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philosophika · 2 years

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In honour of the final season of the HBO His Dark Materials series, let me present what I believe my daemon would have been if I’d been born in Lyra’s world: the Eurasian Lynx.

Rejoice, the adorable, fluffy meow-meow in the pictures above is me!

✨ Lynxes ✨ are:

Independent/Autonomous: Lynx kittens become fully self-sufficient at nine months, at which point they separate from their mother and siblings and go on to lead mostly solitary adult lives (the exception being mating season). They are considered symbols of autonomy, strength and self-reliance. *If this isn’t the story of my life lol 😅 Despite being very close to my family, my life diverged substantially from theirs from age 18 onwards, culminating in my now being in a completely different country. This separation, combined with my experiences as a Third-Culture-Kid, meant I learned to rely on my wits and independent judgment fairly early on. Incidentally, this has had the additional effect of making me somewhat unpredictable. Since I don’t really look to convention for guidance (who’s convention? Yours? Mine? Those held by the country I was born in? The one I grew up in? The one I’m in now? All of the above?), you can’t really be sure how I’ll react or what I’ll do unless you know me very well.

Determined/Perseverant/Goal-Orientated/Opportunistic: The Lynx is an ambush hunter who doggedly stalks its prey until the opportune moment to strike presents itself. *This not only describes the manner in which I’ve pursued my academic degrees but also the manner in which I approach life and decision-making in general. I’m always ~a l w a y s~ playing the long game (this has probably been accentuated by my immigrant status, which has made it necessary for me to know what’s going to happen six months in advance for visa purposes).

Discreet/Stealthy/Tactful: For Lynx to be successful ambush hunters, they must be stealthy enough to go unnoticed by their prey, often over long stretches of time. These cats are, therefore, famous for their discreet and tactful approach. They’re also known to hunt primarily at dawn and dusk, during the “quiet” hours. *I’m acutely context-conscious and am skilled at adapting what I reveal about myself to ensure I fly under the radar when needed (again, this is probably due to being a Third Culture Kid). I don’t fight battles I can’t win. I’m highly diplomatic. If you see me at a semi-formal dinner, you can be sure whatever I’m saying is the second or third corrected version of the first thought that came into my head. I edit in real-time.

Clear-Sighted/Perceptive/Insightful: Lynx are known for their clear night vision, impeccable sense of smell, and overall keen senses. *Although I was always intelligent, I don’t think I was born as perceptive as I am now. Two things have sharpened my insight down to a razor edge: my philosophy degrees and my abuse-induced hyper-vigilance (yay me). I am both keenly aware of micro-expressions, especially aggressive ones, and highly skilled (via years of academic training) at dissecting the various layers/hidden influences/unspoken implications of a given interaction/statement/situation. When I look at anything (and I’m actually paying attention), it's like looking through a time-warped kaleidoscope: I simultaneously observe the original image and all the resulting fractals. At this point, I do this reflexively, which can be annoying, because sometimes I don’t want my mind to analyze the movie I’m watching; I just want to lay back and enjoy it. That said, this skill has helped me accurately read and dodge perilous conversations with higher-ups, so it's not without its benefits.

Formidable/Intimidating: Like all “big cats”, Lynx are ferocious predators and inspire caution in those who encounter them. *This is one of my most perplexing traits because I see myself as highly approachable. Nonetheless, my friends and family have described me in these terms, and it hasn’t escaped my notice that people seem slightly intimidated by me (maybe it’s because of the observant thing?) I compensate for this by making myself as bubbly and soft as possible when being introduced to someone new (who isn’t a threat to me, of course, lol. Otherwise, I lean right into the terrifying).

Affectionate/Playful: Lynx can be very playful and affectionate, just like house cats. *And who am I, if not the very spirit of affection and fun? In fact, the main reason I’m leaving academia is that it’s stopped being a source of curiosity and excitement. I don’t like having to perform dull scholarly aloofness all the time. I want ✨ dilated ✨ cat-pupils ✨ time. ✨ I am happiest when I can infect a lecture hall with a sense of jittery wonder. “If the revolt of Prometheus against the Olympic Gods doomed him to eternal torment, then so much worse for Olympus, down with the view of perfection which can be purchased only at the price of putting chains on the free independent will, the unbridled imagination, the wild wind of inspiration which goeth where it listeth.” (Isaiah Berlin, The Crooked Timber Of Humanity.)

Cute AF, But It’s Giving Ice Age: Lynx have large paws and longer hind legs, which gives them a slightly prehistoric and lop-sided appearance. *I don’t quite know how to say this, but I’ve always felt a bit... large? Not in size, in a sense that means I need to be gentle with other people lest I accidentally hurt them or scare them? In the sense that I have to be aware of my strength, my claws, so as not to wound them. In the sense that I have to be aware of the intensity, the wilderness, of my passions, my ecstasies, so as not to burn them. And curbing these intensities, tempering them, has made me feel a bit clumsy? A bit like I have longer hind legs and paws a bit too large for my body? A bit like a creature outside of time?

Anyway, if you want to play, I’m tagging anyone who wants to participate to share their daemon and characteristics! <3

#tagging anyone who wants to play #his dark materials #hdm #hbo series #hdm hbo #the northern lights #the subtle knife #the amber spyglass #daemon #Lyra silvertongue #lyra belacqua #lord asriel #I love marisa coulter #personal #daemon quiz #hdm daemon #daemons #bbc his dark materials #bbc hdm

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littletayyswriting · 2 years

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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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