#where the fanciest thing about it is the lilac lining

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Month 12, day 9

Back to cloaks! Thank goodness I have a bajillion WIPs, my brain did not want to work on shading tonight, it wanted to draw something XD

In canon the different "evolutions" of the cloaks are basically the same thing just with more embellishments/accessories, so I'm redesigning the second "stage" of Echt to actually line up with that concept. That means pauldrons! Why? Because I like pauldrons ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[onceuponadetectivedemigod]

House Of The Rising Sun

Part One

Pairing: Female Reader x Ben Hardy

Warnings: language, references to sex but no actual smut, alcohol, guns

Summary: New Orleans, 1923. There is a House, who covers as a Mythology Museum however it’s is actually housing the most dangerous mob around. Ben, an English businessman, comes seeking a new life in The United States. Gwylim, sneaks in alcohol into the states, specifically to The House’s Speakeasy, during prohibition. While Roger, Brian, and Lucy, from a sister mob in the UK come to help out Rami, Joe, and The House. Meanwhile Y/N runs away from home to become a flapper and when all their paths cross Ben, and Y/N get mixed up in the wrongs stuff at the wrong time.

Chapter Summary: Ben gets to New Orleans and meets a beautiful young flapper. 

Word Count: 2,812

AN: So I was listening to House of The Rising Sun by The Animals AND I HAD A VISION SO HERE YOU GO! Lmk if you like it, if you hate it, ect. Also  I HAVE A WHOLE DAMN PLAYLIST FOR BEN HARDY to which you can find here: Ben’s Playlist New songs are added regularly! Also I am not trying to “cross-tag” in this. I am typically guilty of it, but with this particular story, I would like people other than ben stans to read it because I quite proud of it and it will have more of everyone in it later.

