#they were terrified of people finding out which content they read so they'd use a blank blog to bookmark things

[inkykeiji]

Clari I wondered if I could ask your opinion/advice? So lately I've noticed I have this follower who likes literally EVERYTHING I post in here. Idk what fandom they originally found me on, but it's getting to the point it's kind of weirding me out? Also their blog is completely blank, no info on it at all, so idk what kind of person they are or why they're jumping on everything I write. I tried soft blocking them just to get a little space but they didn't back off and have just gone right back to liking every post and it's making me not want to write anything now. But I'm worried if I block fr then they'll get aggressive or send hate anons or whatever. Wwyd in this situation?

hmm, well! i have a few followers who do this to me and i don’t mind it at all (i’m actually quite flattered hahaha) but their blogs aren’t blank. i’d say, if it’s personally making you feel uncomfortable, protect your space and your peace by blocking them. i totally get the fear of receiving hate anons after hard blocking someone, but i also think that nothing about this situation screams malicious. they probably just really enjoy your work and are using that blog + their likes to bookmark everything; i don’t really see a reason why they’d send hate. besides, if it’s stated in your rules that you block blank/ageless blogs, then you’re WELL within your right to block this person, because they aren’t respecting you or your wishes n boundaries.

all in all, if it’s bothering you, hard block them. you don’t need a reason or a justification to block someone, and you are never obligated to give anyone an explanation on why you blocked someone. this is your online space and you’re allowed to do what you want with it! <3

[bogleech]

wait, you wrote for cracked? damn I loved that website so much and it taught me do many things about writing, comedy, life and the human nature! thank you for adding to that!

I didn't write a TON for it and they scrapped or rewrote up to 40% of my text (this was kind of standard for the site) but some of my biggest Cracked hits include...

Nature's 6 Most Diabolical Predators

5 Evil Species of Flies

6 Dark Sides to Adorable Creatures

6 Sadistic Insect Predators

7 Vehicles Built and Driven by Animals

8 Most Terrifying Diets in the Animal Kingdom

9 Mind Blowing Disguises in the Animal Kingdom

Unlikely Partners in the Animal Kingdom

People who regularly read my website and have never read these or aren't too familiar with Cracked will probably find some of the differences pretty jarring; they had us write in a sort of frat-boy persona and would rewrite your text anyway, their editing pushed almost all nature articles towards a horror or grossout angle (which I really tried my best to mitigate) and they were ULTRA particular about final list content in ways that remain mysterious to me; they'd ask me to pad out submissions with more entries than they were going to actually use, for instance, leading to a lot of "filler" where I had to kind of reach to justify something under the article's topic, and then they'd end up keeping some of that filler while cutting what I thought were the most exciting entries.

"Dark sides to adorable animals" wasn't even originally called that, I forget what I pitched it as, but it's the most notorious one in my memory because whoever edited it evidently thought that squid are cyclopses.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 17

Warnings: None. However, future chapters will contain sexual content so readers that are under the age of 18 may have to skip those chapters (Please keep note of the warnings).

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

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𝕴 𝖘𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓 at the Hufflepuff table the next day and unfolded the newspaper, skimming for the important things.

Mundungus had been arrested and placed in Azkaban. Reading the rest of the article, it seemed as though he had impersonated an Inferius while attempting to rob someone. I snorted before taking a bite into my muffin. Just lovely.

There were multiple disappearances though none of the names rang a bell.

A nine-year old had been arrested for trying to kill his grandparents. They'd put him in a ward in St. Mungo's with top security. Of course, it looked as though he was under the Imperius Curse so they couldn't blame him. Especially at nine! I mean, full adults had a hard time throwing off the Imperius Curse. I wished I was on the jury that was going to try him. I'd find him not guilty.

On top of all the bad news, it was Monday which meant using the time turner to get to Care of Magical Creatures class and Ancient Runes before Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Hagrid talked about Nundus in class and all I could say was that I was glad that he hadn't found a real one to bring into class. They were terrifying creatures and the only thing I was glad about learning was that I should most definitely stay away from one if I ever came across one, which I wouldn't because I was never going to East Africa.

I hurried to Defense Against the Dark Arts after that, arriving on time, and sitting in my seat, quickly pulling out the dementor essay and my book. Harry entered the room, the last to come in and Severus said, "Late again, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor."

I glared at Severus but he would not look at me. He probably knew the look I was giving him.

Severus waved his wand so that our essay floated from our desks to his in a neat pile and said, "Before we start, I want your dementor essays. And I hope for your sakes they are better than the tripe I had to endure on resisting the Imperius Curse. Now, if you will all open your books to page- what is it, Mr. Finnigan?"

Seamus had his hand in the air and he lowered it as he said, "Sir, I've been wondering, how do you tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost? Because there was something in the paper about an Inferius-"

"No, there wasn't." Severus said in a bored voice.

"But sir," Seamus protested, "I heard people talking-"

"If you had actually read the article in question, Mr. Finnigan, you would have known that the so-called Inferius was nothing but a smelly sneak thief by the name of Mundungus Fletcher."

I rolled my eyes. Mundungus and Severus were on the same team and he certainly should act like it.

"But Potter seems to have a lot to say on the subject." Severus said, pointing towards the back of the room and I instinctively turned to see Harry's bright red cheeks. I faced forward again, glaring at Severus who was still not meeting my eyes. "Let us ask Potter how we would tell the difference between an Inferius and a ghost."

"Er- well- ghosts are transparent." Harry said awkwardly.

"Oh, very good. Yes it is easy to see that nearly six years of magical education have not been wasted on you, Potter. 'Ghosts are transparent'."

I sighed, leaning on my left hand while I drew absentmindedly with my right hand.

There was laughter, a shrill shriek from Pansy and the rest were scattered through the others.

"Yeah, ghosts are transparent, but Inferi are dead bodies, aren't they? So they'd be solid-" Harry said, sounding very much like he'd like to curse Professor Snape to oblivion.

"A five-year-old could have told us as much. The Inferius is a corpse that has been reanimated by a Dark Wizard's spells. It is not alive, it is merely used like a puppet do to the wizard's bidding. A ghost, as I trust that you are all aware by now, is the imprint of a departed soul left upon the earth. . . and of course, as Potter so wisely tells us, transparent." Professor Snape sneered.

"Well, what Harry said is most useful if we're trying to tell them apart!" Ron exclaimed, "When we come face-to-face with one down a dark alley, we're going to have a shufti to see if it's solid, aren't we, we're not going to be asking, 'Excuse me, are you the imprint of a departed soul?'"

I nearly laughed and quickly lowered my head so that I could laugh without Severus knowing that I was laughing.

"Another ten points from Gryffindor. I would expect nothing more sophisticated from you, Ronald Weasley, the boy so solid he cannot Apparate half an inch across a room." Severus snapped.

I looked up at him, exasperated.

"Now open your books to page two hundred and thirteen and read the first two paragraphs on the Cruciatus Curse." Severus said, his lip curling. His eyes met mine briefly and he went back up to his desk.

I sped-read the chapter on the Cruciatus Curse before pulling out an artpad and started to draw again. I was very carefully trying not act as though I wasn't doing my work, because people tend to notice when Professors favor students. If Severus simply walked past me drawing and not working, people would notice. After all, I wasn't a Slytherin.

But today, Severus didn't seem keen to walk through the class and I had a very nice outline done for my next painting. It was a farm scene, a place I'd like to live one day. Own horses and cows and sheep and chickens and rabbits. No pigs.

I also wondered about the apparition lessons that were going to be held in Hogsmeade. I was upset, mostly because they weren't open to those who weren't seventeen by the date in April. Of course, this had surprised Mr. Twycross because of my superb ability to apparate. He was talking to the Ministry about bending the rules for me. I'd told him good luck with that, but it wasn't going to happen. He was quite confident I was wrong.

