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aphroditesacolyte · 1 year ago

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Meryl and Diosia

Ch 12. // Wake. Up. // Read on AO3

Masterpost

Summary: A dream grabs hold.

Content warnings: "you will be eaten" vibes, these guys aren't getting anymore normal from here, probably some profanity, some descriptions of violence/murder/being eaten, themes of grief and strong emotion, please read at your own discretion, thank you!

~Approx word count: 3,151 words

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A shark isn’t so scary without its teeth, and an angler-fish isn’t so alluring without a light. It made Bondi feel much more secure in the current circumstances to know that, however, there wasn’t any trust in Diosia keeping his promise. A starved, desperate siren? The moment he could fly, someone like or simply Meryl himself would immediately be on the menu.

So, he’d do what he needed to keep Meryl safe. Of course, he hated to lecture Meryl, but this was important. Meryl’s life teetered right on the edge of awful fate, as it had for far too long now. The bile of thought crept up through his conscience, tainting him. He pictured it so vividly, what could happen—what would happen if Meryl wasn’t afraid. To have one’s own flesh torn and grazed, taken up and devoured by a monster, to have ones tears spilled against another’s tongue, to have one’s blood trickle down their lips and throat, to be utterly melted in their core… that was to love Diosia, and it infuriated Bondi that Meryl couldn’t see that.

Luckily, Meryl acted more fearful and dazed than anything else as they swam back from what Bondi could only pray was the last time that they’d ever see Diosia; Meryl appeared perturbed by seeing the siren. Previously, he thought that meant nothing and that regardless of Meryl’s disgust, Diosia could tug him back in with as little as his voice. Now, however, it was important.

It was foremost to Meryl’s survival that he kept that disdain, that fear, even if the display of such emotions made Bondi’s heart ache. Regardless of the sour taste it gave, he’d have to scare Meryl into never going near Diosia again. It would hurt. Meryl being anything but his kind, cheery self was upsetting to Bondi, creating a longing to protect, to keep his innocent, compassionate being forever safe—to shield it and huddle it and shelter it far away from every wretched creature like Diosia.

The thought that Meryl could be reduced to a meal by anyone at all struck a throng of crushing rage all boiling through his heart and veins, giving way to determination. He would keep Meryl safe.

It started with Meryl understanding what went on. How he had visited Diosia every few nights to see how the injured siren was getting along, and how he slowly began to natter with him, until eventually Diosia apologized all on his own, and everything was cleared up. Once he explained this to Meryl, he hoped there would be no guilt on Meryl’s end. Meryl shouldn’t feel obligated to help the siren—it was doing just fine on its own.

There was no need for further closure—it had been provided—and there was no need for ever meeting eyes with such danger again. He needed to instill this belief, and so long as it were shared between them, he hoped they would be safe. Otherwise, Bondi would have to go to further lengths against the siren.

Hopefully it knew better.

None of this embitterment was shown on Bondi’s face, its glowering breath hidden deep within his chest where it would be found by none else, unless torn up and foolishly unearthed.

“Hey, Meryl? I want to make sure we’re safe first but… we need to talk about what happened and… him.”

Meryl muttered back, “Okay, sounds good.”

The sound came to further agitate him; the passivity that Meryl held had always frustrated Bondi, not due to it being annoying, but rather so detrimental to his close friend. He wished the merman used his voice, though, this was a time that a lack of boldness and demand may come to be better for them both. It comforted him to know that Meryl wouldn’t fight.

Even so, he could feel the tension rise as they traveled through the trunks and branches of the kelp, nearing his home. Eventually they made it to his spot, quite cozy and now gift-free—he’d have to check where Meryl put them all sometime.

There was no need for any attachment. Not to that beast.

”Meryl.” He spoke, and drew attention over easily; “Diosia is a killer.”

“I-I know.” Meryl murmured.

The blue eyes were pained with a keen awareness, it made him worried sick.

“I believe I have already informed you; Roka’s sister disappeared a few months ago.” Bondi spoke on, grimly, “No one knows where she went.”

