#collaborative family trees

[fhtess]

Working in WikiTree...

Working in WikiTree... #WikiTree #onlineFamilyTree #onlinefamilytreesoftware #genealogy #onlinegenealogysoftware #genealogywork #heritage #lineage

While I keep my main datase in Family Historian, and maintain a fairly complete Ancestry tree, I also like to work in a collaborative tree. The FamilySearch Family Tree (FSFT) is the one most people think of, and I do contribute there, however, my world tree of choice is WikiTree (WT). First, why a communal tree? The main reason is collaboration with other genealogists and WikiTree provides a way…

[bonefall]

if you're stretching for shadowclan cats to use:

antpelt is mistakenly listed as from shadowclan in battles of the clans, and the wiki had him as a different character for a while. he also has an unnamed apprentice

shredtail is also mistakenly listed in shadowclan during bramblestar's storm

I am absolutely at the point where I'm willing to make absolutely ABSURD stretches. I'm affectionately calling all the extra cats I'm scrounging up from writer mistakes and background scenes "ShadowClan's Glitch Warriors." Thank you so much for pointing these three out, they're going in the list.

Suddenly, I was struck with an absolutely hilarious idea. Partner wanted something fun to draw but still has read absolutely nothing about Warriors, so I pitched;

"I will tell you nothing about these characters or who they are except their names. Draw a Shredtail, an Antpelt, and Antpelt's apprentice. TOTAL freedom over the designs here."

First they drew this lmao,

"This is a joke," they clarified

"NO I LOVE IT," I said, "KEEP GOING"

So we got Dollar Tree Shredtail, Great Value Antpelt, and the best thing I've ever seen in my life. Once they put these designs down, we talked personality and differentiators from the canon counterparts while they colored and refined them;

I loved the bushy gaster tail so much that I swore on the spot I was going to work it upwards into a whole bloodline, including the very obscure background warrior in AVOS, Wasptail. So even though they're mentor and apprentice in BOTC, I've decided these two will also be related. Probably siblings, or auncle/nespring.

The little black one is based off an Admiral Butterfly (it was my idea to make the little spots on their chest look like medals), so the name seems clear to me. Admiralpaw. Xey'll be meewa unless another gender works better; and I'm planning for xem to go out during a bloody battle against The Kin in true admiral style.

(funfact; admiral butterflies are extremely territorial. Males fight each other for control of a plant to attract females to.)

Warrior name is still undecided, though. Open to suggestions, leaning towards Admiralflight or Admiralflower.

Not-Antpelt I'm having name troubles with. I REALLY wanted to name them Majorheart, after a major ant, to keep the "military ranking + bug" pun that Addy's got... but it seems that none of the ants in this area would have a major caste. B'awww.

In the meanwhile, Antspot works fine. Alatefang or Dronepelt could work, too. Feel free to shout out suggestions, this guy's name and gender aren't set in stone.

Lastly, here's Diet Shreddy. Girl now <3

She is 100% going to be killed during The Battle of the True Eclipse, keeping consistent with the mistake in Bramblestar's Storm where Blackstar mournfully calls out the name of a Dark Forest warrior. I'm also undecided on if the actual Shredtail himself dies during that battle in BB, it might just be her.

In any case, she's probably going to be a TPB girl. If she's born during Brokenstar's time, she's one of the younger ShadowClan cats to take part in the WindClan Massacre. Might even be an early apprentice at the time, in a similar situation to Badgerfang (though in BB this was a one-time thing). If not during Brokenstar, then sometime during Nightstar's brief reign.

Right now she has no family, she's in my "reserves" at the side to use as a patch between generations. Her name is probably going to be either Tattertail or Shredclaw, given as an Honor Title after the Battle of BloodClan.

So she had a previous warrior name as well. She seems like the kind of troublemaker who would have the prefix Sike-- a small stream that dries up in summer. Sikestripe, if her name was given by Nightstar, or Sikestrike, if it was given by Tigerstar. Maybe it was one and then the other, in a sign of disrespect to his predecessor's lie.

[harbinger-0f-spring]

Here is a continuation of the family tree collaboration project with @konstantynowitz. Originally, my main focus was on the Rosier family, but before we get into that side of the tree, I'm going to introduce you to earlier generations of the Volants. I have been connected to the French branch of the Lestrange family through a Volant ancestor, and this might be a long shot, but just bear with me. Benouét Volant was born in 1794 as the nephew of Jodelle Lestrange (née Volant) who married Floxel Lestrange. In the year 1782, Jodelle had one daughter with her husband: Quintilla Lestrange, the mother of Nozéa Lestrange. Benouét was taken in by his aunt and uncle as a child when his parents died of a dragon pox outbreak. He was raised by Jodelle and Floxel, growing up alongside Quintilla as if she were his elder sister. Benouét later named his son Floxel Volant (I) in honor of his uncle.

For the time being, I do not have a name for Benouét's spouse, but I suspect that I'll make her a close relative of Floxel maybe through his mother Luminosa. Floxel Volant's mother may be a descendant from the Trouche family as I'm sure Benouét must've interacted with his uncle's extended family growing up, perhaps developing a close relationship with a potential bride through the Trouches.

I believe that Jodelle would have arranged for Benouét to marry a relative of her husband so that he could stay closely connected with the family. Floxel and Jodelle cared for Benouét as if he were their own child, so I think they thought that marrying him off to a Trouche was almost like an affectionate way of officially recognizing their nephew as an adoptive son of sorts.

Floxel Volant (I) was born in 1826 to Benouét Volant and his wife, his father was thirty-two at the time of his birth. Floxel remained a bachelor for the majority of his adulthood, enjoying the luxuries and privileges of his family's wealth. He was quite the lady-killer in his youth, so if he did have any children they'd be unacknowledged bastards that he never involved himself with, even if he was aware of their existence. Within the year 1870, at the age of forty-four, an unmarried Floxel impregnated his young mistress at the time, but the only difference between his current mistress and his mistresses of the past was that she also came from an influential French pure-blood family. Because of this, Floxel would be forced to marry his mistress who would later give birth to their only son Étienne Volant.

Something that needs to be acknowledged: I cannot take credit for this next half of the tree, as I had the help of @lazyreinelle when coming up with the backgrounds and names of the characters about to be mentioned. Of course, I've made a few little tweaks of my own when it comes to birth dates and certain aspects of their backstories, but really it is all thanks to the creative mind of @lazyreinelle that I was able to fill in the blanks of the tree.

Étienne Volant was born in 1870 and married Clotilde de Trefle-Picques, a seemingly mild-mannered girl, yet popular because of her family. She is betrothed off to Étienne during her penultimate year at Beauxbatons. Despite being ten years her senior, Étienne often acted like a man-child and was incredibly irresponsible. So, when it came to raising children, he would mostly never be around, goofing around in bars or sleeping with any veela he met. Clotilde had to raise her children: an elder daughter Eglantine (b. 1904), and two younger twin sons Floxel (II) and Claude (b. 1906), all by herself naturally instilling them with rather harsh views of blood purity.

In spite of his absence, Étienne was closest to his daughter Eglantine, who inherited his free-spirit, although it was much more reigned in than her father's was. Even so, she was frequently challenging authority and diving headfirst into escapades that left her mother exasperated. Clotilde always cursed her husband for passing on such a wild spirit to Eglantine, wishing instead that their daughter possessed a more measured temperament that would ease her worries and keep her out of trouble. Eglantine did not want to follow the expected societal norms for young witches of the time, nor did she wish to conform to the wishes and expectations of a future spouse, believing that her personal freedoms should be valued if she were to find herself married one day. Eglantine Volant harbored a fondness for her father, as he was the only one who could ever understand her. He never saw her as being unreasonable when voicing her standards for a hypothetical husband. Clotilde always believed that her daughter was being ridiculous when forming these ideas of a marriage of compromise, dismissing them as fanciful daydreams. Whenever Étienne was around he'd spoil his little daughter with small gifts and let her skip piano lessons or her early homeschooling to spend time "adventuring" with him on the estate's property. She grew up knowing that her father was not a dependable man, but that did not make him a bad parent to his children, at least during the times he occasionally visited them.

The Volants were deeply in debt because of Étienne's tendencies to gamble away a lot of his inheritance at the bars he frequented at. Clotilde, who came from a family who specialized in concealment charms, was able to hide the decline in the Volant's wealth by casting mirages that could make a simple lump of coal appear to be a bar of gold or some type of jewel. These charms especially helped in regard to paying off Étienne's debts, often conning the people he owed money to with his wife's illusions. Although, after a while, the charm of their fabricated wealth began to wear off and those who Étienne paid his debts to with these charmed objects would find out that they were tricked once the enchantments wore off.

As a result, one night when Étienne was drunk at a bar, he was confronted by one of the men he conned. Étienne was challenged in a magical duel by the man, but ultimately lost and was killed. This is why Clotilde was overjoyed when Eglantine got a proposal from the Rosier family, especially Laurent Rosier. The Rosiers, having already established themselves long back in France, were practically akin to wizarding nobility, matching the Blacks. Eglantine's marriage ensured that the Volants would not go bankrupt and reinstated stability within the family.

Featured at the top, is a tree which connects the Rosier family to the French branch of the Lestrange family. As I mentioned in my first post for the tree, Laurent Rosier is the great-great-nephew of Minette Rosier, making him third cousins with Leta Lestrange and her younger half-brother Corvus V. In addition to this, Laurent's father was first cousins with Fèlicule Lestrange (née Rosier), also known as F. Lestrange, the grandmother of Radolphus Lestrange II.

To give you guys a little bit more background of Clotilde Volant (née de Trefle-Picques), she was born to Adélard Duc de Trefle-Picques, a descendant of Vincent Duc de Trefle-Picques, a French nobleman and wizard active around the time of the French Revolution. Her mother was originally introduced as Faustine Escoffier-Floquet, but I changed my mind and renamed her as Touènette de Trefle-Picques (née Beaufort). There is not much I have to tell you about them right now, but soon I will post another update on this tree and hopefully by that time I'll have a little more to share on them. As for their grandsons, Eglantine's younger brothers that were created by @lazyreinelle: Floxel II and Claude Volant, I do have a bit more to share about them.

