#{ I will survive live and thrive } ; marisa

[viciousgold]

@unbeleveable the little mermaid au bc we're gay and we like mermaids shut up 🐟

She enjoyed the sea, for the most part. Marisa enjoyed breathing in the air, the sound of the waves, how nice the water felt (although she didn't enjoy it in her hair, as the salty smell lingered in it). They were traveling home after a long journey, Marisa being hinted at again by her majordomo, after receiving a birthday present of a portrait of her. While the portrait was lovely, his comment wasn't.

"I wish it could be a wedding present." he chuckled.

"I don't believe I'm suitable for marriage, Thorold." she insisted. "Besides, my mother wasn't married for most of her reign. Why should I have to be?"

"But she was married at first." Thorold pointed out. "Being a queen who was widowed is very different from being a queen that never married." His expression was soft and subtly concerned. "All I'm saying is that now that you're Queen, Your Majesty, there are different expectations of you. Your mother produced an heir, and you will be expected to do the same. Besides, I think you would flourish if you were in love." He smiled.

Marisa looked out into the sea, leaning on the ship's railing.

"I don't think I know what love is." she murmured.

[viciousgold]

marisa x a gun

mama's got a gun ♫

mama's got a gun ♪♫♪

oh shit she's got a gun ♬♪♫♩♪

[clarste]

Why do you think ZUN wrote Yukari to spread demagogue about the world ending? Even though Aya explained it was a false apocalyptic prophecy. Was it just so that various factions in Gensokyo could profit from human hysteria? For good sport or mental exercise? Nobody in the Touhou narrative sans the writers and readers knew it was her. (If its all right with you, please elaborate beyond saying "Oh she must have good reasons but we just don't know what they are." That is a copout.)

My assumption is that she’s always thinking first and foremost about the greater good of Gensokyo. You could say she’s a patriot, although in my opinion it’s more like a personal project of hers. She never cared about recognition in the first place, so it really does simply come down to her wanting a thriving youkai society. I doubt there’s anything in it for her personally, but I don’t think she’s ever thought in those terms. Like Kasen, she doesn’t believe in a game with winners or losers, but instead that we’re all in this together.

The danger of this line of thinking is that if the individual doesn’t matter, she won’t hesitate to sacrifice it for the greater good. This is what she threatened Marisa with at the end of LoLK: she only cares about what’s best for Gensokyo, and not at all for its current form. The idea of Gensokyo can survive major change, and that’s a terrifying prospect for anyone living there.

[viciousgold]

@aercnaut

okay so I need to talk about this here lol

for WHATEVER fucking reason in the book, both Marisa and Asriel are described with dark hair and dark eyes YET, Lyra was blonde with blue eyes??? WHAT????

and then in all screen adaptations, whether it's blonde Marisa and Asriel in the movie and brunette Marisa and Asriel in the show they ALL have the bluest eyes I've ever seen (Ruth Wilson, Nicole Kidman, James McAvoy, Daniel Craig) and YET Lyra has fucking brown eyes???? HOW

what the fuck is this opposite logic and not knowing how genetics and dominant alleles work

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

toxicmalicex·:

it really shouldn’t surprise her, even though the trio did seem to make quite the team. at least from where she was standing — the opposite side. nevertheless, she’s never paid much of the attention to the other two engineers. or perhaps deliberately ignored them, especially when they thought it was smart to throw in their two cents, mostly ben. ❛ life would become pretty dull without a havoc every now and then. ❜

if there was one thing that made her and wilford quite alike, that would be it… she lived out of the chaos. he played with people for sport, for his own personal entertainment and delight. he enjoyed the show. she needed to experience it first hand, she needed to feel that rush penetrate her veins. she needed it almost as much as she needed her accomplishments, the praise, the attention. validation. all that always earned either by force or fear, or simply charm. so when melanie asked her this seemingly simple question, marisa was stunned. shaken up, even, for such a thought hasn’t crossed her mind even for a second. to back down, to retreat, to stop all the fighting on beyond this strange evening. the temptation to pretend the encounter had never happened all too great. every cell in her body wanted to rebel against the newfound — bizzare and indefinable — thread of understanding, just as much as it wanted to comply to the situation they shockingly found themselves in. she daren’t admit, even to herself, that a civilised conversation was capable of stimulating her as strongly as every single fight they’d previous found themselves in. at the same time, the peacefulness it brought was equally infuriating. and she thrived from every second of it…

