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Siren Aesthetic - Blog Posts
THIS IS MY DND SIREN BARD GIRLY MARIS
I SPENT ALL NIGHT DRAWING THESE FOR MY FASHION AND APPAREL CLASS
I AM SO TIRED PLS APPRECIATE HER
"ALL I WANNA DO IS GET HIGH BY THE BEACH!"
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚— HUMAN FYODOR X SIREN FEM READER
✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩SUMMARY: A man with a haunting past and a dead lover has already lost hope in all of humanity. He originally wanted to save humanity, not until the only person he loved the most perished because of it. Avenging of what he can, he does heinous crimes and carry a hatred towards humanity due to the loss of his lover.
𓂃 ࣪˖ ཐིཋྀ — ANGST + HORROR + ROMANCE + PSYCHOLOGY
A/N: Im gonna make this fanfic quite short since I've been busy and drained.. Please enjoy the read<3!
( ၴႅၴ+WARNINGS! : DRUG USAGE, MURDER, DEATH (+ nickname usage, - Lyubov' (love) & Ангел (angel)
Being somebody who is considered 'immortal' wasn't easy, you see the people you love die easily.
Originally, fyodor wanted to save humanity, he believed that everyone needed saving except the people who abused the abilities that was bestowed onto them by the heavens.
He only loved ONE person, a woman who has gained his interest and his affection. The love he had was unconditional and affectionate, a raging storm that was shined upon with the everlasting moonlight. And that was all YOU.
But one day, you needed to visit a certain island due to your studies, being the lover fyodor was, he was quite skeptical and paranoid that something may happen to you, but he didn't wanna cut off your freedom as he does love you dearly.. So he let you off.
With a kiss on the hand and a cheek, you leave the house with a suitcase, on your way to the ship that you were going on, it was a ship controlled by a wealthy and powerful dictator, who the DOSTOEVSKY wasn't fond of.
The ship set sailed in ease..
A few days later, fyodor received a message that the ship went missing. Including you. And the only person who survived it was no other than the dictator himself.
Fyodor clutched his fists as he read through the letter, it wasn't often he was enranged like this, but the melancholic feeling of his lover missing consumed him, how could he let this happen? He should've never let you on in the ship.
Eventually thats when he became a ruthless man, he was already making ability users perish but the only thing he admired and adored the most has been taken away from him, he had a plan. A plan to kill the dictator.
He was used to hiding, but he didn't want to anymore. He'd do anything to avenge your death. Your body wasn't even found.
⁺‧₊˚ஓ༻𓆩♡𓆪༺ஓ˚₊‧⁺
Years passed by, population went down due to his sprees, this void in him was eating him alive.
Every neck he slashed and every shot he has taken was all for you.
He walked through the jagged rocks of the beach, trying to get away from his past. He wanted to forget about it, but he didn't wanna forget you. He walked groggily, he recently took some Lysergic acid diethylamide, he wanted to lay off of life for a second and forget his surroundings. He wasn't normally this disheveled and unhinged, but your death really took a toll on him.
The wind howled through the decaying coastal town, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant, mournful cries of the sea. Fyodors face gaunt and hollow-eyed, stumbled along the cobblestone streets, the weight of the past dragging at his every step. He had come to this place seeking something anything that could fill the void left by the death of his wife. But in his search for solace, he had found only darkness.
He took another blotter paper with LSD, he walked till the end of the coast line, nobody was around as the numbing feeling of the substance took over his chest, that dulled tha pain he endured. His legs were cut and he was pale and skinny, you were always the one who was taking care of him that he forgot what to eat, drink and how to sleep.
He looked at the moon with half lidded eyes and soft breathing before hearing a familiar voice. The singing was melodic and smooth to hear, a voice that had the same pitch, tone, and key to yours. This can't be real right?
He immediately walks over to the sound, trying to find it. The sky was oddly colorful today. It was a deep blue. He walked over and he hears it getting louder, he breathes heavily. Running towards the sound, he didn't wanna speak yet. He had to find out himself, were you still alive? After all these years?