Floxel Volant II married Pascaline Volant (née Perrott), a classmate of his elder sister during her years at Beauxbatons. Floxel had a few children with Pascaline, namely their daughter Ghislaine Volant. There are a few more which I will be sharing in the near future, but right now Ghislaine is the only one who will be mentioned at the moment since the other children have more expanded and complex trees in regard to their future descendants.

Before Floxel's marriage to Pascaline, Clotilde started to be a lot more harsh with him, scrutinizing every move of his, and forcibly making him meet potential brides for him yet not allowing him to choose. The Volant heir longed to be free like his twin, Claude without any worry in the world, without someone constantly breathing down your neck. Being the older twin by five minutes was perhaps the only thing Floxel could uphold Claude over. The younger had all the other luxuries to bed, flirt with any one he liked, regardless of blood-status. As the second son, Claude was the spare and therefore didn't have as much responsibility to the family. Claude could often cross the line, becoming even worse than his father Étienne.

Claude Volant was notorious for philandering about, oftentimes bedding attractive veela ballerinas. He would later be disowned by his family for impregnating his veela mistress, leading to a bitter estrangement that would cause him to lose contact with his elder sister and twin brother.

Well, that's it for now! The next post I make will probably be more focused on the Rosier-Volant descendants, and maybe I'll give a little more insight on the Rosier family itself, especially Laurent and Vinda Rosier's parents.

[konstantynowitz]

Family tree revisions - Lestrange & Volant

There has been a significant change in birth years for the Lestrange-Volant family tree as @harbinger-0f-spring and I have seemed to miscalculated a few generations! Sorry for the misunderstanding but hopefully we've cleaned a few things up with this revision I've made. I can't promise that there won't be any errors, although what I came up with seems to somewhat align with each generation.

First off, I've gotten rid of Benouét Volant as we found that he was born way too early to be a cousin of Quintilla Lestrange (I have also taken the time to change her date of birth as well). I don't know if we'll be using the name Benouét for a Volant relative we come up with in the near future, but it is a possibility that we will be reintroducing Benouét Volant as Étienne's father rather than his grandfather. This would therefore make Benouét the elder brother of Jodelle Lestrange (née Volant), since the date of birth I've made up for her would make her a bit younger. Instead of 1870 as the original birth date of Étienne Volant, I've changed it to 1873 so that now he is seven years his wife's senior. As for his cousin Quintilla who @harbinger-0f-spring made the elder cousin of Benouét Volant, I put her date of birth around 1893. With the fixing of the generations and dates, this would make Quintilla quite young compared to Étienne, about twenty years to be exact. I'm sticking to the storyline which we had planned out for Benouét that his parents died during a dragon pox outbreak, but instead of Benouét I replaced him with Étienne.

Étienne was ten in 1883 when the dragon pox outbreak occurred and his young aunt Jodelle (aged 19), who was newly married, took in her orphaned nephew and raised him alongside her husband Floxel (aged 27). This all happened years before Jodelle and Floxel had their daughter Quintilla so Étienne was basically their first child at the time. When Étienne grew up and married, he named his eldest son Floxel Volant in honor of his uncle.

[tina-aumont]

Cool info on Maria Montez II: Her maternal grandfather is the scientist Luis Arístides Fiallo Cabral (1876-1931). Her maternal grandmother is Flor De María Gregoria Henríquez García (1879-1963), daughter of writer Federico Henríquez y Carvajal and niece of Francisco Henríquez y Carvajal, president of the Dominican Republic in 1916.

wow!!!

You leave me speachless... that is a very cool information, indeed!!!

Thank you very much for writing and sending this to me, I will add it to her biography!!

And as I did a Tina family tree, I can do hers as well!! ;)

Thank you very much for your great collaboration!! :D

Eleni

[howdoesone]

How does one make a family tree when the branches include cryogenic storage?

Creating a family tree is a cherished activity that helps individuals understand their lineage, heritage, and connections. However, when the branches of your family tree involve cryogenic storage and donor conception, the process can become more complex and nuanced. This guide will walk you through the steps to construct a family tree that accurately and respectfully includes these unique…

[my-castles-crumbling]

📝🦊Cas🏳‍🌈🎵 - they/them/she/he - queer - married

Click to view only Marauders/Harry Potter content Click to only view asks/advice

Decorate my tree!

Age: Over 21

Fandoms: Marauders with a side of drarry.

Ships: Jegulus, Jegulily, wolfstar, rosekiller, pandalily, dorlene, drarry.

Music: Taylor Swift, Conan Gray, Olivia Rodrigo, Lana Del Ray, Hozier, Renee Rapp, Chappell Roan, Gracie Abrams

AO3: my_castlescrumbling

Writing: Requests open!

Link to list of crisis hotlines for many different countries Link to Marauders Knowledge Quiz Link to list of requests (requests are open)

***Please allow me 3-5 days to get back to advice asks! Remember to check back if you write anonymously, you won't be tagged. If I don't reply after 5 days, please resend, sometimes tumblr eats my inbox messages 🙄

(Also please note that I am not a professional. All advice is just one random person's opinion. When you send me an ask you are acknowledging I am not liable for whatever happens if you chose to listen to a random person on the internet 😋)

Please do not post any of my work on fanfiction.net/wattpad. I welcome collaboration, podfics, and translation with permission. I do not support the use of AI in fanfiction/fanart. I do not want to join any websites that involve writing fanfiction for pay.

If you are a minor, please do not interact with any content I mark explicit-minors DNI. This is for both my protection and yours.

Below the cut:

My ao3 Fics

My Microfics

Fic Recs

Request/reading boundaries

Advice/ask boundaries

LGBTQIA+ resources

Writing tips

Song covers

My ao3 Fics:

Note- I am writing all fic ratings. If you are a minor, please take heed. If the fic is rated E and you are a minor, do not interact with it.

AHHHH this got to long! Click here to go to my google doc version of my masterlist!

My Microfics:

Jegulus Microfic Archive

Wolfstar Microfic Archive

Rosekiller Microfic Archive

Jegulily Microfic Archive

Explicit Microfic Archive - Minors DNI

Kinktober Microfic Archive - Minors DNI

Fic Recommendations:

AHHHH guys this list got too long! Please click here for a link to a google doc I made with all recs!

Request/Reading Boundaries:

A lot of people have asked to send me things to read or requests for writing. I LOVE when people send me these things, but just a few boundaries:

No MCD

No incest

No illegal age gaps

No noncon, in any sense

No EDs, SH, or SI

Advice/Ask Boundaries:

Advice about sex (how-to, positions, etc)

Personal topics like my own intimate life, my own personal information (IRL name, names of family members, etc)

Topics that I am not educated on, or do not have a right to give my opinion on. While I am happy to talk and give advice about LGBTQIA+ issues, I am uncomfortable sharing my opinion on issues that I am still working to learn about, because I don't want to spread false information or be unintentionally hurtful. Also, since I hold a lot of privilege, there are certain topics that I would rather amplify the voices of others about, rather than taking up my own space.

LGBTQIA+ Resources:

Here are the websites I often link to when giving people advice. I'll add to these as I find more!

Need help? The Trevor Project has Crisis Counselors

The genderbread person- (sexual attraction versus gender versus romantic attraction)

List of nonbinary identities and definitions

List of ace identities and definitions

A highly-reviewed chest binder that ships to like a hundred countries

Pronouns explained

LGBTQIA+ travel safety guide- world

LBGTQIA+ rights/safety by state in US

United States LGBTQIA+ student rights

The Trevor Project- Sexual Orientation Information

The Trevor Project- Gender Identity Information

Pronoun closet (try different pronouns)

Writing Tips:

Write a lot.

Don't worry about mistakes or editing. Just write a lot to get your ideas out. Practice makes better, and writing a lot will help you gain confidence. You don't have to post it anywhere of you don't want to!

2. Try microfics!

Microfics are a great way to practice writing certain ships, or just practice in general. They're also lovely for getting a feel of posting! They're low-pressure and low-commitment, which is lovely!

3. Find people to write with.

Whether it's people online or in person, find people to talk about writing and write with. It's very motivating and helps hold you accountable.

4. Be gentle with yourself!

This is supposed to be fun. Don't beat yourself up or be too hard on yourself.

5. Write down your ideas.

Ideas come at weird times. Write them down, because you'll forget them.

Song Covers

Sometimes I sing...

People Watching - Conan Gray

Gravity - Sara Bareilles

Blank Space- Taylor Swift

Idontwannabeyouanymore- Billie Eilish

Sparks Fly - Taylor Swift

So Long, London - Taylor Swift

[hmm-thats-a-wonderful-idea]

Howdy!

Welcome to Wonderful Ideas. The AU that answers the question: What did Flowey do before Frisk fell down?

Actually, let me answer that for you: A lot of horrible things.

With his power to reset and save, he is technically a god. Unfortunately for monsterkind, he pretty much did all the good things he could possibly think of.

And doing good doesn't give him much of a thrill as being evil.

...just as long as that smiley trashbag doesn't interfere with his fun.

--------------------

List of Wonderful Ideas

"Who Wants to Live Forever?"

"The Buttercup Conspiracy"

"Mother Knows Best"

"No Time to Hesitate"

"Good Deeds"

"The Living Narcissus"

"Masks"

"Web of Gluttony"

"Money Doesn't Grow on Trees... but it sure does in Monsters"

"You Can Do It, Burgerpants!"

"Tempolcalypse Now"

"Crown of Thorns"

"The Flower Gardener"

"Totally Burglars!"

