#mors pet dreamer

[melabea]

Mors Petdre & Petre Flags

[pt: Mors Petdre & Petre Flags /end pt]

[ids: 3 rectangular flags with 7 equally-sized horizontal lines. colors in this order from to bottom: black-pink, dark pink, purple, light blue, purple, dark pink, black-pink. in the center of the first flag is a black-pink crescent moon with a paw outlined in light purple. in the center of the third flag is a black-pink skull outlined in light purple. end id]

[ids: 3 rectangular flags with 3 equally-sized horizontal lines with a thick line on the top and bottom. colors in this order from to bottom: black-pink, purple, light blue, purple, black-pink. in the center of the first flag is a black-pink circle with a purple paw inside of it outlined in light purple. in the center of the third flag is a black-pink skull outlined in light purple. end id]

Mors Pet Dreamer/Regressor Flags; pet dreamers/regressors who are fixated, associated, and/or aesthetically related to death, such as grim reapers, morticians, the undead, etc.

Etymology: “mors” latin for death, pet, dreamer/regressor

requested by anon!

@radiomogai , @a-agere-archive

[id: a green ivy plant wavy line divider. end id]

[myromanempiree]

enchanting ; act one

(Previously titled; dreamers with no stars.)

Pairing; Eris x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: angst if you squint.

Summary: Your sister invites you to a ball, you meet an enchanting man.

"With all I've loved,

I loved alone"

-Edgar Allan Poe

....

To be isolated is to walk down the mahogany stairs of the House, trailing curious fingers down the barely textured, cream-colored walls. To hear the third step squeak when you place your weight on it, just on the left side. To walk down the endless hallways, filled with family portraits that seem to mock her existence with the words whispered in the back of her mind,  "you are lost, yet no one cares to find you.” To walk into the warm light of the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the breakfast table for some Saturday tradition.

Forgotten as Feyre and Rhysand dote over the bump that grows larger and larger with each day, forgotten as Nesta and Elain quietly converse, still adjusting to the crowd of fey, yet comfortable in their presence. Forgotten as Azriel makes an off handed comment that rials Cassian up, Mor grinning against the rim of her glass.

To be isolated is to walk to the counter to grab something to eat, only Amren sparing her a single glance, paired with a barely-there nod.

She slowly piles food onto her plate, before finding those same portrait filled hallways, the same cream-colored walls, the same mahogany steps, a new day, yet the same routine.

….

Hours pass as she searches the library, keen eyes scanning the leather bound books looking for a specific title that one of the priestesses had recommended. She pulls a book down with nimble fingers, before adding it to the pile of books for the week. 

She absent mindedly sorts through the books, eyes darting from the stack of books to the list she had made a few days ago. Her mind was much too focused on the titles to hear the soft shutting of the large doors, and the rustling behind her. It takes the woman behind her a few tries to pull her out of her focus, Feyre's voice growing louder as she repeats her name several times, before tapping on her shoulder.

“Yes?” She said, head slowly turning to glance at her sister. Feyre hums, circling the chaise and sitting down beside her. “I wanted to speak to you about something.” Feyre began, opening her mouth to speak before being interrupted by the woman next to her. 

“Is it about breakfast? I don't usually go anyways–” “No, no… its not about breakfast, I wanted to ask you to join us, Rhysand is hosting an event in Hewn City and… Don't make that face, Sea Lion.” Feyre said at the obvious distaste in her sister's face. 

Ah, yes… that nickname. Born from Nesta's teasing over a decade ago, due to her brief curiosity of the creatures after hearing of one from her fathers business partner, it was mocking at first, but morso a pet name as they grew older. Something she had never understood was how her sisters could use something that was originally thought of as mocking, as an endearment. 

She was pulled from her thoughts yet again as Feyre sighed, gently reaching out for her sisters hand. “It is very important to me that you go, I would like all my sisters to be there.” At her sisters silence, she nods.

“Please, think about it.” 

Please was not a word any of her sisters used often, other than Elain, of course. Feyre must really want this, so she sighed, “I suppose  Ill attend.” She said softly, turning to her sister and nodding, looking into her eyes for the first time today.. Feyre thanking her hand skittering off, probably to tell Rhysand.

“Smile. You look like you don't want to be here.” Nesta said, looking amused as she sips from her glass. 