There was no way that Scrimgeour was going to bend rules for me. Though of course, I would've liked to have seen Umbridge's face when told I apparated on the first try of the first day without any prior tries. It was probably carefully concealed fury. Kingsley would've been proud though.

I hadn't seen Kingsley in a long time and I missed him. I could always contact him on my two-way mirror though. . . maybe I would soon.

The bell rang and I slowly packed my things away, making sure that I was the last student in the classroom.

"You'll be late for your next class if you don't hurry along Miss Kane." Severus said indifferently, not looking up at me as he continued to write on the parchment.

"Really?" I snapped, "I told you to lay off Harry just a little bit." I swung my bag off the table and stomped out of the room.

He was a right pain in the ass, he was. My husband and yet the person who hated my brother, one of the people I loved most after him. Or maybe before him, I wasn't sure. Did siblings take preference over mates?

The rest of the day passed in a blur and I went to the art studio before dinner. I had all the teachers drawings in a manila folder, labelled and ready to be set out this weekend. I also had duplicates in a folder in my bag and the other duplicates for the message board were spread on the table. I planned on writing the names of the Professor's underneath in calligraphy or maybe a broad font inside a banner.

I took out the two-way mirror, propping it up on an art easel, completely uncertain if this was going to work.

"Er- Kingsley?"

I waited a few seconds and then there was some movement in the mirror and he pulled it out. I smiled, looking at his handsome, kind, intelligent face. A weight was lifted off my chest.

"Elizabeth!" He said in that slow, deep voice of his. It was quite a handsome voice. Sexy, almost. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes." I said, remembering that the last time I had seen him I'd been fighting four Death Eaters by myself. "I just. . .I wanted to see you for a bit. . . talk to you. . . I haven't seen you in a long time. This isn't a bad time, is it?"

"Not at all." Kingsley said. "I'm just working on a simple case. We're trying to track down Bellatrix Lestrange. The Ministry's furious that her and Greyback got into the Burrow. They don't know how they did it yet. The security at the Burrow's been upped triple."

I shivered, blushing a little. "That doesn't sound simple at all."

Kingsley smiled. "How's school?"

Ah, a subject change. Very well then. "It's alright." I said with a shrug of my shoulders. "Boring, actually."

He chuckled. "Where are you? I don't recognize that room."

I held the mirror up a little higher, showing him around the art studio, showing him most of my drawings (including the funny Professor ones) and also the drawings up on the walls and everything in between. I'd finished one of the windows (a middle one) for the stained glass project.

"Quite splendid." Kingsley said. "I think Tonks mentioned something about your art skills sometime after Christmas."

"Yes." I said. "She was at the Burrow. She said I should sell my artwork." I rolled my eyes. "But everyone knows that art doesn't sell until after the artist is dead."

Kingsley chuckled again. "Is that an unwritten rule?"

I grinned. "I can name a dozen artists who were penniless when they lived and rich after they died. Picasso, Van Gogh, Modigliani, Paul Cezanne-"

"Alright, alright, I take your point." Kingsley said. There was a sound behind him and another face popped into the mirror.

"Hello Elizabeth." Uncle Moody growled, his magical eye rolling, his normal eye focused in the mirror.

"Hi Uncle Moody, how's work?" I said genially.

"Better when not interrupted." He said, but he sounded amused rather than disapproving.

I grinned. "Blame Kingsley. Not me."

Kingsley chuckled again and shooed Uncle Moody away.

"Tell Tonks I said hi, alright?" I asked. "I'll let you get to work, I just really wanted to see someone."

"No problem." Kingsley said, picking up a quill now that the conversation was almost over. "You can call whenever you want."

I smiled, but said nothing else, and put the mirror upside down. It was like hanging up a phone call.

I went back to the Professor drawings, throwing myself into my work.

The door opened and I looked up in surprise. My friends were more accustomed to letting me know before they came and when I realized that it wasn't anyone I was expecting, I turned the folder with the Professors over and swept the papers that were laid out on the table into my arms.

"Sev." I said, shock lacing my voice. "What are you doing here?"

He didn't answer for a moment. He looked quite out of place, wearing all black and magical robes and all. He looked around at my paintings on the walls and the rest of the art studio. "Looking for you." He answered, tapping his knuckles against one of the desks, looking uncomfortable. Good.

I became aware that my bun was being held in place by a paintbrush and I quickly reached up, taking it out. My hair tumbled down my shoulders, reaching my knees in waves. "Oh." I left the papers on a chair, pushing it under the table and made my way to an art easel that was far away from the table.

I picked up a paint palette, moving my hair out of the way to work on the farm scene.

"Are you still mad at me?" He asked quietly.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he made his way towards me and I kicked a stool at him for him to sit on which he did.

"Not really." I said, slightly untruthfully.

"You know that I know that you're lying, right?" Severus asked.

I gritted my teeth, holding the paintbrush inches away from the canvas and then pulled away. I'd spent a lot of time replicating the drawing onto the canvas and I didn't want to have to start over because I painted something wrong.

I put the palette and brush aside and sat down on a stool across from him. "Look, I lost my temper, alright? It's really not that big of a deal."

"When you storm out of my classroom in anger, it's a big deal to me." Severus said, high voice rising an octave.

"Well when you insult my brother, I tend to get slightly defensive." I snapped.

We stared at each other for a moment and I put my face in my hands before running my fingers through my hair and looking away.

Part of me wanted to apologize, say I was sorry, that I didn't mean what I had said. At the same time, I figured it was time to set it straight with Severus. Couples had fights and still made it through. I shouldn't live in fear that I was going to lose Severus if I lost my temper with him occasionally or told him exactly what I thought.

"Sometimes I forget." Severus finally said softly.

I could've left it at that but I didn't. "You avoided my eyes the entire class! You knew exactly what you were doing!"

Severus stood up angrily. "Why can't you just let this go?"

"Why can't you just be nice to him?" I said and then said, "Forget nice, how about just plain decent? You target him on purpose and it's stupid."

"Fine!" He snapped, swinging his cloak behind me, moving to leave the art room and my heart screamed at me to say something, to stop him. I opened my mouth but he was sweeping from the room and I closed it. I sat back down on the stool, staring at the canvas on my easel.

"Hey!" A voice said some minutes later and I snapped my head up and saw Hermione and Ginny had entered the room.

"Oh, hey." I said rather unenthusiastically. "What are you guys doing here?"

"We wanted to see how the portraits were coming along." Ginny said, peering curiously at me. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." I muttered, standing up and striding over to the table, picking the portraits up again off the chair and spreading them out on the table. "I'm almost done with them."

"What happened Elizabeth?" Hermione asked kindly.

"It doesn't matter." I muttered. "Just forget it."

She dropped the topic, though I'm sure she wouldn't forget any time soon. "They are finished, aren't they?"

"Yes." I said, a bit more enthusiastically. "I was thinking either Sunday night or Monday morning."

"Sunday night." Hermione said. "We can use the cloak."

"I can pin them up on the board." Ginny said.

"And I'll put them in each Professors place." I said. "Just let me work on the ones that your going to put up on the board for a moment."

I placed them all out and started working on the banners and putting the names in calligraphy inside. It was a win-win situation. Now, we just needed it to be Sunday night.

"We can leave them in the room." I said. "That's what I've been doing."

"We'll just have to make sure that Malfoy won't be in here when we need to get the drawings." Hermione pointed out.

"Right." I said. I put the drawings in another sheaf and labelled them 'board' and then put them right next to the other package.