He scanned over Meryl, and took note of how his expression seemed to indicate a recollection of her; Bondi’s own heart still ached whilst thinking of her. She had been a sister to him, she had been family.

“That could’ve been—”

His temper snapped, and his eyes flickered with grieving anger. “It was him. You know it was.” He hissed.

He saw the desperate, wide-eyed denial in Meryl’s innocent face.

”I don’t think you understand how serious it is. It’s easy to think someone disappearing is scary and terrible, but it’s hard to understand what it really entails. She was killed, Meryl, and I know you didn’t know her well, but I did.”

Meryl’s lips pressed together tightly, creating a thin, sad line.

”Do you realize what it’s like, Meryl?”

A saddened love burned in Meryl’s eyes, a desperate, desperate feeling of sympathy. The look grounded him, that look of love and understanding. Meryl understood the pain well, even if he were yet to feel the wound himself.

“Do you realize what she must’ve felt? How the world must’ve been for her then?”

Meryl rasped, “Bondi, I am so sor—”

“It had to of been terrifying, Meryl.” His arms crossed tightly over his chest, as if to further bury the pain that swelled and ached within him, and then found the strength to continue on in a slight croak, “Do you know what it means to be killed by a siren? Have you heard the stories?”

“I… only when I was younger. I don’t remember. I know what being eaten is, I just—”

Bondi let himself become timid, his voice soft and lingering, reminiscent in a hollowing, decayed way. “I know a story similar to it; you know the story of Selkie, don’t you?”

“The mermaid who follows a river stream because she wants to find a pearl?”

At this point, he claimed control of his tone. It became factual, a cadence of a history teacher, or a dull mentor. He went on, “Yes. She’s adventurous and kind, and one day goes out looking for a pearl amongst the bed of the river Ictalurus, fabled to be the home of both treasures and beasts.”

“I already know how the story ends, Bondi—”

“She’s swallowed up whole by the catfish that lives there, and Selkie is lost.”

Meryl argued, softly, “Diosia isn’t a catfish.”

“But he could swallow you whole like one.”

Meryl recoiled at this brazen remark; a hateful curl of his hand indicated his shock, and Bondi felt suddenly snared by the reaction. Still, he continued on;

“Sirens are monsters. His jaws will part, wide enough to take you in entirely. They aren’t like us. They don’t kill their food and prep them first, they pick something up, and they bite in, or they skip it entirely and just swallow. They’re too ravenous, too savage to do otherwise.”

“I’m lucky to have never experienced it. Imagine a sweltering net, crafted out of a dozen manta rays all sown together, pressed to your face to the point that you can’t breathe. It’s slick and suffocating: that’s what it would be like in his throat.” Bondi growled.

He went on, “If you’re lucky, you might just asphyxiate before the pain begins, but with sirens, the chances are low. They’re creatures of hell itself, Meryl. They are made to punish and torment our kind, and nothing more.

“If you survive being swallowed, it only gets worse. It starts to tingle, so lightly and subtly that you might miss it in the dark, dark panic it will put you in. It’ll get worse and worse, and then it’ll burn. It’ll rise up, and the taste and scent of acid consuming your own body might just be enough to make you puke.

“And that wouldn’t change a thing. You’d be luckier if he tore out your intestines and ate them while you watched, but he’s fascinated with you Meryl. He wouldn’t make it merciful. He doesn’t know mercy.”

But unlike Dioisa, Bondi did. He let himself fall silent, and let Meryl fall into his arms.

It was a tight, trembling embrace between them, one that jarred all feelings out of him and left him tearful as well. Meryl burrowed into him preciously, and he returned it as the unwanted poignance leered over him still.

“I’m sorry.” Bondi murmured.

"I love you, Bondi."

“I love you too, Meryl.”

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The rough grit of rock against Meryl's back was a reminder of the conversation he had just been in, only last night. He huddled further into the grit within his little den, his teeth rolling over his lower lip as it became bitten raw by thought. When he looked at the culmination of every event and everything that had occurred thus far, the immediate, logical thought was to avoid the siren at all costs. Then, when he looked to what he wanted—what he longed for—it was Diosia.

