#but this is still the first post production start official event so i'm looking at it regardless

[bugsbenefit]

oh yeah i just remembered there's a convention this weekend where ST actors are supposed to attend btw

those events can fall through at the last minute but if it doesn't this friday will be the first time actors will be doing a panel while not being able to deny knowing things about s5 anymore (expecting them to still say they don't know the ending and so on but yk, at least they can't say they haven't touched the scripts at all yet)

not like they'll say anything but the fact we can actually get casual acknowledgement of s5s existence now is crazy to me (still haven't fully processed we're a full month into shooting yet, the over half a year delay fucked with me) they could also realistically mention small non spoiler things that the Duffer's have previously openly talked about like Dustin grieving Eddie and so on. not saying they would, that's already more than i'd expect their NDAs to allow, but it's at least in the realm of possibilities

[moonchildstyles]

ephemere

élan part three: when the night comes crashing down harry is the only one there for y/n.

wordcount: 22k+

cw: descriptions of a panic attack, unwanted advances against our y/n (nothing too intense), and her dad is veryyyy mean in this one

—————

"Good morning!" Dom—(Y/N)'s stylist, and the most important person of the day—sung as he swept through her apartment, a team of people following behind, "We have so much to do today, are you ready?" 

(Y/N) sleepily shut the door behind the last person that trickled in. "Yeah," she yawned, forcing herself to keep her eyes open after the lingering blink she gave. 

Today was early enough already with the fact Harry had come over an hour prior, and now her apartment was full of half a dozen others that were way too happy for the early hour. (To be fair, it was just before ten a.m., but she didn't love to get up any earlier than that when it wasn't a pilates day). 

Tonight was finally the night of the 132 Gala. She'd prepped as much as she could this week—an esthetician visit the other day, waxing studio visit the day before, a touch-up and trial run appointment with her hair stylist earlier in the week—but so much of the process had to be left to the day of. 

"Just yeah?" Dom teased, imitating her sleepy voice, "I thought you'd be excited to see me today." 

"I am, I am," (Y/N) argued, trudging towards him with her sleep shorts rustling against her thighs, "I didn't sleep well last night, but I promise I'm excited. Just a little tired." 

She wasn't lying about her late night, the small hours of the morning having been the only time she managed to sleep. A letter had been sent to her apartment the night before, plaguing her mind a little too deeply. 

It had only been a matter of time, she knew when she saw the official publications posting about her secret rendezvous with Harry at the country club. (Her favorite was the subline on one article, saying that (Y/N) was insisting he was only a bodyguard but how could she resist a body like that? As invasive as it was, it was still rather clever). Now that less real drama was circulating about her, rumors had taken the helm and that seemed to draw her admirer out much more often; less concrete answers seemed to draw them out. They seemed to feel a need to rewrite them to fit a specific mold they had for her, one (Y/N) never really understood the parameters of. It gave her a spike of anxiety in the pit of her stomach now whenever she picked up her mail, worrying that something too heavy to be friendly would be slipped between the bills and other pieces. 

"Well," Dom chirped, clapping his hands together, "We'll just have to make sure no one can tell!" 

With that, the day turned into a bit of a whirlwind. Many of these big events deteriorated into such, too much going on for (Y/N) to properly focus on one thing at a time. 

At least there was a photographer Dom brought along to take photos of the whole process. One more person running around her apartment. 

Her hair was the first thing to be started on, the one thing that was going to take the longest. Ensuring everything was perfect, a wash was made to start the day, plenty of products and serums applied before everything was dried and brushed. The natural texture of her strands was altered, her stylist wrapping them around hot and heavy curlers. Earlier in the week at the trial, extensions were added to her hair, adding to the weight on the top of her head. Though she loved the look it would achieve in the end, everything looking effortlessly glamorous with big curls and draping strands, she almost erupted into a migraine from the tension. 

At least once the rollers were in, though, she caught a break from her hair stylist. Done was all the tugging and pulling from the various hot tools and hairbrushes, now she could just sit there and concentrate on ensuring her scalp didn't throb before she had a chance to feel pretty. 

While the curlers cooled enough to truly curl her hair, her nail tech pulled up a seat beside her. Carlotta was her usual warm self, pleasantly chatting with (Y/N) until a light silence settled between them. Applying and filing her nails were comforting motions, knowing that her set was coming together. It didn't take long for the paint to come out, sparkling pearls to be added to the pastel pink French manicure to match that of her dress. Her fingernails looked every bit like the princess set they had been calling it before Carlotta made her exit for the day, her job done in one go compared to the others that would stick around for final touches.

After a quick break for snacks, her hair was ready to be unraveled and her makeup ready to be applied. The photographer began her closeups then, the camera shuttering as her hair fell in large curls around her face, her makeup artist prepping her skin. Dom periodically checked in, ensuring things were going according to their plan all the while he was coordinating garments and creating problems just to fix them a moment later. Around her, members of the glam team began to pull out their phones, their own cameras trained around the space to document their own experience getting her ready. 

(Y/N) sat quietly in the middle of it all, eyes closing when instructed, head tilting when needed, body still in her silken robe. 

For hours on end, Harry was like a statue in the corner of the room—silent and stoic. When things began to get hectic, Dom tried to kick him out, only for Harry to ignore the attempts and stay right where he was. He wouldn't be going anywhere no matter how hard Dom tried. 

—————

"Everyone out! She needs to get dressed! Everyone out!" 

(Y/N) could see Dom was moments away from ripping his hair out, the time making him more than stressed. Styling her hair took longer than expected, draining an additional half an hour from their prep time. Dom timed things meticulously, the schedule written down to the minute to leave her to be on the carpet at a fashionable time—not too early, not too late. This was going to through everything off, and Dom was already feeling it. 

The second her hair was finally pinned into place, a layer of hairspray going across the strands to keep anything from moving in any direction, he pulled her into her bedroom where she was to be dressed. Everyone was to be shooed out of her space then, Dom directing them with an agitated tone. 

On their way out of the previously quiet room, (Y/N) slipped away from Dom and offered her thanks, hoping they didn't take her stylist's tone too personally. They would still be needed for finishing touches, and she didn't want them stepping out on account of her stylist. Especially since she loved them for their regular services, anyway. 

Quietly padding back to her bedroom before Dom became more agitated, Harry became her ghost once more. 

"I'll wait outside here for you, okay?" Harry murmured, looking at her with a clear gaze as he stopped in the threshold of her bedroom. 

"You don't have to," she told him, lingering in the doorway. She could promise she would be on her best behavior if he needed her to. 

Harry shook his head, a curl falling over his forehead. "I'll be here." 

With that, she was pulled into her bedroom with the help of Dom's assistant, her grip much more delicate than that of the stylist. 

The process of squeezing her into her garments began then. Shapewear and the proper undergarments pulled over her body, her form smoothing with rounded curves. (Y/N) held her breath with every swath of fabric wrapped around her body, more and more of the look piecing together the closer they got. 

"Careful," Dom told her, helping her step into the molten pearl of the Vivienne Westwood dress of her dreams. His assistant held the gown with utmost care, ensuring there was no way there could be a rogue crease or an unwanted footstep on the hem. 

(Y/N) stayed stagnant, allowing them to zip her into the corset. Dom took over as his assistant began to shoot photos, documenting the way the tight corset adhered to her body. The top was tighter than the original fitting, alterations stiffening the boning and pushing her breasts up high on her chest. Her cleavage was deeper than she ever thought it could be, the swells pushed up and almost spilling over the neckline. The body makeup her artist applied sparkled in the lighting, highlighting the soft parts of her body in a sunny glow. The draping of pearls as her sleeves dripped down her biceps, strategically broken strands having been added during alterations to allow another string to hang down the length of her arms. The high slit was just as scandalous as she remembered, a breeze settling over her bare skin. 

She felt gorgeous. 

Glancing in the mirror bolted to the wall across from her, she saw the vision come together. Her hair was perfect, bouncy and full, tickling her collarbones with soft brushes. Her dress glimmered like molten pearl on her body, clinging to every curve and edge. Her makeup glittered in the gentle light, delicate sparkles on her eyelids with soft pinks airbrushed across her cheeks and lips. Everything was dewy and light—she looked like a cross between a celestial body and a mermaid inhabiting the waters of a moonlit lagoon. 

There was a level of giddiness rising in her knowing that there were going to be countless photos of herself dressed this way. For the first time in a really long time, she looked forward to the torrent of cameras and flashes that would be pointed her way on the Gala carpet. 

That serenity didn't last for very long, though, before Dom found another detail to begin to worry over. 

"Where is the purse?" he muttered, voice sharp as he rifled through the bag he brought along with him. 

"The purse?" his assistant, chirped, stepping back once the proper photographer had rejoined them, his camera flashing to catch (Y/N) in a candid moment. 

"Her purse. The purse. The one (Y/N) is supposed to be carrying on the carpet in less than an hour." Dom was seething now. 

"It's not in there?" 

"If it was, I'd have it already," Dom snapped back, his arms almost elbow deep into his endless bag of everything.

The level of chaos in her apartment ratcheted up a notch in that moment. Now was not the time for something like that to go wrong. Not when—as Dom listed out—finishing adjustments to her makeup needed to be made, final touches to her hair, and someone needed to help her put her shoes on so she didn't bend and crease the dress. Not to mention the photoshoot Dom planned on having (Y/N) partake in before she left for the event, photos to be taken for his portfolio. 

"Dom—I can—" 

(Y/N) was quickly cut off as he shook his head, his long hair flying around his face. "No, you are not doing anything! Where is everyone?! We don't have time for this."

His assistant scuttled away then, gathering each of the members of her prep group to accomplish each of the things Dom was beginning to fret over. 

"Henry—Harris—Whatever your name is, can you please help instead of just standing around?!" Dom shouted through the now cracked door of (Y/N)'s bedroom. 

A beat passed before everyone—including Harry—stepped into her room. Carlotta had an extra file in hand, her hair stylist a comb and a bottle of hair spray in his apron pocket, and makeup artist with a gloss in hand. Harry held nothing but a raised brow over the way Dom spoke to him. 

Each of the artists and techs descended upon her then, each quietly assessing what needed to be perfected before they were off. (Y/N) didn't have a chance to see what Dom was commissioning Harry to help with before she had to blink her eyes shut, her makeup artist fluffing a brush of glitter on her eyelids. 

"Find her bag, and someone put her shoes on, please! We won't have time for pictures if we keep this up!" Dom rattled off, "The event is almost over at this point! Where the fuck is her bag?" 

As much as (Y/N) loved Dom, it was moments like these she wondered if the stress of preparing for events was worth it. 

Murmured voices of his assistant and a deep voice (Y/N) thought could be Harry, adding to the chatter of the room. The sound of her door creaking happened before the dull roar finally settled. 

"(Y/N)?" 

Chancing a blink of her eyes open, (Y/N) saw Harry standing before her, just behind her makeup artist, with the box of her Manolo Blahniks in hand. 

He met her gaze over the shoulder of the artist swiping more gloss over her lips, his eyes dropping imperceptibly down to her mouth before ringing back up once more. 

Before he had a chance to say anything, Dom traipsed back in, his cheeks decidedly redder than before. "Help her with her shoes, we need to go!" he shouted, Harry not even bothering to look back. 

He was hesitating—waiting for her permission. There was an unspoken line they'd put in the sand, one that kept each other at arm's length; (Y/N)'s aloofness, and Harry's professionalism the key administers. He wouldn't come any closer if she didn't want him to.

"It's okay," she told him, her makeup artist pausing as her lips moved.

With that, box in hand, Harry wormed his way in-between the various artists and stylists warmed around her. Bending to one knee, he knelt before her with the pristine white box just off to the side. She could feel his eyes on her when he made the first touch, a hand on her ankle. Unwilling to disturb the makeup artist tending to her face, and the stylist primping her hair, (Y/N) wasn't able to meet his eyes despite feeling them trace her face.

The photographer's camera shuttered at a rapid rate, but (Y/N) knew these photos were going to be the kind that stayed in the archive with her. 

His thumb grazed the bone in her ankle as she shifted her weight, helping him slip the first cream colored pump onto her foot. The custom pump had a ring of pearls that were to be attached around her ankle. (Y/N) could feel the brush of Harry's fingers over her skin as he latched the stones around her leg, his touch decidedly more gentle than she could have expected from someone who's entire job centered around the rough use of them. 

"Let me go grab a setting spray, hold on," her makeup artist murmured, dropping her hands from where they were separating her fluffed lashes and diffusing the color on her eyelids. With that, the woman scurried away, leaving (Y/N) the freedom to finally shift her eyes. 

Glancing down, she saw Harry on his knees, a furrow in his brow as he concentrated on helping her balance on the teetering heels. It was like he knew she was watching with the way he peeked up, the fan of his lashes a frame around the green of his eyes. His hand faltered for a split second when she met his gaze. 

The rest of the noise melted away for that moment, (Y/N) only taking in just how delicate the shoes looked in comparison to Harry, how gently he was treating her. How pretty he was. She wondered if Dom had ever considered taking Harry on, prepping him for this event instead; he'd fit right in with the models and celebrities that would be on the carpet. 

Despite her eyes following his movements, (Y/N) hadn't been paying attention when he had finished slipping her shoe on, the pearls latched around her ankle. She teetered where she stood, a slight gasp leaving her lips. 

In an instant, Harry was there, standing to the full of his height in front of her. He steadied her, his grip on her arms firm in his hold but gentle in his touch. 

"Alright?" he asked, gaze skipping down her features for just a moment. 

(Y/N) almost thought he sounded breathless. 

"Yeah," she answered, the word low between the two of them as if there weren't a handful of others around. "Thank you." 

Harry only nodded, his hands lingering for a split second longer before they fell away from where he had them on her biceps. 

In the back of her mind, she could hear the way the photographer seemed to be capturing every second of the interaction. Camera flashes and the lens shuttering added to the chaos. 

The same time Harry was backing away, her makeup artist returned with a glimmering bottle in hand. She was flustered, immediately stepping back into place in front of (Y/N), leaving only a sliver of a view of Harry over her shoulder. 

(Y/N) had her eyes glued to him as he approached the entrance to her bedroom, his previous post having been just outside. She saw as he lingered, his head down as he shifted his weight as if he wasn't sure if he wanted to step forward or step back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. 

"Close your eyes for me," her artist instructed. 

Hesitating before doing so, (Y/N) just barely caught the way Harry seemed to look back at her. 

A loud commotion burst into the room then, (Y/N) flinching where she stood with her eyes closed.

"I found the purse!" 

It took a moment for Dom's voice to register. (Y/N) had completely forgotten about the purse.

—————

(Y/N)'s fingers skipped over the pearls dripping down her arms, keeping her gaze forward as they rushed through the New York streets. Beside her, Harry had changed into an all black suit while she was commandeered for photographs at Dom's request. He kept his gaze solely stretched out the window. He hadn't looked at her since that moment in her bedroom, the space between them on the bench seat just a hair larger. 

"When would you like me to come for you?" Sully asked, breaking (Y/N) from her over-analysis of how many inches of space was supposed between two people in a working relationship that had also shared a somewhat intimate moment just an hour earlier. At least, (Y/N) thought it was intimate. 

She recrossed her legs, shifting in her seat. "Um, I'm not sure," she murmured, noting the way Harry didn't break his staring contest with the window even at this disturbance, "I don't want to say too long, but Francesca will probably want to go to an afterparty." 

"Okay, just give me a call about thirty minutes before you're ready. I'll make it as soon as possible, but you know how these places can be." 

A smile stretched across her glossy lips as she nodded her head. "Got it. Thank you." 

She wondered if Harry knew how many shades of green were in his eyes, if he saw the same tiny blonde hairs threaded through his dark curls that she did. She wondered if he knew how gorgeous he was. She hoped he didn't know that she was still thinking about the way he looked up at her when he was on his knees before.

Despite the sun having set and sunk below the horizon, the city was still bright outside the windows. (Y/N) wondered how many of the other vehicles passing around them were also heading to the Gala. 

Peering through the front windscreen, the gallery came into view. The large building that was usually splashed in black and white with 132 on the front in primary colors, had been transformed to allow a tent to be set up up front, shielding the public from the massive red carpet laid out underneath. From here, she could spot the overflow of people, bright lights shining from under the white tent. At least a fourth of that light had to be from the crowd of photographers and publications that had made it inside the event. 

Coming to a smooth stop in front of the event, Sully put them in park but didn't make any move to usher her out. From the curb, she could see those set up along the carpet, ready for interviews or photos. She could even see Francesca towards the end, nearest to the entrance. 

Her fiddling with the pearls of her dress resumed, anxiety spiking. Her crossed leg swung. 

For the first time since leaving her apartment, Harry turned to look at her. His eyes stayed fixed to her face, not daring to skate anywhere else on her body. 

"Ready?" 

A faux-natural smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Mhm," she hummed, glancing at Sully through the rearview. It was too crowded for him to help her out of the car as usual, she knew that. She would have to settle for a smile through the rearview to settle her through the night. "See you soon?" 

"See you soon, sweetheart," he confirmed, his eyes gentle as he met them through the glass. 

With that, Harry took his leave first, scooting out of the car with her small purse in tow before reaching back inside to offer her a helping hand out. It felt like a movie the way she could hear the snapping of cameras and dull roar from the event. The shadows around him lengthened, backlit by the fluorescent bulbs. 

Rubbing her glossy lips together, she put her hand in his and followed him out onto the sidewalk. 

Harry was dropped into his element then second they were faced with the budding crowd waiting to be herded onto the carpet. He had to have been familiar with events like these as he let go of her hand only to place his palm on her upper back, ushering her through the bodies. It was a form of a greenroom that was waiting at the entrance of the carpet, another tent with event coordinators ensuring pacing out the carpet. He didn't let her stop even as some familiar faces gave her small greetings. 

Dipping his head down, (Y/N) could feel the tip of his nose brush the draping strands of hair by her ear. "'M going to stay a step behind you the whole time, okay? If at any point you want to be done, jus' look at me and we'll go. I'll be with you." 

Drawing away just enough to match his gaze, there was that earnest intensity she'd seen only once before at the pilates studio. 

"Okay," she said, giving her head a minute no, unwilling to remove her gaze from his. 

With one final push towards the head of the line, (Y/N) could spot the event coordinators clustered around the entrance, earpieces in and tablets at their chests. She watched as they ushered someone onto the carpet—a model she remembered from a trip to Milan, but couldn't place his name—cameras flashing the second he made it to the first pose point. 

Harry's hand was a warm weight on her back, grounding her as she forced herself not to pick at her nails or fiddle with her dress as she attempted to sike herself up for her own upcoming turn. From the corner of her eye, she saw one of the familiar coordinators perk up when he spotted her, one of the ones that had been assisting the event for the last handful of years. The coordinator—Monty—brought the lapel of his blazer to his mouth, muttering something into the covert microphone, before (Y/N) felt extra eyes on her. 

With a bright smile on his face, Monty pushed their way through the clusters of people, stopping right by she and Harry. 

"Ms. (Y/N), how are you this evening? You look gorgeous," Monty greeted her, his eyes obviously shifting from her gown to the petite pearl bag in Harry's hands. His brow raised just that much more at the sight. 

"Thank you so much, Monty," she bubbled, knowing the version of herself he would be expecting and slipping into that role, "How are you? Busy, I'm sure." 

"You have no idea," he exaggerated, the words ending with a boisterous laugh (Y/N) joined in on. "Are you ready to walk?" 

"As ready as I can be," (Y/N) offered, shaking her head as she gestured down to her shoes, "Didn't get a chance to break in my shoes at all, and you know how the Vivienne corsets can be." 

"We'll get you through as fast as possible, then," Monty laughed, smiling a little too bright, "You know, when we got your RSVP, we made sure to stock the bar extra just for you." 

It was meant to be a joke, she knew that, a rib at the way she was apparently always drunk whenever she went out. She was sure it was supposed to be something meant to entice her into being that much more excited to get the carpet over. Nonetheless, she couldn't help the way she wanted to roll her eyes and huff a sigh. 

Still, she laughed along, leaning forward as if she were doubling over in laughter. The photographers ate it up. "You know me so well," she told Monty, taking in a deep breath, "Thank you." 

Casting a look towards the carpet, Monty double checked his tablet before he looked at her with a mild smile. "Ready to go?" 

Following his gaze, the patrons in front of her had dwindled down to none, leaving her the next on the chopping block.

Feeling a tad bit stiff after the last interaction, (Y/N) still nodded her head. "Of course." 

Harry was a silent pillar beside her as they followed after Monty. She wished she knew what he was thinking. 

A beat passed, Monty waiting for a cue, then he looked to (Y/N) with that practiced smile. "Go ahead, Ms. (Y/N). I'll see you in there." 

(Y/N) waved her goodbye, stepping carefully into the mouth of the event, the carpet shifting under her feet into something luxurious and soft. At her back, Harry stepped up.

"I'll be right behind you," he murmured, a quiet reminder, before the chaos erupted. 

No doubt the media recognized who was at her back, cameras fluttering with flashes burning her gaze. She smiled effortlessly, stopping to pose and look in whatever direction she was called. She stood out against the stark white and deep black of the carpet, the attendees meant to be the color in the gallery for the night. Around her, others were posted up giving their own poses to the cameras facing them, some having brought friends or dates to chat with in between. 

(Y/N) hoped she would see Francesca or Emma soon. 

Traipsing through the carpet, (Y/N) stopped and pose at ever juncture instructed, blowing kisses and showing off her gown at every stop. As nervous as she was to have so many eyes on her—many wanting some kind of slip up to be able to report on—it couldn't knock how excited she was to have herself immortalized in a look like this. That couldn't take away how pretty she felt. 

Harry was a silent soldier behind her, never wavering as the hall had shouting photographers, shuttering cameras, and chatter from the various attendees. He followed her carefully, a delicate pink bag hanging from his hands that were clasped at his front. He stayed far enough away to ensure every shot only captured her, but close enough she could turn to face him and give him whatever signal was needed to get out of there. 