Today I woke up to the soft playing of jazz from across the street. I was living with with these two boys I met when I got here. Joe and Rami. They told me I could stay as long as I wished. They won’t tell me what their job is but I know they work together. They constantly invite me to parties and cool speakeasies, maybe they smuggle alcohol. I’m not sure, but they always avoid talking about it. I got out of bed and looked out the window, towards the beautiful music. I opened the window and let in the perfectly  cool breeze. I let the music fill the house as I walked downstairs. “Hey boys!” “Morning, Y/N/N! You doing good today?” Joe asked. “Well I woke up to a nice breeze and some smooth, seductive jazz.” “Seductive?” Rami asked, as he walked in. “Joe is not seductive.” His response made me giggle. “Not Joe, THE JAZZ!” I laughed. Joe was born and raised in California and moved down here a few years ago. Rami���s parents were Egyptian and he was a first generation American. His parents moved down here seeking a new life. “Makes sense. What you up to today?” Rami said. “Oh I don’t know.” I responded. “Maybe catch a parade. I love that I came just in time for Mardi Gras!” “Well if you want, the speakeasy is open tonight. The code is ‘God save the Queen.’” Joe told me. “I will probably make an appearance. How do you get all the codes?” I asked him. “You gotta know the right people, which I do, and you do. So don’t worry about it. See you there tonight.” He responded. “See you boys tonight!” I giggled as you kissed them both on the cheek and ran back upstairs to my room. I am thankful you found these two. I met them on the trolley. They saw my small suitcase and asked if I needed a place to stay. They had an extra room available and were willing to let me stay. We have grown quite close since I moved here a month ago. I walked towards the closet and put on my favorite dress! It was black with gold beading, and it came up above my ankles. I love wearing short dresses; all the old rich men look at me funny. It makes me feel happy when I throw everyone’s sense of order right into hell. Once I was done I grabbed my purse and hat and marched down the stairs. “Bye boys!” I shouted as I started out the door. I heard them both say bye back and made my way down to Café Du Monde, for the best beignets in town. I was almost there and the line was fairly short. I took another few steps, closed my eyes, and breathed in that soft smell of powdered sugar and the misty water. Suddenly a man with a brief case ran into me. “Oh! Miss, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you!” He spoke with an unfamiliar accent. We both scrambled to the ground to pick up his stuff. He smelled like cigars and cinnamon. He had short blonde hair and his eyes were greener than an evergreen. “Hey, it’s all right! I’m Y/N. If you don’t mind me askin’ where are you from? I haven’t heard nobody with an accent like that.” I asked him, as I handed him the spilled contents. “Ben. I uh, am from England. I just moved to the U.S. a few weeks ago. Been trying to make my way down here from New York. Trying to start a new life.” He said, putting everything back in the brief case. “Well, Ben, You came awfully long way. But you definitely came to the right place! This town right here is perfect for running away to a new life.” I told him. “That’s what I like to hear. I guess, I will maybe see you around, Miss Y/N.” He told me. “Yeah, Maybe See you around Mister, Ben.” I said back. We both walked our separate ways as I went and got in line. After I ate, I just went on my daily walk through the city. Everything seemed just as usual. Then I saw that Ben boy getting thrown out of a building by two larger gentleman. I ran over to him. “Hey, you okay?” I asked helping him, once again collect his things. “Yeah. Fine. We can’t keep doing this. You always helping me pick up my things.” He smiled at me. “It really is no problem. What happened in there?” I asked him. “I guess I’m to progressive for that lot. I was interviewing for a jo-“ He looked up, and stopped, and pulled me into the alley beside the building. He put his hand over my mouth as he noticed I was about to scream. I was trying to get him off of me when he whispered “Please don’t scream! I swear I’m not gonna hurt you! Please, I can explain if you are quiet!” I stopped fighting against him, but kept my guard up. He moved his hand off my mouth. “Those are three around the corner are apart of the most dangerous mob in London. If you even look at them funny they will shoot you! So please just be careful. I don’t know you all that well but I don’t want anything to happen to you either.” He spoke. I nodded and looked around the corner, extremely carefully. I noticed two older gentleman and a very pretty, younger, blonde woman. All three were dressed nicely and the woman looked as if she would only wear the fanciest of perfumes. I turned back and looked at him. “Them? They look like they wouldn’t even harm a fly. She looks way too nice and way too high class to be in a mob.” I told him. “They steal all of their money. They kill while doing it. Please just believe me, Y/N.”   He looked at me. His face has pure fear written all over it. “Why are you so afraid of them? If you leave them alone, you won’t have a problem.” I told him. He looked down and blushed. “Were you involved with them? Oh MY GOD YOU WERE!” “SH! Keep your voice down! They can’t know I’m here. It’s not that I was apart of the mob, I wasn’t. But I know one of the older men, Roger. I didn’t know he was in the mob. I was just trying to get a job and he told me, he would pay me to drive him around. So I got a job as his driver. Eventually I found out too much, I found out that he not only was in, but was in charge of the mob. When he asked if it was a problem, I told him yes and quit. I heard he had been looking for me but I never knew he would go to this length to try and find me.” As he explained, my sympathy for him grew. These three were coming to make sure he didn’t tell anyone of their shenanigans. “Okay... so are we just supposed to hide in this alleyway?” I asked. I was too late. The three of them rounded the corner. “Well. Well. Well. There is my boy, Ben! Who do we have here? A new girlfriend, Benny? You know I didn’t know you’d be in town. Quite surprised, actually. But while we are in town, maybe we can kill to birds with one stone eh?” The one I presumed was Roger spoke. He wore a red velvet suit. He also smelled like cigars but also like pine and lilac. He had gorgeous blue eyes. Dangerous blue eyes. His hair was gray and he had a very high but raspy voice. The other man had thick, curly, silver hair. He was a bit taller. He was in a Purple velvet suit. He seemed a lot softer. He looked almost concerned at your fear. And the woman, she had short blonde hair, but she was stunning. She was dressed in a nice long black dress with spaghetti straps. A little showy for most of the country’s taste, but I thought it was beautiful. “I asked your name sweetheart!” Roger shouted at me, pulling me from my trans-like state. “Y/N.” “No last name?” The girl spoke. Her actual voice was very soft but her tone was so harsh that it was scarier than Roger’s. “I don’t like it much. Too many family ties.” I said without going into detail. “Look Roger. She has nothing to do with any of this. You want me.” Ben spoke. “You think I honestly care what happens to her? I don’t. But since you nobly step forward it means you must care.” He looked at Ben then focused his attention on the girl. “Lucy make sure she comes with us.” “Yes, sir.” “Roger! I swear to God that I won’t tell anyone, please! Don’t do this!” Ben pleaded. My heart started beating faster and faster. Was I about to die? What was going to happen next? “That’s enough! We are taking both of you. We will decide what to do with you after that.” Roger shouted. “Roger, while I do think we need to take care of him, he said he wouldn’t tell. She has nothing to do with th-“ the taller one spoke. “Brian! We can’t talk big and not be able to follow through with action! We will discuss it after the meeting. Get the car.” Roger looked at him. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some servant! I am your equal Rog! We run this together.” Brian whispered harshly. “But I will get the car, only because you lost THE FUCKING DRIVER!” He turned around and in 45 seconds drove a nice black car towards the alley way. Roger walked around to the passenger side and got in. “Get In or I will shoot you.” Lucy said very plainly. I did as she said and Ben followed. What kind of shit did this kid get himself into? We pulled into an empty lot somewhere I wasn’t familiar with. We sat there for hours. Roger, Lucy, and Brian stepped out of the car. At this point it was dark outside. No one had really said much, surely not me and Ben. But once they stepped outside of the car, I had my with him. “WHAT KIND OF SHIT HAVE YOU GOTTEN US INTO?! WE ARE BOTH GOING TO DIE! I REALLY DO NOT WANT TO DIE! I LITERALLY JUST MET YOU TODAY!" I whisper-shouted at him. "THIS WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! THEY WEREN'T SUPPOS-" he started but was cut off when everyone got back into the car. Roger hopped into the driver side this time. Our next stop was a random boat launch. It looked abandoned but, it was night time so it was not going to be busy. I looked around out the window. All three of the monsters stepped outside again. It was quiet for a minute then I heard a muffled voice that I didn’t quite recognize. It felt as if they were putting something in the trunk of the car. Suddenly the door opened. “If you want to live, sit in his lap.” Roger spoke to me as he pointed a gun at my face. I did as he told and sat in Ben’s lap. Then a new man got into the car and Lucy followed. Roger got back in the drivers seat and Brian back in the passenger. The ride was a bit bumpy sitting on Ben’s lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist to steady me. The ride was short and we pulled up to the club that I frequent. This was the speakeasy that Rami and Joe got me into. The music was blaring so loud it was hard to understand why the cops haven’t busted the place. Roger opened our door, pointing the gun back at us. He motioned for us to hop out. We did as told in fear of what would happen if we didn’t obey. They walked up to the door and knocked the secret knock. A slit in the middle of the door opened up and I saw Allen. Allen was an Irishman who came here. He worked as the doorman for the club. Allen cleared his throat. “Who is it?” Allen asked. “Allen, open the goddamn door.” Roger whisper yelled at him. “No can do sir. You know the rules. Give me the code and you enter.” Allen was always a good doorman for the club. “He didn’t give me the fucking code. You know us!” Brian said. “GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!” I shouted in fear of my life. I just wanted to be somewhere I was familiar with. “Y/N! Is that you?” Allen asked opening the door. “Look Allen, let us in please! I really don’t want to die tonight.” He opened the door all the way, ushering us all in. “He is upstairs waiting for you all.” Allen said to Roger and Brian. Roger pointed his gun at us and then at the stairs directly in front of us. “Go!” He said. We started up the stairs. It was much quieter up here. You could definitely still hear the music but not as loudly as before. Lucy grabbed some rope that was hidden in her garter under her dress and tied our hands to the door handles across from the room they were about to enter. “Stay put, or I kill you both.” She smiled following the other three men as the entered the room and locked the door behind them. “How did you know the code?” Ben looked at me. “I frequent. I have friends who I think work here or something. I’m not entirely sure what they do, but they always give me the right code. Who was the other man?” “He smuggles alcohol into the states. Specifically for this club. It’s run by a sister gang of Roger’s. They call themselves The House. The leader is an old friend of Roger’s and Brian’s. It’s funny that you know the code and don’t even know the background of it.” He laughed. “What do you mean?” I inquired. “Queen. That’s the name of their gang. God save the Queen. This meeting has been planned. They probably didn’t tell them what the code would be because they thought they would guess it.” Ben laughed. “I don’t understand what’s funny.” “Oh. Just that I’ve run this far and now I’m gonna die here tonight.” He laughed more. “To think I could actually be safe.” “Ben, if you knew the sister gang was here in New Orleans, WHY WOULD YOU COME HERE?!” I whisper yelled at him. “I was mislead. I thought they were in New York. I can see now I was gravely mistaken.” “Y/N?” I snapped my head towards the stairs. “RAMI? JOE? MY GOD ARE YOU GUYS IN TROUBLE TOO?” “Y/N who did you get in trouble with?” Rami asked me, looking fearful. The door to the meeting room opened. This other man walked out. My guess is the other mob boss. He was holding a gun and he pointed it at me. “WAIT! Sir! We know her! She is not going to tell anyone!” Joe spoke up. “If anything sir, she needs a job! We can recruit her! Please don’t kill her.” Rami spoke up. “RECRUIT ME?! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!” I looked at them and back at the gun pointed at my face. Ben bursted into a laughing fit. “WHAT?!” I snapped my head towards him. “Y/N, your friends here are involved with the house.” He laughed shaking his head. “She needs a job? Alright. Untie them. Bring them in.” The other older man spoke. He had a unique British accent. He motioned for us to enter the room. We were standing in a dark lit room with the other man sitting in front of us behind a desk, with Brian and Roger on either side of him. Lucy guarded the door. The Alcohol Smuggler stood by the window, minding his own business. Rami and Joe stood behind Ben and I, who were seated. “Benjamin right?” The mob boss asked. “Just Ben.” He answered simply, looking completely unafraid. “Your name, sweetheart?” “Y/N.” I answered, fear making my voice shake. “Okay. Ben. Y/N. I willing to spare your lives, if you join us. We have a war coming. I need all the soldiers I can get. You either say you are in or you die. By the way my name is John. You’ve met the others. So what do you say?”

