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hatters-workshop · 1 year

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Last night I finally watched the finale of His Dark Materials, and of course it made me cry. I've read the final chapters of the Amber Spyglass so many times, and cried at each one. Was it perfect for me? No. But it never could be, because perfect for each individual reader is impossible, and an unfair thing to hope something would achieve. But it was excellent. And Dafne and Amir acted their hearts out with those lines between Lyra and Will when they're raging against the fate they're faced with, and with their promises to each other, and they broke my little heart with it. And finally hearing the "every atom of you and every atom of me..." speech... ooft that kicked me in the gut in all the right ways.

But this morning I happened to read the poem by Clare Harner that goes

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep

And I was hit suddenly by image after image invoked by each line, of each of them, old now and lying in bed (yes I want peace for them in the end. Some would want them to have a victorious or adventurous end but I think they deserve peace.) Pan pressing his face to Lyra's in a final embrace, and Kirjava pressing hers to Will's, and both humans whispering to their daemons that their atoms will find each other, just as they found each other when they were separated before, and Will telling Kirjava to keep Pan's atoms company while Will and Lyra find each other and look for them, and Lyra saying the same to Pan. They tell them that they know where the opening is, if they want to meet them there, but that they would find them either way. And Pan and Kirjava whisper an unneeded reminder to their humans: tell them stories.

And then a wisp of golden fire and Dust curls around a face in each world. Lyra sees her Death again, and they lead her as true as they did the first time. And Will meets his Death, and recognises them though its the first time they've met, but they lead him true, too.

And maybe Will and Lyra find each other in the land of the dead. I'm a romantic, and think even though they are so far apart and couldn't possibly know that the other was dying, they die in the same moment in their own worlds, whatever their lives have gone on to be. Because the universes kept them from being reunited in life, the least they could do is let them see each other again in death, and even with all the changes of their lives and the years they've lived, they know each other instantly. How could they not? And it's a feeling like finding something precious you have looked for every day of your life (because they have) and finally feeling the relief of finding it, and their ghosts are thin and cold and made of almost nothing. They should pass through each other, except they're made of the same kind of nothing. It doesn't feel like it did when they were in their bodies, but it's enough. Soon they'd be closer than they ever could be naturally in life. And they’re the closest they’ve been in so long. So for now, it's enough to hold each other, hand in thin, cold, ghostly hand.

They are at the jetty and the ferry man greets them, and at first he doesn't know them. He hasn't ferried anyone twice before, and he hasn't been hugged and greeted as an old friend, and Lyra wishes she could jokingly scold him for making her leave Pan last time but even now, decades later that wound is too fresh to come out as a joke, and she misses Pan even though she knows she'll be with him again soon, so she let's the chance for the joke go, and they talk to him the whole journey. They don't know if he's alive, or dead, or some other form that is just his, but he looks so genuinely cheery as they speak to him, in a way that his face looks unfamiliar with being, with so many years of his heavy duty weighing on him until now.

They tell him what happened last time they were here, of how they found their daemons like they said they would, and how the opening would let everyone he ferries back out into the world. He looks genuinely shocked at the news.

"Did no one tell you?" They ask.

"Who would tell me?" He replies.

So they tell him, that his job is not to escort people to a prison, but to deliver them back into the world to rejoin every living thing. That the people he ferries need only tell the harpies their stories: and stories, as long as they’re true, of what they saw in life, no matter how small or boring or painful, and to tell them the good news. And the weight lifted from him further, his back straightened and his face brightened, and as they stepped to the shore, he waved to them rather than regretfully returning to his collections as he had every other time, and they heard the echoes of him whispering the phrase they passed down the line last time they'd been there: "Tell them stories."

And no sooner has the sounds of the lap of his boat been eaten by the mist, but they are replaced by flutter of heavy wings.

Of Gracious Wings.

