[materardens]

MATERARDENS, an independent, private and selective single muse roleplaying blog featuring mrs. marisa coulter of pullman’s his dark materials, book and show influenced, written with love by rubi. ( twenty one, she / her, gmt. ) est 2022. also found on @belioness.

carrd. memes. playlist. sideblog. ©. tracking here.

[wistfulwatcher]

The Girls on the Bus | 1.04 Two Americas

[materardens]

i cant believe it'll have taken two years after the show ended for us to get ruth saying the original book dialogue during midnight

[materardens]

book!marisa could easily kill show!marisa in broad daylight and get away with it btw. especially later seasons.

[tragicotps]

[materardens]

@fclieadeuxx : forehead, sender presses their forehead against receiver's. for lyra.

it’s one of few tender things shes ever done. most young girls— ones who’d have grown in a house like hers— would have held their doll this way, arms awkwardly shouldered despite the earnest in their attempts of fulfilling a role, visions they’d seen and had burned into their gaze of their mothers. the nannies. the relatives who would visit to fawn over their newly welcomed infants.

marisa’s hands, once similarly untrained, are deft palms that grew to cross and soothe the woes of the impoverished faces of street children. urchins who gawk at her, bug - eyed in wonderment as though their hearts were starved of her warmth, as if she’d come from the pictures of a book they hadn’t read of the most beautiful golden sunset. they are hands made of tender flesh, bathed and polished and very cared for, until the backs have been kissed by both self - proclaimed holy men and heretics, adhering to formal courtesies and complimenting the gentle, striking scent of her perfume.

all of these things, much like the letters she writes, are never wielded with the genuine sentiment of those aspiring young girls. which might be— must be why, there’s something so peculiar about having them reunite with the only thing they’ve ever lovingly forged. that the same walls which beckon to the catalyst of lyra’s conception— warped as they were with time, and secrecy, and bored holes from the faiths above watching them just as they’d watched lyra’s parents prior— were the only thing keeping her safe.

lyra’s forehead is cold against hers, despite the stubborn spark of the small fire triumphing onward, and her nose is nipped a rosy pink by the icy wind whistling along.

how terribly heavy she is, in her arms when she cradles her.

she’s dressed with an attitude much like the fire, stubborn and unwilling to stray from its purpose beneath all of the imposed subtlety of her mother’s mentoring, something she doesn’t appear to have tucked away into her pockets, nor her dæmon. but her brow is gentle, soothed with marisa’s thumb until the line fades from its miniscule error, and suddenly she becomes as light as the peculiar little thing in her arms over a decade ago, deathly quiet in her arms too wide, whilst her forehead rests to hers in an unspoken atonement.

[justmemethings]

Send 🥂 (or “toast”, if you can’t see the emoji) to share a toast with my muse on New Year’s Eve.

Send 🥂💋 (or “cheers & kisses”, if you can’t see the emoji) to share a toast and a kiss with my muse on New Year’s Eve.

Remember to specify from which muse the meme is for if sending to a multi-muse and which of your muses the receiver should address if you are!

[userkhael]

ROSAMUND PIKE as Elspeth Catton In Saltburn (2023), Dir. Emerald Fennell

[thehauntingsource]

Requested by @thestarr-girl and anon

[materardens]

light horror warning / the f.all of the h.ouse of u.sher spoilers? but its been a day and all i can think about is the fact marisa’s death scene in any sort of adjacent verse would be inside bolvangar under the fact of the guillotine going horribly wrong. the discussion from v.erna about her vs her family and her ambition and how shes a force of nature, how she spent so long so utterly consumed by what she wanted and her achievements that she didn’t understand what she had when it was given to her, how she had such clarity in any other sense of the word but shes been drifting in regards to what matters and is bankrupt in regards to being morally rich. that final drop and then severance from the monkey, but not done quite right and manipulated to such a way she’s essentially in a similar state to what happens in the abyss.

[b1gtimerush]

actions speak louder than words non - verbal / action prompts from yours truly. (add a "swap" to swap the sender/receiver in the prompt (or just do it manually).)

back, sender gives receiver a back hug.

beckon, sender beckons receiver closer with a finger.

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver.

book, sender helps receiver get a book from a higher part of the shelf.

care, sender takes care of receiver when they're sick.

catch, sender catches receiver by the waist after they bump into each other.

choke, sender saves receiver from choking by giving them the heimlich.

cold, sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.

cry, sender wipes tears off receiver's face with their thumbs.

dance, sender sticks a hand out to receiver and invites them to dance.

dip, sender skinny dips in front of receiver and invites them to join.

dog, sender's dog pulls them in receiver's direction.

drive, sender drives receiver somewhere in their car.

drag, sender drags receiver into a room and closes the door behind them.

draw, sender draws receiver like one of their french girls.

face, sender turns receiver's face towards them.

flower, sender gives receiver a flower.

footsie, sender initiates footsie with receiver under the table.

forehead, sender presses their forehead against receiver's.

grab, sender grabs receiver's wrist to stop them from leaving.

jump, sender jumps onto receiver's back.