"What are you working on currently?" Ginny asked, looking around.

I motioned for them to follow me over to the art easel and showed them the farm scene I was working on.

"You're painting it?" Hermione asked, bending down and peering at the details.

"Yes." I said simply. I was still quite unhappy.

"Well, we'll leave you to your work." Hermione said, grabbing Ginny's arm.

I shrugged, "It's not just my studio you know. You guys are welcome to stay and do whatever you want, even study if you guys want."

"Sure!" Ginny said. "That sounds great."

"We'll have to go get our schoolbags." Hermione fretted.

"I'll be here." I said.

I briefly wondered if spending all my time in here was going to screw things up for Malfoy. I supposed it didn't matter. Perhaps I should really only be in here on weekends.

They left and I started to paint the canvas in small, light strokes. The night moved on. Ginny and Hermione came with their homework and left and still I painted. When I was done, it was one of the most beautiful things I had painted. I left it to dry.

I headed over to the desk and pulled out my Defense Against the Dark Arts homework and started writing an essay for the Cruciatus curse. Sometime in the middle of it, I fell asleep.

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"𝕰𝖑𝖎𝖟𝖆𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖍 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊." 𝕬 soft voice whispered in my ear.

I rustled uncomfortably.

"Elizabeth, come on, you have to wake up." the voice whispered, still soft and beautiful almost.

I tried opening my heavy lids but I didn't really want to surface. My dream had been nice. Severus and I had been spending a nice afternoon together. I think there was an amusement park even though I knew Severus had never set foot in such a place.

"Elizabeth!" The voice was more anxious now and I finally blinked my eyelids open.

I was on the floor, looking up at the ceiling of the art studio. Severus was leaning over me, his hands on either side of my face, his anxious face relaxed when he saw my eyes were open.

I looked around as I sat up quickly. Ink had spilled down off the table and I wondered if my Cruciatus Curse essay was ruined. I quickly stood up and looked down at the table. Much to my relief, the ink had missed the essay by a few inches.

I quickly picked the essay up, rolling it up and stuffing it into my bag. For the first time, I didn't have my homework done for tomorrow. Panic started to set in.

"I didn't do my homework." I muttered, pulling the bag onto my shoulder. With a wave of his wand, the ink was gone.

"It doesn't matter." Severus said, putting an arm around me, "Come on, let's go."

"Where?" I asked, feeling slightly dazed.

"Our room, of course." Severus said, sounding worried.

"Oh, right." I said, blushing though I was still dazed. So we were fine?

We didn't meet anyone on the way to his office and once we were inside, I checked the time. It was only eleven o'clock. I supposed that the amount of time I'd spent in the art room really had mixed up my sleep cycle.

I sat down on the bed, pulling out homework that Severus grabbed from my hands, "Go to sleep. I don't care if you have the essay done."

"You wouldn't let Harry get away with it." I said, clumsily grabbing for my homework. Severus moved it away from me.

"Yes, but I don't love him and wish his best health either." Severus said, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into the bed. Once the covers were around me, I nestled into him, feeling quite warm and fuzzy. I fell asleep quickly.

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𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖐𝖊 𝖚𝖕 in a dark room, tied to a chair in a circle of light. There were people standing in the shadows, wearing black and I could not see their faces.

"Hello Elizabeth Kane." A cold, shiver inducing voice said and from the shadows stepped Voldemort.

I kept my mouth shut, trying to figure out how I had gotten here.

Voldemort seemed to almost glide towards me, my heart pounding by my brain acting rationally. Surely, I couldn't actually be here, could I? After all, I had been at Hogwarts, I had been at school.

"Mr. Malfoy brought you to us." Voldemort continued, walking around the chair, one pale hand moved along the back of it. "He found you sleeping in the Room of Requirement when he went to work on what he was supposed to be doing. He could not get in. He had heard rumors of what you had turned the room into and he found you. Careless of you, really. . ."

Had I fallen asleep in the room? I could've sworn I'd woken up though. I could've sworn I'd left the room. . . with. . . with Severus, hadn't I? Unless that had been a dream while Draco was transporting me out of the castle. And if this was real. . . I couldn't think about Severus.

"Draco made up for part of his father's mistakes, enough to get Lucius out of Azkaban. You've met Lucius, haven't you, Elizabeth?" Voldemort said in the same, cold voice.

Lucius moved in the shadows, his pale blond hair should have been a dead giveaway from the beginning. His steel gray eyes met mine, but he did not smile the way I would have expected him to.

A snake hissed nearby and I felt something coil around my feet. I would not flinch. I would not say anything.

"I've wanted to meet you for a long time, Elizabeth Kane." Voldemort said softly. "The rumors that surround you. Harry Potter's long lost sister, the future-see-er, the brilliant one."

He circled me again. My fight or flight response was trying to kick in but I could not move. Voldemort took a step back, making a motion to Lucius. A small light appeared, revealing Severus laying on the ground. He was alive, barely, blood seeping from his stomach. His eyes were half open, meeting mine and he mouthed 'I'm sorry'. My heart started to beat double-time, throwing a panicked look at Voldemort.

"What do you want?" I choked out. Voldemort started to laugh. I started to cry.

"Elizabeth. . ."

That voice was different, that voice was far away, more like a voice on the breeze than anything else. And that meant that I wasn't actually here. That meant that I could make this my own.

I willed the ropes to fall off of me and they did and I stood, drawing my wand. Voldemort's eyes widened in shock but his wand was already in his hand.

I willed myself to find a way out of the room and I was outside, by the sea, somewhere I'd wanted to be in a long time.

"Elizabeth..."

I willed myself to wake up and I did so, sitting upright in bed with Severus, gasping, shivering, sweating, shaking. My face was wet with salt water. My voice was hoarse, it was possible I had been screaming.

"Elizabeth!" He said, trying to face me. "What happened? You were crying and screaming in your sleep. I couldn't get you to lay still. You were thrashing around."

"Voldemort." I choked out, wiping my face.

He bit back his usual retort and said, "What?"

I explained what had happened and Severus listened intently and then said, "It was just a dream."

"I know." I muttered, "I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were." Severus said patiently. "I was trying to reassure you."

"Right." I muttered, flopping back down on the bed, "Sorry."

"No." Severus said, laying back down next to me, "I'm sorry."

He didn't elaborate and he didn't have to. He held me in his arms as I sobbed into his chest, shaking, trying to get rid of the image of him bleeding on the ground. The story had been so real, but my imagination was horribly active, and many of my dreams were quite vivid. I was shaking, but he hugged me close and I managed to calm down, falling asleep with no more nightmares.

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𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕾𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖉𝖆𝖞, 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊 and Ron went with other students to Hogsmeade to do apparition lessons while Harry and I stayed behind. Twycross hadn't gotten back to me yet about whether or not I was going to be able to apparate before the designated time.

Harry had gone off to the room of requirement, hoping to catch Malfoy in the act. Meanwhile, I went over the plan for tomorrow in my head.

About half an hour later, I headed up to the Room of Requirement and knew Harry was under his invisibility cloak.

I heard a loud "OUCH!" and watched as Harry appeared, the invisibility cloak having slipped off of him.

"Harry?" A different, unexpected voice came and I hurried to see that Tonks was coming up the corridor. Harry had spun around and toppled over onto his ass and quickly scrambled to his feet, his cheeks flushing.

"What're you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I came to see Dumbledore." Tonks said.

She looked absolutely horrible and I closed my eyes as though I could block out the unhappy image. I preferred her with her bubblegum pink hair and cheery appearance. Now, she was thin, even thinner than dad. Her hair was hanging lank and loose.

"His office isn't here, it's round the other side of the castle, behind the gargoyle-" Harry said as though Tonks was stupid.