❛ technically… but that’s not what i meant — aren’t you scared? i gave you no reason to trust me. ❜ all the threats she’s made… all talk — that’s how melanie had to perceive her. the thought piercingly humiliating. the urge to prove it wrong immediately burning at the pit of her stomach. the hold on the teaspoon tightened slightly. she took another small bite, the heavenly taste of help to push those thoughts aside — just for a moment longer, just for tonight.

❛ that seems fair, ❜ she nodded softly then, yet nothing but a prolonging silence followed. sharing personal information wasn’t something marisa was familiar with. in fact, it was something she never did. things she showed on the outside so very carefully selected. everything else —too sensitive to voice aloud. for it was safer to assume any given information could be used against you. but then a shadow of a smile returned to her face; there was a one thing she could safely share. ❛ saviez-vous que je suis née en france? ❜

             ˜”*°•.       Scared .  She could  remember  the blade  against  her throat,  the  cold sharpness  threatening  to tear  apart,  and  destroy,  to  cut into  pieces,  and  kill.  She  could  remember the  countless  of warnings  and  threats  tossed whenever  she  dared to  retaliate,  disagree. But  she  could also  remember  the cruelties  that  she’d  committed  herself . Marisa  was  dangerous , yet  weren’t  they all ?  Desperate  people  seeking every  means  to survival  were  unpredictable already .  Desperate  people that  were  also on  the  top of  the  hierarchy, though ?  They  were the  worst,  the most  dangerous,  the  deadliest.  So , no .  She  was not  afraid  of  her,  at least  not  now ,  at  least not  in  this room .  They  could kill  each  other so  easily  indeed … distraction  a  weakness , and  yet,  there was  a  calmness, a  peacefulness  that she  didn’t  think Marisa  wanted  to break .  

❝ I  don’t  trust you.  If  that makes  it  any  better for  you. ❞  Everyone on  this  train could  harm  and  destroy . Everyone  on  this train  could  grab a  knife,  a blade,  a  gun and  spread  horror and  death . Everyone on  this  train could  be  afraid of  each  other , but  to live  in fear  and  constant mistrust …  would  this  be  life ? So ,  no .  She  didn’t trust Marisa .  She  didn’t think  that  one moment  of  weakness could  erase  the past .  She  didn’t  think that  the  moment they  walked  out of  this  room, suddenly  peace  would prevail .  But  if Melanie  had  the right  to  be talking  with  people , to  be  opening up  to  someone, be  it  just  to  Ben,  so  did Marisa .  And  if she  could  be harmless  even  when committing  atrocities ,  even when  letting  innocent people  in  the tail  suffer,  even when  terrorizing  and    leaving kids  in  the dark,  in  the cold,  so  the rich  could  have their  saunas …  then so  could  be the  woman  next to  her .  ❝ But considering  that  both of  us  will burn  in  hell one  day,  we can   at  least learn  to  talk. ❞

Choices.  Maybe when  she  was a  child ,  she had  believed  in  the  simplicity of  making  a  right choice . Maybe  when  she was  a  child , she  had  thought that  it  was easy  to  be good,  to  be morally  white .  But … it  wasn’t  the case,  was  it ?  Choices were  not  the same  for  everyone . Choices  were  not  always  black or  white,  bad or  good .  Choices were  complicated.  And the  burden  of  them?  They  could be  hating  each other,  but  they were  still  carrying it  together .

There  was a  surprise  painting her  features ,  when  Marisa spoke  again .   ❝ In  France ?❞  She repeated,  definitely  surprised -  well ,  her  French was  not exactly  the  best , merely  few  words sticking  with  her from  highschool,  but well,  the  basic meaning ?  It’d  been caught .    ❝ Why did  you  leave ? ❞  Echoed the  question  filled with  an  honest curiosity .