The voice that greeted them was familiar but different: still loud and bold, but it has lost its strained, cracked and painful sound. Her lips were pink instead of the red of caked, vomited blood, and her hair hung soft around her face. A diet of varied stories, even for just the years of Will and Lyra's life, exchanged for millennia of screeching cruelties in the ears of the dead, has clearly suited her, and the smell of putrefaction had faded entirely. She welcomed them, and other harpies gathered themselves around the little ghosts, as they had all been waiting to hear these tales most of all, and they will pass them on to the others, the ones that are away guiding the ghosts to their freedom, so that they can enjoy the tales too.

So Lyra and Will began at the beginning, though they knew that some of it had already been heard by their audience. They added to each other's stories, filling in details and perspectives. It wasn't a short story, and though they were eager to rejoin the world, they enjoyed the reminiscence of the triumphs, and even the pain of the losses and separations could not be skipped over, as they were all a part of their story and to avoid any part of it would be a disrespect to each other.

But then their story as each other know it finishes: their final clumsy kiss before closing the window between their worlds. Every word from then on is new, and they watch each others lips make the shapes of their tales, food for each other as much as for the harpies. The only shared touch point was every year, their shared moment of peace and closeness each Midsummer. They learned of each other's friends and families, loves and losses. Of Will's life with his mother and Mary, and Lyra's learning in St Sophia's and reconnecting with the alethiometer at long last. Of who they were leaving behind in their own worlds, who would mourn them, despite their promises that they were going to go on to be a part of in every world. And as they reached the end of their stories as they could be told; as they reach that very moment, sitting on the floor of the world of the dead, surrounded by harpies and holding each others hands, their words ran out as they just. Look at each other. And smile. Hand held in cold, thin, ghostly hand.

So they rose, and Gracious Wings escorted them personally to the window they had made so long ago now. They waited their turn, though the queue was constantly moving on eager ghostly feet, desperate to return to the world as were, to feel the sun’s rays on their face once more, before they become part of those rays.

They take a moment, hanging back as other ghosts pass through, to look back out across that other world’s horizon. With delight they find it’s changed for the better: the huge seed pod trees seem to be growing stronger and healthier, and though they only had a small view through the window, there are no signs of them dying off like they were before.

They whispered amongst themselves briefly about doing as Will’s father and Lee Scoresby and all those brave people that held their ghosts together to step out into the world to fight in Asriel’s last stand against Metatron. To hold their particles together long enough to return to the mulefa’s world, revisit the trees they knew, see that spot by the river where they held those little red fruits to each other’s lips.

“No,” says Will at length. “We’ve made Kirjava and Pan wait long enough. We’ve waited long enough, too.”

“Plus,” Lyra says, almost giddy, “Soon enough we’ll be part of that river and those berries and everything else too.”

So they step up to the edge of the window, and smell the air and feel the warmth of the sun with the last time on these faces.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry –

I am not there. I did not die.

#his dark materials #hdm #northern lights #philip pullman #golden compass #lyra belacqua #lyra silvertongue #will parry #pantalaimon #hdm spoilers #fanfiction #i didnt actually mean to write fanfiction but i think i did #headcanon #do not stand by my grave and weep i am not there i do not sleep #kirjava #long post #fanfic #hdm fanfic

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ssmhhh · 1 year

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#hdm spoilers #fe #from eden #ellizablue #hdm #lyra x will #his dark materials #will x lyra #the amber spyglass #hdm season 3 #hdm s3 #panjava #panjava nation #panjava clown club #panjava forever #hdm fanfic #hdm fanfiction #panjava fanfic #silverparry

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queenofnabooty · 4 months

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Not a ship, but Lyra and Marisa & 9 for the Spotify ficlet thing! Thank youuuuu❤️

