#au future

Mark’s proposal to Lexie on the beach was a breathtaking display of love and vulnerability. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting the sky in shades of amber and rose, while the rhythmic waves whispered against the shore. Mark, his usual confident demeanor softened by emotion, sank to one knee in the cool, golden sand. His piercing eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, searched hers as he spoke, his voice steady yet trembling with raw sincerity. He painted a picture of their future—one filled with laughter, children, and a love strong enough to weather any storm. The sea breeze tangled their hair and carried the faint scent of salt, blending with the soft crash of waves that seemed to echo his words. Lexie’s breath hitched as she absorbed the weight of his love, the vastness of the ocean behind them reflecting the limitless possibilities of their life together. It was a moment etched in time, as simple and eternal as the tide itself.

Mark and Lexie’s wedding was an intimate, sunlit celebration, held on a secluded cliff overlooking the endless expanse of the ocean. The sound of waves crashing below mingled with the gentle notes of a string quartet, creating a symphony of nature and love. Lexie glowed in an elegant, flowing gown, her smile radiant as Mark stood beside her, looking at her as though she was the only person in the world. The ceremony was heartfelt and simple, filled with vows that left few dry eyes among the small gathering of loved ones. As the officiant proclaimed them “Dr. and Dr. Sloan,” Mark grinned, sweeping Lexie into his arms and dipping her back in a dramatic flourish. Her laughter rang out, echoing against the cliffs, before he kissed her deeply, sealing their promises with a moment so perfectly them—bold, passionate, and unforgettably romantic.

A year after their wedding, Mark and Lexie stood at the threshold of their home, cradling their newborn daughter, Maya, in their arms. The soft afternoon light spilled through the doorway, casting a golden glow on the cozy living room they had carefully prepared for her arrival. Maya’s tiny face peeked out from a pink blanket, her delicate features a perfect blend of her parents. Mark’s usually steady hands trembled slightly as he held her, his expression a mix of awe and pride, while Lexie gently touched Maya’s cheek, her eyes shimmering with tears of joy. The nursery upstairs awaited, painted in soft pastels and filled with books, stuffed animals, and love. As they stepped inside as a family for the first time, the house seemed to hum with warmth and promise, the beginning of a new chapter in their story. Mark looked at Lexie, his voice soft and full of wonder, “Welcome home, little Sloan.”

Years later, Mark and Lexie sat proudly in a colorful auditorium, watching their twin boys, Ethan and Caleb, graduate kindergarten. Ethan waved shyly, while Caleb grinned boldly, their personalities already shining through. Lexie squeezed Mark’s hand, whispering, “They’re growing so fast.” Mark chuckled, “Just wait for med school.” When the ceremony ended, the boys ran into their arms, giggling as Mark lifted them both, their laughter echoing—a perfect snapshot of the life they’d built together.

Mark walked Maya down the aisle, his arm steady as she clutched it tightly, the lace of her gown brushing against the petal-strewn path. The soft melody of the string quartet filled the air, blending with the warm afternoon breeze. Mark, usually confident and composed, blinked back tears as he glanced at his daughter, her radiant smile matching the glow in her eyes. “You look beautiful, kid,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Maya squeezed his arm and murmured back, “Thanks, Dad.” When they reached the altar, he turned to her, gently lifting her veil before placing a kiss on her forehead. His voice wavered slightly as he said, “You’ve got this.” Then, with a bittersweet smile, he stepped back, taking his seat beside Lexie, who reached for his hand. Together, they watched their daughter begin the next chapter of her life, their hearts full of love and pride.

Chuck: I don't believe it more than shit

Larson: really

A body in front of Chuck's house

Larson: We need to investigat-

Chuck: Why then my HOME. There's so much in the NEIGHBORHOOD!

Larson:.

Chuck:

Chuck: oh, that too...

1992, October

The war had been. Nearly ten years had passed since The Dark Lord struck down Dumbledore and the last of the Order of the Pheonix had been destroyed. But still, those years upon years of combat had touched them all. Even the victorious. The man Rodolphus saw staring back at him from the mirror was not the man he had been in his youth. Curse damage and ritualistic castings had changed him. Gone was his dark hair and bright blue eyes. He could charm his appearance, of course, to look as he once did...but what was the point in that? It wasn't as if he was any less handsome this way.

His energies could be turned to more useful things. He was the premier wandmaker for the regime--blending both his passion and his career within the Department of Mysteries to create even more powerful conduits. He'd done more for wandcrafting in the last decade than most wandmakers managed in their entire lives. No surprise then, that he held the honor of being the Head for that segment of the Minstry.