[viciousgold]

BOLD what applies, ITALICS for what applies sometimes, strikethrough what never applies

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐒. moody | short-tempered | emotionally unstable | whiny | controlling | conceited | possessive | paranoid | liar | impatient | cowardly | bitter | selfish | power-hungry | greedy | lazy | judgmental | forgetful | impulsive | spiteful | stubborn | sadistic | petty | unlucky | absent-minded | abusive | addict | aggressive | childish | callous | clingy | delusional | cocky | competitive | corrupt | cynical | cruel | depressed | deranged | egotistical | envious | insecure | insensitive | lustful | delinquent | overthinker | guilt complex | reclusive | reckless | nervous | oversensitive | perfectionist | pessimistic

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐇𝐒. honest | trustworthy | thoughtful | caring | brave | patient | selfless | ambitious | tolerant | lucky | intelligent | confident | humble | generous | merciful | observant | wise | clever | charming | cheerful | optimistic | decisive | adaptive | calm | protective | proud | diligent | considerate | compassionate | good sportsmanship | friendly | empathetic | passionate | reliable | resourceful | sensible | sincere | witty | funny

saw @asrielbelacquaaaa do it

[viciousgold]

"Robotics Engineer Marisa by Mattel ®

Initially released as part of the Robotics Engineer Barbie ® line, one Barbie in this lineup held a shocking appearance to a previously released brunette 2012 Limited Edition Holiday Barbie ®. The only difference: her dress was now the same color as that of the other engineer Barbies, and she sported a pair of safety goggles. Whether or not this was a mistake in the production line, or if it was an intentional choice on Mattel's part, this Barbie certainly stirred up a conversation about the aesthetics of women in stem fields. Some praised Mattel's decision for including a very feminine and sophisticated Barbie in the line, others criticized Mattel for playing into a stereotype in media of an overly sexualized and glamorized female scientist. Regardless of the varying opinions, however, all of these specific engineer dolls were quick to sell out.

A few years later, Mattel has re-released this fancy engineer doll, now under the name of Marisa, wearing her original red holiday dress, and her box containing all the same accessories of the Robotics Engineer Barbie ® line, and once again, Robotics Engineer Marisa ® is seeing popularity and high sales. Many stores are already completely sold out of Marisa. People online have taken to affectionately nicknaming her "the holiday engineer", "slay stem Barbie", "mother", and some stores are making social media posts in reference to these nicknames about still having her in stock. If you're looking for a Marisa doll of your own this holiday season, we advise you act fast."

first image created by me, second image edited and with drawn on beautiful safety goggles by @miss-polly

[viciousgold]

dani finally figures out how the fuck to make a poll

[viciousgold]

@silvertonguc @studiesphysics marisa @ carlo

Scarlet Street (1945) dir. Fritz Lang

[viciousgold]

muse vs mun, I'm sure you can guess that I'm not the one with gold earrings and a knife

[viciousgold]

the typical age progression I use in types of icons I use with marisa in portraying her at different ages

is this an exact science? no but I try my best

age 10-13

age 14-15

age 16-17

age 18-19

age 20-22

age 23-29

age 30-35

[viciousgold]