With unsteady steps, he descended the rocky path to the shore, the waves crashing violently against the rocks. There, in the shallow waters, stood a figure, bathed in the ghostly light of the moon. Her hair tangled and damp, her skin beautiful and glistening with the spray of the sea. But it was her eyes. those familiar, haunting eyes—.. that stopped fyodor in his tracks.
"Lyubov'.." he muttered with wide eyes and disbelief, his sadness washing away from his chest.
His breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be. Yet, as he looked at her, he was certain that this was his wife, that returned to him from beyond the grave. His heart swelled with a mix of joy and sorrow, his mind reeling with the impossibility of it all.
“fedya.. ” you whispered with a teasing grin, your voice a soft, melodic echo of the song that had called him. breath caught in his throat. It couldn’t be. Yet, as he looked at her, he was certain—this was his wife.. His beloved lover, That returned to him from beyond the grave. His heart swelled with a mix of joy and sorrow, his mind reeling with the impossibility of it all.
“You came back Ангел..!” he choked out, walking toward you with an admiring grin. “I knew you would come back."
The siren, his wife, smiled, a sad, distant expression that seemed almost… wrong.
“I never left, fedya. I've been here all along. Awaiting for your arrival, my dear." you whispered softly in his ear.
He fell to his knees in the icy cold water, reaching out to touch her. His hand trembled as it brushed against your cheek, you leaned into his touch, your skin cold, damp, and scaley..yet familiar.
He grinned gently, wrapping his hands on your waist, admiring your beautiful face. This is what dreams are made of right? Everything felt completely right. His eyes were filled with adoration and solace. The gaping void in his chest was filled once again, he was finally with you. His wife.
"I've done alot of things in the past, im afraid. But i did it all for you." he caressed your skin, but it felt.. Hard and cold. He ignored that, he just wanted to be with you, to touch you, to love you all over again. "I want you to understand, lyubov'. If you come back amd see the way things are now, don't be afraid."
His eyes were locked onto yours, tucking a piece of your hair behind your finned ears. He looked down, seeing your scaley tail. He didn't care of you weren't human anymore.
You lean onto him, "I'm back now.. Come with me instead, into the depths of the ocean." he nods, his gaze locked onto yours, "let go, and be with me.. Forever. In the sea. We'll love again,"— he nodded, his thumb caressing your cheek as he held your waist securely. "we'll laugh again, and we'll be together. Forever."
His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had yearned for this moment, to be reunited with you, to finally find peace and have you in his arms. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, cold and salty like the sea.. But how beautiful you were..
But as he kissed you, he felt nothing but bones. He felt something hard, it wasn't the soft lips that he would kiss every night.
No.
It wasn't.
The substances effect slowly faded away, he looked back at you.. his eyes wide with horror. The figure before him was no longer his wife, no longer the ethereal beauty who had called to him from the sea. She was something else!- something twisted and grotesque. Your bones were pale, bloated, mottled with decay, and your eyes.. those eyes.. were empty, hollow sockets.
This was not a reincarnation of you as a siren. It was your remains. Your rotting missing cadaver that had washed up on shore. Your boned were waterlogged and broken, her limbs twisted at unnatural angles. The crashing waves of the oceans was evident that it crushed your body. The waves and smell of the sea surrounded him as he held your decaying bones.
He looked at your ring finger. It still had the ring he proposed to you with, a patch of grey rotting skin was under the ring. Your skin, that he worshipped and adored the most. His breath was jagged and he held your hand, a single tear dropping down his eye.
The corpse stared back at him with empty eyes, her mouth twisted into a mockery of the smile he loved. He looks down and he held your decaying body close, leaning his head onto your shoulder.
"I.. I will then. If you want it, I'll do it."
It was all a hallucination. But he didn't want to believe that. He believed it was still you. He carried your rotting bones in bridal style, like he did during your wedding day.