"I know. He's not here. Apparently he's gone away again."

"Has he? Hey- you don't know where he goes, I suppose?" Harry asked curiously. I snorted.

"No." Tonks said.

"What did you want to see him about?"

"Nothing in particular, I just thought he might know what's going on. . . I've heard rumors. . . people getting hurt. . ." she sent another look my way. I shook my head slightly.

"Yeah, I know, it's all been in the papers. That little kid trying to kill his-"

"The Prophet's often behind the times. You haven't had any letters from anyone in the Order recently?" Tonks asked, sound slightly desperate.

"No one from the Order writes to me anymore, not since Sirius-" Harry started and stopped when he saw Tonks eyes were filling up with tears, "I'm sorry. . . I mean. . . I miss him, as well. . ." He glanced at me like I was going to help him.

"What?" Tonks asked blankly. "Well. . . I'll see you around, Harry. Elizabeth. . ."

She turned around and went back the way she had come. Harry stared at me, "What was that about?"

I shook my head, "It's not really my place to say. She's worried about someone, though. She was hoping you'd have a letter from that person, that's all. I wouldn't know if I didn't have my powers so I don't feel comfortable intruding into her personal life without her permission, make sense?"

"Yes." Harry said. "But doesn't she work with Mad-eye and Kingsley?"

I shrugged, "I don't know. Neither of them have written me either. Dad can't write either, he's underground. See ya around Harry."

I headed away from the Room of Requirement and made my way down to the Great Hall and found that Ron and Hermione were already sitting down to lunch. Halfway through it, Harry came down and sat with us.

"I did it- well, kind of! I was supposed to be Apparating to outside Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop and I overshot it a bit, ended up near Scrivenshatft's, but at least I moved!" Ron said enthusiastically before Harry even sat down.

"Good one, How'd you do, Hermione?"

"Oh, she was perfect, obviously." Ron interrupted before Hermione could speak for herself, "Perfect deliberation, divination, and desperation or whatever the hell it is- we all went for a quick drink in the Three Broomsticks after and you should've heard Twycross going on about her- I'll be surprised if he doesn't pop the question soon- if he doesn't ask Eliza first that is and-"

"And what about you? Have you been up at the Room of Requirement all this time?" Hermione asked though I wasn't sure if she was asking me or Harry.

"Yep and guess who I ran into up there?" Harry asked, ladling his bowl with soup. "Tonks!"

"Tonks?" Ron and Hermione repeated together.

Harry explained what had been said and included my thoughts at the end of it before Ron said, "If you ask me, she's cracking up a bit. Losing her nerve after what happened at the Ministry."

I glared at him angrily.

"It's a bit odd. She's supposed to be guarding the school, why's she suddenly abandoning her post to come and see Dumbledore when he's not even here?" Hermione asked.

"She didn't know that he was gone." I suggested.

"I had a thought." Harry said. His voice sounded strange, almost hesitant, "You don't think she can have been. . . you know. . . in love with Sirius?"

I nearly spit out my soup while Hermione stared at him and asked, "What on earth makes you say that?"

"I dunno but she was nearly crying when I mentioned his name. . . and her Patronus is a big four-legged thing now. . . I wondered whether it hadn't become. . . you know. . . him. . ." Harry said awkwardly.

"She wasn't crying from you saying his name, she was crying because you haven't received any information that can help her." I said. "And neither have I and that's what worries her even more."

"But who is she worried about?" Ron asked.

"It's not my place to say." I said quickly. "I try not to intrude into other people's personal lives unless I don't like them, if I'm allowed to, or if you guys find out eventually anyways."

"It's a thought, the love thing." Hermione said to Harry. "But I still don't know why she'd be bursting into the castle to see Dumbledore, if that's really why she was here. . . it was more likely what Elizabeth was saying. After all, Dumbledore would be the one who would know everything."

"Goes back to what I said, doesn't it?" Ron asked, shoveling mashed potatoes messily into his mouth and I was so glad that I was having a girl and not a boy. Boys were so messy. "She's gone a bit funny. Lost her nerve. Women, they're easily upset." Ron finished to Harry.

I rolled my eyes and Hermione said, "And yet, I doubt you'd find a woman who sulked for half an hour because Madam Rosmerta didn't laugh at their joke about the hag, the Healer, and the Mimbulus mimbletonia."

Ron scowled.

The rest of us laughed.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

𝕴 𝖕𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖚𝖙 the mirror again in the art room and called Kingsley's name. He appeared much quicker than he had previously.

"Everything alright?" He asked, his voice much deeper than before. He looked tired. He must be working a lot of hours.

I paused, wanting to be careful with how I was going to word my question, "Is. . .have you seen Tonks recently?"

"No. . .not too recently." He said carefully. "Why?"

"I'm- I'm worried about her. She came to the school a few days ago and she. . .well she seemed really upset. I think she wants to hear from someone and she hasn't heard from them. . .I think she wants to hear from Dad. Is he okay? Do you know?"

Kingsley looked slightly uncomfortable and he said, "Well. . .no, I don't know. Your father hasn't made contact with us in some time, though it is possible that he is contacting Dumbledore directly rather than through us. And I haven't seen Tonks since around Christmas. She's been staying on guard in Hogsmeade and I'm here at the Ministry."

I sighed, downcast.

"I'm sure your father is fine." Kingsley said in a reassuring voice.

"Oh, I am too." I said lightly. "I just wish I could help Tonks, that's all." I sighed again and then said, "Well, I'll let you get back to work. I just wanted to know if you'd heard anything. I'm just worried about her."

"I'll ask Mad-Eye for you." Kingsley said. "And I'll see if I can contact Tonks and help her out, alright?"

"Thanks Kingsley, you're the best." I said with a tired smile.

He smiled back and then I put the mirror upside down in my pocket, 'hanging up' on him. Then I made my way back out of the art studio and to the Gryffindor Common room.

🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎🤎

"𝕬𝖑𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖜𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 to be careful." I whispered to Ginny as we made our way down the marble steps towards the Great Hall under the invisibility cloak.

"I know Eliza." Ginny said, sounding exasperated.

"You-"

"Stay under the cloak while you slip into the hall." Ginny said. "Elizabeth, I know."

"Right." I said, nervous. I wanted everything to go as planned, I wanted everything to be perfect. This surprise had to be just perfect.

We paused on the tenth stair as peeves glided by and then continued after he had passed. Ginny stopped near the doors to the Great Hall so that I could slip through the doors. Crouching down, I saw that no one was there and I hurried up to the teachers table and started laying out the portraits.

After that was done, I slipped back down the stairs and out of the Great Hall, leaving the doors closed behind me and hurried over to the notice board. Ginny had nearly posted all of the drawings. I helped her pin up the last couple of ones and then we headed back up the marble steps, retracing our path.

We split off, her under the invisibility cloak, and I as a cat. She went back to the Gryffindor Tower and I went back to Severus' room.

Severus was asleep when I arrived and I quickly climbed into bed, making sure I could be up early enough so that I could get to the Great Hall early.

The alarm went off and I quickly shut it off, rolling out of bed while Severus groaned. "Why are you up so early?" he muttered.

"Early day, lots of homework." I said cheerfully, grabbing new robes and my bag. "See you in class this afternoon." I kissed his cheek.

I ran out of the room and down the stairs before he could stop me, my heart pounding, and hurried into the Great Hall. No teachers were in there yet- breakfast didn't start for another seven minutes. I hurried up the stairs, double checking to make sure the portraits were still there. I also doubled checked to make sure that the portraits were the same one's I'd drawn and I hurried down to the Hufflepuff table, satisfied.