“The prince of the angels looked at her. It was the most searching examination Marisa Coulter had ever undergone. Every scrap of shelter and deceit was stripped away, and she stood naked, body and ghost and daemon together, under the ferocity of Metatron's gaze. And she knew that her nature would have to answer for her, and she was terrified that what he saw in her would be insufficient. Lyra had lied to Iofur Raknison with her words; her mother was lying with her whole life. Lord Asriel stood up as Mrs. Coulter came around the corner. Everything, every surface, every cubic centimeter of air, was permeated by the falling Dust, which gave a soft clarity to every tiny detail; and in the Dust light Lord Asriel saw that her face was wet with tears, and that she was gritting her teeth so as not to sob. "What did you tell him?" "I lied and lied, Asriel... Let's not wait too long, I can't bear it... We won't live, will we? We won't survive like the ghosts?" "Not if we fall into the abyss. We came here to give Lyra time to find her daemon, and then time to live and grow up. If we take Metatron to extinction, Marisa, she'll have that time, and if we go with him, it doesn't matter." "And Lyra will be safe?" "Yes, yes," he said gently. He kissed her. She felt as soft and light in his arms as she had when Lyra was conceived thirteen years before. She was sobbing quietly. When she could speak, she whispered: "I told him I was going to betray you, and betray Lyra, and he believed me because I was corrupt and full of wickedness; he looked so deep I felt sure he'd see the truth. But I lied too well. I was lying with every nerve and fiber and everything I'd ever done... I wanted him to find no good in me, and he didn't. There is none. But I love Lyra. Where did this love come from? I don't know; it came to me like a thief in the night, and now I love her so much my heart is bursting with it. All I could hope was that my crimes were so monstrous that the love was no bigger than a mustard seed in the shadow of them, and I wished I'd committed even greater ones to hide it more deeply still... But the mustard seed had taken root and was growing, and the little green shoot was splitting my heart wide open, and I was so afraid he'd see..." She had to stop to gather herself. He stroked her shining hair, all set about with golden Dust, and waited. Metatron's shadow-cloaked form appeared out of the golden air and took in at once what was happening: the two daemons, crouching and watchful, the woman with the nimbus of Dust, and Lord Asriel - Who leapt at him at once, seizing him around the waist, and tried to hurl him to the ground. The angel's arms were free, though, and with fists, palms, elbows, knuckles, forearms, he battered Lord Asriel's head and body: great pummeling blows that forced the breath from his lungs and rebounded from his ribs, that cracked against his skull and shook his senses. However, his arms encircled the angel's wings, cramping them to his side. And a moment later, Mrs. Coulter had leapt up between those pinioned wings and seized Metatron's hair. His strength was enormous: it was like holding the mane of a bolting horse. As he shook his head furiously, she was flung this way and that, and she felt the power in the great folded wings as they strained and heaved at the man's arms locked so tightly around them. The daemons had seized hold of him, too. Stelmaria had her teeth firmly in his leg, and the golden monkey was tearing at one of the edges of the nearest wing, snapping feathers, ripping at the vanes, and this only roused the angel to greater fury. With a sudden massive effort he flung himself sideways, freeing one wing and crushing Mrs. Coulter against a rock. Metatron fell to his knees. Mrs. Coulter, falling with him, saw the blood-filled eyes of Lord Asriel gaze at her. And she scrambled up, hand over hand, forcing the beating wing aside, and seized the angel's hair to wrench back his head and bare his throat for the snow leopard's teeth. And now Lord Asriel was dragging him, dragging him backward, feet stumbling and rocks falling, and the golden monkey was leaping down with them, snapping and scratching and tearing, and they were almost there, almost at the edge; but Metatron forced himself up, and with a last effort spread both wings wide - a great white canopy that beat down and down and down, again and again and again, and then Mrs. Coulter had fallen away, and Metatron was upright, and the wings beat harder and harder, and he was aloft - he was leaving the ground, with Lord Asriel still clinging tight, but weakening fast. The golden monkey's fingers were entwined in the angel's hair, and he would never let go - But they were over the edge of the abyss. They were rising. And if they flew higher, Lord Asriel would fall, and Metatron would escape. "Marisa! Marisa!" The cry was torn from Lord Asriel, and with the snow leopard beside her, with a roaring in her ears, Lyra's mother stood and found her footing and leapt with all her heart, to hurl herself against the angel and her daemon and her dying lover, and seize those beating wings, and bear them all down together into the abyss.