Going down the carpet, (Y/N) grew used to the feel of eyes all over her, beginning to revel in the way her body and look was being appreciated by the attendees. While she didn't love the sound of her name being shouted across the carpet, she didn't mind when it meant she was going to be posing for a photo that she would be happy to see floating around the internet. 

Scaling the plush staircase trailing further down the carpet, the mass of the photographers thinned leaving only a few here and there to snap the final photos before guests were led into the gallery, with a few publications waiting for a moment to catch an interview. Scanning the few, (Y/N) tried to spot the one interview she was scheduled to make for the night. 

Catching sight of a bright blonde head of hair, (Y/N) inched towards her hoping the woman was who she thought it was. It took a moment for the interviewer to turn around, the strands of ultra straight blonde hair fanned around her familiar face. Relief hit (Y/N), then—she didn't have to stand in the middle of everything hoping someone noticed her and gave direction.

"Hi, (Y/N), how are you?" The interviewer, Gwen, greeted her with a bright smile, leaning over to give her a light hug around their immaculate gowns. 

Noting the camera that was definitely still recording, (Y/N) ensured her own tabloid smile was fixed to her face, her voice pitched and pleasant. "I'm doing well, thank you! You look amazing, Gwen," (Y/N) bubbled, stepping back to admire the embellishments on the gown. 

She wasn't surprised, really. Gwen was the yearly reporter for the major fashion magazine that sponsored half of the attendees at the event. They were one of the few legitimate publications that printed stories about her and reached out for articles about her looks or to be featured in segments on their website—even if there were hate comments flooded on her features. 

Starting off like the rest of the interviews that had been conducted that night, Gwen asked who she was wearing and rattled off questions about the inspiration behind her gown. (Y/N) answered pleasantly, attributing everything to the collaborative effort with her stylist and the handful of others that helped her prep for the night. Standing just off camera, Harry stayed back but she could feel his eyes on her as she spoke with Gwen. 

More than once did Gwen's eyes shift from where (Y/N) stood, peeking over her shoulder to find her bodyguard. (Y/N) hated to think what she might be assuming at that moment, the kinds of questions that might be swirling. Tomorrow, when all of the analyses of this moment were circulated through the public, she was sure people would assume that there was something more going on in the moment, that Harry was doing something just off screen that would somehow confirm that he was her affair partner and secret boyfriend. 

"But, yeah, we wanted something classic for the hair, but it definitely took a lot more time to get there than it looks," (Y/N) ended, brushing those stray strands out of her face. 

Waiting for the next question to come, (Y/N) saw the way Gwen tossed a glance towards the producer that was standing behind the camera. Something was exchanged in that look.

Keeping the energy up, Gwen turned back to (Y/N) with her practiced smile. "While I have you here, (Y/N), we do have to ask," she said, lowering her head with a glint in her eye as if she were just a girl friend gossiping over brunch, "We see you've brought a guest with you tonight, can you share with us who that is?" 

She was definitely fishing, trying to glean something out of the interaction. Even magazines like this couldn't be completely free from rumors and gossip, she guessed. 

Staying in character, bubbly and bright, (Y/N) looked behind her with a giggle. (Another scene that was going to be overanalyzed, edited and clipped to show the "truth"). Waving to him to step forward, she hoped Harry would play along for just a couple of minutes. Hesitant, Harry took a careful step forward, inching into the view of the camera with her purse swinging in his grip. 

"This is Harry," she bubbled off, gesturing to him as he gave a reserved smile to the camera before tipping his head down so as to not garner any more attention, "I know he's been pictured with me a lot recently, but he's just my bodyguard. I think there's been a few different stories floating around, but that's the truth."

Gwen paused for a second, certainly rattled by the soft denial she was given for details. In an attempt to recover from the fishing, she joked, "And, is that your purse or his he's got?" 

"His, but he let me borrow it for the night," (Y/N) played along, hoping Harry wouldn't mind taking ownership over the mini beaded bag in his grip. 

Gwen joined in her laughter, sounding a little more than exaggerated with the way she reached out to grab (Y/N)'s arm as if to steady herself. 

"Well," she started once recovering, "it was so much fun talking with you, (Y/N). We'll see you inside." 

"I'll see you inside, Gwen," (Y/N) reciprocated, giving another small hug as a goodbye. 

"Hopefully, we'll both be at the same afterparty—I'd love a chance to see you let loose," Gwen laughed.

"Right," (Y/N) answered with a peal of laughter, stepping out with a wave as Gwen's next interviewee was set to step up to the plate. 

Taking in a deep breath and shaking out her hands, (Y/N) was grateful to be out of view of any cameras. Only a stitch remained off the carpet before she would be ushered into the event, but there was a moment of reprieve in this moment.

Close behind, Harry stepped up beside her, his eyes clear when he matched hers. "Alright?" 

"Yeah," she breathed, fluttering her lashes with a shake of her head to get the stray hairs from her updo out of her face, "I didn't expect anyone to ask about that. Sorry." 

"'S okay," he murmured, scanning over her features, "Want to wait a second before we go in?"

(Y/N) nodded her head with a mumbled yeah. Harry didn't push her as she lingered in that space in-between, allowing her space as she calmed her rattled nerves. It wasn't until she heard the sound of others approaching, more people to clock her with her shaking hands and stressed demeanor, that she decided she was ready to move on. 

"Let's go," she murmured, eyes downcast as she spared a few more moments before she was to be on again. 

"Y'sure?" Harry checked, reaching his hand out to hover between her shoulder blades. All he needed was the reaffirming nod from her before he was helping to usher her inside. 

The hosts of the event were the first to greet her as they stepped into the gallery, familiar faces (Y/N) had seen year after year. Harry's hand on her back was warm and weighty, keeping her on track as he took the blame to usher her through the interactions as soon as she received their seating tickets and were wished a good evening. She was grateful for him getting her through, still feeling a little bit too exposed after that interview. 

Entering into the gallery space that had been renovated for the event to feature round dinner tables and a stage for the hosts and donors to be honored for the night. Matching the carpet out front, everything was left as black and white, the guests being the splashes of color as if they were the artworks for the night. The decor came in the same monotone hues only the cocktails and drinks breaking up the greys on the table. 

"Did they seat you with me?" (Y/N) asked, passing Harry his ticket for the night. 

Giving the paper a small glance, Harry kept most of his attention on getting her through the clusters of people standing about. "Think so," he murmured, a furrow on his brow. 

Peering over the large curls on her head, Harry guided her through, finding their table. Lucky for her, despite being a bit later than she had scheduled, her father and his associates hadn't arrived yet. That allowed her to peek at the seating chart, lips thinning when she saw she'd be at her father's side through the night. 

"Can I have my bag?" (Y/N) asked, looking at Harry just a step behind her. He didn't hesitate to pass off her tiny purse. Still embarrassed by what happened on the carpet and thinking about the dull way he confirmed he'd been seated next to her, (Y/N) bit at her bottom lip before turning towards him. "It's okay if you don't want to stay tonight. I know this stuff is really boring, so if you'd rather—" 

"No. We've been over this," Harry said, his voice stern as he matched her gaze, "Wherever you are, I am." 

While she knew this was all a part of his job—his following of her, his determination—there was something that bubbled behind her ribs. Even if there was no other reason he would spend time with her, at least there was someone always at her side; she wasn't going to be alone in these moments as long as Harry was there. 

"Okay," she nodded, biting back a smile. Peeking over his shoulder, (Y/N) spotted Emma and Francesca settled around their own table, chatting away while others breezed past their table with small greetings. "I think I'm going to go talk to my friends before my dad gets here, but you can go get a drink or something if you want. If anyone asks for any payment or anything, just say it's on me." 

While she knew there was a high possibility that he wasn't going to take her up on the offer, he only nodded at her before she was sending off towards the girls. 

Growing closer to their court, (Y/N) could see Stavros at Emma's side, with Francesca thankfully alone—it was always a good day when she didn't bring some billionaire or to come hang out in hopes of commandeering his yacht for the weekend. They had leaned close together, chatting over the table while Stavros absently stroked his hand up and down Emma's arm, his gaze shimmering as he gazed at her profile. 

Franny was the first to spot her approach, her gaze lifting and posture straightening. "(Y/N)!" she cheered, Emma turning in her seat with a matching smile, "You finally made it!" 

"You look gorgeous," Emma gushed, her own glimmering dress surely a Stavros original.

"Thank you," (Y/N) smiled, taking a free chair at Emma's side to slip into the conversation, "You guys look so pretty, too." 

At that, Emma couldn't seem to help herself before launching into the origin story of her dress, introducing Stavros and his genius mind as the one behind her high couture sheath dress. Francesca had clearly already heard this tale, her gaze checked out as she pulled her phone from her purse. 

"Did you bring anyone, (Y/N)?" Emma pressed, no doubt having already seen Harry at her table and fishing for more information. 

Shaking her head, (Y/N) felt the ends of her hair tickling her collarbones. "No, just Harry." 

"Just Harry?" 

A smile spread across her cheeks at Emma's prodding. "Just Harry," she parroted, unwavering despite Emma's tease. Turning to Francesca, (Y/N) shifted the conversation, "Has your mom called again since she visited?" 

It only took a roll of Fran's eyes to tell (Y/N) everything she needed to know. "It's not if she's called, it's how many times." 

With that Francesca started on the epic that was the amount of phone calls, FaceTimes, and voicemails left on her phone with her mom still insistent that being a gallery owner is all her daughter could ever want. Following along and allowing her laughter to flow freely, (Y/N) slipped into herself as she sat with her friends. Seeing the event photographer fluttering about the tables, she was grateful that this moment could be forever immortalized—a time she felt like herself with her best friends. 

Unfortunately, also from her peripheral, she could spot her father and his friends having seated themselves at their table. His showmanship in terms of his boisterous laughter that had to be at a volume just higher than the rest of the crowd was what gave him away. Harry was also seated though he was decidedly less interested in the conversation than the rest of the table, his gaze shifting to where she sat more often than not. 

(Y/N) couldn't help but to scoot in further to her borrowed table, despite knowing that she was only pushing off the inevitable. She was going to have to speak to her father anyway, especially with her place setting residing next to him. Nonetheless, she preferred to put it off as long as possible. She was having a good time at this point, no reason to cut it short.

Being spared only a handful more minutes, (Y/N) knew she couldn't steal this spot forever when she saw one of the hosts start making rounds before edging towards the stage. She was sure the rightful owner of this spot was waiting for her to leave, anyway.

Finding a pause in the conversation, she began to stand with a careful hand ensuring the slit in her dress didn't open too wide. "I'd better go sit down, guys. I think everything's starting soon."

Francesca gave her a pout. "You'll come see us after dinner?" 

"Of course; you think I'm going to stay over there all night?" 

Both Fran and Emma let out a laugh, Stavros awkwardly joining in despite most likely needing a translation of what she said from his girlfriend. 

Sharing quiet goodbyes, (Y/N) pasted a smile on her face as she made her way back to her own table. At some point she must not have caught, Harry had gotten up and was now returning with a couple of glasses of water in his hands. She watched as he placed them beside their individual plates then took the spot beside her father. A pinch took her brow. 

Their table was full of exclusively her father's friends: two men she recognized from the country club, one of their wives, and Harry. The rearrangement would leave her to sit between Harry and the man's wife, a step removed from her father. Not that she was complaining, though. 

Without missing a step, (Y/N) approached the round table with her hands folded in front of her, tiny bag on her wrist. The sound of her heels clacking over the floor was muffled under the dull roar of the chattering ballroom. 

Silently, she took her rearranged spot. Scooting in, no one acknowledged her, her father instead holding court as usual. At least here, he was one of many important fish, so she didn't have to deal with people fawning over his facade. 

Peering at the name cards she had spotted before, (Y/N) saw her's and Harry's cards had been swapped. Harry had been stationed at the table the whole time, she couldn't imagine anyone had a moment—even her father—to move the places around without him noticing.

Eventually, just as she was about to pull out her phone and do anything to entertain herself, she heard her name come from her father's mouth. "You look nice, sweetie" he complimented, his investor meeting smile lighting up his features. 

"Thank you," she answered, her own features arranged in a practiced expression, "You look nice, too." 

Just like that, he moved on, replacing his attention to now land on Harry. It was a replay of the day at the country club, another round of praises being offered to her "handler" and all the amazing work he's done for (Y/N). Tuning it all out, she instead focused on the ice in her water glass, smiling when she heard a laugh around the table and zoning out otherwise. 

It wasn't until there was another joke made at (Y/N)'s expense, that she was brought back to the surface with a discreet brush of a hand against her knee. Blinking back into the moment, she saw Harry looking at her, ignoring whatever else was going on.

"Alright?" he murmured, eyes flittering about her features, "Do y'want me to get you a drink?" 

The beginnings of a smile touched at the corner of her lips, her mouth going lopsided with her lipgloss glittering in the light. "I'm okay, but thank you," she muttered. 

If she was being honest, she was on the brighter side of okay in that second. It was nice seeing someone ignore her dad for once and offer her some attention. 

Harry only gave her a quiet nod before seamlessly slipping back into the conversation. Her attention followed him, watching the way he interacted very differently than only a couple weeks prior at the country club. 

He was stiff in where he sat, features closer to a flat mask than the more languid expressions she was used to seeing him give her father. His jaw was tight, his forearms coming to rest on the lip of the table, his hands an inflexible bundle over the fine china of his plate. He was taking up space, shoulders broad and eyes solid. Following his line of sight, she saw him fixed on the man sitting at her father's other side. 

(Y/N) only recognized him from the country club, specifically during her last visit a couple of weeks back. He wasn't notable by any means, but he was one of the couple that spared her a lingering glance even when her father was promoting Harry to the rest of the table. 

Maybe, he was the reason Harry was in such a rotten mood when he met her in the maze. One of the few times she wished she had stuck around her father's drinking table, if only to know why Harry was insistent on shooting this man daggers. 

"Right, Harry?" her father jested, most likely looking for Harry's confirmation to a deprecating joke at (Y/N)'s expense. 

Blinking in the direction of the man, Harry barely spared a glance to her father. 

"Right," he deadpanned. 

It was the expression on her father's face, obviously thrown off by the lack of enthusiasm on Harry's part, that had her hiding her smile behind a sip from her glass of ice water.

Perhaps this dinner wouldn't be so bad.

—————

With dinner plates cleared and trays of mini desserts being distributed throughout the room, (Y/N) took her first chance at escape. 

Others had started milling about, socializing with drinks in hand before the afterparties that would no doubt last well into the night. It was easy to slip within the masses, the wife of one of her father's friends being one of the only that could have spotted her disappearance. The men at the table were too distracted to even acknowledge her mumbled excusal to go to the restroom—including Harry, even if half of his attention was still placed on the sharp looks he was giving to the man across from him.

Emma and Francesca happily welcomed her back to their table, a couple of other girls they occasionally clubbed with also having pulled up a chair. From where she sat, she could still spot her father's table, his back facing her. She was able to relax then, feeling comfortable around her friends, even when she spotted the photographer from earlier meandering through the tables once more with the camera to his eye. 

They bubbled over the surprise performance over dinner, an impromptu concert from one of the celebrities in attendance, with (Y/N) hoping they ended up at the same afterparty as her so she could get a chance to ask who designed her gown. Francesca shared the person she now had her eyes on, a man she recognized from touring galleries with her mom who was now seated only a few tables away. He was an artist, she decided, way more romantic than any guy with a yacht. Emma and Stavros were very much ready to head to the afterparties with the way they could barely finish a sentence before sealing their lips together. 

"I'm going to go get a drink, do you guys want anything?" (Y/N) asked, standing from her spot with her tiny purse hanging from her wrist. 

Chatters of denial spread over the table, many of the girls having their own drinks or refraining until the afterparties. (Y/N) shot them a smile before turning on her heel and making her way towards the bar. 

The bartender was busy lacing together elaborate themed cocktails for the string of other patrons waiting, leaving (Y/N) to lean against the counter, arms folded on the bartop. She watched the show, enthralled with the mixing of ingredients while in wait. 

Suddenly, she felt a hand touch the small of her back, the boning of her corset stiffening against her skin. (Y/N) jumped where she stood, her breath coming up short. Turning to face whoever spooked her, she recoiled when she saw it was the man that Harry had been shooting daggers at across the table. 

He didn't even look at her as he flagged down the bartender, raising his voice to call across the long bar. (Y/N) stood there, her brain a little too muddled as she watched him speak over her to order a duo of drinks. 

All of her father's friends sucked, but never once has any of them so blatantly disrespected her in public like this. He couldn't wait a few more minutes to get his whiskey and gin and tonic? 

(Y/N) started to pull away then, shaking off his hand as she slunk away from his hovering body. He didn't let her get very far, his hand flexing on her back as he stepped along with her. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he said, a megawatt smile on his face, "I saw you standing here alone and figured it was my chance to finally talk to you." 

"Oh," she sounded, unsure of what to say. More than anything at the moment, she was now annoyed that there was another order before hers, just wanting her cranberry juice-heavy cosmo in her hand. 

"I'm Barron," he told her, dipping his head down as if it was loud enough he needed to whisper in her ear. 

"Nice to meet you," she smiled, her expression practiced, "I'm (Y/N)." 

"I know," he flirted. (Y/N) swore her eye could have twitched.

Just in time, the bartender reached over with a whiskey on the rocks and a crystalline gin and tonic. "Here you are, sir," the bartender smiled, placing both drinks on coasters in front of Barron.

Thankfully, he removed his hand from her back to lean across the bar, relaying the tab information, his voice a little too boastful when spelling out his last name. (Y/N) felt she could breathe easier almost as soon as his hand left her form. Now was her chance: order her drink, and get back to her girls as soon as possible. 

Instead, she saw as the bartender stepped away, relaying back to his previous customers as Barron passed the gin and tonic towards (Y/N). "Here you go, sweetheart." 

Though she was startled, (Y/N) kept her practiced smile on as she stepped back just enough. "No, thank you. I was actu—" 

"I insist," he cut her off, speaking above her with another push of the drink and coaster towards her. His hand returned to her back, caging her in with her front still against the bar. This time, he pressed his palm against the bare skin of her back, his fingers dipping low underneath the scoop of her corset. Unpleasant goosebumps erupted over her skin. "Your dad said you would need someone to keep an eye on you tonight, and I can see your bodyguard is a little busy at the moment. I can take care of this for you instead." 

Her jaw felt tight. Peering over his shoulder, she was able to spot Harry sat with his back facing the bar, just as she left him with her father. 

"Well," she started, chest expanding as she pulled in a deep breath, "Thank you for the drink. My friends are waiting for me, but it was nice to actually meet you." 

Expecting his hand to fall from her, (Y/N) attempted to make her exit. Instead she was offered a stronger grip, his arm a bar across her back. "At least let me talk to you," he laughed, as if he couldn't believe she was trying to slip away, "I got you a drink, I think that's only fair, right?" 

"Oh, I mean," she floundered, reciprocating with a polite laugh, "I should probably get back, though. After I got a drink we were planning on leaving for some afterparties, so." 

He barked out a laugh, bringing his whiskey to his lips as he took in a deep sip. The ice clinked within the glass as she shook his head. "You know, your dad did say you were a bit feisty, but I didn't think you'd be like this." 

Shifting her weight, (Y/N) would have done next to anything to crawl away from this moment. She didn't like the idea of him asking about her to her father; she dreaded to think what kind of stories were told or publications discussed that could have brought up the topic of her being "feisty". 

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the photographer meandering close by. All it would take was a slight struggle, a slight raising of voices, and that camera would no doubt be up to his eye with a high definition photo of the moment splashed across the internet by the end of the night. That wasn't even taking into account the amount of cell phones around the room that could be trained in their direction in a moment's notice. 

As annoying as this man was and how much she was itching to leave her skin over his touch, fighting him further wasn't going to be worth the scene it would cause. Especially not with her father right there; it would be too easy for this man—his friend—to turn this whole thing around on her without any argument from her father. 

All she could do was hope Francesca or any of the other girls noticed she was missing for longer than it could possibly take to grab a drink. 

"Come sit with me," Barron commanded, urging her to roll underneath his arm so he could guide her to a nearby table with vacant chairs. Swallowing, (Y/N) followed along, her smile tight. "Don't forget your drink." 

Her smile grew that much tighter over his words. 

The chilled glass was slick against her palm. 

Barron pushed her into a seat, his hand finally leaving her skin and leaving an overly hot point on her body. Sinking into her chair, (Y/N) tried to create as much space as she could between them, even with the way he leant across the space to enter her bubble. Her hand clenched around the gin and tonic glass. 

"See, not so bad, is it?" Barron teased, taking another sip of his quickly draining glass. 

"Right," (Y/N) let out a humorless laugh, "So, how do you know my dad?" 

This was a trick she learned to get these men off her back. They loved nothing more than to talk about themselves and the things they thought deemed them important. Barron seemed all too excited to talk about his business prowess that led him to her father's "inner circle", surely exaggerating the amount of acquisitions he headed to get him where he was. 

"But, I can't lie," he said, lowering his voice and smirking at her, "I told him I wanted to meet you a month ago, and we've started talking a lot more since. He told me you were having some troubles, and I had a feeling I might be able to help you." 

Reaching across, Barron settled his too warm hand on her knee, his fingertips denting into the soft flesh of her thigh. 

(Y/N) felt her chest tighten at the touch, the way he looked at her over the rim of his glass, as if he were doing her a favor. She was sure he thought she should be grateful to feel his hand on her skin, like this was the first step to getting her through her troubles. 

Her grip around her glass tightened. 

What was she supposed to do now?

She felt trapped. He scooted closer to her over the floor, his hand sliding over her thigh. He even stuck his foot out, playing footsie as if she looked open to flirting. 

Swallowing, she let out a strained laugh, bringing her glass to her lips for no other reason than to buy herself a moment's reprieve. 

She couldn't decipher what would be worse: staying in this situation or causing a scene that would no doubt have her father locking her down in a remote cabin for the winter? 

With the amount of cameras in the room, if she flipped the way her bubbling anxiety urged her to, there was no doubt the last vestiges of her reputation would be burned to the ground. Everything was bad enough already, but there would be no recovery from a documented outburst like the one she could feel brewing. 