Maybe everyone was right, maybe there was no such thing as a good siren. But then, if they were right about someone like Diosia—were they right about him? The thought stung like an open wound.

Bondi didn’t seem to think poorly of him, nothing that he knew anyways, and Bondi was always very open about those things: opinionated. Bondi wouldn’t fake a twenty-or-something-year friendship, he knew that, but he wondered if Bondi wasn’t being entirely honest with him. Did he think he was stupid?

He felt stupid.

It was foolish of him, utterly foolish at every turn to ever go back to Diosia at all, let alone willingly. What made it worse was that for as many bad things and reasons he should stay away, he could find good ones. The only thing Diosia had done that was slightly unjustifiable in his mind was to hurt Bondi, otherwise, he didn’t mind all that much. It was funny considering how scary he thought Diosia was.

Diosia, someone who could take everything from him in the blink of an eye, hardly more than a few simple movements of the hand to do so, and only have to lick his lips after—that’s what Diosia was. But that felt too simplistic in his mind, Diosia was more.

Diosia was patient, in his own odd, diluted way. He listened carefully, became attentive to all details of his being. He charmed Meryl greatly despite the fear he instilled; the allure Diosia had was hypnotizing.

He was patient, he was charming, he was attentive, and, though the thought came shallowly, so very handsome. And it was nothing more than a part of Diosia’s being, these were all things natural to him. He didn’t choose to be hypnotizing and enchanting, he simply was. Meryl loved it—almost envied it, even—how someone could naturally be so appealing and pleasant to be around, so enticing. Meanwhile he stressed out over whether or not the pitch and octave of his voice was annoying or not—Diosia’s voice was perfect.

He was perfect, at his core.

A perfect being who did wretched things, some that he couldn’t blame him for, that he had almost begun to darkly sympathize with, and others he just couldn’t understand. He couldn’t understand why Diosia would go out of his way to harm someone other than to eat them.

Besides, Meryl remembered it so clearly. Diosia had promised he wanted no other mer; the powerful, velvety growl replayed in his head over and over again.

Diosia had no business trying to hurt Bondi.

He saw Bondi as an obstacle though, Meryl understood that, as somehow, he could imagine it making sense. Bondi wanted him to have nothing to do with Diosia. It was a logical conclusion to deem Bondi an obstacle in their way of being together, but it wasn’t the case at all.

It wasn’t Bondi who pressed some sort of rift into their relationship, it was Diosia. Diosia who tried to kill his best friend, and Diosia who threatened to eat him, consume him, envelop him entirely and suffocate him in the process.

It was Diosia’s fault, his flawed thinking.

Meryl did not feel without blame of course—he really should’ve kept Bondi out of it, away from that flawed thinking. But he was realizing now that he wasn’t the true cause of Bondi’s wounds or Diosia’s mess. Diosia chose to act poorly, and now they all suffered the consequences.

He thought over what he had seen of Diosia once more, the terrible claw marks dragging down his face, and his heart twinged in empathy. To see Diosia hurt wasn’t as painful as seeing Bondi hurt, not even half as much, but he still hated it so.

Plus, at the very least he should be owed an explanation- a full explanation. Bondi explained that Diosia apologized and that regardless Diosia was still dangerous, but he didn’t even know why Diosia did it, what he was thinking. And why had Diosia ignored him when he sought him out? Yes, he was owed a complete explanation, although Diosia clearly wasn’t going to get up and deliver it, so he’d get it himself.

He pushed out of the mouth of his little den and swam bold and quick in the broad daylight.

He knew exactly where he was going and exactly how to get there. It was all clear in his mind, and yet still said mind was rushing, anxious at the thought of seeing Diosia again for more reason than one. Would Diosia be willing to explain, or would he just start up with the games he always played? What if Meryl didn’t play along and what if he did? More calculations did him no good, he was acting on what he felt was right in his heart.