He took another dose of his substances and he walked deeper into the ocean.
Deeper.
And deeper..
And deeper.
A/N: the color of the theme is blue and white, completely different from my theme which is red and black..but i wanted to change it up abit. Thanks for reading. This actually made me sad abit..
© All works by @Verlaineszz. Do not copy, redistribute, or repost on other platforms.
Mersona and my friend's ocs (also mersona)
my newest artwork 🌊🧜🏻♀️🩶
Im such a sweet girl how come he's not into me?!!
she laughs like god, her mind's like a diamond
𖹭 She gives them butterflies, bats her cartoon eyes 𖹭
“You’re gentler than they said you would be,” the girl remarked.
The siren smiled graciously in return, and took another chunk out of her calf and thrust it down her throat without reprieve. The girl didn’t feel a thing, her saliva numbing her skin the moment it touched it.
“We’re only hungry beasts girl, not cruel. We leave that to the men,” she said frankly and wiped her mouth of blood the way a child would of jam.
Gorging herself, teeth once white steeped in hot and sticky redness, the siren suddenly felt wet coming from her eyes. She jolted backward.
What is this?
Tears. You really liked me didn’t you? The sailor lass muttered, blue eyes now hazed grey with blood loss.
What does that matter? You’re mine you know.
So I am. She said, head tilted back in the pooling sand like a mother’s lap. Something felt natural about this, an unbirth seemed gentler oddly enough, than plain death.
Do you always cry when you eat? She asked, her voice once proud and strong, tapering out
I, I don’t know. I normally do this underwater.
Am I special? To be eaten on the shore? She asked, eyes stuck upward toward a sky the sunset didn’t touch anymore. A cold rush of air carved through the coastline she reposed on, erasing her footprints.
Her heart stopped.
Yes, of course you were. The siren said to no one, her voice wavering for the first time. Of course you were. Tears dropped easier now, and she was certain no sea ever felt so warm, and so foreign to her as this one.
The girl I was and the woman I am reconcile in tides. Coursing warm waves and biting cold foam, dancing in circles. Becoming one another, and abandoning one’s self in permanence.
Our screams were never songs. Is that what you’ve been hearing all this time?
-Diary of a siren
The siren caressed the sailor girl’s cheek gently, like a receding tide brushing its long fingers on the sand reminiscently.
“You never wanted to hurt me, did you. Why? Won’t you starve? You’re thin as bone,” the sailor girl asked, letting her eyes roam over her wet skin as she bobbed out of the dark water.
The siren shuddered at the comparison, and whipped her hand back suddenly. Mermaids were competitive, the more meat on a girl the higher she rose in their ranks. To be thin as bone meant one was nothing but that, a carcass without value, without muscle, sinew, or flesh.
“I am more than bone, but you. You are thin and sick even though you rove the land where food grows on trees and you hunt for nothing, and yet, you come to me to die. I will leave you disappointed. If I have to suffer this life, so do you.”
Her short dark hair seemingly melted over her face, as the sunset turned to night and shadow enveloped her entirety.
“I, I meant no harm,” the sailor stuttered, unaware of her misstep.
“Your people never do, and look what that leaves us,” she spat, and turned her head, now a dark hungry pit, toward the docks where a siren hung by the neck.
“My people? Is that what I am to you? Some violent human eager to noose you,” the sailor girl’s eyes carried hurt, and she nursed her chest’s wound with a calloused thumb in circular motions.
“I wish you’d broken my heart with your teeth and not your words,” she said, and retreated from the shoreline with a flush cheek from where she touched her.
Algae bloomed on the face of the lake at summer’s height, like zits in bundles of thick and slimy green. The siren that dwelt deep in the lake’s toes could not bear the warm swampiness, it drove her mad. Not only that, but her sailor girl, her shining beacon of hope for food had wounded her in her escape. She felt rotten, her gash festered in hot white patches. No food, no beauty, no cold deep blue lake water to retreat to. All that was left for her was a walk. To find the sailor girl and give her what was coming to her.