A forced laugh fell from her lips, "I guess you could say that." Glancing through the room, she tried to spot Harry. Maybe, he had miraculously turned around and could see what was happening. If she caught his eye, he could put a stop to this. 

He told her all she needed was to look at him, and he would be right there. He could take her away from this. He told her—promised her.

Suddenly, she felt that overly-hot hand that had been on her leg pinch her chin. Barron redirected her strayed attention, forcing her to look right at his smug face. 

"Eyes on me when I'm speaking, babygirl. It's respectful." 

If not for the fact she was close to having an anxiety attack, (Y/N) could only imagine the amount of rage she would feel at his condescending words. 

Instead, all she could feel was his hand too close to her throat, the absolute view of his eyes he was forcing on her. Her skin felt too hot, though she swore goosebumps were rising. Her stomach churned, the corset feeling way too tight around her lungs. 

"Sorry," she swallowed, almost choking around the word though she could tell he didn't even notice. 

In as casual of a way as she could muster, she pushed his hand off of her chin, disguising it as a move to flip her hair over her shoulder. Barron instead settles his hand on her shoulder, fingering the pearls draping over her skin. 

"Good," he said, seemingly pleased with her feigned obedience, "I want to hear about you, though." 

"What do you want to know?" she forced out through a high smile. 

Her heart jumped into her throat, clogging her airways with every brush of his fingers over her skin. She was on the verge of a panic attack. 

One of the only times she ever would have wanted a bodyguard and he's not even here. If her father could shut up for two seconds, Harry could have done the job he was hired for. 

Instead, (Y/N) was left with a pit in her stomach, something that she swore could eat through her dress and absorb her as if it were nothing. How was she supposed to breathe when her organs had to make way for the blackhole in her stomach? How was she supposed to think clearly when her instincts urged her to move along, with nothing else managing to make an impression on her brain? 

This man was pushing her too far. He was touching her too much, looking at her too closely, talking too loudly. 

She needed him to stop. She could barely feel her hands, her toes, her lips. No amount of air in her lungs was enough. 

(Y/N) hadn't even realized Barron was talking until his voice was cut off. A decidedly gentler hand settled on her opposing shoulder. 

"There you are!" Francesca greeted, bending down to (Y/N)'s level with her eyes widening just enough when she made eye contact, "I'm about to head to the bathroom, could you come with me?" 

Without a second thought, (Y/N) released her chokehold grip on the gin and tonic, looking Barron in the eye as she took in the first semi-normal breath in the last handful of minutes. "Sorry, I'll be right back." 

Francesca took (Y/N)'s hand in her own, scurrying to the bathroom in record time. Stepping over the tile floor of the single stall restroom, (Y/N) felt a tingle in her hands, her gaze unable to focus while Francesca locked the door behind them. 

"Hey, what's going on?" Fran questioned, stepping behind her with a cautious hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" 

All it took was a flutter of (Y/N)'s lashes and a stuttered breath before everything she was holding back spilled over. A whimper sliced from her throat, her vision blurring. 

"(Y/N)?" 

Spinning on her heel, she couldn't help the way she braced herself against her best friend, Francesca collecting her into a hug as if she might collapse at a moment's notice. 

"I-I don't know," (Y/N) cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, "I—Fran—I'm—Thank you." 

Nothing falling from her lips made much sense, everything too mushy and half-baked as she sputtered. She didn't know how to articulate how uncomfortable Barron was making her feel; how much she wanted to crawl out of her skin, how she felt trapped, how she knew what he did wasn't all that bad—even compared to her own experiences—but she swore she hadn't felt so unsafe since that night with Damien Moore. How was she supposed to get all of that out between gasping breaths and tingling lips? 

Francesca was her pillar at the moment, keeping (Y/N) upright as she held her. "Okay, it's okay," she tried to soothe her, despite her own voice wavering, "I didn't even know, (Y/N). I'm sorry. I would have helped you sooner, if I had." 

"It's okay, it's okay," (Y/N) parroted, sniffling, "I-I think my dad told him to talk to me." 

Francesca muttered something under her breath, which sounded a lot like a string of curse words though (Y/N) hoped it was actually a hex against her father. 

After tightening her hug, Francesca began to pull away from (Y/N)'s melting form. "I'm going to be right back," she told her earnestly, "I'm going to grab my bag and call my driver, and we're going to leave, okay? Your dad isn't even going to know." 

"Okay, okay," (Y/N) repeated in a broken voice, nodding her head, "Thank you." 

Francesca left with a concerned look over her shoulder. 

Circling the drain, (Y/N) couldn't stop pacing around the bathroom, the clack of her heels echoing in her ears. Her mind was running way too fast to keep up. There was no focus she could give to anything when she swore her corset was strangling her. The spots that Barron's slimy hands touched her dirty, gross and sticky in a way only the longest shower could hope to erase. Her head was too muddy, swimming too far away, for anything to make sense.

Striking through it all, she remembered her father was out there. 

God, she was going to be in so much trouble. There was no way she could talk herself out of this one, and with how fragile she felt at the moment, she couldn't imagine making it through a scolding of his like she usually did. Not like this. 

What if he blamed Harry, even? What if Harry was roped into her orbit of trouble, being blamed for the fact she had a breakdown in one of the most inconvenient places? Her father would no doubt reject the fact that he was the reason behind Harry's distraction.

The idea made (Y/N) crumble that much more. These were her problems, and now Harry might be held accountable for the fact she couldn't suck it up over a couple of lingering touches and condescending words. As if she didn't know how to handle it already. 

Memories of this man's hands on her body—along with a quick montage of others in his place before, including Damien Moore—were a thick ocean in (Y/N)'s head. The illusions were only cut with the scolds of her father, lists of things she'd done wrong and could never recover from. 

Through the depths, she could hear distant voices. They were having a muffled argument on the other side of the door, that much she could collect. Every other detail was lost at sea, (Y/N) too busy crumbling by the sink with her breathing too short to be good for her health. 

Suddenly, the voices were much closer, a firm tone telling their partner that "I need to see her, let me in!" She knew she recognized that voice, that firm tone and grumbling accent. (Y/N) knew who was on the other side of the door, but nothing could properly register in her head. 

The door burst open a second later (or it could have been a handful of minutes, time wasn't real in the moment to her). Both Harry and Francesca tumbled through, Harry's brow furrowed and eyes hard while Fran's were boiling in anger. 

"(Y/N), I tried to tell him to—" 

Francesca's voice filtered through the bathroom, though (Y/N) only saw the way Harry assessed the situation. His cool demeanor never wavered as he catalogued the crumbling mess that made her up. The only thing that gave away the fact that this was out of the norm of his routine was the furrow to his brows and determination setting his jaw. 

Taking broad steps over the tile, Harry met her by the sink, his hands gathering hers from where they were fumbling and picking at her middle. 

"Hey, hey," he murmured, his voice somehow louder to her than Francesca's in the background of the moment, "Why aren't y'breathing, (Y/N)? What's going on?" 

"I-I want to leave, Harry, I don't want to be here anymore," she rushed out, her tongue tripping over itself with salty tears traced the shape of her lips. "I don't w-want him to touch me again, I want to go home." 

A tick appeared in Harry's jaw. "Okay," he nodded, features composed as he slipped his hands out from hers to settle them on the curve of her waist. Before (Y/N) could have any kind of reaction to the touch, Harry was lifting her to sit on the edge of the sink, the slit in her dress splitting to reveal one full leg with the other still draped in the silken material. "Before we can do that, I need you to breathe with me. Okay?" 

"I-I can't," she whined, the tenor of her voice echoing in the otherwise silent room. From the corner of her eye, she could see the silhouette of Francesca paces away, quietly watching on. 

"Okay," Harry soothed, his hands taking hers once more, "But I need you to try. We can't go anywhere until you try." 

The idea that she would have to stay here even a moment longer made (Y/N) choke up even more. How could he ask her to do the impossible like this? She just wanted to leave and Harry was making her stay here, pressuring her to breathe as if he thought she could actually manage that. 

"Harry," she cried, her voice broken. 

He shook his head, a stray curl falling from his tousled head of hair. "Just for a minute, yeah? Then we'll leave, I promise." 

When he didn't dare to break the eye contact he was making with her, (Y/N) couldn't do anything but nod her head to his wishes.

"Copy me," he instructed, taking in a deep through his nose, holding, then exhaling through his nose. When he didn't see (Y/N) doing the same, he repeated, "Gotta copy me, (Y/N)." A pulse of his hands around hers gained her attention. 

"Okay," she peeped, nodding with jerky movements. 

Another round of structured breathing came from Harry, his chest expanding with his perfect lips forming an "o" when exhaling. (Y/N) copied him as best she could, her chest straining against her corset and her lips feeling sticky with tears when she blew out. Harry stuck with her even when her lungs stuttered and she sobbed through the exercise. It wasn't until she was able to make five full breaths in a row that Harry relented in his pressing. 

"Feel a little better?" he asked, eyes searching her face. 

(Y/N) took stock of her state, noting the tingling in her fingers and toes had relented, leaving only the aches of a panic lingering in her body. Her head felt a little bloated and her chest tight, but she was doing world's better than she was only a handful of minutes earlier—even if that wasn't a necessarily hard bar to cross. 

She nodded. 

Using his gentle grip on her hands, Harry guided her off the counter, steadying her back onto her heels. (Y/N) had her eyes on her feet, watching the sparkling of her shoes against the immaculate tile of the floor. She really, really, really hoped tonight wouldn't ruin these shoes for her. 

Stepping back into (Y/N)'s line of sight, Francesca looked just as concerned as when she had left the first time. Her purse was now in hand with her phone clutched between her fingers. "Let's go back to my place, okay? I can make sure my driver can be here in five minutes, then we'll leave and we don't have to talk to anyone else." 

Francesca reached out a friendly hand, intending to take her from Harry's hold and back to her like they planned before he tumbled into the bathroom. (Y/N) didn't even realize that she was shying away from her best friend until she felt Harry's hand settle on the top of her back with his arm curling around her. 

"Fran—I—," she floundered, unsure of where her voice went but not trying to find it, "I want to stay with him, I'm sorry." 

Though (Y/N) expected hurt to touch Fran's features, she instead only saw a look of surprise raise her brows and widen her eyes. "That's okay," Francesca reassured her, "Don't be sorry. Just text me when you get home, okay?" 

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded, her hair tickling her bare skin.

Taking a tentative step forward, Francesca held her arms out. "Can I hug you before you leave?" 

(Y/N) didn't say anything before she collected her friend in a clumsy hug, cheek against her shoulder with their hair creating a mess. 

"I'm sorry, Fran," (Y/N) repeated in a hoarse whisper.

"Why are you sorry, don't be sorry," Francesca reminded her, "I just want you to feel safe, that's all." Pulling away, Fran matched her gaze, a soft smile falling on her mocha lined lips. "You look so hot tonight, so you better still post pics." 

It was the way Francesca looked at her so earnestly as if what she was saying was just as important as solidifying her plans to make it home, that had (Y/N) spilling with a huff of laughter. "I will," she sniffled, her cry-swollen mouth, "Love you." 

"Love you, too." 

Francesca parted with her after another squeezing hug, (Y/N) turning to find Harry with his eyes on the ground waiting for her. He peeked at her through the fan of his lashes, noticing her eye on him once more. 

"Ready?" 

All it took was (Y/N) nodding her head before she was reaching for Harry once more, allowing him to take her under his arm and bundle her to his side. 

"We're going to have to fast, okay?" he murmured to her as he pushed the door to the bathroom open, Francesca lingering in the restroom. 

"Okay," (Y/N) repeated, staying still as he peered around the secluded hallway in search of anyone else lurking around the space. 

Once he determined everything was clear, he started her in the direction of the ballroom. (Y/N) stiffened under his arm. Her father was out there. So was Barron. And over a hundred cell phone cameras and a trained photographer with a high quality camera for moments just like these. 

"I know," he crooned to her, the tip of his nose brushing her hair from where she had her eyes trained on the ground, "But 's the only way to get out. There's a back way, we jus' need to get through by the bar, then we'll be alone again. I promise." 

As much as she wanted to stop in her tracks, hide a little while longer, she allowed Harry to guide her steps down the hall. If this was the only way out, she was going to have to endure. 

The dull roar of the Gala filled every space in her body the second they stepped back under the chandelier light of the ballroom. (Y/N) kept her head down, hoping that if she caught anyone's eye, she could at least spare herself the humility of them catching her ruined makeup and swollen eyes. She clutched Harry's hand cupped around her waist. Her anchor. 

Harry guided them through the space, dodging most of the crowd as he took a swift turn, (Y/N) doing her best to stay steady on her feet. His steps didn't falter once. Until they did. 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks when Harry skidded to a stop, something in their path that she was trying not to panic over. She kept her eyes trained on the pearly hue of her shoes as if she could pinpoint every hue that glimmered off of the expensive fabric.

"Harry, what's going on?" 

Almost jumping out of her skin, (Y/N) whipped her head up to find her father and Barron standing in their way. Her father spoke through gritted teeth, Barron's cheeks too red and eyes too glazed as he didn't even try to hide the way his gaze clung to her form. It's as if he forgot everything that led up to her fleeing from him and now returning with ruined mascara. 

(Y/N) flinched back on instinct. His eyes were almost as bad as his touch. 

Harry was a firm cage around her, keeping her steady as he ignored her father. He dismissed them as he tried to get around them, finding a path between a pair of tables. Her breathing caught in her throat when she saw her father try to reach for her, his hand like a wolven claw meant to drag her away. 

In a moment, Harry had twirled her away, putting her out of range while he acted as a solid wall between them to her. 

"Do not touch her," he gritted out, an undertone to his voice she'd never heard before. He was looking her father right in the eye as he spat out his command, taking him on without a wavering second. 

Her father, taken aback, almost stumbled on his feet. "Excuse me?" he let out. 

Ignoring him once more, Harry shot a sharp look at Barron. The man recoiled as if he had been struck. 

Harry didn't linger a second longer as he took through the tables, getting them back on track as soon as possible. (Y/N) could feel eyes on her, no doubt cameras following suit. This was a moment publication and gossip blogs would rather die than leave out. Tomorrow was going to be a shitshow with the notifications that would blow up her phone, but she couldn't find it in her to care at the moment. 

She only focused on Harry, keeping up with him and keeping her hand in his on her waist. 

Eventually, they stepped into the back hallway. (Y/N) recognized it from the times she'd visited 132 during a regular exhibition; it was the best way to sneak in and out when she didn't want to be spotted. 

Pushing open the heavy door after the hallway forked off into two different directions, Harry pulled (Y/N) into the fresh night air. Though the sky was clear, not a single star could be seen above their heads, the lights too bright to see anything in the heavens. The alley behind the gallery was big enough to allow protected trucks full of art pieces large enough to be considered murals to make through, the space clean enough. Cigarette butts were on the ground, and a dumpster resided on the other side. Still it was enough to please that of the higher clientele that visited the 132 Gallery, though (Y/N) wasn't sure she would care if she were stepping through piles of garbage at the moment. 

She was out. The gallery, her father, Barron, the cameras were all behind her. 

That knowledge alone allowed her lungs to open just a hair more, the rush of oxygen almost choking her. 

"Sully's on his way, okay?" Harry told her, his grip on her lessening now that they were alone, "I told him it was an emergency and he said he'd make it as soon as possible." 

"Okay," she gasped, nodding her head as best she could through her muddied mind. 

"Yeah," she breathed out, her lungs shaky but nothing like before. She just needed to think about every intake, which was a feat in its own, but whatever helped. 

A beat passed, Harry surely keeping track of her breathing. "Thought we stopped crying?" he murmured after a moment, closing in around her with his hands settling on her biceps.

Raising her hand to her cheek, (Y/N) swiped away a stream of tears she hadn't even been aware were leaking out. 

"Me too," she whispered, her voice watery with a pinch to her brows. 

Through the vignette of her tear-clumped lashes, (Y/N) could see the barely there smile on his features. "You've got all that pretty makeup on, remember? Can't keep crying like that when Sully gets here," he crooned, his voice more gentle than she ever thought he could manage. 

He thought her makeup looked pretty. Maybe he wasn't saying that she looked pretty, but it was still enough to loosen her muscles just enough. 

A watery smile fixed itself on her lips. "Yeah," she let out, the word floating on a delicate huff of laughter. 

From behind Harry, a bright beam of light outlined his silhouette. The sound of tires popping over the pavement and the purring rumble of a car engine filled the alleyway. Harry looked over his shoulder, leaving (Y/N) with only a view of the cut and hinge of his jaw, looping curls on the back of his neck. 

The car stopped beside them, Harry not wasting a second before he was gathering (Y/N) in his arms and pulling her into the back of the SUV. She was first in, with Harry following behind her over the leather bench seat. 

(Y/N) couldn't look at Sully when she settled, avoiding the reflection of his gaze in the rearview mirror she was sure that was pointed in her direction. As soon as the pair of them were buckled in—Harry having done hers—Sully was off. They were seamlessly incorporated into the city's traffic, the route back to her apartment, one he knew well and (Y/N) hoped he could quick work of. 

Harry, having forgone the usual buffer he placed between them, shifted in his seat with his thigh pressed against hers. In the back of her mind, (Y/N) knew this should feel like it was too much for her, that she should be shying away from his touch after the gross feeling Barron left her with, but she didn't feel that instinct to revolt. Instead, he was like an anchor, the steadying pillar that followed her about and ensured there was no way she could drift away from shore. 

"Alright?" he whispered, ducking down to peek into her line of sight, "Almost back home." 

She nodded, her brain feeling numb though she was sure there were still tears dripping off her cheeks. Now that the initial wave of panic passed, exhaustion was moving in. She would find out soon if there was going to be an aftershock, a tremor that would wrack through her when the night rushed back to her clear mind. 

Sinking into her seat, (Y/N) tossed her watery gaze out the window. Only a couple of hours prior she was in this same spot, though with perfected makeup and her skin buzzing from anticipation and excitement. Now she only buzzed with the feeling of oxygen reentering her bloodstream. 

God, she couldn't wait to get out of her clothes, and get the pins out of her hair. 

No longer caring, she got a head start and began shakily unraveling her shoes from her feet. Her fingertips fumbled over the latch on the string of pearls around her ankles, but it didn't take long for her to kick off her pumps and curl her knees to her chest. Harry silently reached down and took the Manolo's from the floor, his fingers hooked in the top straps.

When (Y/N)'s building came into view, Sully rolled to a stop just outside the entrance. (Y/N) finally chanced a look at the rearview mirror, her driver's soft eyes matching hers through the glass. 

"Thank you," she peeped, voice broken. 

Sully simply smiled and nodded at her. 

Behind her, Harry urged her out onto the sidewalk with a careful hand on her back. She didn't think twice about her bare feet landing on the burgundy carpet rolled out on the sidewalk before her building, keeping her mind focused on getting up to her apartment. Harry lingered for a moment, the rumble of his voice saying something to Sully, before he was joining her. 

"C'mon," he murmured, grabbing her hand in his. 

Much like he had at the Gala, Harry directed her through the lobby, her hand in one of his with her shoes in the other. He didn't let her linger on what the doormen could be thinking, seeing her with tear stained cheeks and bare feet with her designer gown. He took her straight to the elevator and input the code to her floor. 

For the first time since landing in the bathroom with panic in her chest, (Y/N) noticed the small detail of elevator music. 

Following after him, Harry took her to her apartment, using the key she'd given him weeks ago to let them in. He let go of her hand once they crossed the threshold as he lingered back to lock the door behind them. Looking around her apartment, the rug under her feet, (Y/N) couldn't pinpoint what triggered her, but the sprinkling of tears leaving her eyes elevated to a full downpour.

Her breathing came out in a stuttered pace, a whimper swirling from her chest. There was that aftershock. 

Oh, how this night was derailed. 

In an instant, Harry is there. His arms looped around her, his instincts taking over as she was pulled to his chest. 

"Hey, hey," he crooned to her, "What's going on, what happened?" 

(Y/N) only shook her head against his black suit-covered shoulder. She didn't have a real answer to that, and wasn't interested in digging through the events of the night to give him a full picture at the moment. 

Instead, she focused on his hold. She could feel the bump of her heels on the small of her back, but that didn't keep him from keeping her in a grounding hold. Though he was touching her in the same places that Barron had—her back, her arms, her leg, her chin—Harry's touch didn't feel the same at all. She didn't recoil or expect a film to be left on her pores. 

She all but melted into him, her muscles liquifying like the tears from her eyes. Harry held her up without a second thought, just as he had the rest of the night. 

A pinch took knitted her brows together at the thought, her eyes squeezing shut as more tears fled from her ducts. 

Never did she picture herself needing him the way she did tonight. He was so calm and strong, keeping her from falling to pieces on the bathroom floor. (Y/N) loved Francesca with her whole heart and knew she owed her a phone call before the night was over, but she didn't think her best friend could have controlled the situation and her breakdown like Harry had. 

He stopped her father from touching her, Barron from talking to her. He knew the precise way to make it out with the least amount of disturbance possible. Even letting Sully know to pick them up as soon as possible wasn't something that had even crossed her mind, but that had to have been one of the first things he did when he realized her state. 

She hugged him tighter, her arms around his middle. 

Drawing away just enough to look down at her, Harry scanned her with sparkling green eyes. "Do y'need to breathe with me again?" he asked her, the suggestion gentle and quiet as if there were people around to overhear. 

"N-No," she said, shaking her head, "I just—... Can you stay with me f-for a second?" 

In response, Harry homed her back into his chest. "I've got you," his voice rumbled his chest under her cheek. 

Though it was more than clumsy with missteps and stilted movements, Harry led her to the staircase that ran up to her room. From there, he sat her on the bottom step, with him following closely after. She huddled up to him, Harry's arms curling around her as she sat with her dress splayed around her. 

She didn't know how long she sat there, one of Harry's hands on her shin with his thumb moving in a soothing circuit over the bone, her face in his neck, but no time seemed long enough. The only reason she even dared to begin to pull back was the itching feeling of her clothes wrapped around her body. 