Lyra & Marisa, song 9: Eat Your Young - Hozier

She would have looked the other way at Asriel's acquisition of the girl had she not heard how coveted the child was becoming. Those at the Magisterium were staying abnormally tight-lipped, as gossip inclined as the entire institution was. If Marisa had to guess, the reason was likely as petty as wanting to hurt her lover. All that mattered was that the girl had become valuable, a pawn that had moved to the end of the board with her father's help. The credit that could get her wasn't calculable yet, but with the resources dedicated to observing her it had to be high. Asriel had done a fair job at putting barriers between herself and the girl, but he couldn't keep them up forever. Marisa could wait. Until then, the scholars' influence on Lyra wouldn't hurt her value. And once Marisa had her in the palm of her hand, she would become a powerful weapon to wield.

spotify ficlet meme

#hdm #marisa coulter #asriel belacqua #masriel #hdm fanfic #iagain not all my songs are hozy it just happened!!!#but lmao could not pick a better song for them

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freuleinanna · 1 year

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the lost heartbeats

golden ones so fiercely burning hearts regretting, falling, yearning Pairing: Marisa Coulter x Asriel Belacqua Short summary: A heartbeat tells a story, but when it skips, it writes a novel. Just a little something to recount the moments two people with the steadiest heartbeats felt their hearts fall (aka me sobbing over every parent moment ever). Pre-canon and canon Masriel. Word count: ~ 1600 I am not sorry, this is for my feral heretical parents & lovers 💔

~ 1 ~

It happens in the most unfascinating way possible, over dinner, when they find themselves sat across each other at the table. A young man hurries to his place, and something in the way he carries himself, pressing the all-too-new jacket to his chest while listening on the go, tells her he's used to being late to everything. He sits. He looks at her.

Her husband is by her right side and she feels the need to tug at his arm, and tug again, and quietly say 'Edward, take me away, please', then add 'I'll do something terrible if you don't'. In her mind, she does that. She goes to their room and doesn't give another thought to the young man with blue eyes so fierce as though he'd just stepped in from the cruel blizzard. In reality, her heart stops - at the faint, yet painful loss this prospect sets in her. She's somewhere between intrigued and instantly infatuated. She doesn't know his name. What foolishness.

He sits, and he forgets to listen. Someone very important is speaking about something very important, and he vaguely remembers that he'd put a lot of efforts into getting here. He wanted to listen. He forgets how to. The young woman in front of him is staring in a way people give you a side-glance just before taking their eyes off of you, yet she doesn't. Nor does he want her to. His chest is like a stone wrapped tightly in his ridiculous suit. Just for a moment, he can't breathe. Then it comes again, the familiar steady beats against the rib cage. He suddenly chokes at the free-fall emptiness preceeding them.

He doesn't fully realize where that skipped heartbeat went. It's lost somewhere between 'Edward Coulter's wife' and 'Marisa, my love', and he later finds that he had never truly reclaimed it. She stole it. He gave it away gladly. And then, again, later - when he tells a stupid joke to her husband and sees laughter in her eyes, and her dark hair shine with soft golden gleams like the fur of her monkey daemon.

He comes too late, as always, and she's already a Mrs. Neither of them stops at the obstacle.

~ 2 ~

Lyra is born, and she is everything like her father, and nothing like her mother's husband. Marisa will never admit that, but when she's holding her daughter in her sinful arms, prepared to reject her, she suddenly shudders at the thought. She falls, with a heart bursting out of the chest. It forgets to beat properly. Her daemon, exhausted just like her, looks at the child in helpless admiration.

Asriel once told her that, should she want it, he'd fight for that child. He would rise and fight anything, anyone, with all his ferocity. There's always so much fight in him. She almost regrets refusing his offer.

Lyra is sleeping, while her mother, despite all her best efforts, is falling in love with her. It's like being plunged into a bottomless pit. Marisa thinks that, if that little bundle opened her eyes now and sweetly asked her to jump in an abyss, she would. She would jump in them all.

'Pantalaimon,' she whispers to the tiny mouse, clutching at her daughter's chest. Means, merciful. She's going to need all mercy after what she's about to do.