kiss, sender kisses receiver.

link, sender links arms with receiver while walking.

massage, sender offers receiver a massage.

patch, sender patches up receiver's wounds.

piano, sender teaches receiver how to play the piano.

pin, sender pins receiver's hands behind their back.

pluck, sender plucks something out of receiver's hair.

press, sender presses receiver against a wall.

propose, sender proposes to receiver.

quiet, sender gestures for receiver to be quiet.

rest, sender rests their head on receiver's shoulder.

serenade, sender serenades receiver with a song.

sign, sender walks into a sign and receiver sees.

size, sender measures the size of their hand against receiver's.

shoes, sender removes receiver's shoes for them.

sun, sender rubs sunblock onto receiver's back.

tattoo, sender gives receiver a tattoo.

tie, sender helps tie receiver's tie.

tuck, sender tucks receiver's hair behind their ear.

umbrella, sender lets receiver under their umbrella.

warning, sender presses a knife against receiver's neck as a warning.

zip, sender needs receiver's help to zip up the back of their dress.

[materardens]

tonight on my brainrot: i think it would be very fucking cool to look into how something like the version of the co.rdyceps virus from t.lou would impact someone’s dæmon given the link, especially in those first few days / weeks, given how you can hear the crying from runners in certain parts of the first game. it could be immediate with how they fade so soon, but with how there's some implication to how the person is still "in there" i think it would be gradual.

[magicaemaxima]

"Ah, so not demons then? Demons that I know of are a lot of things, manifestations of a person's soul, they are not. So everyone here has a "daemon", sort of like a spirit animal? Or soul animal, in this case."

Dionysia looked at the little golden monkey in intrigued amusement, and brought her attention back to the woman.

"I'll just have to get a daemon then." she spoke simply.

It should be easy enough, she thought. She had to make an animal convincing enough to be like the monkey and the other daemons she saw.

"I suppose we can make a mutually beneficial arrangement then. You're curious about my world, I'm curious about yours. We can ask each other questions and give each other answers." she proposed. "My name's Dionysia, by the way, what's yours?" she murmured, her eyes glancing to the bookshelf.

[materardens]

the suppression of her amusement breaks into the corners of her mouth, upturned at the idea when her hand guides over the cover. did she truly find it so simple ? the thought of something so multifaceted, a matter many people had died for and were killed over, as would more with time, spoken so plainly ... well she supposed it was rather dark, wasn’t it. something to grin about behind a glass half - empty, surrounded by a blind sea of faces, somehow the bearer of some terrible secret.

“ what a marvellous idea. ” she decides upon first impressions that she likes dionysia, and furthermore appreciates the absent need to meander through the topic at all. it’s a delicate act, languid in motion when she settles the book and takes instead to removing the stopper from the decanter. the latter glass finds a home on the table nearest when she offers it forth half - full, and a lithe chirrup resounds from the golden monkey when she returns, careful when she rests into her seat. they have enough they want to ask, queries of who, and what, and most importantly how. “ where are my manners ... marisa. ”

[materardens]

@2kyears asked for a one - liner .ᐟ

gloved palms cup the flame that emerges from her lighter, cigarette caught betwixt digits when she muses the thought of edward’s disapproval. there’s a twinge in her features, however small, and the thought is eventually lost; brow creased and smoke exhaled in a long breath when she turns to newfound company.

“ dreadful in there, isn’t it ? ”

[materardens]

@bibliphale // continued from here.

“ oh, come now. there’s hardly any need to sell yourself short. ” it’s rare she forgets a face, and rarer still the ones that seem to stand out in their way. each step lingers on, intentional in nature with the gentle click of her heel over the floorboards. she’s tempted briefly, by the thought of what ideas some of these books may house, what insights they disclose that her world could only dream of— interrupted only when she sees the defined nature of his stare.

she revels in the momentary irritation, concealed behind a practiced smile when she eases to a halt. you should maintain your leniences, she muses in silence, an observation that fills an empty space when she wouldn’t dare utter a word— it simply wouldn’t do to allow yourself to be walked all over. it continues until her dæmon, slowly growing restless from the unceremonious matter of being confined to the small space of her bag, urges her to be quick about it.

“ im afraid i wouldn’t dare intrude over something so menial. ” she threads a fine line, ignorance feigned to the clearly sought solitude despite the inherently impolite nature of the discussion. no, unfortunately this was far too important for common courtesies, as well as games. so she picks her words carefully, unaware of what lyra could have possibly said had she found herself here at all. “ ... i wished to enquire if you had a young girl come through recently. you see she has a tendancy to be awfully tenacious and i worry i’ve lost her. ”

[starminsters]

You and I. Together. We could take this universe to pieces and put it back together again.

[materardens]

nothing in my brain, just how marisa draws some of her strength from the things she sets for herself. the visual of her painting her nails with burgundy nail polish on her terrace the night after a calling to the magisterium to ridicule her work, partly as a form of self soothing— letting her mind wander and plot out everything ahead of her while still managing to keep a close precision on painting each nail, and the clarity that looms over her when she does eventually finish them.