“I don't.” She responds, her sister sighing. “Neither do I, and I much less want to have to seduce that.” Nesta said, gesturing to a man in the crowd, speaking with Mor's father, Kier or something. The man turning to look behind him towards the dias, letting her see a proper peek at his face.

Oh, Mother.

There stood the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, cropped copper hair, high cheekbones that added an air of regality to him without making the man look haughty. Plump  lips pulled into the most self assured grin, showing his perfect teeth, keen whisky eyes examining the room in a manner that bordered on predatory.

 The moment those dazzling eyes met hers, she looked down to her glass, cheeks pinked. Unable to see his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, unable to see the urgency in which he looked away. 

She silently excused herself, moving to the clear balcony to catch her breath, not knowing whatever the feeling she held in her heart was. The thought slightly scaring her. 

She stays on that balcony for a long while, only parting with it when the still-new sensation of a presence in her mind. And Rhysand’s voice echos words into her mind. “Come to the dais”

….

She walked to the dias, her midnight blue velvet gown ever so slightly brushing against the floor as she steps into the spare spot in between Nesta and Elain, assuming that to be her designated spot. She stands there for a while, watching silently as the beautiful man walks up the stairs, conversing with the High Lord and Lady. 

What was said not registering as she gazes at the man. Something about him felt familiar, though she was sure she'd never met him. She only began to pay attention as he walked their direction, Nesta adjusting her posture to appear more sensual. 

She assumed this to be the part where Nesta seduced the man, which felt wrong to her, for whatever reason. However, he does not stop at Nesta, he moved past her to stand in front of herself. He stepped a stair below his current stature and bow, taking her hand to his lips and brushing them against her hand. 

The sensation setting a fluttering feeling off in her stomach. “What is your name, Lady Archeron?” The man asked her, tilting his head. As she introduced herself, and he introduced himself, she was led to the dance floor by the man– Eris. 

Eris. 

Her eyes find a mole on the side of his face, right below his right  eye, gaze trained on it as they begin their waltz. She claws at her brain to find the steps, yet cannot remember. Eris gently moves his hand to the small of her back, bringing here closer to him and leaning his face  against her neck as he whispers softly.

 “Follow my lead.”

It felt natural to do so. Even though Eris kept attempting to strike up a conversation, she was too focused on trying to not step on his toes and bring them to the ground to converse. The waltz came to an end, and she bows, her hands shaking. 

The walk back to the dais was as silent as the rest of their interaction. She felt guilty for not being able to seduce the man, but regardless, was glad she was even able to waltz without falling and crashing into something or someone. 

She moved swiftly up to her sisters as shocking words ring in her ears. 

“I will offer you support, in exchange for her hand.”

a/n - I read this back and she's kinda autistic-coded, so I hope everyone is okay with that :)

Taglist;

@babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @impossibelle @thestartitaness

comment if you want to join taglist!

[two-faces-story]

Two Faces - Chapter 1

From the Journal of Doctor Jekyll

Wattpad link in FAQ

     September 11th

     Once again, I find myself lost in some sort of unsourced misery. It weighs on my soul like an anchor, muddies my thoughts and actions, time passes strangely and sleep eludes me like a forgotten dream. Each action and thought become a war or self control, for I know there are far easier ways to abandon this sorrow than to wait for it to pass.

     Despite the exhaustion and regret that comes with it, I long for the days recently past where energy and drive were not in question. Days without sleep, hell-bent on discovery and innovation, reinvention of modern medicine, and when nothing remained to do, I made my own fun.

     But no fun can lift my spirits now. I may smile, or even laugh, but my mind is burdened with a curse of the soul like few others. I have no doubt some fault in my own mind is the cause of this continually returning waves of grief and intensity that have plagued me since late childhood. Recent research has lead me to believe it is no fault of my actions or my mother before me, but of my mind in of itself.

     I have spent many years learning all I could of chemistry, selfishly hoping to find some archaic chemical that might alter my state of mind to rid myself of this melancholy. I have tried medicines and treatments of many kinds, finding that many of them do not help my sorrow or worse, drive my manic episodes to the brink of insanity. I recall returning to my senses after one such experiment to find my lab in shambles and my hands further cut by shattered glass.

