"We lay ourselves parallel to the sky, perpendicular to tree roots. We try to battle light pollution the same may I try to battle everything beneath my ribs." - Nhixxie; n.t; nikka ursula (26) (wpg, CAN)
“The universe doesn’t love. It exists, an omnipotent bystander. A guardian of some sort, and watching over the goings on of one hundred billion galaxies. Until Alec Lightwood.”
“Merry Christmas, Magnus.” A shadow hunter says to a warlock. (A hockey player says to a physics major. A prince says to a servant. An assassin says to another assassin.) Alec feels a smile against his shirt. “Merry Christmas, Alexander.” OR, Magnus and Alec experience Christmas through three different universes.
“The universe doesn’t love. It exists, an omnipotent bystander. A guardian of some sort, and watching over the goings on of one hundred billion galaxies. Until Alec Lightwood.“
Hope this is okay as I’ve only had about three days to write it! Happy Holidays!
For the last part of this fic, there is a reference to a song playing in the background. If you are curious, the song is “It’s Been a Long, Long Time” by Kitty Kallen and I recommend listening to it while reading that specific part.
“This is embarrassing.” Magnus groans, back plastered onto the rough ice.
If not for the utter state of disgrace he is in, Magnus would have appreciated the way the unusually blue sky is domed over him, only thin wisps of clouds tufted across the sky. His breaths materialize into puffs of condensation above him.
Alec looms into view, palms planted on his knees, trying to stifle a laugh.
“You’re doing fine.” He says, or tries to say nonchalantly, and of course he would say that, being the ever-so-charming captain of the varsity hockey team.
Aren’t jocks supposed to be dicks? Magnus blearily remembers one of his engineering friends lamenting on this fact after a pretty hopeless one-night stand with a guy from the football team. Also, she kicked the door right off of her mini-fridge in her ‘sorrow’.
“Alexander, the only other person on this frozen river who’s on her butt is that five-year-old.” Magnus says bleakly, refusing to move, “I’m not doing fine.”
Alec laughs, eyes crinkling, and Magnus watches the scene unfold before him like a flower in bloom. He is beautiful, Magnus thinks again, as if the thought hasn’t been thought before, like it’s freshy laid snow on the cold earth. Hair stuffed under a beanie, a scarf wound around his neck and tucked inside his winter jacket. Lips glistening with vaseline. He squats right next to Magnus’ sprawled form with no problem with balance at all. He ends up sitting right down on the ice, his knees pressed against Magnus’ side.
It exists, an omnipotent bystander. A guardian of some sort, and watching over the goings on of one hundred billion galaxies, two hundred fifty billion stars, and three trillion planets makes it easier for on objective approach. If the cosmos is the physical, tangible thing of all that exists, the universe is its sentience. Two things, completely different but just as the same.
The universe looks within itself and sees everything ebb and flow by some meticulous design. The universe may be old, just as old as the cosmos it governs, but it is not <i>the being</i> above all. As all encompassing as it may be, the universe is still predetermined by a power even greater than itself—chance.
If the universe believes in something, it’s chance. The coming about of all the forces in existence to bring about <i>something</i>. It is how the universe and the cosmos itself came to be. Just the small particles that happen to be the foundation of <i>everything</i>, decaying and combining as the entirety of this mass become colder and colder and colder and then—first light breaks through. It could’ve not happened that way. One seemingly inconsequential thing could have changed in the most minuscule of ways and everything would have been different.
Chance is powerful. It sits on a throne above the universe, seemingly invisible, but starkly everywhere.
This was a real joy to write, mostly because it’s a very different fic to what I normally do. I’m super hoping the light angst isn’t too much as I know angst was a dislike!
I hope this exploration of immortal husbands makes for a satisfying Christmas gift. I always like to explore decisions and choices in my fic, so this was a really lovely opportunity for me to actually write some of my feelings on why - or why not - Alec and Magnus should be eternal.
“Oh come out, you little bugger,” Magnus swore under his breath as he levered the Angelica out by the root. This would be much easier if he had Alexander by his side - the plant responded to Angel blood and practically leaped into his hands - but he’d nearly run out, Christmas Eve was the full moon and he couldn’t begrudge Alec spending this night with his family. Especially not as last year Magnus had whisked him off to Madagascar for some winter sun. And if he was honest, to watch Alec’s delight as lemurs cheerfully romped over them both, stealing fruit out of their hands. Magnus thought of it like an extension of their honeymoon.
But that indulgence last Christmas left him alone this Christmas Eve, collecting plants by the shore of Lake Lyn, bathed under the cold eerie light of the full moon. Absolutely fucking freezing as well, he thought ruefully. And no Alexander later in his bed to warm him up. Ah well, he would be back tomorrow and they would have Christmas together. Maybe a warm crackling fire and hot toddies and Magnus could conjure a fluffy rug to lay Alexander down on. Magnus grinned to himself and moved to the crop of Blessed Thistle growing out between two rocks. Planning and anticipation was really half the fun.
Two plants obtained, he placed them carefully in his herb pouch and stood, brushing dirt from his knees. It was a fair trek back to the loft in Alicante and Magnus contemplated a portal, but the combination of full moon and mildly holy plants on his person sometimes did funny things to his magic. He sighed, pulled his scarf closer about his neck, and set off, the light of the moon illuminating the way. It was astonishing, really, how bright the moon could be on dark nights, even with the rebuilt towers of Alicante twinkling like beacons in the distance. It was pleasant, really. Had he thought the light was cold and icy before? It seemed to glow now, warmer and warmer, golden round the edges.
DONT FORGET ABOUT HE AND HIS WIFE LOOKING STUNNING IN COORDINATED OUTFITS
and their wedding
Plus Jagmeet being a meme
(all photos courtesy of Jagmeet’s instagram account)
PLEASE GOD ALL CANADIANS VOTE NDP WE DO NOT WANT TO BECOME AMERICA-LITE (I mean not just because Singh is a fine looking man but because the party platform is superior and they actually have a PLAN to fund the things they’re talking about) www.ndp.ca
YES VOTE NDP. They are a genuinely progressive leftist party, unlike the Liberals: it’s common knowledge that the Libs campaign left and govern right.
And can confirm, Jagmeet Singh is a hottie: I met him at a gala, and told him I was honoured to meet a future Prime Minister—and oh, his smile was amazing.
“Why does the third of the three brothers, who shares his food with the old woman in the wood, go on to become king of the country? Why does James Bond manage to disarm the nuclear bomb a few seconds before it goes off rather than, as it were, a few seconds afterwards? Because a universe where that did not happen would be a dark and hostile place. Let there be goblin hordes, let there be terrible environmental threats, let there be giant mutated slugs if you really must, but let there also be hope. It may be a grim, thin hope, an Arthurian sword at sunset, but let us know that we do not live in vain.”
— Terry Pratchett, “Let There Be Dragons” (A Slip of the Keyboard)
This is exactly why grimdark GoT-type fantasy does exactly nothing for me.