Even if it may have been wrong.

Quickly the ocean floor began to slope up, telling him he was close to shore. From there he sped along to the estuary, catching the sight of all its shelters of greens and browns, welcoming vegetation under the bright sun.

It wouldn’t be hard to spot Diosia now, in the night the black colours concealed him, but they’d surely expose him in the afternoon, when the sun permitted not a shadow in sight. Unless Diosia had left this spot and hid himself away. In that case, Meryl wasn’t so sure how to find him. However, considering this was where he lounged last night when meeting Bondi, it was likely this is where he’d be staying. Meryl got the sense Diosia was quite fine with sleeping wherever he happened to be; Diosia was comfortable and confident. And perfect.

Meryl slowed as patches of sand along the shore became more familiar, the glimmering waters that reflected the sun itself ever so slightly blinding him as he did so. The patches were bright—they glared at him the same way the water did, while shiny plants breathed normally and the creeping of a bird or a snake gliding across the ground and surface of the water was normal and all the same.

One of the patches were unlike all others, for rather than the yellow grains the most prominent sight was someone sprawled out across it, basking in the sun. He lied on his side, an arm supporting his head while the other was set out against the warmth of the soft sand. His body held only the most subtle of movements, the rise and fall of his chest, for he was otherwise relaxed and still, and a wing notably arched over him and casted some shade over his body.

He slept on his right side to spare his injured face, but in doing so displayed it clearly, as well as many other cuts all along his clothes and body. The position was so passive, so gentle, Meryl immediately felt bad for him.

His hands sunk into the beach’s blanket, cozy and comforting as he leaned over and peered at Diosia, who still slept as blissfully as ever. It was a little endearing.

When he first came, he had been planning to be very stern with Diosia, a cut to the chase. Now he felt as if he could melt into the sand and fall asleep right beside him with how peaceful it looked.

He is NOT cuddly, Meryl scolded himself.

I wish he were.

He inched closer and murmured, “Diosia.”

Diosia shifted ever so slightly, almost burrowing into the sand as he did so.

Meryl reached out and gently placed his hand on his shoulder, immediately gaping at how warm he felt. When he looked back, hazy eyes were slowly taking in his presence.

“H-hello, Diosia.”

He pulled his hand away, heart beating and face set ablaze from the predator that laid out before him who was hardly fazed or bothered by his presence. He wanted to curl up and hide from the piercing yellow that flicked over him casually. Quick to cave in, he was at the very least beginning to cover his flush, bright face.

Diosia still hardly moved, remaining timid and passive as he murmured, “Mmmmm-Merrrrryl...”

“H-hi.”

Diosia smiled ever so slightly, taking slow, lumbering motions, and began to stretch.

“Is—“ he took a long pause to stretch himself out, but half-way through sleepily gave up, flopping down against the sand once more. “—important…?”

Meryl finally reclaimed his focus. “Yes, Diosia. It’s important.”

With a large yawn he answered, “Oooookay.”

The weight of sleep pressed heavily into Dioisa’s features, almost as if the siren hadn’t ever woken up. Enervated by the mere existence of the sun, Diosia was almost lulled to sleep before the conversation even truly began.

“Why have you been ignoring me?”

Diosia gave a tired sigh. “What do you mean?”

“After your fight with Bondi.” He elaborated, gently.

Diosia tilted his head towards him. “Hm?”

“I went looking for you and you weren’t there- anywhere I looked, actually.”

“Oh,” Dioisa uttered, and drowsily pushed himself to a sitting position, where one wing curved beautifully and the other drooped down, spread across the sand. “I’ve been here since then…I’m...hhh…sstuckk.”

“What?”

Diosia sighed in the same tired way, dismissing the question as he curled back up on the ground once again.

“Diosia.” Meryl scolded, raising his tone.

Diosia closed his eyes, ignoring him.

“Tired.”

“Please.”

“Nnn-no.”

Meryl couldn’t fight him on it, helplessly watching as Diosia started doze back off to sleep. All he could do was flop down beside him and wait.