[viciousgold]

tommyshelbe‌:

#too pretty and evil to have feelings

[viciousgold]

SPOILERS FOR HDM BOOK/SEASON 3; sometimes I think about the canon end for marisa and asriel, them falling deeper and deeper in the abyss with absolute oblivion and nothingness for the rest of eternity, only left with their thoughts, like is lyra safe? is she happy? was our sacrifice worth it? and then eventually, do their thoughts ever fade as they sink into further nothingness? do they continue to be haunted by their thoughts, or perhaps comforted by them, or do they eventually lose all grip of reality, of thought, of feeling, and become lifeless husks?

things I think about sometimes lol

[viciousgold]

REMEMBER TO REPOST & NOT REBLOG. FEEL FREE TO ADD TO THE LIST.

bold the mood / quote aesthetics for your muse. italicize what can be taken 2 ways.

caught in a tangled web that you made for yourself. / the softest palms that never want to touch you until after a bottle of wine. / being shown kindness feels worse than pain does. / “ just braid your hair if you won’t brush it, at least, you useless girl. ” / pulling on your skirt with one hand as you shuffle away. / “ you’ll get it done before the day is up. ” / your reflection both pleases and sickens you. / guilt that isn’t yours to have. / it’s a crooked game, but it’s the only one in town. / chains. / “ how could you do this to me? ” / the sharp sting of guilt. / you feel something even though you’re paid to do the opposite. / you wish more than anything that you could just make everything okay. but things have never been okay for you. / the family you never had. / falling backwards through time. / quicksand. / drowning, but you don’t save yourself. / “ you’re getting better. ” / “ they smile like a snake.” / you’re the stars and the sky. / there’s a part of you that couldn’t stay away even if you were forced to. / they are your wings, there’s no doubt there. / “ let’s take off somewhere. let’s fly. ” / you edge a bit too close to the sun. / another ghost to take your place after every stumble. / morality confuses you ; you were never taught its songs. / your soul dances to the song of violence and rage. / the right thing and the wrong thing are both tantalizing options. / you take and take as everything was taken from you. your hunger will never be satisfied. / for you, love and hate has always been one in the same. / you don't think things like “ is this good or is this bad? ”. you think “ will this help me? will this save me? ”.

deep roots in the ground slashed open in the sun. / rock candy melting in water. / waves rise and leave the foam behind. / the precipice you call home has a tip you’ll reach eventually. / wounds heal, but the scars remain. / happiness is the best front a man can take. / what is happiness? you don't really know. / “ i’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you before. ” / you disagree; they’re more beautiful. / discomfort at the tiniest of touches. / the sky opens up when you see them. / rain comes down. / poppy fields. / your sanity hanging by a thread. / “ oh god, what have I done? ” / roommates weren’t supposed to be the smartest ones of all. / they’ve got a devil on their shoulder and an angel in their mind. / you try to help, but it only got worse. / now they’re dead, it’s all your fault. / adam & eve in the garden. / a temptress in crisp button-downs. / “ fuck, you’ve gone off the deep end, haven’t you? ” / they lie so perfectly you almost forget yourself. / the spark that lit the kindling on your funeral pyre. / sugar and spice and a taste for the dark side. / cruelty was the first thing you were shown; you mirror it now as naturally as breathing. / yves saint laurent black opium on your pillow, a scented cloud drifting behind you like a cape. / you want to help ; you just don't know how. / crisp green apples piled up on the table. / your shoes are sharp, but your wit is even sharper. / what a pretty one, they say. / you laugh without humor. / a soft, hollow spot sits in your chest. / there’s a place you’ll never leave no matter who tries to stop you. / the seat of power fits like a glove. / heavy is the head that wears the crown. / pain is like a familiar comfort. / you share a space, but not a mind. / they think you are weak; you are, maybe. / “ what are you going to do with all of these pills? ” / an empty bird’s nest.