"Flowey is Not a Good Babysitter"

"Family Reunion"

"Sweet Silence"

"The Good Dog"

"Gossip Bot"

"Spotlight"

"Warped Mirror"

"Ghosts of Sins Past"

"Shyren's Song"

"The Resurrection of Asriel Dreemur"

"No Longer Alone in the Snow"

999999999999999999999999. Together Forever, Once Again

List of Dead Ends

"Undying Justice"

"Sour Solitude"

"The Tem-scended"

"End of an Era, and the Beginning of Another"

"King of the Universe"

1994. "Paradox"

-------------------------------

This is also a collaborative effort that anyone can join! Don't be afraid to contribute to the growing list of ideas, as well as post fanart/fanfiction about these ideas!

[corroded-hellfire]

Merry and Bright - Eddie Munson x Reader

An As You Wish story

Collaboration with the marshmallows to my hot chocolate @munson-blurbs 💝

Summary: It's Eliza's first Christmas, and even though she may not have a clue what's going on, the rest of the Munson family have fun introducing her to their traditions.

Note: Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Festivus, and have a safe and cheerful whatever it is you celebrate!

Words: 4.3k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Eliza’s usual 6am feeding has you and Eddie awake before the boys on Christmas morning for the first time ever. Their 11-week-old sister has them beat for the earliest riser this holiday. 

Both of you sleepy-eyed as usual, you and Eddie slip into your daughter’s nursery and close the door behind you so her cries don’t wake her brothers. As soon as she sees you, she calms down because she knows the routine by now. You show up when she cries? Eliza gets food. 

You walk over and peer into her crib, Eddie stepping up behind you and slipping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. Eliza’s tears dry as she stares up at you and her father, her eyes wide like his. 

“Merry Christmas, Eliza,” Eddie says. 

“Happy first Christmas, sweetheart,” you echo. 

She clearly has no idea what you’re saying, but the way she’s looking at you makes you think that she’s thinking: Why are you just standing there smiling at me? Did you not hear the crying? Do you not know what time it is? Where is my food, lady?

You pick her up, clad in her green pajamas dotted with snowflakes and Santa Claus on them. The very same pajamas you, Eddie, Ryan, and Luke are all wearing. When you came up with the idea of matching family pajamas, you weren’t entirely serious until the boys backed you up. Whether they were truly into it or were just going along because they knew their dad would hate it, you have no idea. But Eddie grumbled and agreed, and once it’s just the two of you, declared that you are the only person in the whole world that he would do this for. 

Eddie goes to the window and pulls back the pink curtains with the white polka dots while you settle into the rocking chair with your baby. 

“Wow,” Eddie says as he looks outside. “It must’ve snowed the whole night. Everything is white.”

“Hear that, Eliza?” you coo as she begins to drink. “Your very first Christmas is a white Christmas. I think your brothers are going to have some fun outside later. Maybe we’ll go out and join them.”

Eddie looks over his shoulder at you. “Does she have enough clothes to layer up and go outside in this?”

“Enough clothes?” you ask with a chuckle. “Between the baby shower, Max and Nancy giving us some of their old baby clothes, and what we and the boys bought? I think she has enough layers to look like the Michelin Man.”

“Oh, but look at those rolls,” Eddie says in that baby-talk that’s pretty rare for him. He grins and kneels down next to the two of you in the rocker. “She already looks like the Michelin Man.”

There’s no denying Eliza’s rolls around her wrists and knees and ankles are absolutely the most adorable thing ever. And there is most definitely a long list of adorable things about Eliza. 

Once Eliza is done eating, you burp her—and she gives you one her father is quite proud of—and change her diaper, then you head out into the hallway and it’s time to wake the boys. 

Eddie walks into Luke’s room and heavily plops down on the mattress, making the ten-year-old bounce. He’s usually a pain to wake up in the morning, but Christmas is an exception. 

Luke rouses with a sleepy laugh and rubs at his eyes. “Present time?” he asks.

“I dunno,” Eddie casually replies, shrugging his shoulders as though the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “You think Santa came this year? I haven’t checked the tree yet.”

“And why wouldn’t he come?” you ask from the doorway, holding Eliza. Luke glances over at you and grins; you return his gesture in a silent I’ve got your back. 

Eddie, meanwhile, is dead set on provoking him. “Oh, come on,” he scoffs, “Luke had to have made the naughty list.”

Luke playfully lunges at his dad, who catches him and swings him over his own body to let his son land on the floor. 

“Nice try,” Eddie says. “But you’ll never beat me.”

When you let out a snort of laughter from where you’re standing, Eddie raises his eyebrows at you. 

You innocently raise your shoulders and walk across the hall to Ryan’s room. He’s a bit easier to wake up than his younger brother, though he’s started to fit the teenage stereotype of sleeping in late.  

“Oh my God, it snowed! A lot!” you hear Luke shout from his room, which makes you chuckle. “It’s like Antarctica!”

You can practically hear Eddie playfully rolling his eyes. “Yeah, bud. We’ll see a penguin waddle by in a sec.”

Ryan is already awake from all the chaos. He’s slightly grumpy from his unconventional wake-up call, but he smiles as soon as he stumbles into the hallway and scoops Eliza from your arms. 

“Merry Christmas, baby sis!” he coos. You notice that his pajamas barely reach his ankles even though you’d only bought them a few weeks ago. “You ready to see what Santa brought this year?”

As anticipated, Eliza says nothing, but you unanimously agree that she’s excited for presents. 

The five of you head to the family room to see multiple gift piles under the meticulously decorated tree. 

Luke points at the biggest pile near the front, blue eyes wide. “Who’s that for?”

“Eliza,” you tell him as you ruffle his curls. “Mostly from you and Ryan, I’d wager.” 

The boys had wanted to spoil their new sister with heaps of presents; you had to continually remind them that she’ll quickly grow out of any clothes and won’t be playing with toys for a few more months. Eddie had to keep reminding them that they were technically spending his money on the baby. He’d found it nearly impossible to say no to them, his heart swelling with pride that he’d raised such thoughtful—if not rambunctious—young men. 

Luke and Ryan get down on the floor, while you and Eddie sit down on the couch with the baby. 

“So, this is how we do it, Eliza,” Luke tells his sister, as if she will grasp any of what he’s saying. “Ryan picks up a present, reads who it’s to and from, then he gives it to me, and I give it to whoever’s it is.” It’s a tradition they’d started before Luke learned how to read, but it’s stuck throughout the years. 

Eliza lets out a few puffs of air that Luke takes as confirmation that she understands.  

“She gets me,” he says simply.

“Or,” Eddie teases, “she can’t tell which one of you is Ryan and which one of you is Luke in these ridiculous matching pajamas.” 

The four of you take turns opening Eliza’s presents for her. Each time a new one is opened you try to get her attention to show it to her, but she rarely cares. Eddie’s curls start to be more of interest to her than anything anyone else is doing. 

Whenever Luke or Ryan open them for her, they get really excited and hype their sister up about whatever it is that she got.

“Wow, Eliza! Look at this dress!” Luke says as he picks it up and shows her. “It has Princess Ariel on it! I bet you’re going to love the princesses.”

“Ooh, Eliza! Look at these!” Ryan shakes the oversized keyring with the pastel-colored plastic keys hanging from it. “You can drive Dad’s car with these.”

“I’d let her drive it before I let either of you two menaces behind the wheel.”

Eventually, Eliza’s pile is depleted, and the boys open their own presents. Ironically, they were more enthused for Eliza’s, though their new Game Boys are an absolute hit. There was eventually a gift that Eliza seemed to be enthralled with though. The only thing that really caught her attention was the shininess of a new watch that Eddie got from Luke. She wanted to put it directly in her mouth, but Eddie stopped her as Luke warned that he wasn’t sure if it was water proof or not. 

Once presents are done, Eddie cleans up the variety of wrapping paper while you dress Eliza in her Christmas candy cane outfit. This outfit Eddie picked out. It seemed only fair since you practically forced him into the pajamas. 

It’s nap time for Eliza, so you settle her down while the boys go through their new gifts. The clothes they received only got a once over while the toys and video games were more heavily scrutinized. 

After Luke makes his rounds through his toys, he notices how much snow has built up on the ground.

“Daaaaad!”

“Whaaaat?” Eddie mimics as he walks in the room.

Luke walks over and gives his dad an over the top smile—a telltale sign that he wants something.

“Wanna go play in the snoooow?”

Eddie pretends to consider the question even though he’s been waiting for one of the boys to ask all day. He’s still a kid at heart and has been dying to get out there and mess around. 

“I guess I could go for kicking your asses in a snowball fight.”

“Luke and I can take you, old man!” Ryan says.

“Two against one? Huh. Babe? Wanna come be on my team?”

“Sorry, hot stuff,” you say as you stroll in from the kitchen. “Then who would be here to get little Miss Eliza up from her nap and get her all bundled up for the snow?”

Eddie suddenly looks a bit more serious. “She’s going to have to have a lot of layers.”

“Really? Because I was going to bring her out in just her diaper.” You can’t help but chuckle at Eddie’s protectiveness and lean up to press a kiss to his lips. “Don’t worry. She’ll have so many layers she’ll look like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man.”

The three men get all layered up and you get comfortable in a cozy chair near the window with a mug of hot chocolate to watch their shenanigans unfold. The boys go to one side of the yard and start making snowballs while Eddie goes to the other side. Your husband makes a little snow barrier that he can crouch behind before he starts making his snowball supply. 

“Teach these kids to call me old,” he mumbles to himself. 

Eddie quickly throws a snowball that hits the back of Luke’s head before he ducks back behind his wall. Eddie tries to control his laughter, but it keeps coming out in hot puffs of breath that he can see float away from his mouth.

“What the?!” Luke shouts, looking all around. “How’d he do that?”

Eddie chuckles to himself as he creates more ammunition. These amateurs. 

You look on in amusement as the three of them commence in all-out war. Eddie clearly gets the better of them, which you can tell he’s secretly proud of. Or not-so-secretly as he sticks his tongue out at them and taunts them. You’d swear you were the one in this relationship who is older by a decade, not him. 