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2 notes · View notes

rottmnt-residuum · 3 months ago

Note

Hi, I've read the Residuum comic, and I think the characterization of the boys is really good. I was wondering if you have any tips on how to write them? Especially Mikey, please.

I'd actually recommend re-watching the show with one character in mind. All my notes on the turtles come from doing separate re-watches for each of them. The key is to ONLY watch the character you are focusing on.

In the end, you'll probably be happier with your own personal interpretation. As we are with ours lol

TL;DR

Massive post under the cut

To preface: we'll be contrasting (this Mikey) against the fandoms version of Mikey, as our interpretation is very different. Don't worry if you prefer the fandom version, there's nothing… wrong per se with writing him this way. We just find him flat and uninteresting. (Main author: not me, I just hate him, lol).

Every reader or fan comes into a story with their own biases and experiences. A ton of our view of Mikey is based on how our siblings acted. We see Mikey as the young sibling that got preferential treatment from the whole family, simply due to being the youngest, but is now aging out of the privilege. Which all youngest siblings do at some point or another.

The fandoms version of Mikey is empathetic, naive, vulnerable, co-dependent and quite often a door mat who cries at the drop of a hat. And as much as the fandom like to say that people love him… when this particular character archetype is in other media, they seem to attract the most criticism. Mable pines, Bolin from Korra, people rag on Aang all the fucking time, and Steven Universe is a whole other bag. These characters don't deserve it, and yet it happens anyway.

To flatten Mikey to simply 'the baby' is a disservice. We don't see or write Mikey as the fandom “baby” version (cinnamon roll uwu). Part of this comes from having multiple siblings, so we interpret the times when Mikey does the puppy dog eyes as typical younger sibling bullshit, mostly by the way that the other turtles rarely react to it, if at all.

The other turtles traits can also get projected onto Mikey. Mikey being the fandom therapist is in the same category as this. He isn't a therapist, he's a psychology nerd who likes to psychoanalyze people and meddle in their relationships. (Donnie and Shelldons relationship, Splinter and Draxums...) he's not trying to resolve your emotional issues. Of the turtles, the character that cares the most about people's feelings is Raph. And Leo is more of a consoler than Mikey ever is. It flattens all the turtle's characterizations when you start doing this because you are ripping out parts that are integral to another characters' complexity.

Co-author has told me that they've seen people become confused when going into the show after only reading fan fiction or coming from the movie. They see his characterization as inconsistent and become upset when their view of him is contradicted. This also happens when a fandomized version of him becomes the primary characterization that they use. Sometimes when this disconnect happens (or if they just don't like the character), Mikey characterization is swung in the complete opposite direction.

They make him manipulative and abusive, or someone who is hyper violent and avoids being held accountable for anything. This is an uncharitable interpretation of him and can come off as pretty racist depending on the circumstances. (like if someone considers the turtles black or not)

Every version of Mikey is a shithead (affectionate), even this one. Especially this one, really. When Mikey not doing the "baby schtick" hes mean. If you pay attention to what he's saying, and just not his tone of voice, he's consistently saying pretty mean or condescending stuff. (You could take this as simply naïveté, but he still says mean shit pretty often regardless)

The times he does say genuinely nice stuff the turtles don't exactly expect it from him, at least, in the early season. And while he is mean, and seems to find saying mean things to be funny, Mikey isn't cruel. Nor will he ever be.

This shit-headery behavior is found in both 2003 and 18 Mikey. They have a degree of social intelligence that lets them use it to annoy people into doing what they want. 18 just has the advantage of being baby faced and having better tonal control. He's good at using people's perception of him to get what he wants.

Let Mikey have his problematic traits, but don't overexaggerate them. He doesn't revel in fooling people. He loves doing character bits, and the baby faced one just happens to be one of them. However, to infantilize or to deem him incompetent is to piss him off, he wants to be viewed as a competent part of the team and competent as an individual. He's not insecure about being young, he just doesn't want to be treated like he can't do anything.