Taglist: @bitemerog @sevenseasofrog

[angrylizardjacket]

Holding Court In A Crown {Roger Taylor}

Sequel to And All The Queen’s Men {Roger Taylor}

A/N: 3630 words. Giselle is fun to write and I love her. Another article style, based off of many conversations between @ginghampearlsnsweettea and I. Let me know what you think.

[And All The Queen’s Men ‘verse masterpost]

HOLDING COURT IN A CROWN - GISELLE TAYLOR in conversation with Vogue UK about her fashion evolution through the decades. (Published June, 1991)

When stepping into the Taylor home, it becomes immediately apparent that this is a home in which public image has always been very important. Gold and Platinum albums alike line the front foyer, shining reminders of the achievements of both artists who reside here. It’s surprisingly modern, hardwood floors and large windows that allow light to stream in, though the house itself is smaller than one might expect. Giselle herself greets me in the front hall, looking carefully casual in a flattering, warm yellow summer dress, that hits just above her knees, and a pair of matching yellow slip on shoes.

I’m lead through the house, past closed doors, one of which I’m told is a personal recording studio, into a open-planned kitchen-dining area. It’s a strange marriage of two aesthetics, no pun intended, the German-inspired open planned living with the dark counters, appliances, and features that make the space feel a little smaller, though it comes together to make something modern and chic, and perfectly suited to both Giselle and her husband’s images.

“Roger’s with the girls,” she tells me, referring to her daughters, pouring us both a glass of water in some of the fanciest crystal glasses I’ve ever seen, “not that he wouldn’t jump at the chance to talk about his “fashion choices”,” her air quotes, not mine, “but I thought I’d spare you the half hour argument about the wine stain, and all the other, sundry fashion choices of mine that he likes to take credit for.”

Giselle herself admits that she’s always been very fortunate in terms of fashion, “I mean, I look good in everything,” though there’s an air of self deprecation about it, “Actually, I’ve had a certain liberty with my work attire that not a lot of people have, unless you’re in the entertainment industry.” What began with a rented cocktail dress bloomed into one of the most influential fashion timelines of the 70s and 80s.

Beginning her career in an establishment modeled after American prohibition-era speakeasies, Giselle started off wearing cocktail dresses rented from the pub itself. “I actually did start off as a waitress, but for that you just had to provide your own black pants and white top, you know, wait-staff attire.” When the pub’s regular singer leaves, Giselle auditions to be her replacement, “they were just grateful I could fit into her dress, I could lipsync for all they cared.” Except, as well all know, Giselle can sing, and begun to make a name for herself in the community that frequented the pub.

Pulling out a polaroid of herself and music industry giant Ray Forrester, she shows me the only proof she has of the dress that started it all. It’s a rather ill-fitting, wine-coloured, sateen slip dress, it looks cheap, and according to Giselle, “it itched like crazy, it was cleaned once a week, and I was just glad that I was the only singer, some of the members of the jazz band had interchangeable costumes.” We both shudder at that, and she puts the photo on the counter.

As soon as she was given some modicum of control over her wardrobe, she took full advantage of it. Without a coherent aesthetic solidified by the release of her first album, Giselle admits she used the tour for Velvet Roses to experiment with both fabrics and styles. I personally have always favoured the midnight blue, velvet bouffant-style dress she wore during her stops in Belfast and Paris, but she goes on to praise the white, silk slip dress she had during her stop in West Berlin.

“Silk! Oh the silk, I dream about that dress sometimes,” she laughs a little, and now that we’ve begun to discuss her tour outfits, she leads me upstairs, “at the time it was the most comfortable thing I’d worn… ever; being able to work, to perform in something so luxury? It was a blessing.”

Her closet, at least the closet she stores her tour garments in, is separate from her bedroom, and locked. She’s got the key in her pocket, prepared, of course, for the interview, and as we step in I can hear the hum of a dehumidifier, and feel the chill of the air conditioning.

“It’s my one real extravagance.” As she turns on the lights, we’re greeted to the sight of a room, approximately four meters deep and half as wide, lined with railings that are practically stuffed with garment bags of varying sizes, and the end of the little room has a built in area for her jewel toned and bejewelled shoes alike. Three mannequins pose in the ample amount of space in the centre of the room, each wearing one of her most iconic outfits.