After a while of running around, your sons and husband fall into a pile in the middle of the yard, obviously tired from so much exertion. You giggle as you watch them try and catch their breaths; Luke literally reaching up with his gloved hands to swipe at the condensation his huffing and puffing is causing. 

Luke is the first one up and starts tugging on his dad’s coat sleeve to pull him up too. Ryan is the next one up, then finally Eddie. It takes you a couple of minutes to figure out what they’re doing at first. It looks like they’re just moving piles of snow around with no rhyme or reason. 

Just as you’ve put together that they’re trying to build an igloo, you hear Eliza’s cries coming from her room. You get up from your warm cocoon on the chair and wander into Eliza’s nursery where she’s whining for attention.

“What’s all the fuss about?” you ask as you scoop her up. “It’s Christmas. Didn’t anyone tell you there’s no crying on Christmas?”

Eliza’s only response is a tiny sneeze that makes you giggle.

“God bless you. Now, let’s see how many layers of clothes we can put on you before you’re as good as bubble wrapped.”

When you open the back door, both you and your daughter bundled up tightly against the cold, the igloo looks like it had some architectural issues. Eddie pushes himself off the ground and comes over to the two of you. 

“Look at my girls. So cute in all your layers.” He presses a kiss to your nose, which gives you a shiver.  

“Your lips are freezing!” you exclaim, scrunching your face. 

“What do you expect?” Eddie asks with a laugh. “Igloo construction is very serious work that can only be done in these dire weather conditions.”

A few snowflakes fall onto Eliza’s pale pink coat, and she blinks at them in confusion before they melt away. 

“How is the construction crew doing?” you ask, nodding to the boys and their building, snow stuck to their gloves like Velcro. 

“Some structural problems,” Eddie shrugs. “Definitely inhabitable, but I don’t have the heart to break it to them.” He brushes his gloves onto his jacket and holds his arms out towards Eliza. “Come here, you.”

He takes her, snuggling her to his chest, and walks over to where the boys are working tirelessly. Crouching down, he lets Eliza’s legs hang down so her booted up little feet are on the snowy ground.  

“Hey, ‘Liza,” Luke chirps. “We’re making a house out of snow.”

“It’s not going too well,” Ryan adds under his breath. 

His brother scowls. “She doesn’t know that!” he hisses. 

Eliza’s eyes track the snowflakes falling down around her. 

“You like the snow, huh?” Eddie asks her, kissing the tiniest sliver of exposed forehead beneath her fuzzy hood. 

A chunk of the attempted igloo comes off in Ryan’s hands and he lets out a defeated sigh. “You wanna try some snow?” he asks Eliza just as you walk over to join them. He breaks off the snow into a small chunk and holds it up near Eliza’s lips. She only stares at it for a second before Eddie helps her lean in and she opens her mouth, just as she does when she’s trying to eat. 

The moment the coldness touches her lips, Eliza turns her head and curls her hands towards her face, making the rest of you laugh.

“Cold, huh?” Ryan chuckles, tossing aside the snow that Eliza hasn’t consumed. 

“All right,” Eddie says as he stands up, shifting his daughter in his arms. “I don’t know about you boys, but my butt is pretty numb. What do you say we head inside?”

Both boys whine, even though you can tell by their chattering teeth that they’re getting a bit cold themselves. 

“How’s hot chocolate sound?” you add.

That gets both boys up and headed towards the back door. Eddie walks ahead of you with Eliza, and you shuffle towards him so you can whisper in his ear. 

“If you can’t feel your ass, maybe I could feel it for you?” Your lips curl into a smirk. 

Eddie turns to face you. “Why, Mrs. Munson, how very naughty of you.” His kiss lingers in a way that tells you to expect a special gift the moment you two are truly alone. 

It takes a few minutes for everyone to peel off their wet clothes. Eddie and Ryan work on throwing the snow-soaked pants and socks into the dryer while you recruit Luke to help a freshly warmed Eliza into her swing in the living room so you can make hot chocolate. 

Luke buckles the straps over Eliza’s red and white outfit and turns the swing on the lowest setting. It gently sways her back and forth from left to right, which is usually her favorite thing in the world, but her tiny cries warn that she is not amused. 

“Hey, what’s the whining about?” Luke asks, frowning at his fussy sister. 

Eliza squeals and throws her little arms up as much as she’s able to as though purposely acting in defiance. 

Luke immediately springs into action. “No, no!” He scrambles for an idea. “Here, watch me, Eliza!”

He starts to do an overexaggerated jig in front of her and sings I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas.

“I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do. I don't want a doll, no dinky Tinkertoy. I want a hippopotamus to play with and enjoy!”

Eliza stops her crying and just stares at her older brother as he continues his impromptu performance. 

“I can see me now on Christmas morning, creeping down the stairs. Oh, what joy and what surprise. When I open up my eyes to see my hippo hero standing there!”

Watching the mini concert from the kitchen, you notice that Eliza is mesmerized by her brother; the look on her face reads, “what the hell are you doing?”, but you’re not going to question whatever it is that’s quieted her down—even if it means being subjected to one of the most irritating holiday songs in existence. 

“I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do. No crocodiles, or rhinoceroseses. I only like hippopotamuseses. And hippopotamuses like me too!”

Successfully distracted, the baby makes spit bubbles and flaps her arms. Luke feels that he’s done his job, and he gives a small bow. 

Luke finishes imagining the applause his baby sister so obviously wants to give him when Eddie comes into the living room carrying two mugs full of steaming hot chocolate.

“Hey, Timberlake. Here’s your drink.”

You and Ryan are right behind him as you carefully balance your own drinks, giggling at each other as you check on one another’s progress from the corner of your eyes. It’s almost a game to see if one of you will spill a few drops before the other.

Luke plops down in the chair you had been sitting in while watching the boys outside and Ryan settles in on the loveseat. You take advantage of your husband sitting alone on the couch to cuddle up to his side. Eddie settles one arm over your shoulders and brings his Metallica mug to his lips with his other hand. Taking care to hold your “Meowy Christmas” mug dotted in adorable kittens in both of your hands, you rest your head on his shoulder. Your eyes admire the cup that Luke gave you last year for Christmas before they drift over to your daughter comfortably rocking in her swing. 

Her large eyes move from family member to family member, as if wondering what you’re all doing. You imagine her holding her own little mug-shaped bottle to join in with the rest of you and you let out a soft giggle at the thought.

“What, baby?” Eddie asks softly.

“Nothing,” you say with a shake of your head. “Just look at our little girl. Watching all of us.”

Eddie smiles when he looks over and his daughter’s gaze locks on his. He feels as if one more ounce of happiness was pumped into his heart it would explode. The room is still and quiet, but Eliza continues to look on as the four of you warm up by drinking the confectionary delight. 

By the time the four of you have emptied your mugs, Eliza is fast asleep in her swing. Eddie presses a kiss to your temple, and you take his empty cup as he rises to his feet. He walks over, slowly stops the rocking, and scoops Eliza up. She lets out a little sigh as Eddie resituates her in his arms; her classic sign of contentment when she knows she’s safe in her daddy’s care. He carries the sleeping infant into her room and lays her down in her crib. 

“Sweet dreams, sweet pea.”

An hour later, the buzzer rings. 

Wayne’s on the other side of the door, two pizza boxes in hand. Since Eliza is still so little and requires almost all of your energy, there isn’t a fancy meal this year, but no one seems to mind. 

The Munson patriarch sets the food on the table, opening the boxes to reveal pepperoni & green peppers atop each pie. “Christmas colors,” he announces proudly. 

Eddie pops a Christmas album into the CD player as you all gather around the table and eat. By some miracle, Luke and Ryan manage to take their slices without fighting over the bigger one, and you thank your lucky stars. 

No sooner do you sit down and lift your own slice to your lips, Eliza’s cry bleats through the baby monitor. You instinctively start to stand, but Wayne puts a gentle hand out to stop you. 

“I got it,” he assures you, walking into the room where Eliza lays in her crib. 

“You’re the cutest candy cane I’ve ever seen!” you hear him exclaim as he lifts her to carry her back out to the kitchen.

He takes his seat next to Luke, who holds his slice in the baby’s direction, a glob of sauce plopping onto the floor. 

“Eliza, you want some pizza?” He pretends to bring it to her mouth before he pulls back and cackles. “Aahh, just kidding!”

The tiny baby manages to stay awake for the entirety of dinner, but by the end of dessert, she’s starting to get cranky again. 

When it’s time to clear the table, Eddie stands up and stretches his arms high over his head. And so what if your gaze drifted to the pale expanse of his stomach that it showed? 

“Come on, men,” Eddie says. “Let’s get this place looking ship-shaped.”

“You sure you weren’t the one in the military?” Wayne asks with a husky laugh. He hands you the baby who is only getting fussier by the second.

“I think it’s time for some jammies,” you say as you hold her against your chest. Her whines and whimpers in return sound like a disagreement, so you can only imagine what her backtalk will be like when she can speak. 

“Not fair,” Luke says with a huff as you move to leave the dining room. You turn around and raise an eyebrow at him.

“What’s not fair?” you ask.

“You don’t have to clean,” he says as he picks up the bowl of mashed potatoes that is now so empty it looks as if it’s been licked clean. It wouldn’t surprise you if it was, honestly. 

“Do you want to try and get Miss Crankypants into her pajamas? Then to bed?” you ask.

“No,” Luke admits with a groan and brings the empty dishes into the kitchen.

“That’s what I thought,” you say to Eliza as you carry her down the hall to her room. 

It’s time for the annual tradition of watching Charlie Brown’s Christmas, but Eliza still hasn’t gone to sleep. You’re not sure how long you’ve been trying to soothe her to sleep, but it feels like it’s been hours. You tell the guys to start watching it without you as you start to walk throughout the house with your fussy daughter in your arms. The rocking motion of walking tends to have a calming effect on her. Hasn’t worked so far, but it’s worth another shot.

“Come on, sweetie,” you beg her. “You had a big day. You must be so tired.”