Ernie, Hannah, Susan, Justin, Zacharias, Rose and a few other Hufflepuff students were there. Trang sat at the Ravenclaw table and many Gryffindors were already sitting down.

Dumbledore entered first, striding to his spot. We all watched him as he stopped in front of his place. I quickly ducked my head, peeking up to see him pick up the drawing and laugh joyfully, his laugh filling the room.

His eyes flashed over to the Hufflepuff table and I flushed.

"This is great." Susan said, bouncing up and down on the bench.

Food appeared on the table and more students started to file in slowly. Some where chattering about the art, laughing, having spotted the notice board already. Others were confused, darting back out of the hall to take a look.

Other teachers came in and we watched as they picked the portraits up, either covering their faces in embarrassment or laughing. Severus stalked into the room and we all bent low over our breakfast, wondering how he'd react.

He held the portrait up to the light and then pulled out his wand and set the drawing on fire. Our table broke out laughing. Professor McGonagall started to scold Professor Snape.

"Think this was enough to throw them off for a bit?" I asked with a smile.

"Definitely." Susan said. "I can't wait for the real thing."

"I wonder which one they'll like better." Zacharias said.

"I think Professor Snape will like the other one better." Ernie said with a smirk. The entire Great Hall smelled like burnt parchment.

"Good thing we have extra copies." I said with a smile. "Hopefully he doesn't burn the one on the notice board too."

Professor Dumbledore was leaning over, showing Professor McGonagall his drawing. I was quite pleased with my doings.

"I should um go to Care of Magical Creatures Class." I said with a smile. I got up and quickly left the Great Hall. People started to clap as I dashed out the door. I blushed. There was a crowd of people standing outside the notice board, laughing and looking at the drawings.

I passed by quietly and quickly and felt liberated as I entered the fresh air. Hagrid joined me soon on the grounds. He had a piece of parchment in his hands and looked quite pleased.

"Yeh draw wonderfully Elizabeth." He complimented, opening his cabin door and putting the drawing on his table before exiting and coming over to where I was standing, "My favorite was Professor Dumbledore's."

I grinned. "That one did come out good, didn't it?"

Throughout the rest of the day, there were compliments from students and teachers alike. Professor McGonagall had put hers up on the wall. Of course, there were complaints that the drawings didn't move, but the complaints didn't bother me. They didn't seem to bother the Professors either.

The ones that drew the most laughs were Professor Flitwick's and Professor Dumbledore's because they were the most unusual.

What surprised me the most was when Filch came up to me and actually shook my hand before moving past. Any student that saw that thought they were dreaming, and the story spread around quickly, though never talked about in Filch's presence.

However, the most talked about drawing was Professor Snape's. Unbeknownst to him, there was a duplicate drawing on the notice board that he hadn't burned yet, and it was the drawing that people were secretly duplicating and stuffing into binders.

"The thing is," Luna chirped at lunch, sitting with us along with a few Gryffindors and Trang at the Hufflepuff table. "No one has ever seen Professor Snape smile but you make it look so natural."

"Yet!" Zacharias interjected, "It's disturbing at the same time because he never smiles."

"Did you all duplicate that drawing?" I asked, amused.

"Yes." Came about seven different voices.

I snorted.

I seemed to earn quite a few points for Hufflepuff that day too, just random things.

It was one of the best days of my life. 

⬅️➡️

[dyrewrites]

We're going to on an adventure now, are you ready? Tiny timewarp to last year, when I self-published my first short story out of spite.

->this adventure is long<-

In the Marrow was written in a bit of a fugue state, as many of my stories are because I am easily devoured by my own imagination. When finished I...didn't know what to do next. I edited it myself (too many times) and had at least two people read it (with varying results for content but they found no glaring errors).

As an aside; there are editors out there catering to self-publishing authors who will do these things cheaply. I am poor as hell. I did it myself. But I will need one for any novels...because that's a lot of words. I'll include links to some I found at the end.

But what next.

What do you even do with a finished story?

I'd never tried to publish anything but poetry and that was a contest when I was maybe twelve.

So it was on to Google! Or Ecosia actually (for the trees), to find out what someone does with their stories when they want other people to see them and maybe also get paid for it.

Magazines, apparently. Sell them to magazines.

I read all the guidelines, read a few stories in the magazines I was thinking of submitting to (gotta make sure yours meshes, that it's something they'd print), found some pre-written cover and query letter templates to mess with and I sent it out! Woo!

Terrifying, oh dear so scary. Heart in throat, they're going to hate it, someone's going to ask me what's wrong with my brain. Just...terrified.

Rote rejections all around. Except one that simply said, "we don't take body horror"...from a magazine...about horror...with a very gory cover.

Alright then! Alright. Well, you know what. I think it's a fun story. It made my husband say, "it's fantastic, I'm never reading anything you write again." It freaked him out. He is not easily freaked out.

Clearly, it was a good enough story to share.

On to self publishing! I will make people read this story. I will prove that I can do this and I will be an author. You just watch me, stupid magazines. I'll do it.

Back to Ecosia, we are learning things!

How to format for ebooks, check!

Where to sell ebooks (Amazon, really, but there's other options I just picked them first and locked myself out of the others for a bit). check!

How to market ebooks...uh...not yet. We'll get to that.

Covers!

Apparently even short stories need a cover if you're selling them yourself, so I had to learn to do that. I can art, in a fashion, but the only graphic design I'd done was for logos a few times. Fun to try covers...not sure how I did.

But! I found Canva to help. Hated all the 'free use' art they had, so doodled some bones (story is about bones) and slapped em on a background with text using Canva. Cover below (one on the right was used for an audiobook, only one I've done and no one bought it so we won't discuss that...but I like the cover more). Not my best but it works. It's interesting enough.

Okay, so cover is done, manuscript formatted, everything is up and 'published' and...now what?

Marketing and how to make you hate yourself and everyone else.

Social media is where every search said the marketing happens.

I made this account here to babble about writing and encourage myself to write more (haha, it worked too well) some of my first posts were just snippets of my dark fantasy novel. But as I wrote 'In the Marrow' sometime after (few months maybe)...I thought I'd share it here.

No one cared. Which is fine, no one knew who I was or what I was doing so of course they didn't care. I shared it on Twitter too, no one cared there either. Because no one knew me. I was just some voice in the ether begging for money as far as anyone knew.

But that's where you start, as a voice no one knows.

When it's all up to you to get people to care...people say you need to sell yourself. Which is the worst, honestly, and I tried to be someone marketable to make that happen. Tried to follow little guides of how to share stuff and when and where and...also the worst (I will burn instagram to the ground).

Don't do that.

Be you, be part of whatever writing community you like being in and when you share your books people will care. They'll share them too. Because you made it and they like you.

But you don't need it. Social media is not needed. Communities are for fun and camaraderie, it is a side effect that sometimes your friends here will also buy your stuff and tell other people to (looking at you, @aziz-reads, you chearleading treasure you).

What you want, in theory, is a place people can find when they look up your name. Such as a website that has all your work on it for sale. Also a newsletter to let people who care know when the new thing is coming.

And maybe you share that in your community, or the places you already have (no making new accounts just to market, is my point).

Theory, of course, as I am still figuring this one out but I've been watching others and seeing what works and what doesn't. And making a social media account to wail into the ether about how awesome your book is...doesn't work. Those covers with arrows naming tropes have become tacky and people do not like them. Videos of you and your book, talking about what's in it? Those still seem a thing people are into...but like hell am I doing that.

I promise you one thing only for marketing; if you share links here to your work, I will hock that shit until my fingers fall off. Okay? I will be here to yell into the ether and tell people to buy your books. Because I think you're awesome and I'm sure your book is too.