Each section of the racks around the side are carefully labelled by year, and it takes only a moment for Giselle to go through the section labelled 1971 before she’s pulling that same white dress from a garment bag. It still looks pristine, and when she offers for me to feel it, I understand what she’s saying.

“I’ve always tried to keep a very high standard in term of the materials I wear,” it was the first part of her aesthetic identity that was formed. “I’d never really had access to luxury on this scale before; I’d lived in sweaters and jeans for most of my [university] days; I was one of those girls in the little skirts and beaded tops at clubs- I lived my life in gogo boots every weekend of my first year.” Apparently she still has her favourite pair in the back of her personal closet, but seems hesitant to show me.

When asked what prompted her aesthetic shift, she reveals her passion for luxury stage-wear was only part of the decision. “I’d go on stage in silk pyjamas like Hugh Hefner if I could, but it’s not my brand.” Forrester was a big motivating force behind her solidification as the picture of elegance.

We get to the first of the mannequin dresses now, the fitted, black, off the shoulder cocktail dress, shining with sequins and beads, a perfect frozen reminder of her performance on Top of the Pops. To see it in person, still pristine, I get hit with just a hint of nostalgia, as does Giselle herself it seems. Marvelling at it with arms crossed over her chest, I’m granted a closer look at what was quite possibly the most iconic outfit of the 1972 lineup on the hit British musical program. The gloves themselves are more intricate than first imagined; what was assumed to just be red glitter is actually hand stitched, red sequins from the tips of the finger all the way to the wrist where it fades to chunky, red glitter, glued on and somehow width standing the test of time, to then dissolve into fine and sparsely scattered red glitter from the mid-forearm to the elbow. The beads and sequins on the dress itself are affixed with barely noticeable, shiny red thread, that gives the dress dimension up close. Giselle cites Gothic Romanticism as an inspiration to add depth to her jazz-bar persona, as well as the theatrics of musical theatre, going so far as to called the dress the ‘Merry Murderess’ despite the fact that the musical Chicago premiered almost three years after the dress’ initial debut.

Despite this look being regarded as one of her classics, and therefore setting the standard for her public image for the years to come, there’s no denying that Giselle didn’t enjoy experimenting with her outfits.

“I’ve never technically worn pants on stage,” as we move further into the room, she begins to pull various garment bags from the racks seemingly at random, “skirts, skorts, shorts - which some might argue are close enough - dresses, and even full jumpsuits, but never actual pants; I’ve always been worried that they were too masculinising for my act.” Moving on to the rack labeled 1975, she pulls out a particularly slim bag, and from it she pulls a pair of shorts made of what looks like liquid gold, but I know is made of velvet, with suspenders to match. It hangs over a sheer, flowing, cream crop-top with bell sleeves.

This outfit is cited as the first time she had deviated from her skirts and dresses, though the outfit itself is still exquisite and has an air of regality. “I was in Phoenix in ‘74 when I wore this; I’d had it included in my repertoire for the Hand Held Heart tour in case it became especially hot,  which, being Arizona in the summertime, it was.” It’s here we start to see the influence of other artists bleed into her work; the occasional feathery flamboyance borrowed from Elton John, the avant-garde pattern and makeup work popularised by David Bow, and of course, the extravagance and glitz of Queen’s Freddie Mercury.

“You always have to specify that it’s [Freddie Mercury],” she’s very serious on this point, holding up her iconic, short, incredibly sheer white, long-sleeved fitted dress, marbled with red sequins to protect her modesty. It’s reminiscent of the red and white shorts Mercury had been known to favour on tours. “The others, while, yes, they could be well dressed on occasion, [Roger Taylor]’s lime green jeans aside, they never had the flair or audacity that Freddie had to be truly influential.”

After recording a cover of Queen’s Jesus for her third album, Giselle entered into an unofficial partnership with the band, which she tells me included a collaboration with Mercury himself on their costumes.

“I’d spent a long time trying to merge my style and my musical origins with modern aesthetics; I worked very closely with a designer, since it’s not technically my strong suit.” She pauses for a moment, and we make our way to the mannequins again, this time to the second, a floor-length, evening-gown style dress in lilac, capped sleeves, looking as though it’s tie-dyed with blackcurrant glass beads instead of fabric dye. “Getting to collaborate with the band was easy enough; I did talk with [Jim Beach] regarding the use of the song, but he ultimately he ruled that it was up to them, and so once that connection was established, I actually asked Freddie to help me with some tour outfit designs.”

People often assume Giselle is referring to her team contacting Queen’s lawyer, but she goes on record now to explain that it’s not true. “I’m a lawyer, my own lawyer, and I also work for several big-name bands in the music industry today. EMI picked me up halfway through my final year, but I still continued to go to [university], and I did actually intern under (sic) [Beach] while writing my second album. “ I’m assured that she had just regular suits in her personal closet; three, in grey, black, and cream, well fitted, ‘but not why you’re here’ she adds with a self-deprecating smile.

The lavender and blackberry dress was one designed by Mercury himself, the pale lavender representative of elegance and femininity, while the darker blackcurrant is used to bring depth to the dress the same way Giselle’s unwavering, calculated persona brings depth to her performances. It was Mercury’s idea to interweave the two in the tie-dyed style, keeping Giselle’s traditional aesthetic through the glass beads and the cut of the dress.

As we continue along the timeline, it’s clear to see the effect Mercury had on Giselle’s stage wardrobe, the use of geometric patterns coupled with bold colours, and more glitter and sequins than you can shake a stick at becoming more prominent throughout the late 70s, somehow still managing to keep in line with her traditional aesthetic simultaneously.

“I refuse to wear print.” She’s adamant about it when the possibility of wearing a garment like Mercury’s vest with his cats painted on it comes up. “Geometric doesn’t count; the texture in my wardrobe is always going to be,” she pauses for a moment, searching for the right word, fingers brushing through the fur of the fur-cuffs of a long-sleeved purple velvet number, “diegetic.” She settles on, and it’s clear what she means; patterns on her clothes are always wrought through beads or diamonds or fur or other things attached. “It’s the reason I have it locked, [Lilith Taylor, 7] has left the ‘indiscriminately grabbing things that feel nice’ stage a few years ago, but Rosie [Rosemary Taylor, 4] is just at the tail end of it. They’ll have free reign of this place one day,” she looks around at the fashion legacy she has built for herself, she wears an expression of pride, though it’s more focused on her daughters than the clothes themselves, “but for now I want to keep choking hazards and expensive furs out of danger.”