She continues her protests, so you hold her closer to your chest, her green elf pajamas soft in your hands. On your fourth lap of the house, you pass by the living room again but there’s music coming from the television this time.

Eliza stops her fussing at the sound. The scene ends and Eliza starts to act up again, so you take another lap around the house. Once more back at the living room, there’s music and again she calms down. 

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself.

Testing your theory, you sit at the edge of the couch and keep your firm hold on Eliza. The music continues as Eliza calms all the way down. This time, she’s calmed enough that you can sit back on the couch and enjoy the show with your family. Every time a scene with music comes on, Eliza gets happier and even gives you a smile that you’re pretty sure had nothing to do with gas.

“You like the music, huh?” you ask your daughter softly. 

“Making her daddy proud,” Eddie says, throwing a wink your way. 

Not much later, Eliza falls asleep, and it allows you to watch the rest of the program with your family. When it’s time for bed, the boys each get up and press a soft kiss to their sister’s forehead. Once they’ve gone to brush their teeth, you bring Eliza into her room, Eddie right behind you. You gently lay her down and Eddie snakes his arms around your waist from behind. Both of you look down at your daughter, her little pink lips parted as her chest moves up and down with her steady breathing. The soft downy hairs on her head are starting to get a curl to them and you smile at the thought of her having hair like your husband.

Eddie presses a kiss to your cheek and rests his chin on your shoulder so he can look down at the sleeping girl as well.

“We made a cute baby,” Eddie says softly.

“The cutest,” you agree. 

[tedwardremus]

Blood Purity and a Declining Birth Rate

Voldemort’s promise to restore pureblood supremacy isn’t just a call to arms; it’s a lifeline for a community terrified of its own obsolescence.

The wizarding world is haunted by more than just literal ghosts; it is a world that seems to be shrinking, its former grandeur fading into memory. Signs of decline are everywhere: Hogwarts, once a bustling center of magical education, has unused classrooms and seemingly fewer students than one would expect for the only magical school in Great Britain and Ireland. Diagon Alley, supposedly the heart of the magical community in one of the world’s largest cities, consists of just a few streets. Even wizarding media is centralized in a single newspaper.

These clues suggest a world that was once much larger than it is now. There are references to better days and implications that Hogwarts isn’t what it used to be now that Dumbledore is in charge. This decline is tied closely to the waning influence of pureblood families, who are becoming a smaller and smaller fraction of the wizarding population. Muggle-born and half-blood students outnumber them at Hogwarts, a shift that threatens the social and political dominance Purebloods have held for centuries.

What’s particularly interesting is how purebloods respond—or fail to respond—to their declining numbers. Unlike other extremist groups like Christian fundamentalists or white nationalists, who often promote large families as a "sacred duty" to maintain their cultural dominance (Hitler gave medals to women who had five or more children), pureblood families in Harry Potter are remarkably small. This lack of larger pureblood families raises questions about their long-term strategies for survival. If blood purity is their highest priority, why don’t purebloods prioritize reproduction as a means to preserve their numbers?

Draco Malfoy, the prime school-age pureblood antagonist of the main character,  is an only child. Sirius Black and Regulus Black come from an ancient family with an extensive family tree, yet they have no siblings beyond each other and only three cousins. Bellatrix Lestrange, one of the most fanatical proponents of blood purity, didn’t have children until her late 40s—and even then, it is a single child (and only if you accept Cursed Child as canon).

Harry Potter himself comes from a pureblood family, but his only living relatives are his Muggle aunt and cousin. Neville Longbottom is raised by his grandmother, and while he mentions elderly relatives, there’s no indication of cousins his own age. Even the Weasleys, the exception to the rule with their seven children, seem to lack extended family—there are no Weasley cousins attending Hogwarts during Harry’s time.

The First Wizarding War can partially explain the small size of Harry’s generation: people were afraid to have children during Voldemort’s rise to power, and the violence of that decade wiped out much of a generation. However, this alone doesn’t account for the decline. Something must have happened in the previous generation as well. For several generations now, pureblood families haven’t been having enough children to maintain their population.

Another explanation could be that their intense focus on lineage and prestige means they are selective about marriage and procreation, limiting family size to maintain "purity" rather than expanding it. Marrying within a shrinking pool of acceptable partners likely leads to fewer unions and, consequently, fewer children. Additionally, inter-family rivalries, societal pressures, and a rigid class system may discourage collaboration between pureblood families to ensure survival. 

While we see pureblood families of different economic status in the series it is also worth noting that smaller families may be a deliberate choice to consolidate wealth and maintain power within a single branch of the family, ensuring that resources aren’t dispersed among too many inheritors. By keeping family sizes small, they can preserve their status and influence in a society where lineage and financial stability are critical markers of power.

Alternatively, external factors not mentioned in canon could help explain the dwindling pureblood numbers. Perhaps a catastrophic outbreak of dragon pox ravaged Britain at the turn of the century, disproportionately affecting pureblood families due to their insular communities and close intermarriages. An economic crisis could also have made it difficult for even wealthy families to support large households, especially given the high costs of maintaining pureblood status and reputation. Such events would compound the social and cultural pressures already discouraging large families, contributing to a steady decline in pureblood populations.

The decline in a pureblood population creates a simmering panic among purebloods. They perceive that their traditions and way of life are changing, and instead of adapting to demographic shifts and embracing a more inclusive future, they cling to fear and resentment. They blame Muggle-borns for their loss of power, projecting their anxieties onto those they perceive as outsiders for “stealing” magic.

When those in positions of power feel their dominance slipping, they often construct narratives in which the oppressed will rise up and do to them what they, the ruling class, have done to others. This paranoia leads purebloods to double down on their exclusivity, believing that maintaining their power is the only way to avoid losing everything. Their refusal to adapt blinds them to the potential benefits of inclusivity: a larger magical community, a stronger economy with more people working wizarding jobs and purchasing wizarding goods, and a broader cultural foundation to sustain their traditions.

This fear and resistance to change create fertile ground for Voldemort’s rise. He exploits the purebloods’ anxieties, offering them a roadmap for radicalization. Instead of addressing the root causes of their decline, purebloods embrace the Dark Lord’s extreme methods, leading to catastrophic consequences.

The determination to "purify" the wizarding world and maintain their position of power ironically accelerates their downfall. As Death Eaters enact Voldemort’s vision, their crusade doesn’t simply target individual Muggle-borns but entire families—wiping out, or nearly wiping out, powerful, established wizarding lineages like the Bones, McKinnons, Longbottoms, and Potters. This destructive cycle ensures that even the pureblood families themselves suffer massive losses, further accelerating the population decline they sought to prevent.

Purebloods who embrace the politics of purity in an attempt to stave off extinction ultimately hasten their own downfall, prioritizing exclusivity and radicalization over growth and adaptation.

(thanks to @livelaughlovetoread for reading this over and beta reading!)

[moodboardmix]

Kendrick Bangs Kellogg (1934 – February 16, 2024)

Kendrick Bangs Kellogg was the pioneer of organic architecture. In the past decades, Kellogg completed over a dozen striking structures (residential and public), each marked with his distinctly curved, irregular, and expressive style. Influenced by his family’s ties to Frederick Law Olmsted, the ‘Father of Landscape Architecture’, Kellogg’s independent architectural journey began after a brief meeting with Frank Lloyd Wright in 1955.

However, unlike Wright and organic architect Bruce Goff, his style explicitly defies categorization, often alluding to a mix of the Sydney Opera House and Stonehenge.

In fact, Kellogg prioritized durability, solidity, and intricacy, a vision reinforced by his collaboration with visionary clients, using high-quality materials like copper and concrete.

Sculpted over 30 years, the Kellogg Doolittle estate in Joshua Tree California is probably the greatest example of organic architecture signed by Kellogg.

Nestled among the rocky terrain of Joshua Tree, California, the house takes the form of an organic object made up of a cluster of sculptural piers. There is an ambiguous relationship between the built space and the extreme landscape as the house navigates between the protruding rock formations. At certain moments, these natural elements pierce through the interior and become sculptural elements of the conditioned space. 

[carmyberzattosjournal]

S2 Entry 2: Soothe the Goosebumps

Image credit: @neverscreens

Summary: Carmy’s girlfriend (who he calls Darling) soothes him down from an impending panic attack with apple cubes. (1346 Words) FLUFF.

Warnings: Swearing, hurt, comfort, fem reader/lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns, finger sucking (light), impending panic attack (panic attack doesn’t happen), praise kink, feeding kink?, subby!Carmy. Mentions of Donna Berzatto.

Notes: Thank you for reading and sharing! This is a work in CB Journals Season 2 and will be tagged with #cb journals s2.

Sideblog for commentary and social stuff: @m-z-shoroi

Prompt: String Lights

“Do you not decorate for Christmas?” she asked. “Not even string lights or a mini tree?”

No. Fuck Christmas.

The silence, and the subsequent recoil evident on her face when I looked up from the apple I was dicing, is what told me I’d said that aloud. My stomach flipped. Hands abruptly turned cold for some reason. Heat flooded into my face.

I can’t even begin to explain to you the biblical level of shit I was in that week. That whole month, honestly. The review didn’t go well—we weren’t given our star, which meant that not only did all my bullshit that I pulled in the restaurant after having that mental fucking breakdown after the walk-in incident severely strain all my interpersonal relationships, it also did fuck all to give us any sort of results. If we’d gotten the star, then maybe, maybe, it would’ve stung just a little less. The wounds haven’t gone away—the repeated flare-ups of fighting between Sugar, Richie, Syd, and me are evidence of that—but the star would’ve been salve on the cuts. Maybe taken away some of the burn. No, it just redoubled everyone’s rage at me (including my own. I was getting dangerously close to hating myself more than I hate the fucking Devil at this point). So, the burst of fighting at the top of November turned into all-out war for the rest of the month. We’d found something of a balance before—minus the flare-ups—where I’d do a new menu every month using seasonal ingredients. I’d be mindful of what the kitchen staff could do, Syd and I would actually properly collaborate on them, so she didn’t feel voiceless (even if working with another person drove me fucking insane sometimes), and Richie and I would, generally, as much as we both could corral our familial trauma, try to stay out of each other’s way. Sometimes even get along a bit.