~ 3 ~

Giving Lyra away strains at her heart the same as being separated from her daemon. The same as with her daemon, Marisa doesn't show pain. Doesn't mean it's not there, in the glassy calm eyes and a thin arhythmic beating of her heart.

Asriel is furious with her, she knows, and yet he doesn't have time for their daughter either. He forbids the Master of the Jordan College to let Marisa in. She pretends she doesn't care, he pretends he doesn't give a damn about her not caring. They both hurt. Neither of them hurts enough to get them off their magnificent ambitious paths.

~ 4 ~

It's the worst in Bolvangar. Her dark, truly northern heart, cold through and through, simply stops at the sound of Lyra's voice.

A mother couldn't bear it. Marisa Coulter can, because she was late for motherhood just like Asriel was late for that dinner, but still, between the realization and the frantic salvation of her own child, there is nothing in her chest. Heartbeat - lost. Maybe it leapt out to Lyra. Maybe it left her actual, physical body for just a moment. She wouldn't be surprised. That girl was greedy. She loved that girl with everything she had.

That missed hearbeat feels like falling towards a sure, inevitable break.

~ 5 ~

Asriel loses his heartbeats, too. When she refuses to join him, his chest explodes inwards. He wanted her to say yes. When she paused before the answer, he already knew.

He hoped Marisa would see through him when he threatened her, and his giant, steady heart, that kept him going through snowstorms and the wilderness, stumbled helplessly when he realized that she had seen through him, indeed, but chose to stay. He felt untethered. She stood there with his heartbeat bleeding off her fingertips and looked at him like she had always done, with her constant, unbending 'Asriel, no...' dried silently on her lips. Strange how he didnt recognize the taste.

He wanted to ask for this heartbeat back. This one, she stole.

Though if he was being honest with himself, he still gave it to her gladly.

~ 6 ~

Bolvangar was not, in fact, the worst. The worst is when Marisa looks at her daughter, feeling Lyra's primal fear of her, and can't find another way to protect her except by hurting her even worse.

'Let us go,' Lyra whispers, half-asleep, because that's the thought that comes to her first when she regains consciousness. That's where they are at. Her own daughter hates her enough to beg for her freedom.

But I remember the day you were born, Marisa wants to say, blinking the raging tears away, as if it would change anything. I remember holding you, I remember loving you, I'm not as awful as you think. I'm not a monster. I love you. It's my way of loving you. She bites it right at her lips, crushing bitter words before they ever leave her mouth. Her maternal love is like barbed wire. Cuts both of them. She doesn't know how to stop.

Her heart falls silent for a fraction of a second every time Lyra looks at her with suffering, pleading eyes.

~ 7 ~

'We should have married, and brought her up ourselves.'

He blinks at the thought. She says something else, continues talking, and eventually, he manages to reply, but his mind is still caught. They should have. The should have, a relentless echo. There's a lot they should have done. They should have done everything. Her hair catch a billion tiny fires from the light, and she looks so tired, so pale and tired. He remembers the night they met, and how he thought, hungrily, joyfully: this is it. She's the one. He looks at Marisa now and still thinks the same, only with sudden doom. He wants to break something. He wants to touch her hair.

His beastly heart misses a beat, and it's like Stelmaria's claws. He looks at Marisa. He doesn't know how to say that she's right. Should-haves and what-ifs hang heavily in the air. Thorns everywhere. They can't untangle them.

~ 8 ~

Every second beat now, sometimes even every first. He thinks, he'll die. Crushing blows keep pouring down on his head and shoulders. No one can be that desperate and still alive.

Too many at once now. Heartbeats flooding out of him, and when Asriel gains enough consciouseness to understand that, he doesn't want them to go in vain. If anything, they should go to her.

'Marisa! Marisa!'

I loved you. I love you still. I'm scared. I was wrong. He doesn't care about his war anymore, nor about the angel trying to shake him down to rise and kill his daughter. Their daughter. He's just crying out her name. There's no more powerful an authority for him, than her name. He should have known that earlier.