--

Editors I've found with decent rates:

https://www.irismarshedits.com/ //charges by the hour

https://clioediting.com/services/ //$0.007-0.03/word

https://www.magicwordsediting.com/services //$0.03-0.05/word

whenever i think about publishing, i just get so overwhelmed and give up before even starting. i’ve already written the whole thing and now you’re telling me that i need to find someone to help edit, then i need to find a place to actually produce the book, but first i have to find some type of cover art, and also i need to find a place willing to publish it, and probably also an agent unless i do self publishing, but then that means i have to do all that on my own. and then i also have to market it?

[thefreelanceangel]

Shadowbringers Is Finally Ended

With Patch 5.55 and the official end of the Shadowbringers story, setting up now for Endwalker in November, there are now a few months ahead to grind gear, finish content and reflect on the most recent expansion.

And, without any hyperbole, I can say definitively that I have never in my life been as impressed with a game's writing as I have that of Shadowbringers, both the original expansion and a lot of the patch content. I have... thoughts.

I'm a bit of an outlier; I skipped Stormblood (oops) and went straight from completing Heavensward (which greatly impressed me at the time and still does) into Shadowbringers because I wanted to get a max level character already.

Within the first few cutscenes of Shadowbringers, I was absolutely hooked.

First, let me just say that "monstrous angels" is 100% My Thing. I ADORE the reinterpretation of the standard "Renaissance art angelic figures" into something closer to incomprehensible beings taking on twisted, terrifying appearances. The human mind is a finite thing and comprehending an angel would be as difficult as comprehending infinity; these are things so alien to our experience that assuming they'd be easy to grasp and familiar feels disingenuous to me.

So the sin-eaters and the Lightwardens? SLAP.

Also, the intent behind the usage of "Light" in Shadowbringers was deliberate and purposeful. Our Lord and Savior, Yoshi-P, stated this clearly in his Forbes interview.

"The inception of this idea was very simple: in recent fantasy works, the perception that light equates to good and dark equates to evil is very set in stone, we wanted to shake this up a bit.

"Until this point in Final Fantasy XIV, our players have been Warriors of Light: the hero. However, with Shadowbringers, we leave the Source and embark on a journey to the First, and through this I want our players to discover the truth of the world, as well as think about the real nature of light and dark. That is the theme of Shadowbringers.

"In any case, a light too strong could potentially become evil. Darkness and night are also necessary for the world to maintain its balance; that's the kind of theme we will be shedding light on."

And the themes in Shadowbringers had such an amazing resonance that they were both painfully clear and masterfully executed. Not only was the theme of "balance" clearly executed in the "returning Darkness to a world flooded by Light" goal, but the desire for players to "think about the real nature of light and dark" showed in a multitude of ways.

The Warriors of Light (who we met as the Warriors of Darkness in Heavensward) are, in their home world, reviled. They directly caused the Flood which nearly destroyed their home and although they were able to save it with personal sacrifice, the populace at large is unaware of that sacrifice. The motives behind what the Warriors did is essentially lost to history; all that remains is the perception of their actions and the results thereof.

Motives, however, which you (player and WoL) are privy to.

"At long last, you see. To save our world, we gave our lives. We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there—we never aspired to be Warriors of Light. But word of our deeds spread, and soon people were calling us heroes. They placed their hopes and dreams on our shoulders and bid us fight for all that was good and right. We fought and we fought and we fought...until there was no one left to fight. We won...and now our world is being erased from existence. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this! You of all people should understand! We cannot—we will not falter. We brought our world to the brink of destruction, and now we must save it."

You had that fight with the Warriors of Darkness. You heard Ardbert explain exactly what happened, how they came to the point where they faced off against you, and you saw what happened when they were given the choice to hold back the Flood. And you were there when the one favor Ardbert asked was for the Warriors of Darkness to be taken home.

You see how the First remembers them and it's stark contrast to the heroes you met who were fighting desperately to save people who now spit on their names. History quite clearly has two sides and which you believe is dependent entirely on what information you have.

This becomes even more of a clear theme when you meet Emet-Selch and learn more about the Calamity which led to the entire Zodiark/Hydaelyn duality. Here, your previous experiences with Ascians has painted them solely as "villains." They are established enemies, manipulating events and people in order to attain goals which, to you, are nothing but Calamities.

And yet, as you learn more about the original Source and the Amaurotines that once lived on it, these goals are painted in an entirely new light. Instead of merely seeking to wipe out "the world" for no apparent reason or, at best guess, greater power for their deity Zodiark, the Ascians were striving to repair the damage done by the original Sundering. They, in a manner of speaking, were doing what the Warriors of Darkness were. What you, the Warrior of Light, have been doing. They were trying to restore what was lost.

Which leads into another of Shadowbringers' major themes: grief and loss.

The earliest touches of this are in Alisaie's questlines where you learn about what happens to people tainted by the Light. Families are destroyed, people are transmuted into sin-eaters and those who avoid that fate must stand by and watch as their loved ones fall to something far worse than death. "A Purchase of Fruit" shows you exactly what the end result is while also highlighting something very specific: with no hope of removing the Light's taint, knowing that all that awaits the tainted is a painful transmutation and existence as a sin-eater, those untainted make the best they can of those last days and end the tainted individual's pain before it begins.

Grief, yes. Loss? Absolutely. And yet, this is a loving, compassionate thing that those in Amh Araeng are doing. They face their own grief and loss. Rather than refusing to accept the actuality of their circumstances or refuse to weigh themselves down with taking a decisive action, they make the choice to face their grief and loss directly, even willingly taking on the guilt of their actions rather than leaving the tainted to suffer.

Magnus in Twine lost his wife and son, which immobilizes him. He can't find solance in anything save alcohol and brooding over their graves. It takes outside interference to pull him directly from his grief, to help him see past the loss of his family and look towards the future where life might once again be worth living. His struggle with grief is painfully familiar and so very, very close to many real life struggles that it's extremely poignant.

This struggle with grief is the fight the Ascians are, without question, losing. Let's set aside the "tempering" argument when it comes to Emet-Selch and Elidibus for the moment, largely because it's actually quite true that grief can spur people into committing horrific acts either as a desperate attempt to assuage their own pain (revenge) or make 'things right' in some way (vengeance).

Emet-Selch does not, in fact, properly grieve for Amaurot and the Ancients he knew. He clings to them, as Hythlodaeus tells us, weighed down by an aching sense of loss.

"And though he may carry himself with a certain glib ease, Emet-Selch is not a man to bear his burdens lightly. In fact, I imagine they have only grown heavier with every passing century. ...T'is truly a terrible weight he has chosen to carry."

Quite significantly is the word "chosen" in that. Grief is a process that involves, eventually, letting go of the pain and living with the memories of what was loved and what no longer is. Emet-Selch chooses not to do that. He does not grieve for Amaurot and his lost loved ones; he refuses, no matter how often he mentions his loss, to admit that what is gone is gone.

Elidibus, rather similarly, refuses to accept that the duty he took on when called upon to become Zodiark's heart is finally at an end. That the world he and Emet-Selch originated from is gone. Although he admits that he can barely remember why he's set on this path, he refuses to turn away from him.

One won't forget, one can barely remember--neither will grieve and let go.

Even the Ascians' characteristic arrogance and disdain for what they consider "lesser beings" is easy to read as their long-lasting struggle with grief. Considering the Sundering, all the beings that the Ascians are so disdainful of are, in fact, echoes of that which they once knew. If they acknowledged that, accepted those beings as what they are and perhaps even admitted they had worth... well... Rather like realizing abruptly that you've spent a whole day without thinking of someone recently departed, it feels like a betrayal.