“Carmy?”

Now? Now I lost all fucking control of my restaurant. Syd and I were battling over the menu because even when accounting for her notes, she wanted to scrap whatever I did. Richie was so far out of my grasp that Sugar maintained a demilitarized zone between us, acting as the Secretary of State—or I don’t know, a fucking messenger pigeon—bringing things back and forth, all while trying not to (and failing on multiple occasions) explode at either of us for our bullshit. And it was bullshit. We’re fucking adults, I keep trying to act like a fucking adult and get a handle on myself so this doesn’t fucking happen again—I’m in therapy, for fuck’s sake!—and yet Richie and Syd insist on being fucking children about it.

In retrospect, I don’t blame Syd. If your coworker spiraled off the fucking deep end, and all you got out of that was the trauma of surviving that spiral, would you even want to fucking look at them again? She worked her ass off to make The Bear what it is, she put stock in her own identity as a chef, and wants, more than anything, to be able to take pride in her work.

I said I wouldn’t stand by and let her do to herself what I did to me, right?

Am I not her Devil?

So here we are, December three days away, still without a fucking menu.

“Baby? Sweetheart? Hey.”

Shit. Shit. Fuck. I dropped the knife onto the cutting board. “S-sorry. Sorry, I-I should explain—”

“I just wasn’t expecting such a strong reaction.” She held her hands up, palms out towards me. “It’s okay. It just caught me by surprise is all.”

“Christmas-Christmas is fucking traumatizing.” Why did it come out like a question? It’s a fact. It was fucking traumatizing. I closed my eyes, trying to retreat to the quiet dark, where it’s stable, where it’s safe. “My-my mom, she would, uh, she would do this-this big feast. Seven Fishes... And it was-it was always such a fucking disaster. And-and she would always explode at the tiniest thing. I-I hate fucking Christmas and New Years a-a-and-and fucking birthdays. Fuck birthdays.”

Something burned in my chest. A deep sort of fiery sting that took me two heartbeats to recognize as stomach acid bubbling into my esophagus. I grasped at the pain as if I could somehow get ahold of it and remove it from me, could toss it away like a wet paper towel, but all I found was the front of my apron.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Oh no, Darling sounded worried. I fucking hate when I worry her. I pried my eyes open and found her expression contorted in concern, eyebrows scrunched together, corners of her mouth turned down. “What’s wrong? Pain? Nausea?”

I tried talking, but I couldn’t produce sound past the hot iron burning my insides. Blindly reached for the quart of water and chugged a few sips down. It provided some relief initially, but the flames came right back.

“Hold on.” She rifled around the cabinet above my head and pried off the lid of the baking soda container. Put two pinches in the quart. Swirled it. “It’ll taste weird, but it should help.”

Metallic. Metallic, bitter, kind of salty? Like I licked a dirty penny or something. Weird doesn’t sum it up, it’s fucking disgusting. She rubbed up and down my sternum as I gulped this vile concoction down.

“It’s a base, it’ll help neutralize the acid,” she explained. “Just take little sips until the burning stops.” I’m sure she knew I understood the logic, but I appreciated her talking to me anyway. It was comforting. Something to focus on. Something to drown out the memories of ma’s yelling bubbling away in the back of my head.

Goosebumps exploded on my arms when I took another gulp of the baking soda water. It just kept getting worse. Now the weird taste was lingering on my tongue well after the water was gone, but my chest still burned like a brand was on it. Darling rubbed her hands up and down my forearm, trying to soothe the goosebumps away.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

I responded too slowly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Not even giving me this horrible shit; it was helping the heartburn.

“No, about the whole…” she gestured in a wide circle. Ah. About Christmas and shit. Got it. “It’s gotta be tough. With. How much those things are engrained in society and all.”

I shrugged a shoulder. Grimaced and got another wave of chills on the next sip of baking soda water. She picked up an apple cube and pressed it to my lips. It wasn’t meant to be an intimate gesture—I’m getting better at reading her face and knowing what the intention behind anything she does is—but something deep in my core tightened and warmed when she fed me the morsel of apple, when the tip of her finger rested just a second too long on my lips. I must’ve had a certain look on my face because she made the cute little cooing sound that meant she figured something out. Cupped my face with her other hand. Stroked my cheek.

“That better, pretty boy?”

She brought another apple cube to my lips, kept her eyes locked on mine—this piercing gaze halfway between interrogative and fascinated, like she was a cat observing a new toy, trying to figure out how to pounce on it. My navel flooded with heat, dick twitched in my sweats. Half of me wanted to shrink in place, become tiny and insignificant, small enough to fit in her pocket like a pathetic but endearing pet. The other half of me got lost in her eyes, in those shimmering river stones, in the perfect architecture of her eyelashes, as if admiring a fine work in some pretentious fucking museum somewhere. She let me suck the tip of her thumb clean. Dragged it slowly over my tongue.

I nodded. Yes. Yes, it’s better.

The fuck was I even stressing about before?

Tags: @carmenberzattosgf @jess248 @catharticconsolation @persymons @morgthemagpie @glitch0o0 @nox-is-thename @forgechildofheph @leminjelly @fridavacado @lumoslemon @cyarskj1899

[babsharrison]

Safe Haven - John Wick

(Chapter six)

Pairing | John Wick x Original Fem! Character

Summary | In search of a breath in his tumultuous life, John Wick finds himself in a charming bookstore where he meets a sweet and welcoming woman. As they grow closer, John questions whether she can love him despite the dark secrets he carries. While battling the shadows of his past, he must protect the love that is blossoming and discover if hope and redemption are truly possible.

Word Count | 3.2k (hihi 🤫)

A/N | Happy Halloween, everyone! I know it was supposed to be a Halloween fic with John Constantine, but I totally ran out of ideas for the storyline 😭

Previous chapter!

The park was stunning under the golden sunlight. The weather was perfectly cooperative, as if the universe was on Mia's side that day. The sky, without a single cloud, displayed a deep and serene blue, and the trees around, with their dense and lush canopies, swayed gently in the breeze. Mia felt at peace there, as if the park were an extension of the bookstore—a place where she could feel at home, surrounded by tranquility and beauty.

The event was going better than she expected. The welcoming atmosphere had an almost magical touch, attracting people of all ages. Children ran back and forth, some stopping at the small tables where books were displayed. Young couples and families walked hand in hand, showing interest in the covers of stories carefully selected by Mia and Tom. Some paused to leaf through the books, and Mia noticed the spark of curiosity in their eyes, which made her even more hopeful for the future of the bookstore.

She watched from afar with a discreet smile on her face, satisfied with the outcome so far. The sense of harmony enveloped everyone, as if for a few hours they were immersed in a world of words and stories.

Tom had stepped out for a moment to fetch his girlfriend, Lyla. Mia had always liked Lyla—her striking beauty was complemented by a kindness that won everyone over. Lyla was always willing to help with the bookstore, offering support and creative ideas. This friendship made Mia feel grateful to have her around.

While waiting for the two to return, Mia walked over to one of the tables to organize some misplaced books, observing the satisfied faces around her. The gentle breeze brought the fresh scent of trees and damp grass, mingling with the light floral perfume of Lyla that still seemed to linger in the air since the last time they were together.

She took a deep breath, savoring the moment. The park vibrated with laughter and conversation, but in her heart, there was a serene calm, as if all the effort to keep the bookstore alive was finally being rewarded. Mia felt that this event was a small step toward her dream—a place where people could reconnect with the joy of reading.

For a moment, her eyes drifted into the crowd. Although surrounded by people, she couldn’t help but think of John. He still hadn’t shown up, but she knew he was the unpredictable type. Would he come? And if he did, what would it be like to see him in that environment, so different from the bookstore, where he always seemed serious and reserved?

As these thoughts occupied her mind, the sunlight reflected off the leaves, creating patterns of light and shadow that danced on the park’s ground. It was a perfect day, and she could only hope that fate would collaborate once more, perhaps bringing John’s presence along with it.

Not far away, on the other side of the park, John stood in the distance, shaded by a tree, his eyes keenly observing the movement in the park. He had opted for something more discreet this time—dark jeans and a shirt with a brown jacket over it, quite different from the usual suit he wore. It was rare for him to allow himself to step away from the nearly constant uniform of his professional life, but that day, the relaxed atmosphere of the park seemed to call for a more casual approach.

Even so, his survival instincts were always on alert. The hitman in John never rested. He observed the event as he would any mission, sweeping the area with his eyes and mentally mapping out exits, assessing people and watching for any suspicious behavior. There were families, children running between tables, adults curiously flipping through books. Everything seemed... normal. But normal was not something he easily trusted.

Yet, his gaze always returned to her. Mia.

She looked different under the sunlight—more vibrant, more radiant. The light dress she wore, in a soft shade that contrasted with the surrounding greenery, made her seem like a natural part of that environment. He noticed how the fabric moved with the breeze, accentuating her silhouette in a way that, though modest, drew him in almost inevitably. John wasn’t the type of man to be swayed by appearances, but there was something about Mia's naturalness, her simplicity, that made him want to get closer, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

He watched her interact with people, always so polite, so kind. She seemed at ease there, as if that small event in the park were an extension of the bookstore she loved so much. There was a lightness in Mia’s movements, as if the world didn’t carry the same weight on her shoulders that it did on his. This intrigued him—and, on some level, unsettled him.

As he watched, John assessed the location. There were few easy exits if anything went wrong, and the number of people meant he would have to be careful if any threat arose. He couldn’t help but evaluate each unfamiliar face, paying attention to any odd behavior. That was part of who he was—an instinct deeply ingrained.

But in that moment, there were no signs of danger. Just Mia and her world, functioning in perfect harmony. John clenched his fists, struggling against the urge to approach. He knew the right thing would be to turn away and disappear, but something kept him there. He didn’t allow himself to get involved with "normal" people—not anymore. The cost was always too high.

