mike had finally made it to the last show on their tour. It was in Hollywood, in an arena about an hour from Richie and Stan’s house. The Staples Center was packed, Stan in the front row. He had brought his boyfriend Bill, and Bill’s best friend. Ben had joined them, happily cheering on his friends and his girlfriend.

“I wrote this song a long time ago for my best friend Stan,” Richie looked Stan in the eyes and winked. “He brought his boyfriend here so I just wanna warn him with this song.”

Bev chuckled and leaned into her microphone. “I think Stan’s personality is rather obvious, Rich.”

Mike laughed and they started playing. Richie was happy to play this song in front of his best friend again. He hadn’t been able to sing this song to Stan in months. He performed this song at every show, always reminding everyone that it was about Stan. The best part of this was that Stan was singing along, taking joy in the fact that this song was about him.

You're a bitch but,

I love you anyway

OH OH You can't sing But,

You still put me to sleep Baby,

You're a bitch

Hey Hey Hey Hey

You make me sick But,

Don't ever go away

The show ended, and the crowd filed out as the band sat backstage. Richie put his guitar in it’s case, and he put Bev’s bass in it’s case for her. Bev handed Richie a cigarette, sitting on a pristine couch in the green room. Richie sat next to her and lit both their cigarettes. Mike was pouring glasses of champagne. He handed a glass to each of them. “To another great year!” he toasted.

“Cheers,” Bev and Richie said in unison as the three of them clinked their glasses together.

They had been in this band since they were just losers in high school. Henry Bowers called them all different slurs, and they went back to Richie’s garage and let out their anger on the instruments. Richie would sing dirty parodies of popular songs while thrashing on his electric guitar, while Mike banged on the drums and Bev played the bass. Stan would listen to them play while he did his homework.

After a while, they started making their own music. The first song Richie wrote was dirty jokes about fucking someone’s sister, set to hard rock music. They were angry teens and Richie wasn’t one for serious music. Richie’s mind loved to remind him of his first song, how it included the line “your bitch, she’s bouncing on my dick,” and how he was only 15 when he wrote that.

It was 10 years later and they were an official band. They had been since they got a record deal on Richie’s 18th birthday. From that day one, they were The Momentary Losers. Stan was always their biggest fan, always by their side ever since they were just a garage band in Derry with no name. Now they were the biggest rock band in America, living in Hollywood.

Richie was taken out of his thoughts when Stan, Ben, and their new friends entered the room. Stan was holding a skinny man’s hand. This must be Bill, a skinny man in ripped jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He was cute and well put together. There was a shorter brunette man wearing a pink polo shirt and short overalls, with a fannypack. Richie smiled at how adorable this stranger was.

Ben sat next to Bev on the couch. He gave her a kiss, and whispered a soft congratulations. Richie smiled at the sight of his friends getting reunited. Richie stood up and looked at Stan. Stan let go of Bill’s hand and gave Richie a tight hug. Richie smiled, lifting Stan as he hugged him. “Missed you Stanthony.”

Stan laughed as Richie let go of him. “God, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss your trashmouth.”

Richie smiled and drank his champagne. “So, wanna introduce me to the nice piece of ass?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Richie, this is Bill-”

"I meant the tiny one,” Richie teased. The shorter man blushed, and looked at Bill, his jaw dropping. “I could tell which one was Bill considering you were all up on him during the show.”

Stan’s cheeks went pink. He cleared his throat. “This is Eddie, he’s Bill’s friend. He had never heard of you guys so Bill insisted on bringing him.”

“Nice to meet you Eds, I’m Richie Tozier,” Richie pointed to himself as he spoke to the shorter man. He pointed to Bev, “this lovely lady is miss Beverly Marsh,” and then he pointed to Mike. “Last but certainly not least, this handsome angel here is Mike Hanlon.”

Eddie have him a tight smile. “Don’t call me Eds. It’s nice to meet all of you. You’re very talented.”

Richie gave Stan a look. Something in the way Eddie said that seemed like he didn’t want to be there. Richie took a drag from his cigarette and put it out by dropping it in his champagne. He wasn’t a fan of alcohol, only drinking it at the end of a tour. Richie noticed Eddie cringed as Richie blew out the smoke. He placed his glass on a table and turned to his bandmates. “We gotta get our shit cleared off the stage before someone blows a gasket. Bev, you can finish your cigarette, Mike let’s go.”

Mike downed his champagne, hugged Stan, and followed Richie back to the stage. Richie was humming as they worked together to take apart Mike’s drums. Mike started nodding his head along to Richie’s now mumbled singing. It was a routine, every time they finished a show Richie would suggest getting their stuff off stage and then he would cause a big distraction. They stopped what they were doing and before they knew it, they were doing an a capella duet.

Richie had a big smile on his face, grabbing the still plugged in and turned on microphone. He was doing his best Britney Spears impression and singing Baby One More Time. Mike was dancing and singing along. Richie took off his hat and threw it to Mike. Mike caught it and put it on his head. As Richie spun on his heel, Mike stopped singing.

Richie’s face fell and he looked at Mike. The others had finally gotten to the stage. Stan was frowning, used to these antics. Bev was recording them on her phone. Richie was sure this was going to end up online. “Having fun, Rich?” Bill teased.

Richie shrugged. “You interrupted our ritual to summon the princess of pop. Kinda hoping she’d hook us up with Satan,” he smiled, noticing Eddie’s face was pink. He was grabbing onto Bill’s arm. He was visibly nervous.

“Britney is an angel, if you want Satan you should try summoning Katy Perry,” Bev laughed.

Richie made a sound of disgust. “How dare you suggest I talk to that monster.”

“Y’know I met her once,” Mike interrupted, his voice soft. “Snakes started to physically manifest in my house.”