Around the very end of the 70s to the beginning of the 80s we see a return to form, with the resurgence of her form-fitted cocktail dresses. “There was a lot of change happening in my life at that time, and as much as I enjoy experimenting with my looks, it helped me feel secure to know I was in what was objectively my strong suit, pun not intended.”  According to her, she’d just begun seeing Roger Taylor, and she used her fashion choices to exercise control in her life that she felt she was losing.

“My private life has always been very private, now here I am with the man who trashes drum kits and throws TVs out window; I was so afraid that every time people took a photo of me, or even looked at me, they’d think I was compromising my morals or integrity - which I’m not, and I wasn’t then.” She quickly clarifies. “Our personal history is not void because of where we are now, but Roger and I have also changed as people, and we’re allowed to have our feelings change. I’m honestly a little offended people think I we would have gone through all we did for mere publicity.”

Speaking of Roger, I’m a little surprised her wedding dress isn’t one of those on the mannequins, but I understand her choice, and we’ll certainly get to that soon. Her wedding dress sits at the back of one of the racks, carefully distant from any of the year labels. As she removes it from the garment bag, she gives it a softly nostalgic smile, brushing the fabric gently. “This should really go in my own closet.” It’s unlike most of her other outfits here, such a pale cream it’s almost white, floor-length and sleeveless with a Roman-inspired cinched waist topped with what I hesitate to even call ruffles, their drapings so loose it’s reminiscent of curled hair rather than a traditional ruffle. The material is so soft and light that even on a hanger it looks a little ethereal. It’s simple, elegant, and the very sight of it brings joy to her face.

“’81.” The year is surprising, as is the revelation she shares about how they celebrated their tenth anniversary a few months prior. Putting the dress away, we move to the early eighties, and it’s almost cyclical the way we’re brought back to the ‘Merry Murderess’ aesthetic with the lineup from her ‘The Bend Before The Break’ tour. 

“Everyone and their mother seems to have read the article [All The Queen’s Men, Rolling Stone, 1985] and figured out I was in a shaky place at the time; it’s again about having that modicum (sic) of control. Part of me reverted to portraying myself in the way when I felt like I was at the height of control in my relationships and career. It’s a pretty aesthetic,” she gently pulls a velvet, wine-coloured cocktail dress from the rack, giving it a gentle pat, “it made my stage presence feel good, honestly.” It doesn’t sound bitter, but she puts the dress back. 

Apologising for a moment, she explains the large gap between ‘82 and ‘84, with her Finally, Sunlight tour. “After coming home from the [The Bend Before The Break] tour, I took some time to myself; I was, of course, still writing, but I couldn’t really perform or make any big public appearances after like, July in ‘83, because I was quite pregnant, and, again, I’m a private person.” The Finally, Sunlight tour is known for two things, Giselle wearing gold, silver, and copper, in any and every way she could, and the Atlanta Breakdown.

“I wore metallics because Finally, Sunshine is about my baby girls, and they are so precious to me.” As was made clear in the Rolling Stone article, Giselle and Roger lost one of their twin daughters to illness in Autumn of 1984, though Lilith survived, it took a devastating toll on the couple. Moving past that, we’re finally brought to the crown jewel of the collection; her Live Aid dress.

It’s almost the antithesis to the ‘Merry Murderess’, though it shares a similar neckline and off-the-shoulder style. The Live Aid dress, which Giselle calls ‘Queen Midas’ for reasons I’ll get into later, has a white, crushed velvet bodice with an inbuilt corset, and basque waistline. Beneath the waist is a enough layers of thin and flowing georgette to become completely opaque, like a waterfall from the waistline, the colours fading from a bright, sunshine yellow at the hip, to a rich, sunset orange by the knee, and finally to a smokey, warm-toned charcoal where it brushes the ground, with gold jewels dotted around the bottom and creeping almost to the knee in some sporadic places, reminiscent of embers in a fire. Her gloves are white velvet, and just like with the first of her most iconic outfits, it’s gold sequinned fading to actual glitter and diamonds. 

“I took a hard look at where I was and what I had achieved, and... whether or not I can help it, I effect people, through my music, my actions, through what I wear, and can be a double edged sword. Sometimes it can hurt, or I can hurt others by saying or doing the wrong thing, but sometimes I find myself wanting for nothing; everything I’ve held close has turned to gold. I wanted to show that, to be able to be a part of something that gives back to the world where it’s given me so much.”

With all her most well-known outfits having been covered, there’s one more that comes to the top of my head; the jacket of 1980. The tabloids had a field day with her choice of wardrobe as she stepped out of a car with the rest of Queen wearing a salmon and green floral, double breasted suit jacket, with silver buttons and silver stilettos, with sheer, thigh high white socks held up by a garter belt, hair fashionably messy, but makeup pristine. The deviation from her usual pristine image had shocked both paparazzi and public alike, however the daring outfit had quickly been lauded as one of her best, many publications who ran photos even citing it as the entertainment industry’s hottest innovative look of the decade. Even since it has stood the test of time, and has been attributed to the rise of patterned and bold suit jacket purchases by men and women alike, with the outfit have been cited as inspiration for more than one celebrity’s red carpet look. 

Now, however, something, possibly amusement, possibly annoyance, crosses her face, and she tells me it’s not here. The jacket is Mercury’s. “We were on our way to a party being hosted by [Elton John], and I’d only been with Rog for a few months at this point; so we’re in the back of the limo with the other [members of Queen] and Roger’s spilled his wine on my nice, white cocktail dress.” It seems like a bittersweet memory, and she reminds me of her earlier comment about the ‘wine stain argument’. “In hindsight, everything worked out, but at the time I was absolutely livid; very nearly killed him in that backseat. Poor [John Deacon] literally had to drag me off of him. [It] took both him and Freddie to hold me back when Roger got out once we arrived, and they had the driver circle the block again so I could change into Freddie’s jacket, which he so kindly lent to me.”