"What do you need?" he asked instantly, ducking down into her space. From this view, she saw a collection of freckles across his nose, faint. 

Swallowing, (Y/N) felt her hair sticking to her wet cheeks, the chunks of desecrated mascara surely mixing with the strands on her skin. 

"I don't want to be in my dress anymore," she said, her voice as loud as she could manage without breaking. "It's too much." 

"Okay," he murmured, giving a small nod, "Okay. I'll help you up to your room, and then y'can change into your pajamas." 

The idea of him leaving her being in her bedroom had the lump in her throat thickening. She could barely keep her hands steady and he wanted her to be by herself?

"I-I can't do it by myself," she whimpered, too far gone to feel embarrassed about asking her bodyguard for help like this. 

"Y'need my help?" he pressed, looking for verification though his gaze didn't waver from her own. 

(Y/N) simply nodded her head. 

His lips thinned but he gave her a confirming dip of his chin before he started helping her stand. He kept his hand wrapped around hers as he pulled her up the steps, (Y/N) following pliantly into her bedroom. 

With a toss, Harry left her shoes in a heap somewhere in her room, but his attention was firmly laced on her. He kept her bedroom door open, the light from the hallway seeping through. 

"(Y/N)?" he voiced, his voice firm, "Can y'look at me?" 

Turning her gaze, she found him looking directly at her as his hand slipped away from hers. She almost wanted to reach for it back, unwilling to let go of that tether. 

"You're okay with me helping y'undress?" he prodded, reiterating the same question she thought she already answered at the bottom of the stairs, "I need you to tell me if you're sure. I'm not going to help unless y'mean it." 

"I-I can't do it by myself, please," she told him. Not once had she made it in or out of this dress by herself, and she couldn't fathom doing that now when her eyes were swollen with tears and her hands fighting off tremors. "I don't want to wear this anymore." 

he looked at her for a beat longer, gaze matching her own. Whatever he saw in there must have been enough for him to give her a small nod. "Okay. Tell me what to do." 

"Just get the zipper," she told him, facing her back towards him where the scooping line of her dress made it that much harder for her to reach the tiny mechanism. 

Silently, Harry stepped behind her, her hair already up and pulled away when she reached towards her. The hook at the top of the form was the first to go, his fingertips brushing the same swatch of skin Barron had violated. Taking the zipper down, every tooth that was pulled apart allowed her lungs to fill deeper with air. (Y/N)'s eyes fluttered closed at the feeling, her dress loosening around her shoulders. 

Pressing her hands to her chest, she kept the bodice of her dress up once Harry reached the bottom of the line. 

"Can y'breathe better?" Harry murmured behind her, his words fanning across her skin. His breath felt cool against her skin. 

"Uh-huh," she exhaled, her shoulders relaxing into a gentle slope, "Thank you." 

She heard him murmur a good in response though he hesitated where he stood. "Do y'need any more of m'help? Or do y'want to be alone now?" 

The idea of Harry leaving her, setting her to be alone in the dark of her room, the city skyline dusky out the window. She feared his hands were the only things keeping her from falling apart. 

"Help," she answered simply. 

Wordlessly, Harry assisted her in pulling down her dress, her back facing him as it became an ethereal puddle at her feet. Dom was going to kill her when he found out she let the gown touch the floor. 

The nude forms of her shapewear and barely there bra was all that was left on her body as she kicked away her dress, the corset now structureless and folded with pearls a mess around. 

(Y/N) didn't even think before she was pulling down her shapewear, the compression just another layer too much. 

"I—" Harry coughed from behind her, his voice cutting short, "I'm going to get y'some clothes." 

Her skin heated when she realized the way she had so carelessly began undressing in front of him. She was so used to having a team be there when she prepped and redressed from this, the shyness accompanying undressing and pulling layers off her body no longer lingered in moments like these. But, Harry wasn't a member of those teams, and this obviously wasn't the kind of thing he had anticipated when he obliged to stay and help her. She hoped she hadn't scarred him with the way she was almost completely nude in front of him. 

At the same time, she couldn't curb the urge to get these pieces off of her body. She wanted to be rid of the night, the touches, the layers of herself that fell victim to her father's pressures to stay perfect at all times. The sooner that could happen, the sooner she would feel like herself again. 

By the time Harry returned from her closet, an oversized shirt and a pair of her pilates shorts in hand, she was down to her thong with her hands holding up the push-up cups of her bra. She almost jumped out of her skin when she saw him move out of the corner of her eye, his steps faltering before he trained his gaze on the ground. 

"I'll leave these here for you," he mumbled, the set of clothing being dropped on the edge of her mattress. He brought his knuckle up to brush against the tip of his nose, "I'll be outside your door. Come find me when you're done." 

When the door shut behind him, (Y/N) was sealed away by herself. Her room became a vacuum, the air sucked out in a way that only felt calm. 

Left in only her underwear, she allowed her bra to drop to the floor as she fell back on her mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with the light of the city filtering through her balcony in hazy beams. 

This is her apartment. She's in her bed. She was in her skin. Her clothing was waiting at the end of her bed. 

(Y/N) eyes fell closed as relief flooded through herself at the mantra. Everything around her was hers. No one could take any of this from her. This peace was hers to hold. 

Tomorrow she would be worried about the stories that would be spun, her father's reaction to everything that had transpired, what consequences would follow this breakdown. But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, she was going to relish the sense of safety, that for a second she worried she would never experience again (that panic in her tummy was rooted deep). 

She needed to text Francesca.

While she would have preferred to give her a call, there wasn't enough energy in her body for something like that. 

Instead, (Y/N) lethargically redressed into her pajamas. Her top slouched around her form, the neckline wide and sleeves draping. Her shorts were well worn and stretchy from the many pilates sessions they accompanied her to. Taking her phone after she was settled into her skin, she typed out a text to Francesca. 

    thank you for helping tonight. harry got me home a little bit ago so I'm alright. I love u so much fran thank you thank you thank you

The second she pressed send, the confirmation that the message was delivered popping up, (Y/N) dropped the device among the folds in her duvet to find Harry. 

Whipping the door open, she found Harry just outside her bedroom door. His suit jacket had been discarded somewhere in her apartment, his tie missing as well. Now he was left with the top couple of buttons undone of his shirt and his shirt sleeves now loose around his forearms. The tattoos she spotted the first day they met were back on display, roses and mermaids and bugs and script. 

That peace she found in her bedroom strengthened at the sight of him. 

"Y'alright?" Harry asked, his posture straightening from where he had leant against the wall. 

"Yeah," she murmured, stepping over the threshold, "I-I can breathe, finally." She swallowed, taking in the state of his messed hair and flush to his cheeks. She knew what the night looked like from her end, but she could only imagine the kind of trouble he went through. "I'm sorry." 

Harry shook his head, lips thinning at her apology. "Don't be sorry," he affirmed, reaching a careful hand out, "C'mon." 

Laying her palm in his, (Y/N) was ready to follow wherever Harry wanted to take her. She padded after him as he escorted her to her bathroom, the space littered with beauty products and a bay window showing off the light of the city through the frosted glass. 

"Let's get your makeup off and hair down, yeah?" he asked her, meeting her eyes through the glass of her mirror as he flicked on the overhead lights. 

"Yes, please," she nodded, her voice heavy with fatigue now that the come down was beginning to settle in. "I'll start with my makeup if you'll get my hair?" 

"Sounds like a plan," Harry murmured, a shadow of a smile touching the corners of his lips. 

A comforting silence settled in the air, Harry concentrating on breaking the hold of the can of hairspray that was used on her styled hair. A furrow appeared in his brow from where she spied him in the mirror. 

"Let me know if I hurt you," he mumbled, picking bobby pins out of her strands. He only worked with gentle hands, fingertips brushing her scalp. 

Now it was her turn to feel a curling grin tease the corners of her mouth. "Okay." 

Pulling her removal balm from her drawer, she spread the oil across her fingertips and began shedding the layers of ruined makeup from her skin. In the back of her mind, she wanted to care about Harry seeing her with raccoon eyes and greasy skin, but she was sure he'd already seen her much worse earlier in the night. Nothing could scare him away at this point, even if she knew it was more for job security than anything that had to do with her. Besides, she didn't mind showing him this part of herself; he was her safety net tonight. 

More and more of her strands broke free while (Y/N) peeled her lashes off, a damp cloth being used to get the removal balm off of her skin. Her pores and blemishes were on display once more, her skin breathing after being caked under powders and rivers of tears. Her scalp felt sore with every bobby pin Harry took out, a pile accruing on the counter. 

"Can I ask what happened back there?" Harry piped up, breaking the silence that had settled like a fog over the room. His usual deadpan tone softened into something malleable and soft, gentle to her ears. 

(Y/N)'s lips thinned at the question. She knew how to answer the question, but it was more of a matter of if she wanted to hear the answer after already living it. She bought herself time as she swiped her face with an extra cleansing water, her reusable cotton pad soft against her skin. 

From her view in the mirror, she saw as he kept his eyes trained on her hair, fingers tracing through the strands comb out the twirled mess made earlier in the night. 

"I know y'might not want to tell me because we aren't... friends, but even as someone who's meant to look after you, it would help to know just so I can protect you better next time," he mused, his voice gentle. 

"Franny didn't tell you?" 

A beat passed. "I want to hear it from you, (Y/N)." 

Harry kept her steady when her weight shifted on her feet. His hands in her hair dropped to settle on her biceps, his eyes returning hers in the mirror. She felt his eyes scanning over her face. Whatever he found there had his jaw hardening, his resolve strengthening from where he stood behind her. "You're not there anymore, (Y/N). It's all over, don't forget." 

She nodded her head, taking in a wavering breath through her nose. "Right, um," she started, her fingers fiddling with the sewn edge of her cotton pad, "It was that guy, at our table. The one sitting on my dad's other side. He found me at the bar when I was getting a drink, and he just didn't really listen. He bought me a drink and kept wanting to talk to me even when I was saying I wanted to go back to Emma and Francesca." 

With his hands resuming in her hair, Harry listened along. "Right," he murmured, his voice now holding an edge that had previously been melted away. She had a feeling he knew bits and pieces of this story, and it only made it that much harder to hear it from her mouth. 

"He kept touching me, and talking to me like I was stupid. It wasn't that bad, it just felt wrong—it made me feel gross." She swallowed around her dry throat, grateful for the lack of makeup on her face, her tears now welling over clean lashes. "I tried to leave, but I knew people were around and my dad would have been so mad if I made a scene. I tried to find you but I think my dad was talking to you so you couldn't see me, and the girls were busy, and there was a camera guy going around and taking photos. I couldn't... I let him keep touching me, but I was getting so nervous and it was all too much." 

With her hair finally down and free from the style it was put in, Harry noticed the shine of her tears falling down her cheeks once more. He didn't hesitate before he was spinning her around, looping his arms around her to collect her to his chest. 

"I know, I know," he murmured to her, her own hands curling in the fabric of his black shirt, "'S over now, though, right?"? 

"Right," she breathed, voice a bit hoarse.

His hand petted her hair, the strands fluffy now that the hairspray was broken but still holding the heat style she was given. She couldn't wait to wash her hair when she had the energy, already missing the natural texture. 

"Y'said it was the man sitting beside your dad? Barron?" 

"Mhm," (Y/N) whimpered at the sound of his name. "I guess my dad had told him I needed to be taken care of, and I think he told him other m-mean things about me." 

Her words dissolved into a string of sobs, Harry going tense against her. She couldn't help herself, sniffling and crying against his chest, her breathing coming in erratic puffs. She felt guilty, feeling him tense around her. She didn't mean to upset him. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she babbled, pulling away to look at him with a crinkling sniffle of her nose, "To-Tonight has been a lot. Thank you for helping me." 

(Y/N) attempted to unravel herself from his hold, only to be stopped by his arms caging around her middle. "It's okay, don't apologize to me," he told her earnestly, matching his gaze to her blurry one, "Thank you for telling me, but I want to make something very clear right now." 

Nodding, she looked up at him, watching as he ducked down into her space, crowding around her with intensity in his eyes. 

"If y'ever feel uncomfortable or like you're in danger, for whatever reason—I don't care if you think it's not that bad, or your father will be upset, or whatever reason you think is good enough to stay in that moment—you are going to leave." His words were a command hiding behind a gentle tone. He was unwavering in his stance, that much she could glean. "I don't care what you have to do, what kind of 'scene' y'have to make, come find me if 'm not right there. Whatever will make you feel safest, that's what I want you to do. Don't ever feel like you have to put up with anything that upsets you for whatever reason.

"You matter more than whatever cover story or photos someone could make up. Okay? Don't ever think it's the other way around." 

(Y/N) couldn't hold back the tears that fell down her cheeks, her skin stained and chin dripping with every drop.  Her father had never said or even made her feel like putting herself first was an option, that she was the one variable in these stories that deserved a bit of protection. There was even a brief period of time when she had a publicist, and he never said anything close to what was coming out of Harry's mouth. 

Everyone else around her had always shared the importance of what those around her thought, what could be said about her, the kind of stories that could be splashed across the pages. Her feelings, her safety, herself was always at the bottom of that list. 

"Okay?" Harry prodded, his hands on her back flexing with fingertips denting the planes of her back, "Do y'understand what 'm saying?" 

"I do," she choked out,  lips quivering. Even blurry through her tears, dressed in all black and exhaustion on his features, Harry was the most gorgeous person she'd ever seen. An angel in the frosty light of her bathroom. "Thank you." 

Harry only tugged her closer to his chest, cupping her back of her head where she snuggled in and allowed tears to run from her eyes. 

(Y/N) clung to him tighter. 

—————

Waking in her bed, duvet in folds around her with her pilates shorts chucked on the floor beside her discarded gown, (Y/N) blinked her stiff eyelids open. She couldn't be sure what time it was when she stalked to her bedroom, only remembering the ache in her muscles and stuffy nose. Harry had stayed with her all night, soothing her through the bouts of tears and being there when all she needed was to not be alone. 

Stretching out of her bed with her feet hitting the floor, she couldn't remember if Harry had stayed after she fell asleep. She was barely aware of her own body when she shed her shorts and flopped into her bed, too exhausted to even crawl under the covers. 

Stepping over her cold floor, (Y/N) crept out into the hallway, peering down the bend. Just barely, she could see a folded suit jacket and the first strands of curling brown hair from where she could spot the end of her couch. The closer she came to the living room, the closer she came to letting a smile settle on her features. 

How he could manage it, she didn't know, but it was very much in his character to sleep with his brows pinched and arms crossed over his chest. He didn't look like he was resting particularly well, his suit jacket acting as his pillow as he threw himself into an odd shape to lay on her couch.

He stayed. 

A heat bubbled under her skin at the thought. Despite the wringer she put him through the night before, he stayed here. Though she wasn't exactly sure how she would navigate the conversation that would have to occur when he woke, how she would handle knowing that he saw those most vulnerable parts of her, at least she knew she wasn't alone. 

Letting him stay where he was, (Y/N) silently moved past him to her kitchen. She could start to say thank you by making him breakfast, she decided. If anything, it might be a good enough distraction to push off the conversation a bit longer when he woke. 

She fell into her element as she pulled out the ingredients, feeling her muscles relax and joints loosen. Trying to be as quiet as she could so as to not disturb the sleeping beauty on her couch, she pulled the dish together as she went. Slices of toast were warming in a butter skimmed pan while she raided her spice rack. From her fridge she pulled eggs and chorizo, cheese and hashbrowns until she came up with a scramble. A rich and lemony hollandaise started on her stove, her apartment filling with toasted spices and the sizzling pop of the chorizo looking. She hoped he would appreciate the extra shred of manchego she stirred in.

With her mind running around the kitchen, timing and anticipating everything, she felt okay. She knew there had to be more than a handful of notifications on her phone, too many articles with her name tagged, and her father scheming her punishment, but, right now, she was content in living in this moment. She could wash her hair later, answer her phone calls, and explain to Dom that she didn't mean to let the Vivienne gown wrinkle on the floor. Before then, she would allow her only consequences to be the ache in her bones and the crust in the corners of her eyes. 

Adding the final seasonings and beginning to plate everything, (Y/N) shifted her attention to the other consequence laying on her couch. She really hoped he liked what she made. 

Adding the hollandaise over the hashbrown bowl, (Y/N) finished up with adding the slices of crusty toast to the rim of the bowl. She placed them on her rarely used dining table, hesitating at the chair beside where she determined Harry would sit before backtracking and placing her own serving in the seat across. 

Now was the hard part. 

Padding over the rug, she made her way to the couch, Harry's restless form still stiff where he laid. With the top buttons of his top undone, the tan skin of his chest was on display, the necklace she had noticed time and time again, the pendants finally on display. The faces of a duo of birds inked on his chest peeked out, matching the dark black of his outfit. He even fell asleep with his shoes on. 

He did all that work to make sure she was comfortable—getting her out of her dress, helping her take her hair down, reminding her to wash her makeup off—only to fall asleep with his suit jacket as a pillow and his event clothes wrapped too tight around him. 

Crouching beside him, she sat on her folded knees. His profile was on display this way, the line of his nose and curl of his lashes highlighted through the sunny window. 

Using a gentle hand, she cautiously settled her palm on his tensed shoulder. "Harry," she murmured. She gave a minute shake to his shoulder. 

Harry woke up with a start, his reaction much quicker and more drastic than she had expected. He sucked in a big breath, his eyes flying open as he sat up, his hands reaching behind to prop himself up. She could see the recognition settle over his features, his eyes frantically searching over her face with his mouth in a soft gape. 

"(Y/N)," he breathed out. 

Having sat back some when he startled, her hands in a bundle in her lap, she blinked up at him. "Sorry," she started, "I just... I made you breakfast, if you were hungry." 

Disoriented, he ran a heavy hand through his hair as he shifted where he sat. The suede cushions fluffed up, the fibers mimicking waves around him. "Yeah?" he asked, moving to sit properly with his feet on the ground and knees wide apart.

Still on her knees, she looked up at him, his hair a mess and chest heaving as he caught his stressed breath. She opened her mouth to say something, but every thought was ripped from her head when her front door was flung open. 

Whipping around, she almost jumped out of her skin when she saw her father stepping inside. His face was twisted in anger, wearing a suit too nice for this early in the morning, and his eyes as daggers trained right on her. 

He stomped over the threshold, coming towards where she was still folded on the floor. 

"Dad!" 

Ignoring her voice, she saw him finally take in the scene. For the first time he seemed to realize Harry was there. With (Y/N) on her knees in front of him. His clothes were a rumpled mess, the same ones from the night before. His chest rising and falling from his startled good morning, hair a stressed mess. 

(Y/N) could practically see his blood pressure rising through his body, his hair standing on end when he returned his gaze to hers. He was seething, taking his assumptions from the scene before him. 

"Are you fucking kidding me, (Y/N)?" he hissed, his hands practically shaking at his sides. He towered over her, even from where she sat feet away. "What do you think you're trying to do to him!?" 

Scrambling to stand up, she was already shaking her head in denial. This wasn't the kind of scolding she was going to be able to sit through. 

"What? I'm—No, that's not—" 

He shook his head, his jaw stiff. He seemed to bite his own tongue, stopping himself from saying anything more. "We will have to talk about that later," he cemented, "Because you need to tell me what the hell you were thinking last night." 

While she knew this was coming, she honestly expected more of a phone call. She thought he would be too angry to even look at her. He'd never been angry enough to burst into her home and yell at her there. He much preferred his home turf, where he controlled all the power. 

Swallowing, she tried to calm her racing heartbeat. "I know it looks bad, but I promise I didn't mean—" 

"I don't want excuses!" he shouted, cutting her off despite the fact he was the one that invited her to talk in the first place. "I'm tired of you embarrassing me every chance you get! I always knew you'd be crazy like your mother, but I didn't think it would be this fucking bad." 

(Y/N) recoiled at the mention of her mother. He rarely talked about her unless in punishment, but he hadn't said anything so blatantly evil about her. 

She didn't know what to say. This is why he never told her about the racing in her heart and the stress that filled her without permission. She didn't want him to think of her as crazy, something that needed to be medicated and put away. But, she supposed now, he didn't need to know that information to say that about her. 

Her father took a menacing step towards her, his expression that much more angry after her silence. 

In an instant, Harry was sliding between them, his back facing (Y/N) with his height obscuring her view of her father. "Sir," Harry started, a warning to his tone that had to come from years of dealing with pests. 

It was her father's turn to take a step back, (Y/N) just barely catching the way he rolled his eyes. Harry's interference only set him off further, it appeared. 

Speaking around the wall that was Harry, he yelled to (Y/N), "How am I supposed to trust him now, after I saw what you were trying to do to him. What did you do last night that convinced him that you needed protecting from me when you're the problem!" 

Harry took a step towards him, a hand out as if to soothe a vicious animal while barring him from coming any closer should he attempt. "Sir, I think it's best if you step outside for a moment." 

Ignoring Harry's plea, he only craned his neck to ensure (Y/N) could see him when he yelled again. "I always knew you'd end up a whore," her father seethed, "But you only seem to like it best when it's a way to get back at me." 

With that, Harry didn't hesitate before grabbing her father by the arms and twisting him away. He escorted him out the door of her apartment, pushing him over the threshold with a slam of the door behind them. 

Muffled shouts started on the other side of the door, her father's voice the one that was raised. She couldn't pick out individual words, but she figured that was probably for the best. She didn't need to hear any more of what he thought of her. 

Staving off a replay of last night's breakdown, she sunk to the floor, her legs a tangled puddle underneath her. Her hands shook in her lap, matching the cadence of her lungs as she fought to keep her breathing even. 

Suddenly, a loud bang against her door rang through her empty apartment. Tears filled her eyes. 

The blaring noise was compounded with a stretch of silence. The low timber of Harry's voice rose then, though his was layered with the typical composure he always had, even in the face of someone as unreasonable as her father. 

The silence gave too much room for her thoughts to grow, her head bloated and heavy. 

In an odd way, she was grateful he was as angry as he was. He was too upset, his vision too red, to say anything properly damaging. If he had been thinking any clearer, she worried she would have a plane ticket to Sweden in hand and all credit cards in her name shredded. 