Another beat lost. Young Mrs. Coulter laughs at his joke with her eyes, arm at her husband's elbow, beautiful hair he wants to dishevel gleam in the soft light, and he knows he's won. He knows he won't let go. He mustn't.

And for her, he doesn't.

~ 9 ~

She jumps. And it is all worth it, because, as a very wise man once told her, her life is, too, worth a mere one-tenth of her daughter's. Even less. Much less, if she's honest. Her heart falters.

One beat. She knew that abyss would find her from the day she held Lyra in her arms. She has no regrets.

Two beats. Forever falling, next to Asriel. Almost comforting. His hands are bloody and spasmed with effort. She touches them briefly as they fall.

Three beats. Young Asriel Belacqua sits across from her, and his eyes are piercing blue like she's never seen before. They will fight, she knows it even then. And she wants it anyway. In a way, they have been falling together ever since.

Four beats. Lyra's face. Her daemon holding out his paw. It allows one painful, shattering thrust into her heart. She wants to call Asriel's name to tell him that it's alright, that they did well, or just to feel his name on her tongue; but can't.

And, after that, no count is needed, because all heartbeats are lost and fall eternally around them.

#something i wrote #because i had an ounce of free time and a full-blown obssession #the way i love these motherfuckers UGH #magnificent characters #also quite probably my 13 yo ass saw this and decided to stan forever the problematic couple #hdm #hdm fic #hdm fanfic #his dark materials #his dark materials fanfiction #his dark materials fic #hdm spoilers #marisa coulter #asriel belacqua #lord asriel #marisa x asriel #asriel x marisa #chaos family #masriel

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lordeasriel · 1 year

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AND FADING HISTORY: a Delamare Dynasty fanfic. 7k+ words. Teen+. Marisa Coulter, Marcel Delamare, Monsieur Delamare — (Read Here)

A 3-act story: Two times Monsieur Delamare tried to reason with his children and the one time he couldn't.

#his dark materials #hdm fanfic #marisa coulter #marcel delamare #monsieur delamare #my writing #the book of dust #it's been a while but i have this sadness to share

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audiofanficpod · 1 year

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Monsters by @rahleeyah

Read by @red2007

Please leave the author a comment if you enjoyed their story 😘

#rahleeyah #audiofanficpod #audio fanfic #audio fiction #audio fanfiction #svu fanfiction #law and order svu #benson x stabler #bensler #eo audio #eoisendgame #hdm fanfic #podfic

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littletayyswriting · 1 year

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the last, my love

Title: the last, my love

Author: LittleTayy

Ratings: Explicit

Characters: Marisa Coulter, Lord Asriel

Summary: Though she never named it Marisa knew she loved Asriel. She also knew this would be their last time like this.

AN: This is a short little thing I began after 3x03 and turned out a lot less smutty than originally planned. Instead, it's definitely more angsty. But, I couldn't get the idea out of my head, so here you have it.

I hope you enjoy. Please review! :) LT.

Read On: AO3

She could feel it, the power and the madness radiating from Asriel. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t. The angels wings, its screams, the way it phased between forms fascinated her. Who would dare to do such a thing to an angel but Asriel?

It was terrifying and thrilling all at once.

Marisa thought her heart should be pounding at the sight. Instead she felt calm watching as Asriel pulled the lever down to its last setting. She could feel the energy brimming in the room and the light brightening from within the chamber. Bright white light that emanated from the angel as he screamed. Asriel stumbled back a few steps from the force of it all, his hand still on the lever. She could barely look at it though it was a sight to behold.

Then it went dark and she could hear Asriel panting. Her plan had been to make a quick escape to the intention craft while Asriel was distracted. But she couldn’t move as her eyes adjusted and she saw the empty chamber.

Asriel had killed an Angel.

“Marisa!” Asriel called to her gleefully as the darkness disappeared. He turned to look at her, eyes bright with madness and power and oh, how it called to her.