From her tone, and her following comments about how her husband likes to bring it up, it seems as though it’s a well worn argument of how Roger Taylor enjoys taking credit for the look, though Giselle doesn’t seem like she enjoys giving him the satisfaction.

“My image has always been about how much I can control what people see of me, and to have that control taken away by a careless action, it really hurt. A man like Roger, in the entertainment industry, is never going to face the kind of scrutiny that I do, it’s the reason you’re here at all, talking to me about fashion rather than say, how difficult it is to be a practicing lawyer in the music industry while raising two beautiful daughters. And I still write music on occasion. But people remember what you show them, how you present yourself; my tour wardrobe is a reflection of the persona I let interact with the world, and it’s beautiful, and a legacy that will probably outlive me to some extent. 

“Do I regret any of my fashion choices? I don’t really have the liberty to, do I? And either way, they’re part of the reason I’m where I am today; I made a niche for myself that was built initially on my aesthetic, if I’m being generous, so I suppose I’ll always be grateful to it.”

[wildflowerhowell]

I Found, chapter 11

Dan Howell and Phil Lester hate each other, and everyone at the Ida Gatley school of dance knows it. So what happens when the two are paired together to choreograph and perform a duet at England’s most renowned contemporary dance competition?

word count (in total): 22,139

chapters: 12

genre: fluff and angst

tw: alcohol

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Phil put their blanket down on the sand and sat down while Dan set out all the food they’d brought: a baguette, goat cheese, some strawberries, and the cheapest champagne Phil could find. The younger boy wanted to get something more expensive but Phil agreed to buy the champagne and insisted on the cheapest bottle in the store.

“This is probably the fanciest thing I’ve eaten in years,” Dan said as he took a seat on the white blanket next to Phil.

“It’s not even that fancy,” replied Phil as he ripped off the end of the baguette.

“I know,” Dan laughed and reached over to grab a strawberry. He looked out at the water for a minute, watching the sun begin to set in an orange blur across the horizon. “Y’know,” He said as he took the glass of champagne that Phil was holding out to him, “I’m kinda really glad that Grasp is over.”

“I thought you really enjoyed it.”

“Oh, I loved it. But I guess the end of the competition almost signified a fresh start, you get what I mean? Before we started to prepare for the competition, we hated each other. Then, we became friends because of the competition. And now…. Well, now, we’re more than that, I guess.” Dan blushed a bit as he looked over at Phil, who chuckled nervously.

“We should probably uh… talk about that?”

“Yeah.” Dan looked down at his glass, unsure of what to say.

“So um,” Phil started talking, much to Dan’s relief, “I know this is really new but I wanna be completely honest. A little bit after I turned seventeen, I started to like you. And I couldn’t let anyone know, so I started being even more cruel towards you. I know that’s such an awful thing to do, but how could anyone guess that I liked you if I treated you like that, y’know?” When the older boy saw Dan nod in understanding, he continued. “So I went on like that for a whole year. It hurt me so much to act like that but I felt like if you found out, my life at the studio would be even more awful. But then we started working together on the dance and we became friends and that was one of the best things to happen to me in a while. I thought that if you knew I had feelings for you but didn’t feel the same way, you wouldn’t totally ruin my life. So when I finally mustered up the courage, I kissed you. And here we are now.”

Dan could see the relief all over Phil’s face, clearly thankful to have told him all of that, and the younger boy felt relieved to hear it.

“So,” Phil took a sip of Champagne, “What’s your story?”

“Well,” Dan sighed, looking out at the sloshing waves and disappearing sun, “To be honest, I didn’t realize I had feelings for you until you kissed me. But looking back on this past month, I’ve definitely liked you for at least a few weeks. When you started being nicer to me, it was like a switch flipped in my brain. I was always afraid that the next time we’d see each other, you’d just go back to acting the way you had before. I started to love spending time with you, and I looked forward to our choreography sessions more and more each day I’d see you. I guess I just thought my feelings for you were purely platonic because I’ve never felt this way towards anyone before. I’d obviously liked all of my other boyfriends a lot, but I like you so much more than I’ve ever liked anyone else.”

Dan looked back over to see a huge grin unfold onto Phil’s face.

“I’m really glad you feel that way about me,” Phil said, throwing the top of a strawberry into the bag they were using for trash. “It would have been really embarrassing for me if you didn’t like me.”

“No shit,” Dan snickered, leaning in to kiss Phil.

“Hey,” Phil pulled away, “Just now, you said you’d never felt this way for any of your other boyfriends.” He smirked, and a bright shade of red enveloped Dan’s face. “Does that mean you think of me as your boyfriend?”

“I mean,” Dan said, still blushing, “We both like each other a lot and we’ve kissed multiple times, so yeah, I’d say we’re boyfriends. If that’s good with you, of course.”

Phil smirked. “That’s perfect with me. Kinda been wanting that for a year.”

Dan gave Phil a sympathetic look. “That must’ve sucked.”

“Yeah, but it worked out in the end.”

“True,” Dan said, moving closer to Phil so that he could rest his head on the older boy’s shoulder.

The two boys looked out over the water, which had been turned a dark navy by the sun that was now below the horizon, leaving only a faded orange sky in its wake. They could see the moon and a few stars scattered around the atmosphere, becoming more and more visible as the sky darkened. It was peaceful. A type of peaceful that Dan and Phil rarely got to experience living with their ever-hectic schedules. Just sitting there on that blanket, feeling so small in comparison to the vast sea that was in front of them was comforting. With Phil by his side, Dan didn’t want to leave.

“So I’ve been wondering,” Phil broke Dan’s train of thought with a soft voice, “What made you act so hostile towards me in the first place?”

Dan chuckled, remembering his dumb nine year-old self. “Well, up until you came to the studio, I’d always been the best at everything I did. I got the best marks, I was the best at playing piano, I sucked at art but I was still the best in my year. When I started dancing, I was the best in my level. Being the best was what I was used to. And then you came along. It came as a shock to me, how good you were at dancing. So I did everything in my power to be better than you. I tried training harder, and when I saw you train as hard as I did, I just started being mean. Yeah, talking about my feelings with someone probably would have been the better choice but I was young and scared of losing my reputation.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” Phil nodded, taking in the new information. “I’m just glad we got that whole thing sorted out.”