While this morning was bad, it definitely could have been worse, she decided. 

She couldn't be sure how long she sat on the floor, waiting for whatever would emerge back into her apartment, but soon enough the doorknob twisted with the hinges gliding open. Harry was the only one to step inside, her father missing from the hallway when she glanced around. 

His cheeks were red, hair in an even sorrier state than before, but he kept that same calculated set to his irises. He didn't hesitate to crouch to her level, his brows pinching as he met (Y/N)'s eyes. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, intensity laced through his voice. 

(Y/N) nodded her head, stray hairs curtaining around her face. "Sorry about everything he said. I-I don't know where he—why he—" 

Harry shook his head, his jaw ticking. He dropped his gaze from hers as he shuttered them in a lingering blink. When he dared to glance up at her once more, he said, "No, don't apologize for him. I jus'... (Y/N), I think 's best if I go home, now." 

Instinctively, she wanted to question him. She wanted to investigate his reasoning and attempt to make him stay. He was her solid pillar, the buoy keeping her afloat. She worried what she would do without him for the first time in twenty-four hours. 

But, she couldn't blame him. Her father just accused her of trying to seduce him to wriggle into his head, with whatever else he shared behind that closed door. She could only imagine just how uncomfortable he was now in her presence, both his employer and client having varying breakdowns in front of him. 

"Okay," she settled, dropping her eyes to her hands. At least the tremor stopped. "Thank you for staying with me last night." 

Giving a curt nod, Harry stood to his full height. He moved silently around him, stoic as ever as he collected his suit jacket and cell phone. His footsteps seemingly echoed in the otherwise silence of her home. 

She wasn't even sure if he looked at her again before he slipped out the front door, leaving her alone. 

—————

Dad

    I have a flight scheduled to take you to Paris in a week. You can't be trusted here to stay out of trouble, even with Harry's help. You will be staying through to the winter, and I hope you take this time to reflect on what you've done and how you plan on fixing your attitude. 

     Harry will be accompanying you, but I expect you to keep your relationship strictly professional with him. Don't squander this time away, (Y/N).

     I will check in soon to ensure things are going well. 

(Y/N) felt heavy reading her father's string of texts. 

Today had been enough of an obstacle already, and now she had to plan to be out of the country well after Summer had ended. 

She didn't bother to type a response, only reacting to the top message with a thumbs up. 

Falling back on her bed, the mattress bouncing under her spine, she stared up at the ceiling. 

She was going to have to call Francesca. 

—————

"Is there anything I can grab for you, Ms. (Y/N)?" 

A pleasant smile curled over (Y/N)'s lips, the bags under her eyes shielded by the heavy pair of sunglasses perched on her nose. "No, thank you." 

The flight attendant scurried away at her dismissal, all too eager to practically sprint away. While this crew wasn't especially friendly with her, always seeming a little too scared of her, there was definitely a difference in how attentive they'd started for this flight. They'd no doubt seen the articles that had been swirling for the last week. 

She couldn't blame them, honestly. Reviewing the articles herself, she was painted as an out of touch socialite, a woman who flipped out after a perceived slight. There were photos of her speaking to Barron, the moment having been described as the final moments before the blowup. The drink clutched in her hand was blown out of proportion, insiders and onlookers dishing out how she'd been drinking the whole night despite those two sips of the gin and tonic being the only alcohol she partook in the entire Gala. 

The men around her were painted as heroes, including Harry. Her father and Barron were trying to talk her down from her drunken antics, urging her to calm and remind her of the cameras watching. Harry was doing the chivalrous thing and helping her out of the event before she stumbled around and humiliated herself more than she already had. Some sources even became so bold as to claim that the reason she snuck away to the bathroom for so long, others checking on her, was because of a drug problem she was hiding behind closed doors. 

All of it was her fault. She was being unreasonable, and rude. Untamable and embarrassing. Crazy, even. 

The webs were spun so well, including the official photographs along with blurry photographs posted by anonymous social media accounts. Every story looked worse than the last. 

Even knowing the truth, seeing those photos gave (Y/N) a deep sense of humiliation she couldn't shake. 

Seeing an outsider's perspective, the way she clung to Harry with messy hair and swollen eyes, crying over him and using him like some kind of shield. She couldn't believe he had stayed with her after the way she acted—and those were only the things that occurred in public. 

If that wasn't bad enough, after the fashion magazine's interview was posted along with the event's photos and stories, Harry was now having articles written about him. People were digging into his private life, hunting down any kind of hint of who he was, what he meant to (Y/N). Most likely, some were even hoping to get into contact with him and earn and exclusive. She couldn't blame him if he took someone up on the offer. 

It was all her fault. 

Maybe that was why this past week, she hadn't heard from him at all. To be fair, she hadn't gone anywhere, preferring to keep out of the public eye while the gossip circulated. Francesca met her at her apartment instead, helping her with everything; they packed a small bag to get her through her traveling, cried, bitched about her dad, and had a two day sleepover before (Y/N)'s exile began. She was the only one (Y/N) told, knowing it would get to the rest of the girls in a matter of time, only after she had disappeared for a good few weeks. 

That left (Y/N) with a small go-bag, a full wardrobe and duplicates of her favorite things already waiting at the French penthouse, sweats on her form and embarrassment too deep to coax Harry into interacting with her. 

She felt stiff where she sat, imagining what the stew crew was whispering about her just out of earshot, imagining what Harry was thinking about her as he refused to even glance at her despite the orientation of their chairs. She couldn't relax in her skin. She was too in her head to manage something like that. 

Though (Y/N) was happy to get out of New York, these circumstances were killing any joy she could tie to the change in scenery. Paris was one of her favorite places in the world, her penthouse securing a special spot in her heart, but her father wanted to turn it into a prison. he wanted to ruin another safe place for her. It sucked. 

And, the one person she was too embarrassed to even properly look at, was the one person accompanying her through it all. Her new roommate was the same guy that she was being accused of sleeping with out of anger at her father, out of her rampant sexual desire that kept her from staying with any one person for too long, or a cute decoration that was placed around her to give her clout. At least that's what the rumors swirling around were.

Heaving a sigh and crossing her legs, (Y/N) wanted to be surprised that Harry didn't even flinch in her direction, instead she felt just a sting of hurt behind her ribs. 

—————

"You know where the house is?" 

"Yes," Harry answered, his response curt as he shifted the car into drive. 

(Y/N) couldn't blame his short reply, she wasn't being particularly warm either. 

Instead, she silently settled into her seat, conflicted on how to feel. She'd never really travelled without a driver. Even if it wasn't Sully since he stayed in the city with his family, there was always someone else that took care of her wherever she went. This time, it appeared Harry would be in charge of that. 

Most likely at her father's request, she figured. Now there was no reason for her to be away from him for even ten minutes. Her babysitter extraordinaire. 

Shifting her gaze out the windscreen, she took in the emerging city. It had been a while since she was away from the lights and the skyscrapers, the crowds of tourists. While Paris wasn't quite as quant as the movies made it out to be, it was definitely different from that of New York. There was more breathing room. 

Her dad always thought it was too slow, too boring, a place to spend a single day in before moving on to something much newer and exciting. Maybe that was why it became one of her favorite places, her first request when she was old enough being that she could find a penthouse in Paris. She knew he wouldn't want to follow her here. 

Harry drove like an expert through the winding streets, a GPS screen hooked up to show him the way to her penthouse, though she doubted he needed it. He kept his gaze shifting through the cycle of peering out the window, checking his mirrors, and glancing in the rearview. He didn't waver in his routine, as if (Y/N) wasn't even there. 

The familiar lead up to the neighbourhood of Saint-Germain had (Y/N) sitting up. She couldn't wait to lock herself away in that top floor penthouse. 

Taking advantage of the free space not too far from the entrance to the building, Harry pulled in in one smooth motion. The click of the gear shifter settled them into park. He pulled the key after a beat, finally shooting her a fleeing glance. 

"I'll grab the bags and follow you," he directed, not waiting before he was pushing open his door and stepping out onto the street. 

She followed suit, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head. 

Upon her first deep breath in, (Y/N) wondered if she had been away for long enough to convince herself the air really did smell like butter and wine the way poets always described.

There were still a good amount of tourists given the neighborhood's proximity to various landmarks, but this place was worlds different in comparison to the city. She hoped her father knew she was enjoying her punishment. 

Harry, with their bags in hand, waited for her to take the lead. She gave him a careful smile before she breezed past him, leading them to the entrance of her building. This place was much different than that in the city, no doorpeople around and only a small bank of two elevators beside the various mailboxes. 

Once in the lift, she entered them in to be taken to the top floor. Harry was a silent pillar beside her, his luggage and her duffle bag in hand. She swallowed around the silence. 

The top floor was all for her, the space being bought by her father by the time she was twenty. Knocking down the walls, the three separate apartments were turned into one big space that was gutted and turned into an immaculate penthouse. (Y/N) fought to keep as many of the original features as she could. 

Stepping inside the space, her efforts were rewarded with the sight of the off-white walls, texture embedded in the slabs. Wrought-iron fixtures were littered throughout, the original doors and biggest kitchen left as it was. Everything held the air of romance, the space a lot more intimate than small than what she had in New York. A trio of different balconies were stationed on the outside, those terraces offering views of the Eiffel Tower. 

It was lovely. That was the only way she could describe it. The kind of place that deserved to be draped in roses and lit exclusively in candlelight. Late nights and Burgundy wine with silk dresses. 

Harry followed her as she stepped towards a plane of French doors, the glass frosted to keep prying eyes out. "This is my room," she told him, voice detached, "But down that hall are a couple of spare bedrooms and bathrooms, so you can pick whatever one you want." 

Dropping her duffle on the floor, he gave her a single nod. "Okay." 

With that, he turned on his heel. She watched as he started down the hall, leaving her with a single syllable. 

She needed to say something. As distant as she was acting because of her embarrassment, she couldn't not acknowledge what happened. Every time she looked at him, she saw  those photos of her clinging and crying on him, her mascara a mess while he looked at her with sympathy. She saw the way he tended to her hair in the mirror, using his fingers to break the hold of the hairspray and gently pick out the bobby pins holding the style in. She saw him defending her against her father. 

"Harry?" she peeped, eyes fixed to his back. 

"Hm?" He stopped, looking at her over his shoulder. 

Taking a step towards him, her hands a fumbling mess behind her back, she swallowed. "I wanted to say thank you again for last week. Especially after everything. And for defending me," she started, her gaze dropping to the middle of his back, "I'm sorry I acted that way, and how I have been acting. I know I can be unreasonable, so it means a lot that you stayed with me and still came here with me. I hope this isn't too bad of a place to be exiled." 

She tried to go lighthearted, ending with a breathy laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

Harry only looked at her with a pinched brow, his arm dropping the bag he had slung over his shoulder. "I... I don't think I understand." 

Clamming up, (Y/N) felt too exposed. She waved him off, shaking her head in hopes of dismissing all that she shared. "Don't worry about it," she said, "Just thank you for looking out for me, and I promise I'm going to make your job as easy as possible while we're here. Hopefully, I'll be able to get you home before the holidays." 

A silence settled between them. Harry didn't offer any kind of response, only his eyes following her. She shifted her weight where she stood, her fingers knotting behind her back. 

She inched towards her room, the space feeling too heavy as her words hung in the air. 

"I think I'm going to unpack and take a nap," she murmured, offering a barely there smile, "We can order food later if you want, but I don't plan on doing anything, so the rest of the day is yours." 

With that, she slipped between her open French doors, the warmth of her room enveloping her once she sealed the rest of the penthouse out. She didn't want to see if Harry was still standing there, watching her with eyes that were too observant. 

She took in a deep breath, shifting her gaze through her bedroom. Her eyes landed on the open drapes to her balcony. Outside, the Eiffel Tower shimmered.

—————

ephemere is the French words for a fleeting beauty; a summer love, a shooting star, greatness gone too soon

this part is def one of the longer ones of the series so thank you so much for getting through it! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any ideas or thoughts please send them in!

[blazehedgehog]

Do you think there might be some problems that could develop with SAGE showcasing indie games? SAGE was created as an event for the Sonic fandom to make fan games, but now indie games have become part of it. Nothing against it on principle, but what about the legal area? SAGE is still tied to Sonic's image, would it count as using Sonic to sell other products? Or would it be a Chip 'n Dale's Movie Sonic case?

Top comment on the showcase trailer video:

If there were problems, Sega would be the ones causing them, and that's the official Sonic brand account giving their sign of approval.

SAGE was created, speaking as the creator of SAGE here, to demystify fangaming and show the world it had a positive effect on the world. Fangames were seen as illegal bootlegs when I started the event, and I sought to change that perception.

Now, yes, generally speaking, I think if you're trying to stay on the up and up, disconnecting your fangame from commercial promotion as much as humanly possible is the best way to keep your nose clean. Don't run ads on your website, don't run ads on gameplay footage, DEFINITELY do not in any way even LOOK at crowdfunding or paying employees. Stay away from any and all money I/O. Which is very difficult if not impossible because even hosting a website means you are exchanging money with someone in order to distribute your game.

So you have to decide an acceptable level to compromise your morals if you hope to put your game out there, and how much risk that creates for you depends on the company in question, I guess.

Hosting your game on Itch.io? Well, as long as you create a standalone account separate from any real monetized game creation you plan on doing, that might be okay. They don't run ads on Itch.io that I know about.

Hosting your game on Game Jolt? Slightly more risky, because Game Jolt serves ads on their download page.

Mediafire? More risky, because I feel like Mediafire shows extra invasive ads, including, last I heard, those ads that have fake download buttons on them. So not only is Mediafire making money, they are engaging in active deception.

Hosting it on a Patreon? Way more risky. Even if you have the post set to $0, you are bringing people to a page where they can give you money for your services.

I technically do this with some of my very old game projects, but none of those are anywhere close to finished games, and they are all almost universally just fragments of unimportant side projects. For example, I do not have builds of TFH up there, or MarioWeen. It's mostly just software I started and did not finish, mixed in with a couple of like, early alpha engine tests if I remember right.

I've also thought about just straight up taking them down and hosting them somewhere else (the itch.io archive might be my best bet, or even archive.org). It does make me uncomfortable to have them up there, but it was a stable, clean place to host things like that when I first launched that Patreon, like, what, 8 years ago? Now they're buried at the very very very bottom of my post list and I'm probably the only person who remembers that they're there.

Anyway, if it was a problem, I think Sega would let us know. And I say "let us know" instead of, say, just stomping their boot all over SAGE and killing it without recourse. I think, given what a positive force it is not just in the community, but in the indie gaming space, if it was a problem, they could talk it out with whoever is running the show that year.

But this is a place to cultivate future game developers. It is good for the game industry. And I've said it here, or maybe other places, but I've often wondered if Steam's multiple demo events they host every year was inspired by something like SAGE. It's kind of become a big deal, and it keeps growing to be a bigger deal every year, and at least so far, nobody's abused or exploited it yet.

Not that they even could -- SAGE is curated. Not a lot, but enough that I know there were booths rejected for 2024. You can be, and people have been, kicked out of SAGE for being abusive. Participating in SAGE is a privilege, not a public service.

So I think everything will be fine.

[loveroftoomanyfandoms]

Every Little Thing *He* Does is Magic, Chapter 2

Pairing: Platonic Steven Grant x Reader (for now)

Rating: T

Word count: ~800

Story Summary: The events of Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, retold from Reader's perspective after the fact to her best friend.

Tags/Warnings: Companion fic, canon Divergent since Steven still works for the British Museum post-canon, No Jake Lockley, developing friendship, spoilers for ELTSDiM

A/N: Double update since this one is so short! Proceed to chapter 3. 😉

“...So how did the rest of your first week go?”

Y/N smiled as she FaceTimed with Amy while making herself dinner the following Friday night. “It went well! Most of it was reading paperwork and meeting various benefactors and trustees, but my meeting with the Curatorial staff today was really productive. The Egyptian exhibit should only be closed for a few days at most to install the new artifacts.”

She paused to take a sip of water. “Steven made a great suggestion to bring some vases up from storage to spruce up the Ancient Greek collection, which can literally be done overnight, so we'll be updating that area as well.”

Amy grinned. “ Steven did, huh?”

Y/N nodded, ignoring Amy’s suggestive tone. “He also had a lot of really great, out-of-the-box ideas on how to improve the tours and said he could have a sample tour based on those ideas to show me by Monday morning.” 

“Oh that's great! I know you were hoping to have the tours redone before those new artifacts are in place.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, but I felt bad because I probably shouldn't have had Steven do any VES-related tasks until he officially started on Monday even though he signed the paperwork today. After he and I wrapped up our solo meeting he mentioned needing to get back down to the gift shop since he was technically still employed as a clerk until Sunday.”

Amy winced. “Oh oof, yeah, I'm sure that's an entirely different pay grade, although from what you’ve said it seemed like he didn’t actually mind doing tasks for his new position early.”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s what I thought too, but then he clarified that it was only because he knew I was busy and he didn't want to bother me by… how did he put it? Oh yeah, ‘hovering’.”

“Oh, okay, good. That was really considerate of him.”

Y/N nodded, a small smile forming on her face at the memory. “Yeah, he definitely seems like he's a really caring person. I told him he wasn't bothering me and that after staring at a mountain of paperwork and meeting a bunch of people with tangential connection to the museum it was nice to be able to actually talk to someone on staff.”

Amy winked. “Specifically him though, right?”

Y/N huffed out a laugh. “I have to admit, it definitely didn't hurt that it was him. Anyway, he asked me how I was settling in and I said that the staff had all been really welcoming for the most part and that I wasn't sure how I was going to be received since I'm not British, and then he said that it didn't matter where I was from, that my qualifications spoke for themselves.”

Amy raised an eyebrow, her lips turning up in a smile. “So basically everything I said when you were freaking out about everyone hating you.”

Y/N huffed out a breath, a smile on her own face. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. He really did have to get back downstairs after that though because I had a phone call I had to take.”

“So do you think everything is going to work out?”

Y/N nodded. “Everyone seems on board with the changes I'm making so far, and I really do think Steven’ll make a great Visitor Engagement Specialist -- he’s incredibly knowledgeable and observant.”

“And hot,” Amy added with a smirk. “And exactly your type.” 

Y/N’s face heated. As much as she’d tried over the past week, she couldn't completely ignore her attraction to Steven. “Maybe, but that has nothing to do with my belief in his ability to do his job or why I promoted him in the first place.” 

Amy let out a light laugh. “I know, I'm just teasing you.”

“Either way, I'm looking forward to seeing his ideas for the new tours in action.” Y/N paused. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, in addition to the Egyptian artifacts on loan from Cairo, we just had a donation of first editions of several classic British novels come in.”

Amy’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, now you're speaking my language.”

Y/N grinned. “I thought you'd be interested in that. I'll send you some pics once we get them authenticated and the display is set up.”

“Please do.”

Y/N nodded as she turned off her stove. “I should run, my dinner is ready. I'll talk to you later though, ‘kay?”

Amy nodded. “Okay, talk to you later.”

“‘Night, Ames.”

“‘Night!”

Y/N ended the call then plated her food.

As she sat down to eat, her mind drifted to Steven. His ideas for revamping the tours really were great and Y/N was excited to see them in practice.  I can't wait until Monday.

[teeth-cable]

Conspiracy theory here, but if the rumor about Viv getting fired and bought out of HH by A24 might explain why the world building in HB seems so inconsistent with HH. It just feels like the more we see and learn about Hell according to HB, the more it feels like a completely different canon from HH.

This is all speculation, but hear me out:

Viv got fired by A24 at some point during production. They have no intention of renewing HH after this first season and so are trying to kill it before it even surfaces to minimize any potential of bad PR.

A24 buys the rights to HH to get rid of her, and so the property couldn’t get used in the future and inadvertently reflect badly on their studio. Hence the lack of aknowledgement or promotional material.

As part of the buyout, Viv agrees to an NDA that only lets her discuss very limited elements of HH and its production. This explains the lack of any substantial info despite the show a supposedly being skated for release this summer (and it’s nearly July at this point).

Viv starts to spiral out. Her public facade crumbles. She starts to lash out more at criticism of Helluva as it’s all she has left. She also starts to comfort herself via constant pampering and distraction. We have evidence if this last point as she’s been taking lots of vacations and making big, indulgent purchases according to her social media, particularly her Instagram.

And the more people start to question and criticize her due to HB’s declining writing quality, various crew allegations, leaks, the lack of info on HH, etc. the more she doubles down and lashes out.

This is a sequence of events that makes sense to me, but again I’m speculating.

Honestly the real reason why the world-building doesn't a line with Hazbin is because she's just bad at writing it and lore. From her Zoophobia days, she shown signs of struggling writing for world-building. Also evidently enough, you can see a lot of writing problems from Helluva Boss appeared in Zoophobia too. Viv also admitted publicly on her Twitter, both seasons of Helluva Boss were unplanned and they only wrote pitches for EP ideas and outlines, nothing about lore. I'm not sure what the writing quality for Hazbin Hotel will be but looking at leaks and seeing how Viv and friends refused to listen to criticism, it will be just as bad and confusing as Helluva Boss. Viv doesn't plan things out long term for her projects.

The idea of Viv being fired from A24 doesn't make. Viv stills runs the official Twitter Hazbin Hotel account, she didn't make a weird vague tweet about it, friends and crew from Spindlehorse still have "working on Hazbin" in their bio, she keeps talking about the show, and this.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Vivienne Medrano (vivziepop) (@vivziebizzie)

She posted the team celebrating an end of production party for Hazbin Hotel, so I think it's safe to say she didn't get fired. Although I can see a possibility where A24 won't pick up Hazbin for a second season because she was that unbearable to work with.

[vent-rat]

Presenting Katie Wolfe, a.k.a Copycat!

@homegrown-blorbo-garden

I suck at drawing without a base, so here's the references I used!

First one I genuinely have no clue. I drew it like 4 or 5 years ago in my high school-provided subscription of Photoshop so I do not have the files. I searched up something along the lines of "superhero pose drawing reference female" though.

2nd!

3rd!

4th I used HeroForge as a reference.