Voldemort rewarded his faithful and the Lestranges had never wavered from their devotion to the cause. How could they? Theirs had been just and right. It was only noble and good to embrace both the Dark and Light sides of magic--only by exploring and understanding all facets of magic could a wizard ever truly call himself a master.

Rodolphus certainly pursued that title, though it was not as important to him as what his wife had made of him twelve years ago. Bellatrix had not bore him a son, but instead a daughter. One he thought he would care nothing about. What a fool he had been, blind and ignorant to the perfection that would be distilled in that tiny little body. Polaris had stolen his heart, though, wrapping her around her little finger right away.

It was bizarre to have the castle so quiet now. With their daughter off at Hogwarts, it was just the lord and lady of the house and their staff living in the main house on the Lestrange Estate. Adjusting to life without their daughter there with them would be difficult for Rodolphus. There were difficult subjects that needed to be broached with Bellatrix that he did not look forward to. The matter of proper heirs---male---for both the Lestrange and Black lines needed to be addressed.

But how to convince his wife to bear him two sons?

He hadn't a clue...

Wine would surely help. Wine always helped. Decanting a bottle of the finest Syrah he could find in the cellar, Rodolphus demanded his wife's location from an elf. The creature was quick to tell him that he could find Bellatrix in her study. He let himself in without knocking, the crystal decanter and two wide goblets levitating behind him. It was nearly teatime, but what Earl Grey could compete with a spicy, rich glass of red?

"It is time for a break, love. Have a drink with me." Rodolphus did not ask, but neither did he order. His tone made the words an invitation, as he settled himself down into his usual oversized chair. There were some purist men who tried to keep their wives under their thumb; Rodolphus was not that man. He had no insecurities in respect to Bellatrix's power and independence. If he had wanted a weak wife, he would not have married the Black.

The battle raged in the distance as the command group stood on the hilltop, a map staked to the ground in the middle of them showing the immediate area. While the paladins discussed their next course of action, two men stood to the side and looked at the valley beyond. Men and demon clashed in a violent dance, but the forces of the Cathedral seemed to be slowly winning the day.

One of the two was dressed in silver armor. It was polished, but old. Some might even argue it was outdated, belonging to a time already past. But it was obviously well cared for. Hanging from his belt were two maces, their rounded heads adorned with short ridges. Reaching up, the man pushed his visor up to get a better look at the scene. He was young, maybe twenty or so, with short brown hair and cleanly shaven.

Standing near him, but opposite of the group of paladins, stood another. He wore brown robes with a hood pulled forward and a mask that covered his face. In his hand was a staff with a red crystal atop which he was leaning heavily against. His hood would turn from time to time, taking in the view below.

“Larethian!”

@pegasus-koga

El tiempo había pasado y el cuerpo cambiado. Estando sentado en el suelo frente a una pila de cajas desparramadas empezaba a desempacar el último envío desde su anterior hogar. Ahora que la mudanza se había consumado y su nueva vida recién empezaba luego de varios años cambiando pisos, podía darse el tiempo de tomar las cosas con calma y mirar hacia atrás con una sonrisa de satisfacción.

Amaba esa casa costera, con sus habitaciones espaciosas y sus tardes libres para mirar el mar con la persona que adoraba. Los días transcurrían pacíficamente tal cual una vez lo soñó y eso era más que suficiente para darle una tranquilidad completamente honesta.

Libros y más libros, algunos de segunda mano, otros que nunca terminó por vago. Estaban llenos de polvo. “Ah, este estuvo de moda hace tres veranos...” comentó, ojeando uno y luego otro. “¿Hm? ¿Y este...? Eh, que sorpresa. ¿Podrá ser...?” era un cuadernillo con anotaciones, viejo y desgastado.

The two paladins and their squire had expected to have a leisurely ride through Elwynn Forest. It was a bright day with a slight breeze and nothing hinted at the situation they would soon find themselves in. Shortly after passing the logging village, they had been surrounded by a dozen bandits who had stepped out of the forest and around them.

The battle had been violent, but brief. Caught off guard, the paladins had not even drawn their swords before men rushed their horses. The steeds, trained warhorses, had tried to keep the men back, but there were too many and the paladins were drug from their saddles and struck on the back of the head, knocking them unconscious.

The squire, seeing that the bandits’ attentions were on the paladins first, had managed to slide from the back of his giant, winged lion. Unhooking his mace from his belt, the squire was ready when one of the bandits came lunging at him with a baton. The squire stepped back and brought the mace around with a backhanded swing, striking the bandit on the jaw and knocking him senseless. The young man reached down and picked up the bandit’s baton with his off hand and immediately moved to the two paladins who were laying unaware on the ground. With wild swings from both hands, he drove the bandits back from the prone paladins.