“Well duh,” Dan baited, leaning further into Phil.

“Wait, how did I not know that you play piano? I’m a little hurt,” Phil teased, although it was true that he didn’t know about Dan’s ability to play the instrument.

“I just… never told you?”

“Y’know, we haven’t actually had the chance to really get to know each other. We should probably do that if we’re gonna be boyfriends.”

“Yeah,” Dan laughed, sitting up again to look at Phil, “That sounds like a pretty good idea.”

“Okay, ask me anything you want.”

Dan pondered for a second, trying to come up with a good question to ask. “Ooh, got it. What’s your favorite thing to do besides dance?”

“Easy. I make art.”

“Art? Like paintings?”

“Yeah, mostly watercolour. Sometimes I do drawings. Most of my stuff is stylized but I’ll occasionally do some realistic art.”

“Dude, that’s so cool,” Dan said excitedly, “Do you have any pictures?”

“Yeah,” Phil replied as he grabbed his phone, which had been resting on the blanket next to him. The older boy unlocked it and went to his camera roll, opening up an album that contained pictures of his art, letting Dan scroll through them as he pleased.

Dan could quickly see that Phil mainly painted people. There was one painting of two girls, twins, with lilac hair and glittering crescent moons on their foreheads. One painting was of a girl with teal hair that had white line drawings of koi fish swimming around her head. Another piece was of a boy with huge flowers growing all around him. Phil’s art was beautiful. Every piece was amazingly detailed and all of the colors worked perfectly together. Dan stared at the photos in awe, wondering how Phil was not only so good at dancing, but incredibly talented at painting as well.

“These are so fucking good,” Dan marveled, “How do you have time for all this?”

“I manage to get a lot done in art class at school,” Phil said, “But I also paint at home whenever I get the chance.”

“Damn,” Dan said, handing the phone back to Phil.

“Okay. My turn to ask a question.” Phil sat in silence, coming up with something to ask. “So. If you suddenly won a million pounds, what’s the first thing you’d do with it?”

“Good question. I think I’d save most of it, donate to a few different charities, and buy a TV for my room. My best friend and I always have to watch stuff on my laptop if my older brother’s watching the TV in the lounge. It pisses us off.”

“Nice answer,” Phil nodded in approval. “Wait. haven’t I met your best friend?”

“I think he’s only seen you when he’s come to performances, but I don’t think you’ve talked to each other.”

“I could have sworn I’ve met him. Guess not, though”

“Oh wait, yes you have,” Dan said, suddenly remembering the encounter at the Hyde Park. “You two met at the rose garden.”

“Oh yeah! I was such a jackass that day, sorry about that.” Phil giggled. “I thought he was your boyfriend.”

The younger boy blushed. “Oh, God no. Anyways, I’ve got a question. What’s something on your bucket list?”

“Hmm. I really wanna travel.”

“Where?” Dan leaned back, putting his weight on his left hand and taking a sip of champagne with his left.

“All over Europe. Paris, Berlin, Milan, Vienna. I love Europe’s old architecture and culture. I also really wanna go to Tokyo someday. New York City, too. I just eventually wanna travel all over the world and see as much as I can.”

“Ugh, that sounds amazing. I really wanna travel, too. Alright, ask me something.”

Phil ripped off a piece of the baguette, thinking. “Do you believe in aliens?”

“Absolutely,” Dan said almost immediately, “How could I not? The universe is just so fucking big, there has to be life on other planets.”

Phil nodded. “I know right? I don’t know how there are people that don’t believe in them. Alright, ask me something.”

“Um, what do you like about your best friend?”

“Well,” Phil contemplated, “Her name is Ryan. I love how passionate she is about everything she does. She fully invests herself, y’know? She manages to keep her grades up while being an actress and artist at the same time. She dances a little bit, too. She’s there for me whenever I need her. You really need to meet her,” Phil said with a glimmer in his eyes, “I think you’d love her.”

Dan gave Phil a fond look. When the older boy was talking about Ryan, Dan had noticed how lovingly he was talking about his best friend. It was adorable. The younger boy set his now-empty glass down on the blanket and reached up to rest his hand on the side of Phil’s face. It was getting to be quite dark out, but Dan could see the creases around Phil’s eyes as he smiled, leaning in to kiss the brown haired boy. A breeze swept their hair into their faces and Dan giggled as Phil pulled away from the kiss to push the younger boy’s curls away from his forehead.

The lights from the Brighton Pier danced in the distance, illuminating its surroundings with a soft, colorful glow. Waves washed up onto the shore, and then receded back into the ocean. Dan hadn’t felt this happy in a while. He was sitting under the moon next to the boy that he could now call his boyfriend, the boy he’d won the Gold Award at a renowned contemporary dance competition with. Everything was perfect. Dan knew that he and Phil would have to go back to normal life the following day, but in this moment, he didn’t care. He was living life to the fullest until he had to go back to London, and that was all that mattered.

The two boys stayed at the beach for another 45 minutes, talking about everything from future careers to their favorite dog breeds. Once they both got bored of the ocean, which was now blanketed in darkness and therefore hard to even see, they packed up everything they’d brought with them. Phil called an Uber to take them back to their hotel, and they walked hand in hand away from the waves.

~

“Alright, what now?” Phil looked up at Dan, who was drying his hair off with a towel.

The boys got back at around 10 pm, and each took showers before deciding on what to do with the rest of the night. It kind of went unsaid that they’d be sharing a bed that night, as they both flung their jackets onto Dan’s bed when they arrived back at the Hotel. For Dan, it was exhilarating, knowing that he’d be spending the night snuggled up next to Phil. He was honestly up for whatever as long as it meant cuddling with the black haired boy.

“Movie?” Dan looked over at the older boy, who was sitting on his bed in pyjamas, hair slightly damp as well.

“Sure,” Phil said as he reached for the TV remote, “Do you have one in mind?”