Now that the art showcase is complete, I shall tell her story! Well, part of it. You see Katie is part of an entire multiverse I created called FiveOh Comics. At my count right now, there's 285 characters in this universe (plus an rp Discord server which I can link to anyone interested in joining). There's a ton of storylines all over the universe, and Copycat in particular has an entire 100 episode-10 season show I'm writing about her that I want to get officially produced, but I don't have time to go through all of it today, so here's the essentials!

Katie Wolfe is an anomaly, born with superhuman powers that manifested at 10. She could copy any actions she saw other people take, so long as she physically had the capability to do so. She could also chameleon herself to look like other people, or change her own appearance. Worth mentioning also that she's bisexual and polyamorous.

She's the daughter of Timberwolf (a.k.a Theresa Wolfe), one of the most famous superheroes in the world and the leader of POW! (Protectors Of the World), the first superhero team ever. Theresa's also the smartest person in the world, and runs the company Wolfe Sciences, dedicated to creating products that advance humanity's capabilities. I'll talk about Theresa again in a later post when I've drawn a not-shitty picture of her in hero mode.

Trying to follow in her mother's footsteps, Katie helped found Alpha Sentinel, the most popular hero team in the world, since it had two former members of POW! leading it and never seemed to lose. In the fight that formed the team, Katie met a shapeshifter from a doomed civilization in the core of the Earth, who'd been jettisoned to the surface to save her. Confused and angry, she lashed out, until the soon-to-be team pacified her and they slunk off. Katie later tracked her down and brought them to her mother. After a while of acclimating to the surface and its society, she took a human form, naming herself Emily and choosing to stay with Katie and Theresa. Theresa officially adopted her, and she became Katie's sister.

After 3 successful years of Alpha Sentinel's career, tragedy struck. One member was trapped within his own mind, one was killed, a third was traumatized so bad she quarantined herself in her room for nearly a year, and a fourth was hospitalized, leaving only Katie and Stingray (aka Steven Raye, Theresa's best friend) still active heroes. Of course, though, Katie was not unaffected by this event, and she retreated into a shell for over a month, right up to the start of the Copycat series, the events of which I won't spoil.

Over the course of the show, however, she deals with her own emotional scars and brings together friends, even saving the old AS member who was trapped in his own mind, and created a new Alpha Sentinel, consisting of herself, Stingray, the previously mentioned member of AS, Riptide, Timberwolf, her sister Emily, calling herself Goop Girl, her best friend Cassie Wright, or Libra, and a wizard named Stardust.

Oh, also there's a strong chance she's a daughter of Athena. At the very least, she's been blessed, as Athena has allowed her to summon Aegis and Astrape.

I'll get to all of these characters in due time, of course, but for now, that's Katie's story! Here's some quotes from her for good measure.

Katie: I live in fear of John Cena brushing my mouth like Colgate.

Katie: Hey, y’know how some people get birds released at their weddings?

Emily: …yes?

Katie: I want Cassowaries released at my wedding.

Theresa: "Katie, if you ever utter the phrase 'copyright incringement' in my house again, I'm kicking you out."

Katie, dying: I’m sorry… you know I had to do it to ‘em…

Katie: You're not a copycat. Nothing has ever been done the way you do it before. Everything you do is special and unique to you.

[wutlaikalikes]

🌟lights

just my thoughts on the current state of this fandom... feel free to scroll past...

I used to watch Hololive girls especially Calli and Gura. I just think they are great streamers and singers. But what made me back away from their fanbase was their fans. I think it sucks that its common for gachikoi and unicorns to exist in the vtuber world.

When I discovered Holostars, I was kinda surprised that they look like they are all on the same page even if they have their kamioshi, they would also support the other guys. I will be honest, when it comes to fandoms, I am a but a lurker. But ホロスタ民 (holosutamin) / Starlights got me to interact. It was easy to talk to anyone. And if any of the Stars are being pulled down, Starlights are there to not talk badly but to show support, extra hard. They'll trend but not in the bad way, it'll be flooded with love and support from Starlights.

Recently, we had 2 fallen Stars and although it made me sad. Seeing the orc back made me feel better. I'm still sad mind you but at least I know they are doing great.

I'll be honest when Mayuzumi Kai of Nijisanji and Tsukumo Sana of Hololive Council graduated, I cried quite a lot. I guess its because I don't know what gonna happen to them, like if they are happy and healthy. It sounds crazy but that was me for probably 2-3 days.

So again, when the orc posted that damn spear, I was kinda satisfied. Also Astel singing made me feel at ease. But I still get teary whenever, I see fanarts of them, especially from Vesties and Magmites thanking them.

What surprised me are some of the fans. There are those that openly support Randon and Professor Lando, and those the openly would say that they will mute or block anyone talking about Randon and Professor Lando.

I've read that they feel betrayed from immediately streaming a day or 2 after the announcement. That they didn't even try to have a graduation stream. Here's my 2 cents. They are under an agency, whatever they say on those notices are possibly not all true, it was vague regardless how much I read it. We don't know if they were really given the option to have a goodbye stream and we don't even know why they choose to leave, heck we didn't even know if they had the choice to stay! Will they talk about it? Most likely not. NDAs exists.

Also I don't think it was unfair that they decided to stream right after the announcement. Professor Lando has been streaming for a while but for Randon, he has been inactive for a year. And I couldn't blame them for streaming immediately, regardless of how you look at it, streaming is a job. Its been 7 weeks since they last streamed. And what are they gonna do, wait? For who? When they are essentially has been let go.

People cope differently. My thoughts about this whole situation is still muddy. Sure, I'm distracted by Holostars Rust and next week it'll be the first anniversary celebration of Guild Tempus. But there is still a part of me wanting to know what the F*** happened.

I still feel like Cover / Hololive Production trying to distract the fans and cover this whole situation up. I feel like they urged Temma to start season 2 of Holostars Rust cause they know how the fans will feel after the announcement. They even tried to hype up the event by posting an official Holostars Rust season 1 highlights video. Management even paid for the trophy for this season.

Then they also suddenly announced the Tempus anniversary, why do I think this is another distraction? Shinri found out about the anniversary while he is streaming Rust. Shinri was even planning a long break after Rust.

I can't push my ideas to others, the only thing I can do is write my thoughts. If I have one wish for this whole situation, is that the boys don't feel this divide. Just dont let the boys feel that this is their fault. From the 2 Stars that have talked about this situation, they also know this whole thing is also less than ideal.

My wish for the fans, I just hope this feeling of excluding people for their preference fade. I don't want this fandom to divide merely because of an individual's preference.

And I wish for management to talk to their talents of both branches before any announcements or events. I hate that announcements like this have to overlap with projects that the talents worked hard on. Don't merely let your talents talk about things when it should be management that should be announcing it first. When they feel burdened, even if they don't say it outright, we feel it too. Don't forget, Holostars' fans are mostly women. Women's intuition is crazy.

[stormingthebeach]

Year 10

I think about this blog often. I always tell myself that I'm going to write in it, but then I don't. Maybe it's because the longer I've been in LA, the harder it is to celebrate the little things that used to excite me. I've finally become an old and jaded writer. Dreams do come true. Lolz.

The world is still weird. The pandemic is still winding down although things have felt normalish for a while. It just took Kevin McCarthy eleven voting sessions to become Speaker of the House. And, I've been back at my day job full-ish time since April with a boss who adds too much stress to my life.

After two years of consistent writing during the pandemic, going back into the office felt like a death sentence.

While at home from March of 2020 until April of 2022, I wrote four feature scripts, each of them significantly better than the last. The last three that I wrote all received high placements in multiple screenwriting contests. Eff yeah ;)

And the short film I was belly aching about in my last post? We finished it. We submitted to seventeen film festivals, we were "official selections" in seven of those, and we won awards at three of them. I still look back at the experience as being a pain in the ass, mainly because of egos (mine included), but I can't help but feel like this short film is a success and the experience I gained will stick with me for my entire career.

But since going back into the office, my productivity has plummeted. Work stress was consuming me. I've had way fewer hours in the week to write. And I honestly thought that I would have found a way out of the rat race before I was supposed to go back into the office. I was feeling pretty rough.

And then a new idea hit me and I started writing.

I submitted my first draft to a professional reader and right out of the gate, the notes were stellar. Lots of problems, sure, but this script was FUN. Writing the next four drafts felt really natural. Every new idea fit well. The story kept getting smoother. My third act came together perfectly. Fingers-freakin-crossed.

The last half of 2022 was very special. I had two of my LA best friends have bachelor parties and get married. And all four of those events were a blast. One guy is a writer and the other is an executive. Both two of my closest friends, both of them very well connected.

I made friends/ became closer with a handful of producers, writers, directors, and a guy who recently sold a script for seven figures. And you bet your sweet ass I asked every one of them to read my latest.

As I kept giving this script out, it felt like the notes were all saying the same thing in a different way. It boiled down to, "Why is your main character going on this adventure?" It's a question that needs to be answered, but I had so much trouble answering it.

And then one day it clicked. My character was presented this adventure and he took it on without thinking twice. No debate. No inner dialogue about IF this is what he wants to do. He just did it because he "should" do it.

Now, I've felt like a misfit for pretty much all of my life. (Me and every other person in LA, amiright?) With therapy I realized that I was living a life of "shoulds" rather than "wants". Over the last few years I've been quieting the "shoulds" and paying more attention to what I want. It hasn't been easy, but it's been worth it.

What clicked for me is that I never wrote the scene where my main character says "Yes, I choose to do this." He was simply presented with a challenge and simply went along with it. Assessing the situation, weighing the pros and cons, and then making the decision to move forward is what shows character. And I had left that part out.

Through different experiences in life, I often find myself in survival mode. I've made rash decisions based on fear. And it's never worked out for me. The idea of deciding "is this something I actually want to do, and why?" is something I'm still becoming comfortable with.

All of this is to say that my characters often find themselves in the same dilemma. So, why is my main character going on this adventure? Because he wants to. And now that I know WHY he wants to, I'm able to show that on the page.

The very first contest I submitted my latest script to, it placed THIRD OVERALL out of over twelve-hundred other scripts. As I'm writing this, I really want to express how happy I am, but I'm just a jaded old writer. What makes me happy is that it's a step in the right direction. The top five are called "winners", so it's the first screenplay contest I've "won", and I'm already past it.

My friendships with my LA friends has grown to a point where our little group feels like a family. And that's led me to other industry connections that feel really supportive.

My connections are growing. My skill is progressing. I'm officially an award winning screenwriter and filmmaker. And this latest script feels special-special.

Ten years in. I'm not where I want to be yet. But I'm fucking grinding.

[anarchopuppy]

It's time for another one of my long-ass Zelda posts that no one actually reads but that's okay because I'm just posting it for myself. The topic today:

The Zelda Timeline Actually Makes Perfect Sense If You Just Think About It For A Minute

Casual fans and non-fans will take any opportunity to mock the Zelda timeline, with their criticism often starting and ending with "Look, there are three whole branches! Three!" followed by not inspecting it any further. Even big Zelda fans who know the lore extensively will still claim (without giving evidence) that the developers never intended for there to be a timeline or shared story at all while they were writing the games, and just made it up post-hoc to put in Hyrule Historia. But is that true?

Even as early as 2003 (around Wind Waker's release), Miyamoto and Aonuma confirmed that they had an official document with the entire timeline laid out in it, and that claim was reiterated in several other interviews following that. So, there's that idea put to rest right away. Straight from the horse's mouth, there has always been an official timeline

Fun fact: Did you know that back when Ocarina of Time was still called Zelda 64, around the same time that the very first ingame footage was being shown to the public, before the time travel concept was even decided on - we're talking very early development - Nintendo reportedly told IGN that its story took place after Adventure of Link? Now, you may say that that proves that they don't care much about the timeline if they're changing it up partway through production, but to me it says the opposite. Even in the experimentation phase, before they had even come up with the central concept of the game, they were already considering where it would fit into the timeline

But the claim I made at the top wasn't that the timeline was considered beforehand, but that it makes "perfect sense"

The Official Timeline Is The Only One That Works

Let's consider the games in the Zelda series in release order and see how they fit with each other

First was Zelda 1. After that came Zelda 2, an obvious direct sequel with the same Link. Then LttP, which the devs clearly stated was a prequel to Z1 - and it couldn't really have been anything else, since Z1 ends with Ganon being killed and AoL ends with his resurrection being prevented. Link's Awakening is just a dream and could go anywhere on the timeline. Ocarina of Time is a clear prequel to LttP, exploring the origins of Ganon and the beginning of his life as a man, as established in LttP's manual (I'll talk more about OoT and the Downfall Timeline further down). Majora's Mask is a direct sequel to OoT

After that comes Wind Waker, the first seemingly ambiguous placement. The game begins with a legend of the Hero of Time, the player character from OoT, sealing Ganon and then disappearing forever. It's clear that this is referring to the timeline that Link left in OoT. And since in LttP Hyrule hasn't been flooded and abandoned along with the Triforce and Master Sword and Ganon's corpse (which is how WW leaves it), we can be pretty certain that this doesn't come before any of the previously released games. Nor does it come after, since it makes clear reference to the events of OoT and explicitly states that no hero like the Hero of Time has appeared since. So it must be a new timeline split from all that time travel stuff. Cool

Then is Twilight Princess, which also doesn't fit with any of the other games we've seen. In its backstory, Ganondorf was stopped before taking over Hyrule or even touching the Triforce, which doesn't match with either of the two histories that have been established. It does match perfectly with the timeline the Hero of Time returned to at the end of OoT, though, and there's other evidence (such as the Hero's Shade, which is heavily hinted in-game to be the Hero of Time) that supports that. Again, can't come before anything else we've seen since Ganon dies, and can't come after since Ganon never got the Triforce. So the only option that makes sense is for this to be another timeline branch following from OoT

After Twilight Princess comes Phantom Hourglass and Spirit Tracks, both of which are explicitly sequels to WW. Then Skyward Sword, which is heavily established as the first game in the series chronologically and came with an official timeline to prove it. Then Link Between Worlds, a sequel to LttP (in Japanese it's even a numbered sequel), and finally Breath of the Wild which has its own nonsense going on and effectively soft reboots the timeline

Ok, so where's that famous ambiguity and arbitrariness? Everything locks in pretty solidly, there's just no other option that makes sense. This is supported by the fact that the Zelda fanbase came to the exact same conclusions before there was ever an official timeline. There were some people who were so attached to a unified timeline that they came up with wild and varied theories to fit it all together, but among the people who recognized that there was a timeline split, they effectively all put the games in the exact same order that would later be revealed as official. But with one major difference - everyone agreed on the order of the 2D games, but no one could figure out whether they belonged at the end of the Adult Timeline or the end of the Child Timeline, with some even arguing that the split timeline "merged" somehow before the 2D games. No one had even considered the Downfall Timeline as an option

What's Up With The Downfall Timeline Anyway

The DT is the most controversial part of the official timeline. There are two timelines that are clearly explained by the events of OoT, and then a third that splits off at the same point that just exists for seemingly no reason. Before the official timeline was released, the fanbase couldn't make sense of the 2D games and how they fit into everything. So what gives?

As I said above, OoT was conceived of and established as a prequel to LttP. But even before the timeline split nonsense, that didn't really make sense. In the backstory of LttP, Ganondorf acquires the entire Triforce before being sealed by the sages - and in-game we do see Ganon in possession of the completed Triforce, even able to wish on it - but in the events of OoT Link and Zelda retain their pieces at all times. OoT is clearly intended to be the events of LttP's backstory, but the ending is changed, like a "what if" scenario where Ganon loses instead of winning

And I argue that's exactly what it is. The Zelda team wanted to flesh out the stuff from LttP's manual, but a game where you lose at the end no matter what you do isn't fun, so they had to make it so you can win. The DT doesn't make a lot of sense when you think of it in timeline order, in terms of how it came to be in-universe, but it becomes a lot more clear when you think of it in development order, in terms of why the developers made the decisions they did. Ocarina was a reboot, a "what if we won instead" story in the same vein as Age of Calamity

In other words, the Downfall Timeline split isn't something that mechanically exists in-universe like the Child/Adult split, and it becomes very confusing if you try to think of it in those terms. Instead, it's another story being told by Nintendo where a different version of events happened, like an alternate history. And when you realize that, the entire timeline starts to make perfect sense

Hold On You Left Out Like Half A Dozen Games

Yeah, you caught me

The other most controversial part of the Zelda timeline is the placement of third-party games. This is the source of the only retcon in the official timeline, which was moving Link's Awakening from after the Oracle games to before them. It also results in the "Vaati trilogy", which was clearly meant to be one continuous story, being split up by thousands of years across multiple timelines. Surely, you say, I can agree that that's confusing and arbitrary?

And I would respond, yeah. Trying to fit games and stories from third-party devs into a timeline with the mainline games post-hoc was a bad idea, and the Vaati trilogy, the Oracle games, and Tri Force Heroes fit into the history about as well as the CD-i games and the Nelsonic Game Watch do. They're great games, by and large, but they're spinoffs and should've been treated as such - trying to include them is the only thing that screws with the timeline. Throw them out, and everything makes sense

[jjheejz]

About Internet Water Army in the case

This is an ongoing update about the case from start to development. List of all related posts can be found on this blog's pinned post (link provided at bottom of each post as well).

19 August 2021 update: Added the scale of his success for reference, before bonus below

18 August 2021 update: Added timeline of events, orange title in post, found out the official English term for Immoral Media = Internet Water Army)

Major updates since first draft: Added bonus, added disclaimer, certain info details

Originally posted on 16 August 2021

[The purpose of this post is to provide a perspective as to why the Media is raised/blamed regarding the issue. Especially for international fans, as all the encounters happened on Weibo. Also, those who were on weibo, do read through if you will. So although it's lengthy, do try to read all, at least if not the last two parts].

The Media referred by most, is not the common perception of the Entertainment Industry (celebrities, directors, shows, channels, staff etc), but the dark side of the Entertainment industry: Antis, toxic fans, toxic marketing accounts. They are called Internet Water Army💧.

Toxic Marketing Accounts is one of the things they do, these accounts on Weibo has millions of followers, each of their post likes are in the hundred thousands (buyable) to give credibility to passer-bys. Some use similar names to Official accounts, some use similar logos. Their posts are usually subjective or aims to steer view points of a certain celebrity/movie/show. Before the latest update of this post (18.08.21), I just group them all together and term them as Immoral Media*.

*Below is my original post using my original term because at point of first draft, I did not know the official term (so have changed/added the term from Immoral Media to Internet Water Army in content below but retain the content based off first draft).

If you have chased before celebrities, or just simply passed by an article about certain celebrities, recall how some title that caught your attentions were like. Clickbaits is one of the many things they do. If GZ is your first and you do not have Weibo, then this read(link) is good enough.

Just as the term Immoral Media (Internet Water Army), it’s immoral and unethical, but they exists because they are paid to do so. Who pays them? Entertainment Companies, and maybe other Organisations

Normal Media/Marketing vs Immoral Media/Toxic Marketing/Internet Water Army

When a show or movie comes out, the normal Marketing department will generate outreach and buzz so that people know a show is airing soon/know the show exists etc. Official announcements are not enough, because there isn’t much context (limited content to put up as well) so having some other Marketing accounts do the buzz in a planned period to gain awareness through posts, some articles about the casts, the plot summary, the production details etc is normal. This is Marketing, bigger companies will probably have stronger Marketing departments (aka influence) and can hire more Marketing accounts to generate buzz. Celebrities (aka casts) themselves, are also Marketing point.

Then we have the Internet Water Army/Immoral Media, these are what they mainly do:

Create Fanfiction-rumors: Creating rumors about celebrities to shift audience perception of them. [eg. XX was seen with XX leaving a hotel, XX was drunk on Event Y and did ZZZ to AA, XX is dating BB and has been in a relationship for N years etc]

Honing their brain degrading skills: Come up with titled clickbait headings/ trending topics with negative written contents. For articles, exceptionally out of heading content related to the celebrity. [Refer to Baidu, it’s a winner of these, feel free to Google Translate]

Regressing their common sense and understanding skills: Take everything a celebrity does completely out of context in a negative way and create a topic out of it [eg. XX said AA is a ---, “XX raised his finger, a sign of ---?”, XX pushed BB aggressively on Variety Show Y - A competition variety show, XX is in beef with CC because XX was caught giving CC the eye]

Using their fingers to stir shit and bathe each other in it: Escalate all smallest form of possible tension created by fans/themselves into a huge thing by acting as the fandom's fans/lurk in fandom chat groups, and voicing their disguised opinion to spread tension/exaggerate severity of the issue [eg. XX fans mocked AA - in groupchats: tbh I've never liked AA before, AA just gives off a vibe that I dont like and now this? It just disgusts me even more > Yea, i feel this way too. AA has problems / XX Lurkers expressing views on XX about NN, slowly to NNMHFXW - XX did NNMHGT - I cannot accept NNmHfHw, I'm leaving = multiply by 1000++]

Epitome of a self-deteriorate: Creating something out of nothing and react to that something negatively to gain massive attention/reaction [eg. “XX raised his hand on show Y” - dk what XX fans are thinking, are they literally blind? XX fans are tasteless just like XX hahaha / “XX did community service” - they are acting / “XX breathed” - From the start, i thought XX was NN, but I am so ZZZ that XX breathed. Goodbye fandom, i’m leaving. Those who still want to stay I urge you to rethink your life choices] - if I may add, Xiao Zhan’s fanfiction case as well. 

Metaphor - Ability to use bare hands to collect paychecks from the urinal/toilet bowl where their boss/client peed in: Doing all of the above.

Apologies for any term offense, but not apologetic of the term context. This is what they do for a living. Any normal human being who do not like anything, will generally not be interested at anything about it in the first place, so to have some antis/toxic fans knowing certain things and inside jokes/references in their posts questions their goal.

On involved in Internet Water Army/Immoral Media 💧

Fans on weibo during these few months witnessed many of the above on GZ. From rumored girlfriend (spammed with articles) to mean and nasty comments on trending topics, to bouts of insults and fake emotional cryouts by certain fan accounts that GZ's office has to release a number of Lawyer’s letter to them. 