Richie let out a bark of laughter, and they continued what they had started. They took apart Mike’s drum set, putting it in the large case. They got everything that was theirs and packed them in the tour bus. Their driver would take care of getting the drums back to the studio. Mike had his own drum set at his house.

“So,” Richie put his arm around Bill. “Big Bill, you’re rather quiet. Sure Stan appreciates that, but how am I supposed to get to know you?”

“Y-y-you’re doing most of th-the talking for me,” Bill smiled.

Richie raised an eyebrow at the comment. “Oh lookie here, Big Bill get off a good one. Stan, you sure know how to pick ‘em,” he winked. “So, what do you do?”

That question was the best question Richie could have asked him. Bill started explaining that he’s a horror author, and that one of his books is being made into a movie. When Bill said the title of the book, Ben’s face lit up. “I love that book!” he said. Mike said that he had read all of Bill’s books. So that was why Richie thought the title was familiar. Mike and Ben always read the same books, and would discuss them.

While they were on tour, Richie would lay on a chair in the bus, hanging upside down and Mike would read to him. Richie would stop him to make jokes and commentary. Bev was always video chatting with Ben during the reading sessions. Mike would do little voices for each character, per Richie’s request. Richie cherished those moments, Mike smiling and giving him attention, Bev flirting with Ben saying how much she missed him. He always recorded ten seconds worth of those moments and sent them to Stan. Stan would reply with a heart emoji.

Now they were talking in person, and they had new people. They were in the bus, Stan having said that they got there in an Uber. Once they got out of the arena, Eddie was less uncomfortable, but he wasn’t comfortable. Richie couldn’t help but notice the fact that Eddie looked disgusted. He looked disgusted in the arena and he looked disgusted on the bus.

Bev handed Richie another cigarette. He placed it behind his ear and sat on the floor between Stan’s legs. Stan was sitting on the couch next to Bill. Ben sat on Stan’s other side, Bev sitting on his lap. Mike sat on a chair near the table, Eddie sitting across from him. Mike put his feet up on one of the empty chairs. Richie bit his thumb nail, and spit out the piece onto the floor. Eddie cringed. “So, Eds, tell me about yourself.”

Ben, Bev, Stan, and Bill were having their own conversation. Mike was on some social media on his phone. Eddie was just staring at everyone, mostly Richie. When Richie called him that nickname, Eddie rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that,” he sighed. Richie smiled. “I uh I don’t really know what to say? Aside from the fact that I have no idea what the last time this bus has been cleaned.”

Richie scoffed. “Okay,” he didn’t even know when the bus was last cleaned, but he didn’t really care. “What do you like… do? Besides being adorable?”

Eddie’s cheeks dusted pink. “I’m an Uber driver, but that’s just to pass the time.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Pass the time? Do you like not need a job? Sweet I’m getting there.”

Stan gently pat Richie’s head. Richie looked at him and smiled. He then looked at Eddie again. “Getting there? Rich you once smoked a joint with a hundred dollar bill as the paper,” Mike laughed.

Richie laughed, clapping at the comment. “Fuck you’re right I forgot about that. Benjamin Franklin would be proud. The dude was a mad party animal.”

Eddie looked shocked at that information. “It’s illegal to destroy U.S. currency.”

Bev giggled. “That is not the worst thing Richie has ever done.”

“God I’ll probably do even more stuff,” Richie sighed, a wide smile on his face.

“Where are we going?” Eddie asked.

Richie took the cigarette from behind his ear and placed it between his lips. “We’re going to mine and Richie’s place. I hope that’s okay with you, Eddie,” Stan replied. His voice was soft and comforting. “You’ve been there before.”

Richie gave Stan a confused look. “You brought them to our house?”

“Bill has spent several nights in my bed, Richie,” Stan replied, dryly. Bill blushed furiously.

Richie wiggled his eyebrows. “Wow hope he bought you dinner first,” he teased. He noticed a blush forming on Stan’s cheeks and he turned to Bev. “Bevvie Wevvie, Stan the Man is a thot.”

Stan slapped him. “If anyone’s a thot, it’s you.”

Richie shrugged. Stan wasn’t wrong, he had gotten around. He turned his attention back to the smallest man on the bus. “Eddie spaghetti, I hope they didn’t subject you to them getting nasty in the hot tub.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Trust me, if they had I wouldn’t want to come back.”

Richie didn’t know why he bit his lip at the thought of Eddie wanting to be at his house. Eddie wanting to be near him. He blamed the lip bite on just peeling the dead skin off his lip. Richie wasn’t the type to wear chapstick, just biting off the dead skin. He noticed Eddie furrow his brow at the sight of Richie swallowing the dead skin. That was how Richie realized Eddie was watching his every move.

Eddie looked nervous, now glancing at Bill. When they arrived at a homy mansion. The driver flipped Richie off, and hugged Bev and Mike. Richie laughed, telling the driver he loved him, to which the driver replied “yeah, yeah, Rich.”

The driver assured Mike that he would have the bus at the studio that night. Mike thanked him, and the other five other men, and one lady, left the bus. Richie insisted that he had to be the first inside. He said that the house missed him, and that he missed it as well.

He opened the front door, opening his arms wide as he waltzed into the large house. He took a deep breath, smelling the familiar scents of Stan’s cleaning supplies. He put his hands on his hips and turned to the other six adults. He gave them all a wicked grin. “Who’s ready to party Trashmouth Tozier style?”

Tag list: @lousytrashmouth @eggo-wheeler @presumptuousofyou

Ask to be added to the tag list! This is gonna be a slow burn!

#momentary losers #it #it 2017 #band au #reddie #stenbrough #benverly #richie tozier #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #stan uris #stanley uris #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #my fic

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