It’d been so long since she’d seen Asriel like this and just for a moment, all thoughts of Lyra had disappeared.

“Asriel,” she breathed, taking in this new sight of him. And then she was striding forward and closing the distance between them. He, himself, took only a few steps before he gathered her up in his arms.

Their mouths met in a passionate kiss. The energy sizzled between them as he grasped her hard about the waist and pulled her against his body. It seemed like so long ago that he’d had her in his arms like this. She could feel Stelmaria winding about their legs and her body trembled at the sensations running through her.

Her hands slipped up to his hair, tugging and grasping viciously. It was longer than she’d ever known it to be - this Asriel was so much the same and so much more different than the one she knew. The one she’d fallen in love with all those years ago; and yet, she knew, she loved him all the same.

Marisa would never not love Asriel but she knew, better than most and certainly better than him, that love was not everything.

She pulled back with a ragged gasp, panting in his arms. They shouldn’t do this. She needed to get to Lyra. He had just killed an angel. But looking into his eyes all she could see was his love, his hunger, his passion, his madness. It was a delectable little mix of all she loved about him and she didn’t want to part from that just yet.

“Marisa, my love,” Asriel said gruffly, voice deep as a hand came up to cup her cheek roughly. His thumb traced over her kiss-swollen bottom lip and Marisa nipped at it out of reflex. Asriel grinned and she knew he thought he had her.

She kissed him then, as lovingly as she could manage as her hands slipped between their bodies to pull at his belt and buckle. Her heart ached as he grinned into the kiss, moaning lightly. His own hands pulled at the ugly khaki top, unbuttoning and untucking it with zeal. It was only half undone but enough that he could press rough kisses down her jawline and neck and scrape his teeth over her collarbone.

Marisa arched into the feel of him as his hands cupped her breasts. Her own hands had stopped their quest for a moment, instead slipping under his shirts to claw at his muscled abdomen. He growled against her breast at the feel of her nails on him and then pulled back.

For a moment, Marisa frowned, confused by his distance before he spun her around and pushed her up against the glass window of the torture chamber. Marisa gasped as the heat and the energy radiated off of the window. Asriel pressed in close behind her, fitting their bodies together in the most delicious of ways.

He snuck a hand around her waist to undo the belt from her pants and snuck his hand beneath them. His fingers grazed through her curls and dipped low to brush her clit lightly. Marisa jolted a little in his arms and quickly dropped a hand from the glass to clutch at his forearm tightly. It’s been years since they’ve done this but he still knows how to touch her and tease her expertly.

She whimpered as the pleasure built and let her head fall to brace against the glass. His lips were on her neck; they kissed and sucked and nibbled and she used to worry about marks but now she doesn’t care. Not when his lips are against her ear and she’s sure she can still see the faintest traces of Dust in the chamber.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you Marisa,” Asriel whispered into her ear with all the passion he’d always reserved just for her. She knew he’d had other lovers, just as she had - but she will always be the one he loves; the mother of his child. Her eyes squeezed shut, if not for their daughter, she doesn’t think they’d be here, now as they are.

It reminds her, too that despite the pleasure, she can’t stay. She has to protect Lyra. She cannot get wrapped up in Asriel. This, now, will be their last time.

Marisa says nothing as she opens her eyes and pulls his hand from the khaki pants she wears. Asriel lets out a noise of complaint but Marisa is quick to face him and pull him into a desperate goodbye kiss. Though, she’s the only one that knows it’s a goodbye for now.

“I want to feel you Asriel,” Marisa moaned against his lips, her hands traveling down to tug at his pants. He grinds against her for a moment and she can feel his hard length on her thigh, it thrilled and saddened her all at once. It took a little manoeuvring but she pulled off a boot and slid a leg out of one side of the pants. Asriel gripped her backside to hoist her up into his arms and pressed her back against the window.