Aside from WOH there were also a few other BL adaptation films that were actually released this year but they did not reach exponential success like WOH. BL adaptations are so highly followed by because this is the key to wealth. Literally. Successful BLs like The Untamed and  Dao Mu Bi Ji saw the amount of wealth fans are willing to spend on the celebrity as compared to say BG or idols (younger fan groups). This is why when WOH shot up exponentially, Immoral Media start to sweat.

Major anticipated adaptations were supposed to air this year eg. Hao Yi Xing(HYX), Sha Po Lang(SPL) etc but was severely held back due to the stricter change in BL adaptations submitting their scripts for approval regulations (WOH manage to submit earlier before the change). Because of this, most final films were rejected and they have to keep re-editing, by then WOH was already months into reaping tonnes of major brand endorsements, shows/movie casting, variety show appearances etc, something that is seen as too successful in the Immoral Media’s eyes, because they have to create buzz for other celebrities, some are specific celebrity oriented and thus circulate rumors about having endorsement opportunities shifted from celebrity X to GZ (think fanfiction-rumors and shit stirrer) causes tension in celebrity fandoms. - A real event just in July:

The Untamed’s cp fandom is called BJYX which had always been in the Top 1 of Cps for 2 years dropped for awhile to Top 2, over taken by LLD. Both of them had a war and hated each fandom, one fandom is somehow not allowed to like the other fandom even casually after everything broke out because it started out with some BJYX toxics photoshopped GZ on of portraits .

Also another case of which he wore the same costume as WYB did in a previous photoshoot and it became a useless comparison of who wore better, who looks better, degrading the other. (Finger stirring shit).

Now apply all of the above things the Internet Water Army do and we have them earning money, while both fandom reacts and hate each other.

In LLD, our own fans started suspecting each other on who is a spy from BJYX and what not.

The first few months of Internet Water Army saw LLDs mostly mocking them because the average age is 30-40s, they know and see through all of their intentions so nothing was big. They were trumpeting and LLDs didn’t even care, what with all the doing tedious stats was not even important to them.

Over time, as the issues they create became more and more serious LLDs did start to care, reporting Toxic Marketing accounts/toxic fans became a daily task, go vote for GZ at certain polls etc, solo fans, and LLD fans also split apart. Solo fans think cp fans use GZ to furnish their fantasies, and cp fans thinks they are the ones furnishing their dreaming-girls fantasy with (aka my boyfriend).

There was also a period where LLD had a habit of continuously mentioning “we are in the 30-40s so we can see through everything about the media, we are all fans for the first time, we are good at spending money (because of purchase power compared to other fandoms)” it was prevalent for so long it felt odd, ‘chasing celebrities the first time’ in particular sounds more vulnerable as a weakness than a strength / sth to be proud of.

Gradually, more secretive/insider confirmed ‘sweets’ were flying around. Fans advised each other to not circulate, and the mindset of “if you know, you know, dont tell.” (This is a problematic mentality, of which fans will still be curious to know and search for it themselves, but this secretive hook is unhealthy. Over the long term, it becomes hard for existing fans to know a lot of things properly to judge for themselves, especially those who knew and publicly reacted, but blasting those who ask and telling those who know to keep quiet, this did not help some to understand why on certain things, even so for international fans, dont know and dont understand, causing misunderstandings. Yes, certain information should not be shared, so why should you react about it publicly in the first place? - Internet Water Army effect)

The last few months (for example the July fan war) created a tonne of seriousness and anger. A period even broke out with a tonne of ‘insider confirmed sweets’ (which is LLD’s daily dose of happiness), it was hard to tell what was real and what was fake. Trending topics became negative and everyone warned each other not to enter because it will give the trends ‘views’ and trend statistics, in reality entering there is to enter an exhibition by the self-deteriorates, collecting the fandom's traffic data (it's a sure lose for fans each time they enter the topic). Everyone even starts thinking that the trend’s popularity was caused by each other (it's true but it can be bought daily and not caused by fans). There was a raise in the number of fans who were getting emotional because they want to protect but Internet Water Army kept coming and got worse, because fans, tbh, not just GZ fans, every other celebrity’s fans are always fighting with an Army, getting played and plotted in that Army's calendar.

Even so, despite all of these, LLD is actually a fandom Internet Water Army may find the hardest to break because they understand GZ so much, they could tell what are fake news regarding GZ, because among everything above, there are still plenty of logical fans to stop many fans from drifting too far and debunking them. Why? 30-40s are grown up adults.

Why 13.8.21 and the Japan issue is plotted?

First of all, in the political climate of China, there are many political dates in a month that is NO-Entertainment news. Because it’s the honoring of certain important political events. It’s like Remembrance Day, thus the sensitivity is higher. On these days, there are usually no news and even the Internet Water Army zip their pants. This year also marks the 100th year of the Chinese Communist Party(link)

Secondly, he had no work schedule on 13 August 2021. A great full day to focus on any other news (because if he had schedules, everyone will turn their attention to his events, what trumpeting outside is just bird chirps). 

Thirdly, when the news broke out, especially about the shrine, the reception was actually quite serious within the fandom so the scale of this might be big but to what extent in reality?

Lastly, 15.8.21 marks the 76th anniversary of the announcement of surrender of Japanese in World War 2(link). Also a day of NO-Entertainment news. 

Timeline of events:

13.8.21 - [His rest day, Eve of Chinese Valentine's Day, Japan News broke out] His rest day, no schedules = increased attention about him online. Lowered guard among fans because they are getting ready for tomorrow's Chinese Valentine's sweets = Caught off guard = Huge break out of fans' reactions

14.8.21 - [Chinese Valentine's Day, Eve of the 75th Anniversary of the announcement of Japanese surrender] Keep a wishful and happy demenaor to not destroy the mood, suppressed thoughts about ZZH's Japan news

15.8.21 - [75th Anniversary of the announcement of Japanese surrender, Official announcement of ZZH's boycott and all China social media account ban] NO-Entertainment news day, Solemn day, not allowed to voice anything so the fandom can only wait for tomorrow to start voicing out/debunking but before they can wait out, the boycott and social media ban happened, every official accounts about him was gone overnight, fans had no time to react

17.8.21 - [All official fandom accounts related to ZZH and JunZhe were locked/removed]

Forced to be silent since the day his matter broke out, over the course of official news release with everything taken down in a day because of the Japan correspondence, his accounts banned overnight across the Chinese media and the overnight cancellation, fans could not speak anything about it. Overnight cancellation like this scale happened for the first time in China, leaving no time to react by the fandom, by the time they can, they are silenced.

When the period of events occured within a set of special dates, it’s not coincidence.

Conclusion

Because he was too successful and had many actually honorable past things, and a hard to influence fandom, Internet Water Army view him as a huge threat enough to want to destroy him, because it’s hard to defeat. With a chance they have, they will hold it till the end, bringing up this issue to the Government during this period also shows a sign of how scared they were of him and perhaps his fandom to plot something like this.

Updated on 19 August: Here's a screenshot of assumed calculation on the scale of GZ success for reference while chatting with a fellow fan, assuming GJ also has 27 brands, and there are 1000 brands. Rationale of numbers used: Only big brands can hire big celebrities.

Bonus

Mentioned in the first post, will mention again in case. After the news broke out within 2 days, there was a drop on his weibo followers from 18.9mil to 18.7mil. 200k+ drops, if the politics was such a big national issue, there should at least be a huge drop, even at least a million right? Because weibo is a China-Chinese majority right? Nope, we get a puny 200k drop.

What's funny? The self-deteroriates:

Translation: "Are his fans bought? Why didnt he drop fans? Those people got brainwashed to this point?" / "I've never entered his weibo and today i feel like having a look yet it showed I've followed him. All his fans were bought right? It disgusts me, i immediately unfollowed. This kind of process is worse than WYF..." / "i dropped fans because of him...no...I just reposted 2 posts and I've dropped 4 fans?"

Isn't the tone and regressing brain cells, all too familiar and same?

//

Added above, will remind again to read this link. It has an even more in-depth knowledge on who are paying them.

So what should we do? Link here

Related posts 🛏️:

[rorodawnchorus]

C-drama rec: 《我在他鄉挺好的》 or Remembrance of Things Past

The literal translation of the title is "I'm doing fine in this place away from home." But I think the English title was well chosen and quite relevant to the core of the series. It's only 12 episodes (which is too short when it's such a good one!). I'll try to give away as little spoilers as possible.

[TW: Suicide]

Before anything else though, I'd like to add a very big trigger warning of suicide because the series opens to the scene of a girl jumping off a bridge. This girl is one of the 4 main characters; her name is Jing Jing. The series then follows the story of these four characters with them often recalling memories of Jing Jing as they stumble through life in Beijing city. Their struggles are very relatable and perhaps all too realistic. If you're looking for a feel good, escapist story that will lift you up, maybe this isn't the one. But I can tell you it's a great drama with well-written characters and a realistic and sensible plotline. Also, I ditched every other series I was watching just to watch this.

(Where to watch: Links at the end of post)

If I were to liken this to any other story that I know of, this series does remind me a little bit of the book by Celeste Ng, 'Everything I Never Told You'. The 3 characters and also one of the male characters grapple with the trauma of Jing Jing's death. For the 3 female characters, they're Jing Jing's closest friends and also one of them is her older cousin sister. (In China, as I've observed, cousins tend to be addressed as their own siblings and some of them do share very close bonds.) The story follows these characters as they go on with life but also each episode reveals a little bit about what might have led to Jing Jing's death. They realise how much they do not know of Jing Jing and each episode, they discover something or someone they'd never known. It prompts its audience to think, you may know someone and you may think you know everything about them but things may just turn upside down when you least expect it. And you won't even know what went wrong, who this person that you love so much was, and how people left behind deal with the trauma.

One of our main characters, Qiao Xi Chen (Qiao), works in the marketing department of a coffee company. She works hard when she has to, is very competent and smart, and is very confident in her work. But office politics throws things off balance. She then gets into a series of unfortunate events. The first one being swindled of her half year rental fee which she gave to the agent. She was kicked out of her house and it's honestly the most horrible and terrifying thing to lose a place to live in overnight. For those who might have rented rooms or houses in cities, you might have had some experience that are bad or your worst living nightmare. I personally have had a series of those. Her story is also very relatable for young women who live alone and work in a big city.

Jing Jing's other best friend is Xu Yan and she works at a company's customer service department. All day, she deals with phone calls of grumbling customers complaining about the products. She sometimes have to deal with calls from customers who speak with a heavy accent or dialect but she does her job pretty well too. However, her story arc is less relatable to me personally. She has an unhealthy obsession with branded handbags and items. She and her boyfriend are the typical "Moonlight Clan/Generation" who barely manages to have any savings because they're spending on rent, bills and all the miscellaneous luxury goods that are trending. She struggles with her self image because of her work environment and feel pressured to keep up with fashion trends or a lifestyle that she can show online. I don't think it's inherently wrong to want to pursue such a life. Enjoyment and leisure can be very different to many people even if it doesn't appeal to all. She may appear a little childish but she isn't actually hateable.

Jing Jing's cousin is the oldest in the group and they all call her "Nan Jia jie" (older sister). She's an entrepreneur who started her own events management company in Beijing. She's 35 and she's pressured by her mother to quickly get married. Problem is, her mother thinks she should just get married to anyone (literally ANY MAN) who is willing to marry her. She also considers purchasing a house but property prices in Beijing are impossibly high and she barely manages to put together money for her first instalment. I think we're living in an era which has made property ownership impossible difficult. And capitalism may still want you to think that you must own a house, this may not necessarily be the case anymore.

I really like all the tiny details of this story. The way everyone finishes work late and each go their own way because sending your colleague home at 3 or 4am across the city would mean you basically do not get sleep (like you might as well just stay in the office), or how you live further away from your workplace because you can't afford a place nearer. The commute to and from work during rush hour. The list is endless. But this feels like a story that is close to the hearts of many, it tells the tale of the average salaryman living in a metropolitan city (especially in Asia).

It's the kind of drama that will leave a mark on me for life, and in a good way. I feel like part of it is already engraved in me. The cast is also doing great at stringing you along in sharing their emotions (I don't think I've cried this many times at the very beginning of a series). The writing and pacing are all great. Characters are also very well written. I do have some qualms with certain characters and their actions but... Not too big and they aren't grave sins.

I also don't think they're doing the best job at depicting trauma of witnessing a suicide and dealing with the aftermath of the suicide of a loved one but, to me, it's handling these issues quite well. At least the story is indeed about them coming to terms with the suicide of Jing Jing and them trying to make sense of what led her to this end.

Where to watch Episode 1:

Remembrance of Things Past - MangoTV

On their Official YouTube Channel

[these-are-the-first-steps]

Hey I was reading your posts and don't know If I got It wrong but are you saying that the books are good and a lot better than the movies? I'm asking because I really loved the Second movie but they ruined everything in the third one 😔 so are the books different? Did they make the story better?

Hi there, friend! Before I answer your question, I'd like to go over (briefly) some points that make the books required reading regardless of how well/badly they're written:

-Book writers have access to the film scripts, meaning they get a ton of details and deleted scenes we do not.

-They also tend to have access to previous versions of the Official Script, meaning they may get to see dialogue or moments that got cut or changed, either for time or to make them more 'obscure' etc etc.

-They have access to production notes and other Show Bible material to help them write their book/s that we will never see, and so it's a unique avenue to try and get pieces of that information.

-All of the above then gets conveyed into the book material for us to try and re-piece together from the author's interpretation of it.

This, in a nutshell, is why the books are worth reading, regardless of whether they are good or not.

On a personal note, I thought the TFA novel was a solid C+. I didn't hate it, moments in it were interesting and novel, it included a nice chunk of what I detailed above (which is what I, and all of us, should expect to see in any movie novel), and I actually finished it and went back to re-read moments I liked. So maybe it's bump it up to a B-. For a fantasy book it was a little drab, but I brushed that off as just par for the course for a movie novel.

TFA also had a second novel- the TFA Junior Novel. This was an elementary/middle school version of the TFA novel but with some heavy re-writes in portions to add moments mentioned in the script and also clarify what is ambiguous in both the novel and the film. The TFA Junior Novel is a wealth of good info and was super useful to the fandom during a time of unclear information since it really spelled some things out (like Han blatantly forgiving his son as he died, etc.). Plus it was an enjoyable read that was quick to get through. B+

And THEN there was the 'Before The Awakening' novel which was shelved next to the junior novel, also geared towards the same age range. This novel gives us a prequel to Rey, Finn, and Poe and is a huge source of details and information- like how exactly Rey lived and what her first sweet treat was, who was in Finn's battalion and why that matters when you see the storm troopers who come to confront Finn throughout TFA, and also how Poe got roped into Leia's Resistance movement as a government pilot (spoilers: it's this book that completely invalidates JJ's writing in TROS that Poe was ever a drug smuggler. This book details Poe's timeline before the events of TFA and there was literally no time for him to have done that shit. JJ Abrams literally didn't read his own Show Bible and decided to be racist instead. whatever.). Anyway, it's a good interesting book. A.

The TLJ novel was so boring I actually stopped reading a 1/3rd of the way through and never finished it. Commentary from friends on tumblr seemed to suggest that it actually did have some nice juicy bits in it that were worth reading, so I always meant to pick it up again but just never did. Maybe I should? It's still on my bookshelf. No rating for lack of completion. I remember looking for a TLJ Junior Novel when the books started to come out but never found one. I'm not sure if they put one out for TLJ or not. If so, I'd love to buy it and give it a read.

The TROS novel I did not buy because I was so fucking mad at the movie. I should buy it, though. I meant to buy it. But every time I saw it in the bookstore I was so filled with rage I couldn't bring myself to throw money at it. HOWEVER!!! The TROS novel was written by a reylo supporter! Excerpts from it show very very nice moments with some nice detailing. However, due to the rushed production of TROS, the movie firing probably its entire AD department after their director got fired, and subsequent constant overhaul of the story up until the day before it premiered, I don't expect a lot of the points above to be included in this particular novel. TROS was a trashfire of a production, and if I remember correctly, this book came out WAY late as a consequence. However, I can't say for certain because I haven't picked it up yet. I do still want to pick it up, if only out of respect for the author who did her best after being handed a pile of shit and taking so many hits on twitter for being pro-reylo. It's the least I can do.

I also have no idea if TROS ever made a Junior Novel. My guess is no.

The comics are also pretty good. They follow the movies more closely since the panels mimic the frames from the films but then you have other one-off series that go off the beaten path, like 'Rise of Kylo Ren' where we finally find out what happened at the temple, etc. etc.

And then you have all the non-narrative stuff like the art books, magazine articles, PR interviews, twitter, etc etc etc So basically, all this to say that even if the books feel a bit bland to you, if you're there to mine all those sweet sweet gems of lore, information, and story clues, it doesn't matter! Read 'em anyway! xD This got long- sorry dude! But I hope this helps explain some! <3

[thisnerdsadventures]

I, a campaign manager

so in addition to being a CTO, a CS major, and a dorm vice president, i was also a campaign manager for 2 weeks (the exact campaign that I was managing is not entirely difficult to figure out if you really want to know, especially if you click on the links BUT i will be trying to not mention it specifically here lol). You might be wondering - (1) why and (2) how did you end up becoming a campaign manager..... you're not even a poli sci/gov/humanities/literally anything vaguely related to this major??

You're correct, yes, how did this happen? Well that's a great place to start this story:

How in the world this happened

Friends drag you into stuff. This happens to be the same friend that dragged me to New York, and then was 20% of the reason I got dragged into the negotiation class, and then was maybe 15% of the reason i got dragged into nonprofit activities? In terms of providing unique opportunities in my life, she definitely takes the cake. So one day, she says "I'm running for this position," and me and the squad says "we gotchu." What does that mean? Clearly wasn't sure in the beginning, but we were texting campaign strategies and slogans and tiktok ideas in the chat for fun. None of us had any real responsibilities, especially since the actual candidates were still weighing the playing field and figuring out their platform.

I also was a course 6, so I guess there was some expectation that I would make the website, even though I didn't actually code the website from scratch.

but anyways, it was actual campaign time.

CAMPAIGN SZN

After they figured out the campaign platform, it was game on for the campaign materials. We spent a lot of time on artwork, we photoshopped pictures from a photo shoot, we came up with campaign motto ideas, we brainstormed strategies for officially announcing the campaign. We had an actual campaign meeting to talk over things in mid-April where I met like six different people, friends from both candidates on this ticket, who were supporting this effort. We had a google drive AND a Dropbox. Look at this:

Despite this seemingly organized effort, it was not that organized because this publicity team didn't actually actively do anything for like a week. Many reasons for this: one being it was actually the semester, and it was also CPW weekend. Unfortunately for me, that weekend was literally hell for me, because I was managing this site for our nonprofit, CPW events (so like five zoom calls on a Saturday), classes (because those are still happening), and then the campaign thing finally started, about a week before voting opened. In the form, of a website.

So the tl;dr is I developed an entire Squarespace website in one night. Yes, one night. I had to model it from I think the website from a Harvard campaign site, which took me like three or four hours on a Saturday night, which is a very fast time in my opinion to learn how to use Squarespace. I also bought a domain and figured out how to connect it to Squarespace at like 1 in the morning, which was the first domain I ever bought in my life!

(It expires in a month. I am absolutely going to let it die.)

Also, if anyone from squarespace is reading this for some reason, yall made a really solid product. I actually was very happy with my experience. You all should use it, I am 100% not sponsored by them at all, but honestly it was a very good experience. If you need to develop a website in four hours and don't have a lot of webdev experience, definitely consider it. You can even see website clicks and user analytics, it's actually really put together.

The next day we spend a lot of time going through website changes and artwork changes. It's bad. We had so many discussions about color palettes and the advantages of a 3 column vs 4 column layout. Yes. I'm serious. I'm starting to go crazy.

If anyone's interested, I would say that our website definitely was better than the other campaign's website. Like objectively. Like both campaigns were great, but the website? well. Here's the link (archived because I only paid for 1 month of squarespace :D) The amount of detail that went into it is actually incredible, the amount of spacing, i even had to custom CSS the header image so that mobile headers would show up correctly.

THE CAMPAIGN VIDEO

so sometime during this week, I had this thought about making a really good campaign video. I was very inspired by some of these Google ads that started with a Google search bar. (Yes, I am aware that I am that much of a Google simp.) To be honest, rewatching this ad, I really definitely just copied this entire ad lol, it's ok we don't have to talk about that.

That Wednesday, we coincidentally talked about what makes campaign videos successful. We talked about how Trump's incendiary imagery helped stoke the flames and how it was really effective in getting people to vote, and eventually helped him beat Clinton in the presidential election. So I went and took that and grabbed news clips and campus videos and overlayed that in the video, and it went from like a solid 6 to an 8 immediately, in my honest, unbiased opinion. You can see what I mean in the video itself: [link].

We also had to put together quite a few interviews about what they wanted from the school and were looking for in their candidates, which took a million years of coordination, but we somehow got it done in three days, and everything was put together in a flurry of a weekend, unending changes and small fixes for sixteen hours straight. I could not even tell you how much I learned about premiere pro and how to use layer masks and everything. I even composed the music for the first fifteen seconds of it. Literally, composed, it.

And so on a Sunday afternoon FINALLY right before voting, the video drops. I'm sitting in my backyard absorbing the sun because I hadn't left my computer for 48 hours straight.

It gets like 1000 views or impressions or something in like two days, which is incredible for me, since I'm not a professional by any standards, but I am considering being a professional campaign manager at this point. By the way, we're also managing an Instagram page, a Facebook page, a tiktok page, a website, our individual social media pages, and we're trying to synchronize this video drop and all of our publicity efforts across every single one of these channels. It's chaotic at best.

VOTING SZN

So it's voting week, where we give everyone an entire week to vote. Across the week, it's mostly a waiting game, we make a few more tiktoks and funny videos that we publicize to get out the vote more. The last day, we're thinking about it, and we know the final vote's gonna be close, so we message every. single. person. in our Facebook friends list. I think I singlehandedly convinced like twenty people to vote (and hopefully vote for our ticket).