Still, there was something in Mia that made him hesitate.

He found himself watching as the sun illuminated her face when she leaned down to help someone, the genuine smile she offered to each person. There was a beauty in that, a simplicity he didn’t know. It was as if, for a moment, the world around her was lighter, less dark. And part of him wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be a part of that, even if just briefly.

John took a deep breath, trying to push away the thoughts that plagued him. The doubts about his presence there and what it meant to be so close to Mia made him uneasy. But even from a distance, her eyes seemed to pull him closer, as if saying it was safe to approach. He knew that wasn’t true—nothing was ever safe in his life. Yet, in that moment, he hesitated, an almost irresistible impulse drawing him toward her.

A car screeching to a halt behind him snapped his attention, jolting him out of his reverie. He turned, instinctively on guard, his survival instincts kicking in. Almost without realizing, he heard light footsteps on the fallen leaves covering the grass, and his heart raced. As he turned, the last thing he expected to see was Mia, approaching with her hands behind her back and a sweet smile that lit up her face.

The sight of her caught him off guard, and he felt his heart skip a beat, an almost forgotten sensation. The lightness in her expression and the joy radiating from her made her seem even more enchanting. It was as if the world around him had vanished, leaving only that singular moment, where nothing else mattered.

John almost looked around, perplexed, wondering how she found him. It was as if she had a sixth sense for locating him, no matter how well he hid. He wondered if, somewhere deep down, she understood him in a way that no one else could. The way her eyes sparkled, filled with fun and an innocence that intrigued him, made his mind spin. He was so used to keeping his distance, but Mia seemed to be a force pulling him to a place he had never allowed himself to be.

“I'm so glad you came!” She exclaimed, her excitement filling the air with vibrant energy. Her smile was contagious, and even though he was reluctant, John couldn't help but feel a small, genuine smile appear on his lips, something he hadn’t done in a long time. “You seemed hesitant to approach, so I decided to come over and call you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, incredulity escaping his lips, but there was a lightness that contradicted his usual distance. “I just... didn’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding at all! Come on, I’ll show you what we’re doing.” Mia took a step forward, gesturing with her hands for him to follow. “The event is pretty lively. There are lots of people and several tables with books.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the way she spoke, so naturally, drew him closer. “And are you... okay?” He asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yes! I’m a bit nervous, but that’s normal, right?” She laughed, the sound light and sincere. “I just want people to enjoy it and come to know the bookstore. Every person who walks by is a victory!”

John watched her as they walked, noticing how she seemed to shine in that atmosphere. “You really care about this.”

“Of course! It’s a dream I’m trying to keep alive,” she replied, the sincerity in her voice making her even more captivating. “And I hope you, Mr. Wick, feel part of it too.”

He laughed, a low sound without humor. “Mr. Wick? Don’t make me sound so formal.”

Mia stopped and turned to him, her eyes sparkling with fun. “Okay, then you prefer John? I’ll try to remember that.” She tilted her head, looking at him with an expression of camaraderie. “Just don’t make me call you ‘Mr. Wick’ in public, because then you’ll really make me nervous!”

He shook his head, laughing. “Don’t worry, you can use whatever you want. I’m not very good with these title things.”

“Great! So, John, are you ready to mingle?” Mia continued to gently pull him in the direction of the event, her excitement almost palpable. “I promise you’ll have fun.”

He hesitated, but her confidence was contagious. “Let’s see how it goes.”

As they approached the tables with displayed books, John felt his gaze drawn to a thick volume with a richly bound leather cover. His fingers itched to pick it up, feeling the weight and texture of that well-crafted book. There was something almost nostalgic about it, a silent appreciation he had for such details.

“Do you like bookbinding?” Mia asked, noticing his interest.

“I do,” he admitted, holding the book between his hands. “It’s... an art in itself, preserving stories.”

Mia watched him, visibly surprised. “I would never have imagined. I think there are a lot of things I still don’t know about you.”

John turned the book in his hands, appreciating every detail on the cover. “Bookbinding is a form of respect for stories, don’t you think?” He commented, almost as if speaking to himself. “Something that transforms content into something enduring.”

Mia smiled, fascinated by how he viewed the object in his hands. “I’ve never thought of it that way… but it makes perfect sense. A good book can last generations. That must be why I’m so attached to my grandfather’s bookstore.”

He raised his gaze to her, with an expression that mixed surprise and understanding. “It seems he passed on more than just a business to you. It’s rare to see someone so young have such an appreciation.”

“I think it’s one of those things you learn over time. And I... well, I feel like I’m just starting.” She shrugged, a light smile on her lips. “And you? How did someone like you come to like bookbinding?”

John hesitated, but for some reason, the barriers he usually erected seemed less solid. “It’s... complicated. It’s part of a past I tend to leave behind, but... I still like it.” He paused before letting out a small smile. “In a way, it’s almost therapeutic. A work of precision, something that requires patience.”

“Maybe you can teach me one day,” she suggested, joking but with a touch of sincerity.

John raised an eyebrow, a shadow of humor on his face. “It’s a more tedious job than it seems, Mia.”

She laughed, tilting her head. “I’m willing to take the risk. Besides, maybe a little tedious routine would be good, don’t you think?”

He chuckled softly, a rare and warm sound that made Mia feel a slight flutter in her heart. Mia adjusted the books in her hands, her thumb absentmindedly brushing against the worn spine of the bound volume she had just handed to him. John watched her in silence, his eyes analyzing, almost as if he were assessing the safety of that brief moment of tranquility. Even without speaking, she felt the weight of his gaze and, curious, decided not to rush him, allowing him to absorb that instant.

“The cover of this one is a bit worn, but I think it’s even more beautiful that way,” she remarked, glancing at the book before looking back at John. “It seems like it has a story beyond the story, you know?”

John tilted his head slightly, holding the book with an almost reverent delicacy, as if pondering the profound meaning behind Mia’s words. “A story beyond the story,” he repeated, his voice sounding like a soft echo, more directed at himself than at her. The phrase resonated within him, evoking memories of distant times, of a life that now seemed a lost shadow.

Mia noticed the subtle change in his face, as if for a brief moment he were trying to reconnect with something he had left behind. A smile illuminated her face, for she felt that, even without needing words, she had established a small bridge between them, a connection that transcended the present moment.

Before she could formulate further thoughts or share any revelation, a familiar voice cut through the air, calling her name. It was Tom, accompanied by Lyla, who had finally arrived. Their presence brought a new energy to the environment, but Mia couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment she had shared with John still lingered between them, like an invisible, delicate thread connecting them.

She waved to her friends before turning back to John, who also seemed to have noticed their arrival. “John, feel free. I’ll be right back,” she said, tilting her head slightly and offering a soft smile.

Upon hearing the affectionate way she pronounced his name, John felt his heart palpitate with an unexpected strength in his chest, as if that simple gesture of kindness had briefly shattered the barrier he kept around himself.

After Mia’s smile, John remained in his place, his eyes vaguely following her as she moved away to greet her friends. He tried to distract himself, observing the details of the event, but it was inevitable that his gaze returned to her from time to time. There was something in the lightness of her movements, in the way she spoke with her friends, that made him think of everything he rarely allowed himself.

***

Tom leaned toward Mia, speaking softly while casting a brief glance in John’s direction.

“So, that’s the mysterious man from the bookstore, isn’t it?” he commented, a curious smile on his face.

Mia chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Yes, that’s him. He came to check out the books.”

Lyla, always with a keen eye, exchanged a smile with Mia. “And he seems to have more than just a casual interest in the bookstore, don’t you think?”

Mia shrugged, trying to appear indifferent, but her cheeks flushed slightly. “He’s just… different. I think everyone deserves a place to disconnect for a bit.”

Tom smiled, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “Sure, and maybe he’s actually found something here.”

Mia nodded affirmatively, allowing herself a quick glance at where John was, without him noticing. “Maybe. He seems like someone who could use some peace.”

John, on the other side, was trying his best to keep his attention on the surroundings, but even without directly facing her, he perceived every smile and laugh. Although he was reluctant to feel part of anything, that atmosphere—those people—had a strange effect on him.

John allowed himself to be enveloped by the warm atmosphere of the small makeshift bookstore in the park. There was something there—the scent of books, the soft laughter of people around, the gentle sound of music in the distance—that seemed to suspend time, creating a rare refuge amid the chaos of the city. The park was lively, with families, couples, and curious readers exploring the book tents scattered across the grass and surrounded by flowers and small hanging lights.

As John leafed through the book he held—a vintage edition with slightly yellowed pages—Mia approached, noticing his interest. A smile lit up her face as she recognized the title: it was one of her favorites, a classic romance she revisited whenever she could.

“This is one of my favorites,” she said softly, the enthusiasm evident in her voice. “Have you read it?”

John looked up at her, catching the sparkle in her eyes. “Not yet,” he replied, his voice low and thoughtful. “But it seems like a good choice.”

“It really is!” Mia said, speaking about the author and the passages that had touched her the most. John absorbed every word without seeming to, as if her description brought unexpected meaning to the volume he held. A rare impulse led him to buy it, almost without realizing it.

She guided him to a makeshift table serving as a payment station, near one of the park’s paths, decorated with small flowers and candles. As Mia organized the receipt and wrapped the book, a figure approached among the temporary shelves. An elegant man, with a contained posture and a dark suit that contrasted with the relaxed setting, stopped beside them, feigning interest in some of the displayed books.

“Good afternoon,” he said, holding a random book, his eyes fixing on Mia with a calculated smile. “I didn’t expect to find such an interesting collection in the middle of the park. It seems like a rare opportunity.”

Mia smiled, as welcoming as ever but with a hint of curiosity. “Thank you. We hope readers truly feel at home here. Can I help with anything special?”