     Miss Violet Poole was kinder to me than I deserved, bandaging my hands and cleaning my laboratory when I could hardly stand, despite how clearly shaken she was. I thanked her profusely and made an effort to give her some time off following the event that she might recover from whatever I had done to terrify her so badly. Upon waking from the influence of the lithium, I had found her in such a state of panic that I had never witnessed in all her time under my employ.

     Given her time here, she understands my moods like few others and has thus left me to my devices as this familiar shadow of the mind sets in.

     I wish this darkness did not exhaust me so greatly, for I'm days away from what I'm certain will be an incredible discovery. In my lifelong search for the cure to my ailment, I believe I have discovered a new mineral that could aid me greatly. A fellow chemist sent me a package from somewhere beyond India containing an absurd number of large jars filled with a bitter tasting salt.

     The letter explained that, according to the people who lived in the area from which this salt was mined, it was known to give energy and new life to individuals with conditions like mine. As fantastic as it sounded, I was enthused to test it in my experiments and, at the time, fueled by that insatiable energy that I am so familiar with. For days I have been examining it to determine chemical impurities and comparing it to lithium and other medicines to determine what effects it could have on the mind. I had planned to spend this day testing a solution made with the salt on rats caught off the street, yet I have not even the energy to leave my bed for more than the most basic hygiene needs.

     I find myself pondering dark and sinful things as I lay here, thoughts so often ignored , louder than ever. It is clear to me that I must never allow myself to succumb to these ideas and memories, the scars on my wrists are enough of a reminder that I have a life to live and these horrid dreams and ideations are nothing more than that.

     If I won't live for myself, then for others. I am a doctor after all I have a responsibility to uphold, despite how my heart and soul protest.

     September 12th

     With Poole's assistance and encouragement, I steeled myself and continued work on my experiments this morning after she arrived with news of where we could acquire mice. Skipping the tedium of bargaining for street rats, the solution seemed to make the rats first very confused and lethargic, then after some painful shrieking they seemed much more energetic and easily angered. This wore off after a few hours and a second dose seemed to produce the same results without much difference.

     I intend to make a serum that, with prolonged dosage, could make the change to the more energetic state of mind and body permanent, thus banishing the melancholy and exhaustion that plagues my mind so often.

     If I am successful, I will never lose time to this grief again, I will be unstoppable.

     September 14th

     Attempts to make the energy changes seen in the rats a permanent phenomenon has been met with an interesting turn of events. After continuous dosage for almost two days it is clear that the two energetic states are actually two different personalities it seems.

     The energetic half is more violent and desperate, biting at me and attempting numerous tries at escape, similar to their behavior pre-serum, but more aggressive. When the effects of the serum have finally worn off, it leaves behind a seemingly kinder and more domesticated personality that seems far more pet-like than a wild rat should be.

      Perhaps there is a way to isolate this kinder personality while also keeping the more energetic state of the more wild half?

     September 17th

     Work has been slow, I have become more and more exhausted as the days pass. Progress has been made and the mice are remaining both docile and energetic for longer and longer. Likewise, in another test group with but two rats, I have been able to isolate the more wild personality, the original rat mindset it would seem. But the effects are not permanent, something I intend to fix.

     I can only imagine that the effects I am seeing are due to their small bodies and even smaller brains causing the change to take place at an accelerated rate.

     I believe I have the serum nearly perfected, but a test on a larger animal is required before I even dare to consider testing on a human. If I can manage, I will travel to the nearest pound and find a dog or cat of moderate health to serve as a test subject. Indeed, in some minds this is immoral and cruel, but for the sake of science some boundaries must be crossed.

     During a particularly dismal period this afternoon, Ms. Poole sent for my good friends Jacob Lanyon and Gabriel Utterson in hopes of lifting my spirits. We convened in the parlor and talked for many hours over wine, and though I did enjoy myself while they were here, I found myself quite irritated with Lanyon after he began to laugh at my recent experiments.

     He warned me about becoming obsessed with another fairytale, saying my search for this cure to my mania would either kill me or someone else, and I certainly believe him. However, I choose to ignore such risks in favor of knowing that many lives, firstly mine, could be dramatically improved if I perfect this. He didn't listen when I began to describe the personality altering aspects of the serum and I became positively livid.