They say a burnt child loves the fire; a drowned woman, too, loves the sea. And even more so the siren that dragged her to the bottom of it.
In twilight hours, when her day’s thoughts drift heavenly with the receding tide, and fears and doubts rescind, she thinks of her. Her head wet from the sea dampening her pant legs, resting in her lap as a black pearl. She runs her fingers through her short black hair and wonders how it rises underwater, if she could ever see it for herself without drowning. Salt and iron prick her nose. The siren opens her eyes and the moment she looks at her with a tenderness so palpable, her image disappears. Her lap lay empty. The sailor girl’s mind too shy to peer at even the idea of her so flagrantly. She hears the creaking of the floor boards, and inhales the lantern oil burning, and is brought back to dry reality. Skin itching for the sand in the ocean shallow.
Unable to find love on land, and told she was unappetizing by her siren of the sea, the sailor girl sought out a lake to mope around in. In the water she so loved and away from the aching salty tide at her ankles, she found respite. But another dwelled in the muck of the lake’s bottom, and rose to meet her. A fresh water siren. Friendly as spit, with water’s wake that tasted of sugar and blood, she invited the sailor girl in. Her hair was red and curled, like a devil’s smile. White freckles sat on her face frankly, like table salt.
She reached out to the girl, and began to braid her long blonde hair, dragging her deeper into the water as she did, with a smile full of teeth.
The sailor girl slides down her boat’s rope the hour after sunset and awaits her black haired siren on the far end of the beach. She fusses with her hair. Tries to part it differently, and then differently again to no avail. She kneels on the shore to get a glimpse of herself under the budding moonlight on the still ocean water. A pair of eyes stays on her, gently raking over her battered, poorly patched clothes. She never was one for sewing. The sea called her. It always called her, to what she didn’t know. Suddenly, the pair of big black eyes in the water rose like fishing bobbins in her reflection, and startled her.
“How long have you been there?” She asked.
The siren smiled coyly, and held a finger up, telling her to hold on a moment.
She disappeared under the water and bobbed back up with something in her hand.
“What’s that?”
The siren rubbed the sand off of it with her thumbs, and held it up. A small abalone hair brush.
Sirens often eat out of hatred, not love. So when the sailor girl asked the siren if she found her appetizing, she shook her head with a tight lipped grin. The human took it as rejection, her eyes falling to her hands and picking at the callouses she found unsightly, not understanding she had just shown her affection for her. That hiding one’s teeth was a gentle act of favor the merfolk used.
“Why do you eat men?” The sailor asked the siren.
“You ate us first,” she replied.
I know not what to say to her, her wide eyes eat up my thoughts as the sun does water; my head is entranced in cloud when I am with her. Siren on the rocks, I wish only for rainfall so that my skin feels as yours does.
-Diary of a siren
Sweet thing didn’t bite me nearly hard enough to hurt me, though not for lack of trying. She thought I was dead, but she’d just woken me with her nibbling. My eyes dragged down to the source, a head full of spiked black hair, with droopey triangles flat on her forehead form being above water. Her eyes were black as well, I was transfixed by them, how her pupils devoured her face. The sharp point of her nose dug into my knuckle as her mouth inched it’s way up my finger. Our eyes met. She inhaled sharply and pushed herself away from me, her eyes warbled with shock, and then settled down to worry. I wasnt worried though. Not for a moment.
-Diary of a Siren
Let her die softly, let the seabed take her as if in a dream.
Her cupids bow dips to her bottom lip, drawn constantly, words seldom loosed. I tease laughter from her with my foolishness, and every time her mouth opens another of love’s arrows is fired at me, and if I am a soldier, I am one who so longs to be struck down, I am one who would never raise a shield against her.
—Diary of a Siren
Banshee - Birth of Venus