broken pencil tips. / the game was rigged against you from the beginning. / you tried rigging it in your favor. / you don't know how you feel. there are too many words that could describe it for you to ever tell a soul. / there’s an empty paper in front of you that you’ll never fill. / “ we want you to succeed. i hope you can grasp that. ” / “ they weren’t there when it happened. ” / corruption. / there’s a red string tying you together. / the scent of whiskey on the horizon. / “ you’re the best friend i’ve ever had. ” / you've lied so much, you hardly know what the truth is anymore. / who you really are is a mystery, even to yourself. / pink tipped fingers lock in secrecy. / “ you should be seen and not heard. ” / you do your best to be the strongest possible voice. / 99 red balloons drifting through a hazy sky. / you could feel alone in a crowd of hundreds. / nothing you do will ever fix the destruction you caused. / you try to lift your head up, but it’s so much effort. / always walking on sunshine. / as much as others hate you, no one hates you more than you despise yourself. / there’s a million reasons to come down from the clouds, but you can’t be bothered. / your skin is made of steel, because your heart is made of glass. it'll shatter completely if it breaks again. / loon is the word of the day. / hair twisted up with glitter butterfly clips like a haphazard mobile. / you drift, but you know where you’re going. / no one has any dirt on you because you’re infinitely spotless. / you've been chewed up and spit out by this world; you're glad to return the favor. / no one ever saved you. / the empty side of your bed they crawled into when they were nine. / court hearings. / “ I miss you. ” / siblings are a funny thing. / they point out every family-shaped hole in every picture on the mantelpiece. / ivy infiltrating an empty, corroded church. / marble busts faceless & crumbling ; a mirror to your waning sanity. / you will do anything to keep them. tear apart the world, mass murder: all that matters is that you’re together. / a cemetery by the moon, unblessed. / even when you walked one would think you waltzed. / madmen know nothing, but you should have seen me. / every day is a new adventure. / my blood ran cold, ice cold. / power corrupts.

TAGGED BY: no one, I found it on one of my old blogs TAGGING: @silvertonguc @unbeleveable @secondbetrayer @fullintenticns @aercnaut @bruisedconscience

[viciousgold]

Hey look, danii had thoughts again, so it's an angsty meta about marisa's life (tw child abuse)

The first time Marisa had the feeling her mother didn't love her was when she accomplished her first great accomplishment. She was six years old, and her brother was four. Her reading level had been high from a very young age, but when she was six, her writing level had caught up. She wrote a story that got recognized at her school, and she was told that it would be displayed in the classroom. However, Marcel could barely write. He was four, so it was normal for a child, but it displeased their mother. Their mother, who went to Marisa's teacher and requested the story be taken down. Marisa was confused as to why, so she asked her, and her mother told her that she mustn't appear more intelligent than her brother. She told Marisa to let Marcel catch up.

She didn't understand. It wasn't fair. This, and the following times her accomplishments were stifled continued to confuse Marisa. Why wouldn't her mother want her to succeed? As she grew older, her mother continued to belittle her accomplishments and praise Marcel for his. Eventually, her mother would really explain it to her when she was ten.

Marisa herself was once a rather unruly, savage child. She wanted nothing more than to do whatever she wanted, and to show off her accomplishments, however rude, boastful, or arrogant she came off as; she wanted to be something, to be someone significant. Her mother, Madame Delamare, eventually broke her of that. She told her that their lives were dominated by men, and Marisa had to accept that. And because of that, she couldn't succeed where Marcel wasn't succeeding, because that would be a detriment to him. He would be laughed at by his peers if his sister was smarter. He would be ridiculed and taken less seriously if his sister was the more accomplished of the two of them. So she told her daughter to hold back and let it go.

"If you want to have even a chance at surviving in this world," Madame Delamare told her. "You'll listen to me. Because if you don't walk right, talk right, be right, you will be chewed up and spit out by the world and no one will give a damn if you live or die."

Marisa was crying, so hurt by the harsh words her mother told her. Her daemon was in the form of a dog, whimpering and curled up against Marisa. She didn't know what to say. But her mother made her respond.

"Do you want to be a washed-up, worthless, failure someday?" she snapped. Marisa shook her head.

"No." she mumbled. "I-I want... I want to be important. Significant. I want to matter."

She never mattered to her mother, Marisa knew. She knew that now. With the abuse her mother often inflicted, with the berating, the lack of affection, the hiding, suppressing, Marisa knew. Right now, she mattered to no one. She wanted things to be different.