“Perhaps,” the man replied, casting a quick, discreet glance at John before returning his attention to Mia. “Marco Vitale,” he introduced himself, with a distant but calculated courtesy. “I’m not usually one to stop at events like this, but… today I felt drawn to this collection.”

The mere mention of the name was enough to put John on high alert. Marco Vitale was a dangerous name, familiar in a way he’d rather avoid. While Marco’s presence there might have seemed coincidental, his light, casual tone didn’t fool John; this encounter felt anything but innocent. Positioned beside Mia, John observed him closely, showing no hint of discomfort, every fiber of his being prepared for any imminent threat.

Marco maintained the same courteous smile, as if John’s presence were casual. Mia, oblivious to the subtext of the conversation, thanked Marco for his purchase and handed him the book. And as she finalized the payment, John noticed that Marco’s gaze lingered on her a bit longer than necessary, before throwing a look at John that carried more than it seemed.

The idea that merely being there could have attracted Marco was a sharp reminder that, no matter how much he tried to escape, the shadows of his world followed closely behind.

Next chapter!

Tagging: @hope92100

[harbinger-0f-spring]

For the past month I've been working with @konstantynowitz in making family trees for our original characters within the hp universe. As of late, we've gotten pretty far in the development of the families working together. I'd already said in a post I made this afternoon that I have been assigned the Rosier branch of this tree and intend to expand on it the best I can. This collaboration will definitely not be a fast process, but in time we hope to complete the entirety of this tree and fill in a couple blanks for you guys to get the full picture of what Konstantyn and I have created together. Right now, there are a few missing pieces within the Rosier branch, but in the next few weeks I plan to complete it. In this tree, I've added a few new ocs into the family. I will go over a few names with you in this post, as well as give you a glimpse into the tree itself.

From the sneak peak Konstantyn had posted recently about the English branch of the Lestrange family, some of you might've already seen part of the Black family's side of the tree. Let's just say that the Blacks will be the last tree Konstantyn and I work on together as it has the most members, but right now my main focus will be on the Rosiers, which are featured on the right side of the tree.

The Rosiers were a wealthy and influential pure-blood family and allies of Grindelwald from the late 1920s to the late 1940s. At the top of the family tree are Eglantine Rosier (née Volant) and Laurent Rosier, both loyal acolytes of Gellert Grindelwald. Eglantine and Laurent are the parents of Druella Black (née Rosier) and Étienne Rosier, who is Konstantyn's version of Rosier Sr., a classmate of Tom Riddle. In addition to Druella and Étienne, I have created my own Rosier sibling, Céléase, who is the youngest of the bunch.

Here are the children's birth dates in order:

Étienne Rosier - b. 1926

Druella Rosier - b. 1932

Céléase Rosier - b. 1934

Laurent Rosier was born in France within the year 1903 and was the younger brother of Vinda Rosier, Grindelwald's most faithful servant. Around the 1930s, Laurent was imprisoned by the French Ministry when he was found guilty of financially supporting Grindelwald and his Alliance. By 1936, he was released with the support of many prominent pure-blood socialites who were either close acquaintances of Rosier, or close friends that all shared in his ideals. The charges against Laurent were dropped and shortly after this incident he moved his family to Great Britain.

If you'd like to know more about Laurent's involvement with Grindelwald and his followers then you can pop into the inbox of @konstantynowitz since he is their oc.

There are a few blanks regarding the earlier members of the Rosier family, which is something I am going to be working on later. As of now, I don't have names for the parents of Eglantine Volant or her husband. In spite of this, I have made progress on Eglantine's maternal line which consists of the noble Trefle-Picques family that hold a French Dukedom within their bloodline, and the Escoffier-Floquent family (a wizarding family of my own making).

I have nothing much else to share about the Rosier family itself, but I have been branching off a bit into the French side of the Lestrange family and have connected both lines through Minette Rosier. In this tree, I've made Minette the great-great-aunt of Vinda and Laurent, which would make their father (who is currently unnamed) third cousins with Leta Lestrange.

I know that it’s still a little bare, but I am going to keep working on building it up and will post updates with @konstantynowitz so that we can show the progress we are making with all of this. I would understand if some people may still have questions because not everything that I’ve introduced about the Rosiers was explained in this post. I’m open to hear anyone’s thoughts or questions about anything so feel free to message me anytime.

[harbinger-0f-spring]

a mutual of mine has given me permission to help on this family tree. I’ve been assigned the Rosier branch and will be helping to expand on it, adding my own ocs into the mix as well as the original creator’s. I’m looking forward to working with @konstantynowitz in this project. If anyone has questions about this tree please message me!

the families will mostly focus on tom riddle’s generation so this is all new territory for me since my blog is dedicated to the marauders era. please bear with me on this because I’m just beginning to get introduced to this part of the hp universe.

I’ve gotten a few asks requesting for family trees to be made for some of my ocs. I started working on these in early September but it’s all still just a work in progress so bear with me. It isn’t much at the moment but I hope to expand on a couple branches of these trees in the near future.

Firstly, here we have a glimpse into what my version of the Lestrange family looks like. As you can see there are a few unnamed members, but within the next few weeks I’ll be looking for names to put in these empty spaces. Obviously, we already have the French side of the Lestrange family tree revealed, but my main focus will be on the English side.

The earliest members of the English side of the Lestrange family were R. and F. Lestrange, although they do not seem to be in any of the movies or books. Instead their first mention is made within a video game where their names “R. Le.S.” and “F. L.eS.” appear to be written on boxes of treasure inside the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts. Although it is not revealed whether or not R. Lestrange is in fact Radolphus Lestrange, we’re just going to assume that he is for the sake of the tree and that F. Lestrange was his wife.

Next up we have Dagmar Lestrange and her husband. Dagmar, who I’ve originally introduced as ‘Madame Lestrange’, is the mother of Radolphus Lestrange II, my own version of Lestrange Sr. I don’t know whether or not I want to keep her name as Dagmar but for now that’s what I’m going to stick with. For the moment, I don’t have a maiden name for her, so that’ll also be something that I’ll have to think on.

Here is a quick Google search of her name’s meaning if you are interested. I like how one of the meanings is “mother” since basically her only sole purpose within the Lestrange family was to be the mother to the heir of her husband’s bloodline. But another reason why I like the meaning is because of her dedication to her children, especially Gisela who was her heart. When Dagmar’s daughter died it was like her heart was ripped right out of her chest and she lived the rest of her life without it.

Originally in the past I’ve said that Radolphus was an only child, which is kinda true after the time he was probably around six or seven. But really he does have a younger sister who I’ve revealed in a previous post. Gisela Lestrange was born in 1932, she is the only daughter of Madame Lestrange and her husband, and brought great joy to her mother. When she was four-years-old, she contracted Cerebrumous Spattergroit and passed away, which utterly devastated Dagmar.

For those who aren’t aware, this is what Cerebrumous Spattergroit is within the Harry Potter universe. I don’t know if whether or not this illness was fatal as it seems that it is something that people have recovered from, but I’m going to assume that back in the 1930s there was a higher fatality rate since there wasn’t much to treat it at the time. From what I’ve read, there isn’t a known cure for Cerebrumous Spattergroit.

Moving on from the Lestrange side of things, we now have Tasoula “Tasja” Shafiq and her parents. As I mentioned before in previous posts, Tasoula is an oc of mine who I made to be the wife of Radolphus Lestrange II. She is the fourth of five children and the only daughter of Aykut Shafiq and Letitia Greengrass. Through her mother, she inherited the Greengrass family’s blood malediction which would end up contributing to her death in or around the year 1973. Tasoula was betrothed to Radolphus a year after the death of Gisela, and although her future mother-in-law was hesitant to accept this, Dagmar knew that she’d be getting a new daughter the moment her son’s marriage to Tasoula was official.

As shown above Tasoula had three children with Radolphus:

Rodolphus Lestrange — b. 1949

Rabastan Lestrange — b. 1953

Renissa Lestrange — b. 1962

For anyone who has questions about the blood malediction itself, it only passes through the female descendants of the Greengrass family, so none of the males are at risk of getting it, but their daughters are. So both Rodolphus and Rabastan do not have the blood curse themselves, but if they were to have daughters then they would probably inherit it. As for Renissa since she is Tasoula’s only daughter, she did in fact become a carrier for the curse, but she herself did not suffer from the malediction since it skips generations.

As of right now, I don’t have much on either Aykut or Letitia. If anyone was wondering how Letitia was related to Scorpius Malfoy and his mother Astoria Greengrass, I currently don’t have an official relation between the two families, but for now let’s just say that Letitia is Astoria’s grandfather’s sister. So that would make Astoria and her sister Daphne the great-nieces of Letitia Greengrass.

The Black family’s side of the tree is a bit of a mess right now. I don’t have all members on here yet and I think that’ll probably take me a while to get done since the last time I did a tree like this it almost took me three hours to finish. I kinda just want to go through the process of making this family tree slowly so that there as little inaccuracies as possible.

This is what I have so far, and although you can’t see it yet there is a small portion of the Rosier family cut off from the image. I’ll be doing another post showing more of the tree soon, but this is what I’ve gotten to so far. As you can see, I don’t have anyone from Cygnus’ side recorded here yet, but trust me there’s more to be revealed in the coming days.

If anyone has any questions about the trees or people in them please feel free to ask!

[tina-aumont]

More on Maria II: She is of Spanish, Portuguese, Dutch-Jewish and indigenous descent. Her paternal grandfather Isidoro Gracia y García was from Garafía, La Palma, Canary Islands. Her maternal grandfather scientist Luís Artístides Fiallo was of Portuguese descent. Her maternal great-grandfather, writer Federico Henríquez y Carvajal was the son of Noel Henríquez Altías, a Dutch Sephardic Jew from Curaçao, and Clotilde Carvajal Fernández, a woman of Taíno descent. She's so cool!

Wow thank again for these tips!!!

Yes, I think María Montez II is really cool, lots of mixed blood and beautiful roots, this is just simply great.

Thank again for your great help!!

It's much appreciated ^^

Eleni