To find value in the worlds as they currently are, to turn away from the duty they were asked to uphold, to choose to lay down the memories of the past are all, in essence, choices the Ascians will not make because to do so would be to let go of what's lost, to move into the acceptance of grief and that can feel like betraying those whose memories are slowly fading.

Emet-Selch's end--"Remember us."--is directly tied to his refusal to forget. To let himself have even one day without hoping for an eventuality that's highly unlikely regardless of effort, without remembering the Sundering and the Final Days. He remembered, forcefully and tenaciously, and wishes that legacy to live beyond him.

While Elidibus, in remembering, unable to deny failure any longer, finally expresses grief and loss. "My people. My brothers. ...My friends. Stay strong. Keep the faith. At duty's end, we will meet again. We will. We will. The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it."

And coming from villains, quite specifically from villains that have been largely indistinct "puppet master" figures throughout the previous expansions, these story arcs were a punch to the gut. (Yes, I had to pause writing this to cry helplessly over Elidibus again because my gods, that last line just...) Villains are at their best in fiction when they're relatable. When it's so very easy to see that thin line between villain and hero.

Faced with the loss of everything you'd ever loved, with the faintest possibility of getting it back, what would you do? What wouldn't you do? Yes, the Ascians did terrible things and that's undeniable. Stopping them was necessary to save hundreds of thousands of lives. And doing so, being victorious, didn't feel like a victory and that is such a rare, rare thing in media. The Warrior of Light does the right thing, but in doing so, must face the fact that those they've been fighting have hopes and dreams and feelings and pain as real and as motivating as theirs.

And Shadowbringers does such an impressive job of turning those standard tropes around. Heroes are a dime a dozen because if you just awaken them, as Elidibus did with the starshower, well, there can be dozens of Warriors running around. Villains have heart-wrenching motivations and relatable reasons for their goals. History is multi-faceted and no one person knows what the "truth" truly is. Grief can spur people to helping others (i.e. the tank Role Quest ending) or it can fester and go unhealed and create nothing but more destruction.

There is so much that Shadowbringers did beautifully, I don't have the time to touch on all of it. The lack of "breaking the flawed system fixes everything" trope following Eulmore's liberation from Vauthry and the struggles that Eulmore faces in trying to build a functional, working social order for themselves. Embracing the value of childish dreams and tending to the smallest, most overlooked victims of trauma with the Pixie Tribal Quests. Dealing with a commander whose soldiers died and seeing Lyna's survivor's guilt. Seeing how having a single, unified goal can inspire and rally people into putting differences aside and helping each other.

Shadowbringers has finally ended with Patch 5.55. The story on the First ended with Patch 5.3. And all I can say is that this is a game that I will never forget.

[indestinatus]

The Reunion

(Cairo - chapter 2/4)

chapter 1

The streets were long and broad, carrying illustrious names. They’re macadamed and crowded dwellings were located on both sides, with terraces and decorated gates beside long colorful windows with shutters and intricate tapestries swaying in the wind.

The smell of burning fuel and perfume filled the air, as well as strong spices, coriander, cardamom, cumin, and chili, coming from hidden stalls. Vendors shouted various prices and foreign names, and people were busy buying jewelry, clothes and other goods to pay too much attention to anything.

Faint exotic music could be heard from the distance if you trespassed the main market limits and went deeper into the old streets of the city. Sand covered the cobblestones and the heat hugged your body, worse due to the crowd and limited space.

A woman crossed the market plaza swiftly, a blueish cloth protecting her face from the heat and sand. Her dark brown eyes were the only thing visible, and if you looked closer, they were sharp as a knife. She kept her head down as she walked, but her pace was confident and fast.

She'd just took down three men sent by the woman who wanted her dead.

Her name was Sahar.

Loud bells rang from the main chapel, marking three in the afternoon.

It was the 21st of November 2016. Cairo, Egypt.

Ziva David was afraid.

All she could think about was if Tony had seen the message she left on the back of the photo of them in Paris along with Tali's things six months ago.

If he did, he would've already been here. He would've already contacted her. And they would've have one last chance. A chance for her to explain everything, or at least try to.

If he didn't, it was already too late. Since she faked her death in Tel Aviv back in June, everywhere she went, she'd sense she was being watched. Just this week in Cairo, she'd tracked down almost fifteen killers sent by Sahar.

Tonight was her last chance of seeing Tali.

She spent the whole day wiping out the remaining men so that if her family came tonight, they'd had a small hope of safety. Time was running out.

Ziva crossed the street which led to the hotel she was staying. She'd only chosen it because the rooftop was the highest one nearby. Easier for her to take watch, worse for snippers to do their job.

She entered the main hall in a hurry, eager to get to her room. She'd already disposed of the knife but wanted to watch from above if there was any commotion on the streets.

If there was any sign of them.

"Ms. Rainier!" a voice stopped her just in front of the elevator. Oh lech tiz-day-en, what now?

She turned around slowly, the cloth still covering half her face, but the concierge sure saw the deadly haze her eyes carried.

"I-I'm so-sorry, miss, I know you've asked for the utmost disc-cretion," said the short man, sweat covering his forehead, "but there's a gentleman demanding to see you. His name is Jean-Paul. He says he's your husb-band."

Jean-Paul. Jean-Paul Rainier.

"Of course, thank you."

Jean-Paul and Sophie Rainier were the married assassins they portrayed in the undercover operation, a lifetime ago. Ziva always joked with him that if they had another life, perhaps they'd have a chance together. She never knew if he'd remember that.

Apparently, she was wrong.

"Where is he?"

"He's right there, miss. With the stroller."

Ziva turned around. Their eyes met.

It's strange. When someone's very important and you haven't seen them for a long time, as soon as you do it's easier to breathe.

Tony swayed Tali's stroller slowly, a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. He looked older, more mature. For a moment, they only stared blankly at each other, the world slowing down.

Then Tony looked upwards and sighed heavily, shoulders going down. He looked back at her again, and his eyes were different.

There were tears.

"You sure are difficult to find, sweetcheeks."

Ziva let out a harsh laugh, but her feet couldn't step closer.

Why is that the more you have to say, the harder it is to speak?

"You look tan," she said.

"You look tired," he answered, "almost as if you just came back from the dead."

His eyes looked hurt for a second, "sorry, I had to-"

"Is she-"

"She's sleeping."

Ziva nodded, she didn't know where to start. Even after rehearsing again and again what to say to him, her mind was now blank.

Tony motioned with his head to the elevator, pushing Tali's stroller that way.

Ziva's breath caught in her throat when she saw her daughter sleeping in it. She was sucking her little thumb and holding Kelev tightly.

She was safe. She was cared for. She was loved.

"Yeah, I know," said Tony, "she snores so peacefully, doesn't she? Just like her mother."

Ziva's eyes shot up at that. He was smiling, that boyish DiNozzo smile. Her heart plummeted with the sight.

"You said I snored like a drunken sailor with emphysema."

"Oh, she remembers. Also, you got worse, you used to understand sarcasm in the English language."

They shared a brief laugh when the elevator doors closed, but it didn't last long.

"Sophie Rainier, really?"

"I did not think you would remember."

"I remember everything," his eyes were watching her as if he wouldn't let her leave again. Ziva was looking at Tali.

"I know."

They arrived at her floor and she tried to open the door, but her hands were trembling. Too many meds today.

"Here, let me help," said Tony, grabbing the keys from her hand. His fingers touched hers lightly and her breath caught again. Ziva had dreamed for too long about this moment. Seeing, touching him again. Both of them.

He noticed.

Tony opened her door and let Tali's stroller inside the room. It wasn't big, there was a closet, a bathroom, a double-sized bed and a small suitcase in the corner. The windows, however, were huge, with a beautiful view of the market streets of Cairo below and the pyramids in the distance.