There's a lot of drama about different stuff. I won't really talk about it because I think it got really messy, but this week and entire couple weeks was a lot to get through honestly. As a reminder, I'm also working on my senior thesis and my nonprofit website work is peaking at this point, so everything is very, very bad and none of us have slept in a while. Also it's the pandemic.

Finally, the results come out. We lost by like 20 votes or something, out of 1500 or so total votes casted or something like that. It's one of the highest voter turnouts in school history or something, I don't quite remember. After that, we're so emotionally drained from this whole thing that we just don't talk about it for a while and that's that.

If the ticket won, I wonder how it would've turned out. I feel like things would've continued to be busy, and maybe that's not a great thing. So maybe everything happened for a reason. I don't know, but those three weeks were quite interesting, quite fun, quite odd. I'm putting those videos in my personal portfolio and am putting Adobe Premiere Pro and Squarespace on my resume and moving on.

Anyways, thought I'd just share! i haven't posted in a while, and this was definitely one of my #weird #odd stories from my time at MIT, which is quite reminiscent of #weird #odd at MIT in general.

[popliar]

Ateez in Seoul, 8 and 9 February 2020

Olympic Hall at Olympic Park

No one will believe this but I actually had my holiday with @flywithturtles planned before I knew the dates coincided with Ateez's Seoul concert dates. But it's true! I have the WhatsApp conversations to prove it!! Anyway I secured the tickets and all was well.

This is the first concert I've been to where they were handing out masks, making sure everyone had hand sanitizer and checking temperatures as you entered. Haha. Well they also checked our temperature going into the Line Friends store that day so, that's corona virus life. I was actually really worried the concerts would be cancelled, given so many other events have been, so it was a relief that it went ahead.

Structurally this is the same as the show I saw in August last year, after Wave/Illusion: starting hard with pirates, a lighter middle section, and a mythology-heavy last third. And then the encore which went for ages.

What's great to see is that the gaps and pacing downsides of the previous year have been corrected and improved. The pacing has been tightened up, the banter and ments flow much more smoothly and the show just feels very professional and well run.

Here's my post about last year's show: https://popliar.tumblr.com/post/187095347758/ateez-in-sydney-11-aug-2019

It's a shock to realise they've only been around one year four months but they were able to fill out a full 2.5 hour set, every song solid. And KQ spent proper money on this, the production was good - it's not like LAVISH but there were good stages and fancy screens and new VCRs and plenty of back up dancers, and it all worked well. There were maybe too many fireworks on the first night (I hate it when it obstructs the choreo) but they'd adjusted well on the second night.

Surprising but welcome - they had English subs for some of the ments. I don't think they were "live" subs because sometimes they'd get ahead of what the members were saying. But it was helpful. Even without them, body language and tone says a lot. Though I'm regretful that I don't understand Seonghwa's acrostic poems or all of their stupid jokes lol.

The show is called Fellowship and they leaned into it hard, asking Atiny to be part of their shared journey and to stick with them forever. It's a familiar refrain from other shows, but each time I find it both surprising and effective - this very overt, explicitly stated entreaty to be a fan, to enter into this imagined relationship, the appeal to reciprocity. "We've made you happy, make us happy too, be with us and we'll be with you."

But you can know a thing and it can still be effective. I did love the shows. I want them to be happy too!

A list of observations and random things:

Spoilers follow, I'd put it behind a cut but I can't figure out how on mobile haha

OK REALLY SPOILERS NOW

-first VCR to open the show expanded on the Treasure theme.

-Desire opens with blindfold choreo. Was this a gift for me? THANK U.

-for Lights, they had cute moments where they held up little speech bubbles over each others heads. They paired up with Hongjoong and Mingi, San and Wooyoung, Seonghwa and Yunho, and Yeosang and Jongho. Both nights, Woosan held hands. On the second night Yunho held Seonghwa's hand and Seonghwa was like a shy maiden. Mingi and Hongjoong had very strong flirty energy. Yeosang and Jongho are cute.

-the VCR in between part 1 pirates and part 2 fun boys showed what felt like a series of different dimensions? An ocean, a mountain, fields of flowers, cosmic surrealism, etc. As though each of them was alone somewhere in time and space.

-During If without you, they threw out balls to the crowd as gifts (mini riots ensued). Mingi put the empty basket on his head both nights, what a beautiful fool.

-Night 1 was the first time with the light stick! Hongjoong announced its official name: Lightiny (light of destiny) but also Tinybong lololol. The light stick is super pretty. I was tempted but didn't have time the first night. The second night it was sold out when I arrived!!!

-The VCR in between parts 2 and 3 is the really intriguing one. It paired them up into the Lights pairs again. Yeosang and Jongho searched for each other in a hall of billowing drapes. Mingi and Hongjoong were rockstars (with great lipstick). San and Wooyoung were mirrorverse versions of each other. Yunho and Seonghwa put together the pieces of a puzzle in a set that reminded me of both Treasure and Wonderland.

-In the intro to Say My Name on the first night, Hongjoong went halfway down the stairs then turned around, went back and grabbed his mic, then went down again lol. The second night he very firmly took his mic before descending the stairs lol.

-The final VCR before the encore showed them uncovering items on pedestals as though in a museum: a camera, a gramophone, a painting, a book of poetry by Yeats... Then they all created a painting together. When viewed through a red screen (like the puzzles in their albums) the pattern revealed a compass. They then all showed their wrists to reveal each had a compass tattoo.... WHAT IS THIS OT8 SOULMARK FIC!!!!!

-They said they had planned for every audience member to have this compass stamp (the Fellowship again) but it was cancelled due to health concerns. But we could see it with our true eyes, right???? On the second night, the 99s swarmed Seonghwa at this point to try to look down his shirt. I see. I see. (Later on Hongjoong also tried to peek into Mingi's shirt also fine just fine.)

-Early in the show Hongjoong said there would be clues through the show about the next steps in their concept/narrative. The hourglass and compass were very recurrent but these are not new. Hmm. I wonder.

-In one ment on night 1, Jongho spoke to all his hyungs informally and it was HILARIOUS. He did something similar on the second night, patting Yunho on the head and pinching Wooyoung's chin etc.

-During Star 1117 on the first night, Hongjoong and San started crying. Then in the following ment, they and Yunho and Wooyoung were crying, and Seonghwa and Jongho were teary. Yunho cried so hard (missing his grandfather!) that during Hongjoong's ment, Mingi quietly went over and gave him a towel. There were like five members in between that he passed to give him the towel, it was so sweet I'll cry. Night 2 felt more joyful and upbeat.

-Some ppl really left way too early like before the encore. The encore is half an hour long omg! You missed out on so many songs!!!!!

-On night 1 between main set and encore the crowd didn't quite know what to do. Huge kudos to the fans who led some cheers otherwise it would have been so quiet. Second night was better and also they kept the light sticks on while we were waiting which added to the atmosphere.

-They didn't sell a couple of sections in the hall at all, they were curtained off. It's interesting to think BTS had their first Muster here at around the same point in their careers. Like BTS, Ateez too are more popular globally than at home. They were beaten quite handily in voting on music shows by SF9 this comeback, who are more popular at home than internationally.

-It is great being in a huge fandom like BTS but also you know this is actually a great time to stan a group like Ateez. They're big enough to be exciting and have good shows, they are interesting and still developing, they're still playing intimate venues... They're good!!!!!

-A few of them had fake neck tattoos. San helpfully labeled himself "San" on the second night lol.

-Hongjoong briefly went off stage during sunrise On night 2. Hopefully just a technical issue.

-Treasure and Precious choreo start and end in the same place, echoing their musical connection.

-They had different encore outfits for Answer each night, before changing into hoodies. On night 2, Yeosang saw some of the others had scarves/banners tucked into their back pockets and was like "where's mine????" Instead of a banner, Yunho had a baseball cap. Seonghwa took his off and Hongjoong tied it around Seonghwa's wrist.

-For Star 1117, everyone held up their mobile phone lights. On night 2, San repeated the request in English too. Very pretty to see all the lights.

-On second night, Seonghwa and San got their mics and necklace tangled up during a ment lol.

Setlist:

(Intro)

Win

Horizon

Pirate King

(Introduction ment)

Medley: Twilight, Stay, My Way

Light

Mist

Desire

(VCR)

Illusion

Crescent

Wave

Sunrise

(Ment, lightstick announcement)

If without you

Aurora

Utopia

(VCR)

Say My Name

Dazzling Light

Hala Hala

Treasure

Precious

Wonderland

--

Encore:

(VCR)

Answer

(Ment)

Thank u

Star 1117

(Ment)

Promise

Dancing like butterfly wings

Setlist from: https://twitter.com/updateez/status/1226112679728812032?s=19

[qforqazaq]

Black Dial: The Drama

You've probably heard the latest news from the Q-pop world: L and Teddy are no longer in Black Dial.

Hmm, where shall I start?

***Disclaimer: For the convenience of the foreign fans who aren't sure what has actually happened, I tried to recreate the sequence of events to get some exposition first. I've missed some details here and there, because this was already getting too long.***

It all began when the producers of YB Entertainment posted the announcement saying that the official Instagram accounts of L, Teddy, Ray and Black Dial were hacked, so from now on everything that's going to be posted on those pages has nothing to do with YB. "Okay, the pages got hacked, whatever, it happens, no big deal", I thought. BUT! After awhile I've noticed (first ever) IG stories posted on L's and Teddy's accounts with the actual L and Teddy recording each other while giddily saying something like "Did you know that we were hacked?" - "Lol, no, did we?" - "Yeah, they say we were hacked. I am hacked, you are hacked, comeback is hacked too, hahaha".

Obviously, everyone got even more confused, like, why the hell would the producers call the accounts hacked if they were obviously not. I mean those were real L and Teddy, right?

Meanwhile, I started to read some comments about L and Teddy and something about leaving the group, which got me a huge "Wait WHAT. WTF??? Are you bloody kidding me??" moment.

I obviously couldn't believe my eyes, because, what the hell, first Newton, now Black Dial, are you for real?? When I was about to start doubting these rumours while frantically looking for more info, there came interviews from the official press conference by YB Entertainment.

There, Yesbolat Bedelkhan with Bayan and Bota Yerimbet have formally announced that Yeskeldi Quandyq, formerly known as L, and Samat Kazmaganbet, formerly known as Teddy, were no longer the members of Black Dial, that the company had terminated their contracts, the main reason being consistent violation of the contractual terms by the former members. Moreover, according to the producers, the stage names "L" and "Teddy" and all the social media accounts belong to YB Entertainment and they cannot be used by the members should the contract be terminated.

To say I was shocked is to say nothing. Because, apparently, L and Teddy have not just left the group - they were kicked out. Not only that, they basically kicked themselves out by consistently showing insubordination, disobedience, and violation of terms in many occasions. Without feeling much remorse about it too, it seems, as they didn't look very sad on those Instagram stories - that's for sure.

To make the matter worse, they had no rights to use those Instagram accounts anymore, which explained the earlier announcement about "hacking".

Frankly, that was a lot to take in, and while I was desperately trying to make sense out of whatever was happening out there, all hell let loose. Interestingly - on the producers. Because a horde or rather a flock of angry fangirls or "Ravens" started to shout accusations at the producers, blaming them in all deadly sins. According to them, it was all producers' fault, because they intentionally kicked their "biases" out; how did they dare to be so unfairly strict with them; they were shitty producers in the first place; they should have made their comeback sooner instead of postponing it; the whole "hacking" incident was made to sabotage the members' reputations, and their beloved L and Teddy did the right thing leaving this horrible company.

As for me, these accusations sounded too heated and not very convincing especially when I took a step back and started to actually think about it.

Well, let's break it down, shall we?

First of all, the question of fairness seems super childish, because we're talking about actual legal binding contracts, not some sandbox tantrums that can be resolved by shoving lollipops in kids' mouths. If one signed a contract, it is assumed that both of the parties were aware of and agreed to all of the terms in the first place. In other words, if you in a sober mind signed a legal document, complaining about stuff that you can't eventually commit to afterwards won't work. Why the hell one would even sign a contract in the first place then?

Secondly, do you really think the contract was that strict? Okay, stricter than, idk, a contract signed by the guys from 91? I do very much doubt it. I'm more than sure Yerbolat isn't that chill and understanding compared to his younger brother.

Thirdly, Black Dial is the only active project of YB Entertainment (Darrem doesn't really count) aka literally the company's only flagship product that was supposed to get its long-awaited comeback. Think about it: who the hell in their right minds, in such a crucial moment, would kick out members from the only existing group without a legitimate reason? No one. And there was one reason, a few actually, wasn't there? Moreover, according to Yesbolat Bedelkhan, they've tried very hard to keep the group intact, to smooth out those cases of disobedience and insubordination, closing their eyes to most of them. But I guess, the situation got completely out of control, so terminating the contracts was the last resort.

Fourthly, haven't you thought that the comeback was being postponed over the course of, what, 9 months? exactly because of the internal problems and conflicts inside BD and YB? What if the producers weren't sure if they could proceed should have the said members continued to "misbehave". Which they apparently did, so better cut ties earlier than later, with only one MV, and one more released song.

Next, the "hacking" incident. According to Yesbolat Bedelkhan, sometime around February 14, when BD was supposed to record a video to mark the date, L and Teddy have completely disappeared from radar, not answering anyone's calls and/or messages. The producers even tried to reach their parents at some point, to ask if everything was alright with the boys. Strangely, the parents were not reachable as well, because apparently they have changed their contacts too. Later, the producers discovered that they couldn't access official IG accounts of L, Teddy, Ray and Black Dial, because someone changed their passwords. I suppose it was then they guessed it was L and Teddy's doings, which I assume was the final blow.

Finally, Yesbolat believes that someone from outside have persuaded the boys to sabotage their own places at YB Entertainment. A certain someone with a personal grudge against YB producers. I have my guesses and I won't be surprised if this someone will collaborate with those two at some point in the future too.

Show business sucks, doesn't it.

_________________________________

Don't get me wrong, by making a case for YB Entertainment, I don't want to imply that Yeskeldi and Samat are inherently bad people or anything. Okay, I must admit I had my problems with Teddy and tbh wasn't very sad to know he has left the group (yeah, I'm crude), but I did respect L very much, coming to admire his capacity for songwriting when I took on that challenge at translating their songs (Bul Soni Yemes is a lyrical masterpiece. Period.), regarding him as a very thoughtful young man. Despite personal preferences, I didn't want anyone to leave the group in any circumstances, always hoping and betting on them to settle at least on the second place in Q-pop.

In other words, waking up to a news like this has brought me no pleasure. Further unfolding only left a bitter taste in the mouth and the feeling that you were viciously played.

However, I do still think that it was, pardon my French, totally a dick move to leave everyone and everything just like that, without a decent explanation, a formal apology to the fans at the very least. Leaving by making a public drama out of it, while openly gloating in the social media, abandoning the company, the producers and the other members who counted on them so much.

Was it fair? I think not.

I do wish them luck in whatever they're planning to do though, just to see if it was actually worth the drama, huh.

And I do certainly wish the best of luck to YB Entertainment, to the producers and the remaining vocalists in remedying the whole situation, so to speak.

And what now? Yes, YB is having their casting in search for their new rappers and everything, but what does it tell about the whole "Q-pop movement"?

It's impaled, sick and haven't even grown out legs to stand upright and move properly. People are leaving the groups whenever they want, groups changing the label companies however they want, the entertainment centres are opening and closing at flick of the fingers, and we only have about eh.. 3.5 groups who are actually doing something now? With Black Dial on the resting bed, those would be Ninety One, Mad Men, Moonlight and sort of Newton~. Considering that I'm already very cautious with the latter, skeptical with the second, and Moonlight just doesn't excite me very much, we're coming to the default settings of just clinging to the founders for now while just observing everyone else from the distance.

Nice.

What do you think though? What was the reason for BD having so many problems with its former rappers?

Is Q-pop actually going to crumble to pieces even before it becomes anything substantial?

Feel free to comment and share, and please do leave a like at least. I've been writing this for ages after all.

[jjheejz]

What is Fate?

[Part 5/5] WOH concert and after

WOH Concert (3-4 May 2021)

- The fact that they even have a grand scale wedding ceremony drama concert

- GJ did not attend ZZH's first solo concert, but both of them have their own concert together for the first time

- Chinese have a traditional tradition of calculating auspicious dates (metaphysics). It can be calculated commonly for when to move in to a new house, bury a deceased, open a business, hold a wedding etc. 3 - 4 May were auspicious dates for Wedding and marriage registration.

- The concert was held at a stadium in Su Zhou, but the entire city was blatantly supporting everything and anything about WenZhou like it's New Year's Eve. Eg. Building, helicopter banners, bus advertising, drone show, lantern display, subway endorsement, city's official account using WOH quotes applying to safety regulations, curated photo booths, life sized figurine of WenZhou (YouKu kept it as prideful display at their office entrance after the concert), crowds of fan support and cheers etc.

Drone show snippet:

- Both of them were given the center of attention for the entire 2 days of WOH concert. It was WenZhou/JunZhe concert in disguise as WOH concert.

= This gave them both the opportunity to show what they feel for each other openly (whether as WenZhou themselves or as JunZhe)

- To have a stage to be what they are* and have fun, while being accepted and greatly supported by a sea of Mountain people (山人), no matter how one sees it, it's an extremely touching form of support for them

*Disclaimer: obviously they weren't 100% themselves, mindful of the fact that this stage was monitored by important media bodies (not exactly sure what kind, but somewhat government-ish regulators I presume), but their gaze and body language is just as natural as what they are.

= The fact that the country in general is not open to this kind of relationship, yet they were in a place where most of the people were supportive.

- Yes, there were some important bodies (or eyes) during the 2 days concert. Which was why all the actors and actresses were warned. For whatever reason they chose to continue in their own way, it's daring consensus of support. And for whatever reason the regulators didn't do anything (there weren't any big news at all from them), is also a miracle.

- They had the opportunity to sing a duet on stage, live. For the audience, GJ's singing skills started from November 2020, ZZH likes GJ's singing, and 5 months later, they have a duet on stage.

- Official acknowledgement of cpfans

= First in history where the recognition was officially verbally mentioned in-person. You can say this fate belong to the fans.

- ZZH had the opportunity to vow a promise to GJ witnessed by X million of people in the stadium and those watching livestream, that he will always be there for GJ. He did not only vow as a companion to GJ, in ZZH terms, he actually vowed "I will love you forever" [ZZH on 'love' saga]

- The in-ear mic had the voices of the backstage crew's coordination. ZZH took it off early, but GJ was still wearing them during the exchange. That itself is a stressor as the backstage coordinator must have warned extremely sternly and loudly and GJ was shakingly nervous. When ZZH was giving this vow (which in the concert BTS release, we see him say "Don't I have a segment to speak to WKX?" Note, it's WKX, not GJ), the backstage crew was cursing and swearing when ZZH went with "I have things to say to Jun Jun." (as WenZhou, they have a disguise/a shield, with direct GJ, it's just...danger danger red light) Try imagine being the backstage crew and going all mad and crazy over what ZZH said that moment.

= ZZH's daring courage to say things like these was probably built up from his sportsmanship, hot-blooded passion from his past. It's beyond my peasant mortal's comprehension.

- Supporting Cast shenanigans and warnings for them, link here

After

- After the concert was over, solo fans expect the main leads to break up even as co-workers or say, being even in the same frame. This expectation is extremely strong in the industry for years. The same goes for JunZhe despite this time many are cpfans but they do know this prevalent expectation. So imagine crying over the vow and the next moment, just hours after the concert, JunZhe is happily sticking to each other singing in the same frame as if they did nothing big a few hours ago. They sang a phrase together with this lyrics: 30% arranged by fate/god, 70% arranged by hard work. A love for perseverance will lead to success/winning.

= Debunking expectations, breaking many years of industry's common consensus successfully. They invented after after-sales CP service.

- Stage, endorsements, film scripts, major public events, variety shows, top brands etc. Poured in, and although it's all solo events, we see traces of the other half.

- Aside from that, we now see social media exchanges (almost always for the other half), brand endorsement captions (almost always about the other half), official brands partnering with each other because of them (despite being legit competitors) etc.

- The word 'support' or at least 'love seeing them together', is the general reason CPfans are fans of them. But to both GJ and ZZH, it really goes beyond the word itself. Acknowledging is just the beginning. ZZH does take LLD to heart and GJ is very interactive with LLDs in his own quirky way.

*From the [Star X Moon Saga], to the developed feelings because of this drama and actually accepting their feelings, to the fact that the pitiful budgeted amount for WOH was not well received at all before it was broadcasted but boomed records in the end, to the open shipping support by the production crew/casts/general media/fans/brands/cities, to the climbing successes and mountainous opportunities opened for GJ and ZZH overnight, everything was unprecedented and unexpected, but they all dramatically happened to the two of them in a span of one year.

Bonus

A fan went to a temple to check out JunZhe's fate. You can only check for one person and she checked for GJ. She passed her result to a Master and he immediately tell her to give up because that person is taken and turned away. The fan quickly corrected and say she's actually checking for someone else, the master turned back and checked her read again and said, everything is aligned to their favour, it's blessed by the Gods. (If I can find the full article again, will add on more but that's the gist, surfing in China made me love Google's search engine algorithm so much more).

A few other fans who 抽签 (Chinese praying tradition - simply put: draw a stick of varying luck). They all got the bestest of luck for JunZhe. (Reading the readings, I'm just...in awe...I...)

= Borrowing the meaning of another famous novel title, to me, this is a true "Heaven's official blessing" pair.

-------End of series-------

🌻To returning readers: Updated info are in purple for your easy references!

🌸Part 1 - Before filming here

🌸Part 2 - During filming here

🌸Part 3 - After filming, before broadcast here

🌸Part 4 - Broadcast/Promotion period here

🌻Upcoming: JunZhe Saga series

🌻[Ongoing updates] Will add if I remember or found new ones - last updated 220721

🌻For long posts like this, I tend to look back for grammar and phrasing mistakes (sometimes info updates), so when you reblog for future references, do keep in mind that there may be updates in the original post! :)