"You want out of this hell. This scraping for everything we have, you not getting the same nice shoes that the other girls at school have, your brother having to wear a used uniform, both of you being denied the same toys and other things that other children have?"

The only reason her mother bought her a new uniform was because she knew that appearances mattered more to girls, and she wouldn't have her daughter being teased for wearing a used one. Their reputation couldn't afford that.

"Y-yes." the little girl responded, wiping away her tears with the backs of her hands.

"Then you have to play by the rules. You don't cast a shadow over your brother. You don't set him up for failure. And you, you put your focus where it needs to be; learning everything you need to know about the world, how to function within it, and one day marry someone with status. That is the only way out for you. Stop it with this "I want to be a scientist" nonsense." Madame Delamare snarled. "That is something you can't be. You will try, you will be too busy with your attempt at a career to have a husband and children, you will fail, because no one takes women seriously when they try acting like men and going into careers for men, and you will end up on the streets."

Marisa's daemon changed into a bobcat, who growled.

"Who are you to say I'll fail?" Marisa snapped, glaring up at her mother. "Just because you ruined your life, it doesn't mean I will too."

With that, there was no more discussion; the lizard daemon of her mother jumped onto her daemon's back and bit down hard on the back of his neck. Feeling her daemon's pain, Marisa cried out, falling off the sofa of their living room and onto the floor.

"Let go... please..."

"Don't beg. It's weak." Madame Delamare hissed, and her daemon bit down harder. The child's daemon had now shifted into a small cat, mewing in pain. Her mother approached the daemon and grabbed him by his scruff. It had happened before, so many times now. Marisa still wasn't used to it, at the time, she thought she never would be. It was one of the worst things a human being could do to another, and her mother did it to her frequently.

"Mother..... Mummy, please!" Marisa sobbed, feeling that foreign hand. As sick as this made her, her very soul being touched by another's hands, she knew her mother was about to do something worse. "Please, don't, I'll behave I promise!"

"You need to learn, Marisa." her mother spoke, carrying her daemon away, and to one of the bedrooms. Marisa stood and ran after, trying to follow. "This is what you get for being stubborn, this is the only way you'll listen to me."

"No, no no! Don't take him! Please!" the child cried. She felt pure anguish as she watched her mother throw the cat daemon into the bedroom, and close the door. Immediately, her daemon began scratching at the door to no avail, as Madame Delamare soon locked it and put the key away in her pocket. It was then her mother grabbed Marisa's wrist and began dragging her away from her soul. Marisa fought at first, kicking and screaming in agony. It felt like her organs were being ripped out of her body. Her heart felt like it was going to burst. The further she was pulled away from her daemon, the greater the pain got, until her entire body felt like it was being repeatedly torn apart with no relief.

They were back in the living room, her daemon all the way at the end of the hall, trapped behind a door, her very soul ripped from her. Marisa felt an emptiness mixed with the searing pain, and she continued to thrash against her mother until she no longer had the energy to. It was then her mother spoke again.

"I'm doing this for your own good, Marisa." she told her. "So you don't throw your life away on some impossible dream. So you don't waste your life trying and failing, trying and failing, trying and failing. It's better you give up hope now than years down the line when it's too late. Say it with me. 'If I try to be a scientist, I will fail'."

"If I try to be a scientist, I will fail. Please, let him go, let me go!" Marisa sobbed.

"If I try to be a scientist, I will fail." her mother repeated.

"If I try to be a scientist, I will fail." Marisa choked out, her throat hoarse and dry from how long she had been crying now.

"Good. You will not embarrass this family." Her mother let go of her, and Marisa immediately bolted to the door. She tried opening it, but it was still locked. She banged on it, she tried pulling the handle, all while Madame Delamare watched for a moment. Finally, she approached the door, and unlocked it. Marisa's daemon crashed into her, curling up against her chest, the two of them crying as they held each other. "Clean yourself up." Madame Delamare spoke, before leaving the pair be.

Marisa knew that her mother didn't love her. She learned that from a very young age.