Her hips rolled eagerly as she clutched at a shoulder for support. Their eyes are on one another as he takes his thick length and lines it up with her core. For a moment they just breathe and then he’s sinking into her and she’s melting into him - and it feels to Marisa, horribly and wonderfully, like she has come home.

His thrusts are hard and deep for a moment as she adjusted to him after so many years without. Her hands tightened around his neck as they held each tight and demanding. She never wanted to let go.

Though she had never named it Marisa knew she loved Asriel. She also knew that this would be their last time together like this. They had more important things to be getting on with. But oh, how she wished she could make this last.

Tears gathered in her eyes, though she didn’t let them fall. A hand gripped his neck tightly and pulled him in to a kiss, kissing him fiercely and with all the love she’d ever had for him. This is the last, my love, she thought as she felt the pleasure begin to rocket through her body. Marisa moaned against his lips, eyes half-lidded and desperate to cling to him for as long as she could.

Her body trembled in his arms and Asriel groaned at the feel of her, their foreheads falling together as he finished inside of her.

For a moment, they simply clung to each other. Asriel’s knees weakened and slowly they dropped to the floor together, still wrapped up in each other as they had done many times in their past. Stelmaria paced between them and the door, before settling beside their forms; the heightened emotions and adrenaline having drained them both.

Marisa though, knew she had not much time now. This hadn’t been part of the plan but she hadn’t been able to help herself one last time. She pulled out of Asriel’s embrace gently, so as not to startle him and slowly began dressing again as he slumped forward for a moment.

“Marisa,” Asriel intoned as he turned to look at her, eyes inquisitive.

She smiled sadly at her lover as she reached down to run a hand gently through his hair. He accepted the touch, as she knew he would and before either Asriel or Stelmaria could react, she tightened her grip around his hair and with all her strength slammed his head forward against the red metal of the room.

The moment his head made contact and she heard the thwack Marisa leapt back and out of Stelmaria’s way. Asriel was stunned more than anything. But it was enough time for her to dart out of the door and towards the Intention Craft.

Her Golden Monkey was already there, readying it to fly.

She could hear Asriel’s voice shouting her name and paid it no mind. She climbed up and buckled in. On it turned and then it was moving, and if she’d had more time, she’d have marvelled at what Asriel had managed to create for it was truly a spectacular invention.

But she didn’t. And as she hovered over the landing platform, facing the hole in Asriel’s fortress, she stared right into the eyes of her lover and the father of her child. Understanding passed between them then.

“Goodbye, Asriel.” And then, she was gone.

#marisa coulter #lord asriel #masriel #his dark materials #hdm #hdm fanfic #his dark materials fanfiction #hdm tv #bbc hdm

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singstar234 · 1 year

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SPOILERS 3x06

Summary: Ready to leave this world and step back into his own, Lee decides to leave Lyra a piece of himself for her to remember him by.

Who else cried in this episode? I hope you enjoy this little short. I needed this after what I witnessed.

#lee scoresby #his dark materials fanfic #lyra belacqua #lee scoresby fanfic #lyra belacqua fanfic #his dark materials #hdm fanfiction #hdm fiction #hdm #hdm fanfic #spoilers #his dark materials fanfiction #his dark materials fic #one shot

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tragicotps · 10 months

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Masriel AU: After jumping into the abyss together, Asriel and Marisa fall into another world with no recollection of their past life. When Marisa finds a wounded man washed ashore in the exact same spot she was found a couple of weeks prior, she’s determined to find out who he is and why he seems so familiar.