     Of course, I am too much a gentleman to  ever insult someone so valuable as Lanyon, so I held my tongue.

     Utterson was quite supportive of my idea, on the other hand. A lover of the interesting and curious, I knew he would be. I will need his assistance if I ever to seek to move forward with human testing, as he is part of the St. Luke's Hospital governing board. However, he was much concerned for my physical and mental health, urging me to take a break, join him for a weekend at his country home outside of the city and becoming slightly morose when I denied this request.

      I believe most of what he said was in his judicial nature to try and diffuse the tension between Lanyon and I by changing the subject. He knows how to handle an argument as well as understand both sides of an argument. And while it is commendable, he's rather irritating when he tries to play neutral at all times without taking sides. It would be far easier if he took a side and aided me in convincing Lanyon for his assistance in my experiment.

     Alas, it is unchangeable now. Lanyon is loyal, incredibly intelligent, but an idealistic optimist when it comes to health and morality, I don't blame him for thinking I am mad, it sounds like the mad ravings of a dreamer. And there is little room for dreams of this scale in Lanyon's world, he thinks so critically and scientifically of things.

     But he'll see.

     September 19th

     The mice have become completely docile, to my endless delight, but it was clearly not without consequence for all of them seem exhausted and noticeably melancholic. This, does not bode well for me. Similar effects were present in the other rats despite my efforts to keep them in the energetic state. However, they are swiftly recovering and have become very sweet and docile.

      I'm considering keeping them as pets at this point.

     Regardless, all of this has lead me to wonder if I am coming at this experiment from the wrong direction. Originally I sought to rid myself of my melancholy but instead found a way to rid oneself of cruelty and anger, turning wild street rats into sweet pets. I am curious what the effects would be on a person, would it erase cruelty and vileness from a person's personality? And what of melancholy? Would that be erased too?

     We shall see, I suppose, after we see the effects of the serum on a dog. A mutt, healthy enough, with a strong bite that has resulted in my left hand being thoroughly bandaged, hopefully he will be as sweet as the mice within a few days.

     September 23rd

     This is going to be far more difficult than I had anticipated. In order to test the dog, he must be first sedated and then restrained by Poole and myself to prevent either of us from getting bit.

      Again.

     Beyond that, it's impossible to tell if the serum is having an effect while the dog is so sedated, and by the time he wakes up it is impossible to tell!

     Despite this, the results are following the same changes as seen in the mice. However, the dog seems noticeably more melancholic in his original state as opposed to being energetic, while his second state is almost puppy-like.

      I have been feeling slightly better myself, though the shadow of melancholy has not left me yet. I am curious to see how much I can complete should I return to my more manic state before the experiments have been completed.

     Hope of finally being free from my melancholic mindsets has kept me afloat these past days, accompanied by the growing hope of creating a kinder world with myself at the head. All so perfect seeming, yet I know it is not possible until I perfect my serum, and even then it is unlikely it would have an affect on the scale I dream of.

     But I must not give up on such dreams, nor should I indulge them too deeply. I have limited salt, already having consumed a whole jar in the beginning phases of the experiments and now halfway through another. My friend in India has likely moved on and I highly doubt I should be able to get in contact with him should I run out.

     I can only hope it, the supply, won't run out before then.

     September 25th

     Given my good progress with the dog, it now is able to roam the house freely as it does not attack Poole or myself, I am finally ready to present my findings to the board at St. Luke's. Last night over dinner I discussed the meeting with Gabriel and he insisted I need not worry about setting up a meeting with the board.

      It's not that that concerns me.

      I am concerned the Board will not believe me and deny my request for a human test subject, even someone from the psychiatric ward. I am fully aware of the immorality of my request, to test such dangerous and mind-altering chemicals on someone who might not be able to deny it is horrid, I am fully aware. But it is necessary to determine if I should further alter the serum for human consumption.

      Additionally, even a mentally deranged individual could provide useful data concerning the transformation itself.

      Is it painful? Does the second personality recognize itself as someone else or is it more like the effects of some sort of intoxicant where you merely act different because you forget things? So many questions that simply cannot be answered without human testing.

     I will go tomorrow with Gabriel and discuss this with the board. I have a plan, an opportunity to do good and not even the deepest of melancholy will stop me now.