The atmosphere was heavy. Tony gently took Tali out of the stroller and laid her in the bed, putting the duvet over her. She didn't even move, it was like he'd done that many times.

Ziva also wasn't moving. She was as still as a statue, paralyzed with the image of Tony taking care of their daughter. Yes, she'd seen photos of them quite frequently, but she didn't want to think so much about how he would manage to do that.

Now she knew.

It is my job to protect you, Ziva.

Handle with care, contents priceless.

I know you want to change. I can change with you.

He loved Tali just as he loved her all these years.

Ziva kneeled on the floor, hot tears spilling down her cheeks, hands trembling along with her whole body rocking back and forth. Everything was darkness, and she suddenly felt very cold. Her chest hurt as if her heart was ripped from it and shoved back in right after.

Panic attack. Panic attack. Her mind roared.

"I'm sorry, Tony, I'm so sorry," she said again and again.

"Shhhh, it's okay. Hey, it's okay," he answered, whispering softly in her ear as his strong arms held her close to his chest, "we're okay, Ziva. Me and Tali, we're okay, just like you said. Breathe."

Her breathing slowed down after a couple of minutes, his arms still holding her against him, his hand caressing her hair. They were still at the ground.

"Hey," he said, grabbing her chin and lifting her eyes to look at him, "I know you, Ziva. I know you better than you know yourself."

Brown eyes blinked when green ones didn't look away.

"I just need to understand," he said, kissing her temple and still cradling her gently against his chest.

Ziva took a deep breath and let her body relax in his arms. She looked at Tali, sleeping in the bed. She couldn't face him while telling this.

"One day... One day I was ambushed in Israel, Tali was home, and I was in the streets to get her a new crib. Two men attacked me. I managed to bring them down, and learn from one of them they were sent by a woman to kill me. Her name was Sahar. That same day I packed all Tali's things and contacted Adam..."

"Adam? That Adam, the same Adam?"

"Yes, he's helping me. He's the only one who knows about Tali and Sahar."

"He knew about Tali?"

And Tony didn't. Ziva didn't let her own father know.

"He knew once I needed help. He helped me to get Tali to Ori so she could give her to you. You're the only one I trust to keep her safe, Tony."

Ziva could feel his chest go up and down, sense him processing all her mistakes.

"Okay. Go on," was all he said.

"I left a message in the back of a photo of us in Paris. It was all I could do without anyone suspecting that I was still alive."

Tony let out a sharp laugh, "I almost didn't read it in time."

"But you did."

"But I almost-"

"Tony," she said, looking up to him again. His eyes were troubled as if losing her was worse than betrayal, "they still follow me, wherever I go. She wants me dead. She's watching me like an eagle."

"Hawk."

"What?"

"Nothing," he appeared amused.

"Tali... Tali can't stay with me. She needs you. And before you ask, you cannot. You cannot help me, she needs at least one of her parents..."

"Alive."

"Yes."

Tony sighed heavily, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Why didn't you come to me? Why didn't you come to me when you found out about her? Why didn't..."

"I didn't deserve you, Tony. And you deserved more than a broken woman with a horrible past and a difficult future. I was terrified you were going to be furious and time passed and everything turned more complicated and...

"Ziva...," he said, one hand moving to hold her face and his eyes closing, chest heaving several times, "Ziva, if I knew you were pregnant, I would've been there in a second."

She let her forehead rest on his, eyes closing as well. Silent tears ran down her cheeks again, as she started to think about all that didn't come to pass.

"Tony, I-"

"Abba...?"

Ziva's body tensed again.

"It's okay, sweetcheeks, come here. Someone wants to see you."

Sweetcheeks. The term of endearment he used with her was the same he used with his daughter. Their daughter. It was like a hard slap in the face.

Tali hopped to the ground, still holding Kelev. Ziva gaped at her silently, not daring to breathe. She didn't know if she'd recognize her.

Tali drew closer, her little fingers going up to Ziva's face. She traced her nose, cheeks and mouth, going down to her hair and her bare neck. The necklace she used to grasp as a baby was not there.

Tali pulled something from inside her shirt and squeezed, then framed Ziva's face again. The Star of David. Tony gave it to her, Ziva's necklace. Tears continued to stream down her face.

"Ima...?"

Ziva let out the breath she was holding and wiped her tears swiftly.

"Yes, Tali, it's me. It's Ima."

"Ima!" she said, arms gripping Ziva's neck, demanding to be pulled to her chest.

"Oh, mon Coeur," her mother answered, kissing her hair, nose, cheeks, everywhere she could. She missed her so much, too much.

Strong arms embraced both of them, and Tony kissed Ziva's hair.

"Zee?"

"Hum?"

"How much time do we have?"

Ziva sighed, brought back to reality, "Tonight. And maybe tomorrow morning."

To be a family. A few hours to finally be a family, was all they had.

"Are you going to the opera?"

"Yes."

"Can we come with you?"

Ziva kissed Tali once more as she giggled sweetly in her arms.

"Yes."

Tony smiled as a weight lifted off his shoulders. She'd let him in. She'd finally let him in. He had both of them for the first time. He had the love of his life and the proof of their love in his arms, if only for a moment. He had a family.

"Then it's a date."

chapter 3

[wiseabsol]

So I'm very grateful to mach5mind for sending in this ask, because I decided to check it out and oh my god. Oh my god, this podcast is so good! The adverts are incredibly charming in-jokes for Anifans, while the content of the episodes is equally chilling. When I was a kid reading these books, I can't remember ever feeling spooked by them. I felt other emotions, such as excitement at the action and the romance, amusement at the humor, disgust at the descriptions, and grief over the horrible things that the kids went though, but not fear.

But this podcast? This podcast made me feel utterly terrified of the Sharing and OF THE ANIMORPHS, TOO! TOBIAS HAS NEVER SEEMED CREEPIER. It's like, "Oh! Oh no! No wonder the Controllers were scared of every animal they saw! The Animorphs are pure paranoia fuel!"

I'm also terrified for these investigators, who've barely begun to scratch the surface of what's going on. It's staggering to think about how big the scale of the books actually is when you're looking at it from an outside perspective like this. With the books, you roll with it because the kids have no choice but to roll with it. Also, the kids have a superpower to help them fight. But in this, the conflict is just...huge and looming in a way that feels way too enormous to approach, BUT THE INVESTIGATORS DON'T KNOW THAT YET. Listening to them investigating the Sharing is very much like watching a horror film and whispering to the characters, "No, don't go in there, don't do it, don't--!"

At the same time, because these investigators are adults, it casts how young the Animorphs are into stark relief. It's one thing to know, while reading the books as an adult, how young the Animorphs are...but it's another thing to hear these adults talking to teens who are the Animorphs' ages, or making reference to the kids that we know are the Animorphs, and hear that difference.

I also find the updates to the time period very neat (the podcast is set in 2020, rather than the 90s, which makes the Sharing preying on depressed, isolated people EXTRA FUN). I'm guessing that Ax put more of his skill points into his computer hacking ability to work around modern surveillance technology, but that's just a guess. Possibly the kids in general are more computer savvy in this universe, though, given they'd have been born in...what, 2007 in this version?

ANYWAY, in short, this podcast is masterfully done, and it underscores the horror of the original series by--among other things--giving us an adult perspective on and an auditory glimpse into the Sharing's psychologically-manipulative cult tactics. So if you enjoyed the books, you'll love this podcast.

Have you listened to the Animorphs audio drama podcast, Sporadic Phantoms? What do you think about it?

I haven't listened, but I'll have to check it out!