#his dark materials #masriel #asriel x marisa #au #masriel au #okay so I started out wanting to make gifs for three-atoms amazing new masriel post abyss fic #but then the gifs didn't work for it so this just became a whole other au #with roughly the same starting point but not really #sometimes these whole fanfic ideas play out in my mind and it becomes a little wild #like what if they both had no memories of their past lives or that they did all those horrible things or had daemons or a daughter together #would they still fall in love in that other reality???#(the answer is obviously yes lmao)#and when they do remember everything all hell breaks loose again obvi #okay ignore me #those two first gifs fit too well together not to use in sth #hdm #mine

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zoebelladona · 3 months

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episode 6

#WHY ARE THERE FOUR PEARLS ‼️#WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY MISSED THE DEADLINE ‼️#i'm not being mean for mean's sake (lowkey i am). i love the hdm tv show and that's also basically fanfic that changed A Lot #if they blow my mind with the luke stuff at the end i will delete all my negative posts #pjo show crit #pjo tv

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three-atoms · 4 months

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The Day Before (HDM: Chaos Family, Christmas Fic, M)

The Jordan common room was beautiful and glittering, sumptuous and magical. The mantels of the two large fireplaces were decked with garlands of holly and laurel, and a frosted spruce-, pinecone- and berry wreath hung in each window. Merry centrepieces adorned the coffee tables: flickering candles garnished with small evergreen wreaths, red tartan bows and golden jingle bells. The vases on the side tables had been filled with pine-, juniper- and cedar sprays and crimson poinsettia flowers. The cosy winter-knit throw-blankets draped over the backrests and the festive tweed throw cushions scattered here, there and everywhere made the sofas and armchairs look even more inviting than usual, and the large plate of Christmas biscuits on the sideboard was making kitten Pan’s whiskers quiver greedily.

Read on AO3

#hdm fanfiction #hdm fanfic #lyra belacqua #chaos family #masriel #asriel x marisa #marisa coulter #asriel belacqua #my fic #his dark materials #hdm #au fic #pre canon #fanfiction #merry christmas!#have a present!#🌌🌌🌌

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hatters-workshop · 7 months

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His Dark Materials Masterpost

Because as we know, the tumblr tagging system is shockingly bad, to the point where searching word for word tags on my page do not, in fact, return all items that are tagged with those exact words, I thought it would be a good idea to make a master post for the His Dark Materials content that I have put out, and pining it to the top of my blog. Ngl i was surprised when collating this how much there was, and even then I've only included things i think people would actually want to read. There's a lot here that I'm quite proud of and so would prefer it not to be lost to eeby deeby.

Fic:

The post that became a longer fic on Ao3

I am not there. I do not sleep. On Ao3

Artwork from my Northern Lights illustration project

I've given a link here to a post that should have working links to all the other images on the series

And here collected into smaller views and includes my Subtle Knife design

Mrs Coulter analysis:

Miscasting the Golden Monkey

TV series Mrs Coulter is not book Mrs Coulter (and that's okay)

Is she a witch? (Adding to someone else's theorising)

TV series general posting:

Alamo gulch scene

Women with a good work ethic

World building/theorising/meta:

Daemons and stage performances

Alethiometer reading

Was Yambe-Akka originally just a Witch's personified death?

Can daemons have venom?

Daemons that change over their life cycle

Could Asriel's photos have been developed with rose oil from the secret commonwealth?

Additions to others' posts:

Daemons fighting of their attackers in Bolvanger

Mispronouncing Iorek's name

Lord Asriel's age and complaining about hair again

Things that are normal to include for Daemons in Lyra's world

(This link features both my current screen name and my old one, sake-chan) Naming the golden monkey and analysis

Theorising about the abyss

Book suggestion of Mrs Coulter being separated from her Daemon

Inconvenient daemons

Complaining about Pullman's vague rewriting:

Asriel HAS BLACK HAIR??

He gave April an extra day???

Why would Mr Coulter recognise blonde Lyra as the child of black haired Asriel??

Meme jokes:

Sometimes a family...

Will: What in the Jesus Chris was that??

Lyra: WHAT IN THE JESUS CHRIST WAS THAT??

This sh*t is bananas let's be honest

#his dark materials #hdm #mrs coulter #lord asriel #lyra silvertongue #lyra belacqua #daemons #golden monkey #analysis #worldbuilding #hdm art #hdm fanfic #masterpost #his dark materials bbc #iorek byrnison

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