Tag: this seems like a thing you’d be into

oneangryshot:

anyway i know i’m talking about patronuses like they are daemons. i know i am. i can’t help it. his dark materials was my harry potter (and dont get me wrong, i love harry potter but. i live and breathe his dark materials). but thinking about mad max and his dark materials is. very upsetting. i mean. i don’t know. war boys. children severed from their daemons before they hit puberty. the zombie army the magistarium wanted. (immortan joe wanted, high in the citadel, and he has not been cut, and his children have not been cut, and he keeps only whole girls for himself). 

the vuvalini as a witch clan. bird daemons, all of them. with feathers tangled into the branches of their cloud pine, and bones rattling, and grease paint fingers. and dag with an alethiometer, stolen from joe. (and she is a girl who learns how to read it, not a girl who knows it in her bones while she is a child. cheedo is that girl. she loses it when joe picks her for a wife and her daemon settles, but she doesn’t mind. dag will know it better anyway).

when furiosa is thrown away as a wife, she becomes the only war boy with a daemon, and the others crowd around her like moths around a flame. (they still chase her though. they will get their daemons back when they die historic. they will get their daemons back, shiny and chrome). 

max is a witch too. or a shaman. or a seer. he did the witches test. he tore himself from his daemon on the edge of the world and she came back. on the desert, there are whispers of a man without a daemon who isn’t like the war boys. he’s almost like a whole man. but his daemon, his girl, his tearaway dog, everything that is his in all the world. she is just off digging lizards out of holes. 

toast’s daemon is a badger and he is stubborn and heavy and angry as she is. when she cuts off her hair, her daemon bites at his claws until they bleed, and immortan joe locks them in a room, in the dark, for days. toast is not afraid of the dark. not with the warm weight of her daemon in her lap. 

when capable’s daemon, soft and warm, licks angharad’s face, rough and warm like a mother cleaning her child, she cries. there are things like this that happen to girls locked up. things like splitting up your soul and giving a piece of it to each of them. things like a daemon touching a human who isn’t theirs. angharad cries and tries not to cry and then cries harder. her daemon is golden, and there is such a weight on their shoulders it’s hard to move.