“Not really, let’s just look through what movies we can watch.” Dan tossed his towel into the bathroom as Phil began to scroll through the options listed on the TV.

“Let’s see. There’s Ghostbusters, La La Land, Fantastic Beasts….” Phil listed out possible choices as Dan climbed into bed, leaning back against the pillows.

“Ooh, wait,” Dan butted in, “What about Arrival?”

Phil, who had been leaning forward, turned his head to look at the younger boy. “Yeah, I’ve heard it’s good.”

“Dude, I’ve seen it already, it’s good. No spoilers, but there’s this one point where everything you thought you knew completely changes and-”

“Calm down, let me actually watch the movie.”

“Oh, sorry,” Dan said bashfully.

“I hope the competition will pay for this,” Phil said as he bought the movie.

“Eh, paying for it yourself will be worth it. If not, I can always pay you back.”

“Oh, shut up,” Phil countered, getting up to turn all of the lights off, “You will not.”

“Not complaining,” Dan smirked and extended his left arm across the pillows as an invitation for Phil to lay back and cuddle up next to him.

Phil positioned himself next to Dan, resting his head in the crook of the younger boy’s neck, an arm reaching across his torso. Dan wrapped the arm that Phil was now leaning against around his shoulder, pulling him in closer.

This is so perfect, Dan thought to himself as the movie started to play. Just a month ago if anyone told me that this would be happening, I would have called them crazy. But look at me now. He looked down at Phil and kissed the top of his head, and the older boy squeezed Dan’s torso for a second in return. A huge grin unfurled on Dan’s slightly freckled face. Yeah, this is fucking amazing.

The movie played for a good hour or so until Dan realized that Phil had fallen asleep. God damn it, he didn’t even get to the mindfuck part, Dan sighed to himself as he reached for the remote and paused the movie. He gently removed his arm from around the older boy and moved two pillows out from under his head, leaving just one to sleep on. He then threw two of his own pillows to the ground and turned the TV off; it had been the only source of light in the room since they’d started the movie.

Dan curled up next to Phil, reminiscing on the day’s events. In just one day, he’d been kissed by the person he’d had a rivalry with for years, won the Gold Award at Grasp, and become boyfriends with the aforementioned boy. He didn’t have a list of the top weirdest days in his life, but if he did, this day would definitely be on it. Just as he was drifting off into sleep, his phone lit up on the bedside table next to him, the screen illuminating the room. He groggily rolled over and reached for the device. When he saw that Liam was calling, he shot up and answered the call immediately

“Shit,” Dan said apologetically, “I was supposed to tell you how it went.”

“You were,” Liam replied, “But it’s alright ‘cause you’re still awake.”

“Fuck, so much has happened today. You probably won’t believe a lot of it.”

“Doubt it. So what happened?”

“Okay,” Dan said quietly, trying not to wake Phil up. “We got to the theater, did our hair and makeup, got into costume. Y’know, all the stuff dancers usually do before a show. After that, we had time to spare, so we played a game of truth or dare which was hilarious, played around on our phones, and stretched. Then-”

“Dan, I appreciate how you’re going into detail, but I just wanna know how you placed, to be honest.”

“Shut up! Something happened before the performance that you need to know about.”

“Ugh, alright.”

“So this dude came into our dressing room and told us we were about to go on, and he lead us to this hallway just outside the theater and Phil was being all quiet but I just assumed it was because he’s nervous.”

“Okay….”

“And when I asked him about it… he kissed me.”

Silence. Dan had expected Liam to freak out and start asking a thousand questions, but instead, he just heard silence. He had to check to make sure Liam hadn’t accidentally hung up. He hadn’t.

“So,” Liam finally spoke, “You’re telling me that you’ve had a feud with this boy for, what, seven years now? And just before your duet together, he kisses you.”

“Yep.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“At first, I was just confused. But I didn’t really have time to think about my feelings because that same dude came back and told us it was our turn to perform.”

“And how was that?” Liam was obviously more interested in this story now that he knew that Phil had kissed Dan.

“It was fucking amazing, I’ve never heard an audience applaud that loudly for a piece I was in.”

“So you won Platinum?”

“I’ll get to that. So after we walk offstage and out into that hallway again, I kissed Phil. I guess I realized that the feelings I had when I was around him weren’t just platonic. It was amazing, I-”

“You really don’t need to go into detail about that.”

“Oh, right, sorry. Okay, so the award ceremony rolls around. Two dancers win Bronze, and two others win Silver. And we won Gold!”

“Dude, you totally deserved Platinum.”

“I mean, I guess this means we have to back next year with an even better dance, right?”

“Did they invite you back already?”

“No, but I assume they will. We did get second place. And Phil and I are the two best dancers at the studio so unless next year’s theme is solos, we’ll both be going back.”

“Damn, your day has been wild.”

“That’s not all!”

“There’s more?” Liam sighed through the phone, “I’m tired, Dan!”

“Yes, there’s more. But long story short, Phil and I went on a date to the beach and we’re officially together now. And that’s all.”

“I guess I’ve gotta properly meet him now, don’t I?”

“Duh. And he told me about his best friend, Ryan. He said I’d love her, so we should all hang out sometime.”

“Definitely. Well, congrats on your Gold Award and enemy-turned-boyfriend. I’m gonna sleep now.”

“Alright. G’night.”

“Night,” Liam ended the phone call.

Dan smiled and set his phone back down on the bedside table. It felt good to tell someone else about his relationship with Phil. He laid back down next to the older boy, who threw an arm around his torso.

“You awake?” Dan whispered, turning onto his side to face Phil.

“Yeah,” The black haired boy said faintly. “You’re so cute, you know that?”

Dan beamed. “Thank you,” He giggled. “You are too.”

Phil leaned in and kissed Dan. The younger boy couldn’t help but smile as he wrapped his arms around Phil’s neck, tangling his hands in his raven hair, kissing him back.

Phil pulled away and rested his head on the other dancer’s forehead. “I don’t wanna have to go back to London tomorrow.”

Dan stroked the older boy’s cheek. “Me neither. But we’ll be back next year.” He rolled onto his back, keeping one arm wrapped around Phil, who rested his head on Dan’s chest. “Good night, Phil.”

“Good night.”