Mikey above all is an optimistic character, he sees the brighter side quite often and is conscious of the harm his actions have on people. Mostly after the fact, but he consistently attempts to rectify the harm he has personally done to peoples lives. (Todd, Bullhop, Draxum). Food and shelter seems to be a thing that he considers to be a right. He doesn't cross a boundary twice once he learns of it, and he never pushes people too far (if he likes you, that is. if he doesn't know you or doesn't like you, he doesn't give a singular shit. But that is standard to most people.). He doesn't care about people's stuff, though. He breaks things all the time.

Mikey understands boundaries, but he doesn't automatically recognize them. He needs them to verbalized or for there to be a very obvious reaction to the boundary being crossed (unfortunately, for Todd and Donnie). Sometimes people mess up (esp. younger people), and it can take a while for teens to learn where boundary is, but he fully respects the boundaries he does know about. He doesn't act petulant when he's told about boundary, he apologizes, accepts it, and moves on. He doesn't dwell.

Mikey doesn't hold on to distressing emotions. He bounces between emotions quickly, but isn't effected in the long run. One thing Iv'e seen people often conflate is the difference between sensitive and vulnerable. Mikey is sensitive, but I have never seen him vulnerable to others. To be sensitive is to be easily influenced by the current situation. To be vulnerable is to hold that influence for a long time. Characters can have one, both, or neither of these traits. But Mikey is not vulnerable. It is the difference between compressing memory foam and a piece of metal until they deform. One will pop back, the other does not.

Those who are vulnerable but not sensitive will take longer to effect, but once you do, they will hold on to that emotion for a very long time. The vulnerable, are grudge holders. (leo). But like I've said, Mikey bounces back. What a character does has an effect on his emotions, but it doesn't make a lasting impression.

Forgiveness is another thing people like to push on him. It is not that Mikey forgives people easily, it's just that he doesn't hold grudges. He neither forgives nor forgets, but he does not ruminate. He's generally affable, first impressions seem to be a big part of how he views people. He is idealistic, and doesn't assume people are unchanging and/or evil, but he's not a mark.

Mikey isn't so much as naive or overly trusting… it's just that he's inexperienced. He doesn't get fooled by anyone in the series except meat sweats, and that's because Meatsweats is on Todd drugs. Mikey just didn't notice when he started faking. He's not… actually all that aware of people's emotional states, passively. He has to tune in to notice things like that.

Mikey isn't someone who really tries to regulate others emotions, either. The fandom like to make Mikey afraid of his brothers fighting and others being upset, but Mikey doesn't actually care. The most distressed we ever see him in a fight is in the movie, and he's not SCARED, he's just concerned (and then alarmed once it turned physical). If anything, outside extenuating circumstances (like the movie), Mikey actually seems to find their fights annoying.

(Mikey actually seems to have a pretty short fuse, but his bounciness doesn't really let it linger very long, lmao)

(One pet peeve of fandom Mikey is the constant crying, crying at fights, crying at insults, crying for no reason all the time. Sure, he tears up when he gets emotional, but when Mikey is genuinely crying It's when he's desperate, like when he's hungry, or when he's trying to save Leo from certain doom. Same thing, really.)

Mikey respects no one (we love him for this). He admires people, he admires his family: April, the turtles, his dad, Lou Jitsu. He admires Rupert Swaggert, but he respects none of them. No one is sacrosanct to the Mikey.

Above all, the way we write characters is to give them a past that informs how they act now. We view Mikey and the other turtles as teenagers that were kids, and that will be adults. Yes they all have “problematic” traits, but 1) good characters need flaws, and controversial traits are one of the best to use, and 2) they're teenagers, don't expect adult behaviors from them, also don't expect them to be kids. They're minors, not toddlers.

This is getting as long enough as it is, so we'll stop here, but this is a very broad overview of how we characterize him. There's a lot we didn't cover here, but if we even started on hobbies, or the real minutia of his quirks and ticks, or even how he feels about other specific characters... we'd be here all day. So I hope this is good enough lol