#world aquanaut security patrol

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Commander Samuel Shore - Stingray (1964)

#stingray #60s tv series #60s sci-fi #supermarionation #commander samuel shore #gerry anderson #sylvia anderson #puppets #world aquanaut security patrol #sixties #1964

[naffeclipse]

A Flood Tide of Sunshine and Stars

FNAF Mermaid!Sun/Moon x Reader Oneshot (SFW).

Tanks are your specialty: specifically repairing them. This is precisely why you need to find someone who can direct you to where you're needed. It’s not every day Freddy Fazfish’s calls up your company asking for an extra set of hands, though you wonder why they would at all. However strange, you were chosen for the job. You're good at what you do and, you have to admit, you’re excited to possibly get a glimpse of their world-famous mers.

Word Count: ~11,500 AO3 Warnings: Mild Injury. Blood. Drowning.

You realize just how glamorous the inside of the Freddy Fazfish’s Mega Aquariumplex is when you stand in the entrance before the golden statue of the titular attraction. The shiny sculpture exaggerates the size of the sea creature—literally larger than life. From head to tail fin, it stretches horizontally to a grand length of 20 feet, filling the air above the open lobby. Fins fan out as if swimming and the head displays a welcoming, excited grin, though you’re not sure if the aspects are true to life as you’ve never seen Freddy in person before. You’ve never had any close encounters with the otherworldly but beautiful creatures of the sea. However, the statue does look exact from what you’ve seen of the aquatic band in the numerous commercials that constantly play on T.V. You could compare the statue to the real mer if you’re lucky enough to glimpse the main show tank.

Tanks are your specialty: specifically repairing them. This is precisely why you need to find someone who can direct you to where you're needed. It’s not every day Freddy Fazfish’s calls up your company asking for an extra set of hands, though you wonder why they would at all. However strange, you were chosen for the job. You're good at what you do and, you have to admit, you’re excited to possibly get a glimpse of their world-famous mers.

You hike up your bag of tools under your arm. In awe, you walk under the statue as you approach a gated entranceway. You haven’t seen any humans to ask for directions but plenty of staff robots linger around the area, either offering maps to those who dare look in their direction or patrolling the perimeter as families are ushered into the Auariumplex. You try to pass through the thin lane of gates but a loud beeping blares out and the two barriers on either side of you switch from a calm blue to a flashing red. You glare at the machines protesting your arrival until a security bot promptly appears in front of you. You cool your expression of annoyance as it’s not the robot’s fault that you have no idea who to speak to or where to go, but this is a little embarrassing.

“An Entry Pass is required to enter this area,” it says, voice electronic and automated, “Please pick up your complimentary Entry Pass back in the entrance way.”

“I’m not a guest.” You touch the front of your bright azure jumpsuit where your name is stitched into a small rectangle patch on the front. “I’ve been hired to fix a tank.”

The security bot stares at you blankly. Ignoring the many stares coming your way, you grind your teeth.

“I was sent by—”

“Azure Aquanaut Repairs.”

You breathe in gratuitously at the sight of a blonde woman in a security outfit quickly approaching you. She swipes her badge over the top of the barrier beside you, ceasing the beeping and red flashing lights. With that, the security bot seems to have forgotten entirely about you and drifts away. The gate opens up. You step inside the Aquariumplex and face the security guard, a little self-conscious after being rescued but you focus on the task at hand.

“Thank you. Yes, I’m—”

“I know who you are.” The woman immediately turns and walks into the Aquariumplex, not bothering to see if you keep up—which you do if not disgruntledly. Is this the usual welcoming committee to this place? You hope not.

You follow her through the glittering beach themed lobby and quickly up a grand flight of polished stairs, alite with neon blue and white. Art of rising waves and bright skies splatter the walls. The faint smell of warm, greasy food waves through the morning air. You’re not sure where it comes from, perhaps the cafe in front or another restaurant located in the building, but it reminds you of arcades and amusement parks. Posters and photo booths await on the higher level of the lobby as gift shops and hallways all around you fill with people looking for the next mer attraction. Parents hold tight to their children’s hand in the crowd. The children in turn crush cute plushies in hugs. You don’t blame them for fighting to get into an elevator or another gift store. Freddy Fazfish’s has the greatest mer entertainment in the world.

You might just catch a peek of one or two stars in their pristine and costly tanks.

You briefly catch a silver flash of a nametag on the security guard when she turns right to a smaller but no less spectacularly designed entryway that’s strangely closed off. Vanessa. She could have introduced herself, you think, but clearly her focus is on getting you to the site in need of repair. All business. That’s alright; you’re fine with getting straight to the point, even if you do crane your head a little back to see if the hallway behind you offers any view of a viewing area or part of an aquatic exhibit. 

You don’t see anything but a crowd and more posters of the glamrock mers. 

Instead of letting disappointment creep in, you watch Vanessa pull out her badge again. The large entryway contains a rolling service door which, for all intents and purposes, appears locked up tight. Red signs tapped on the silver entry read “Sorry, We’re Closed!” One of the sheets has duct tape applied to the top—a rebel that wouldn’t stay where it should. You notice how faded the ink is. The rest of the signs and warnings are just as aged, giving you reason to pause. How long has this area been closed? And why?

Vanessa waves her badge in front of a small monitor mounted at the top of the entrance. The door rolls upwards with clanks and creaks, stirring dust and fluttering papers, and opens into a luxurious hallway. Vanessa ducks inside with a sharp look towards you when you fall a beat behind. You quickly match her rushed stride with a small flicker of annoyance. Is there a flood or is she just that intent on getting rid of you?

“My company told me there’s a leak in one of your tanks,” you say. The dull roar of the excited crowd grows muffled as the door rolls back down behind you. The heavy thud of it falling back into place echoes acutely in the empty space you now follow Vanessa into. Goosebumps raise the hair on your arms. This place was never meant to be silent—your gut tells you as much.

“Our temporary tank,” Vanessa affirms briskly. “The Aquariumplex is short-handed on repairmen. Those that are left are dealing with crisis after crisis, such as Freddy’s tank. There’s an issue with the filtration system. Chica is still moving into her new ‘green room’ tank as well. There’s no one to spare.”

“Sounds like it,” you say, then smile. “I’m happy to help.”

Vanessa makes a non-committal noise.

That explains it. You know Freddy Fazfish’s has some of the world’s best professionals handling every aspect of their entertainers’ needs. Not that you’re complaining about the opportunity, you’d love to see how their tanks are built and maintained as well as any mers they may have placed in other temporary aquariums until their real tank is ready again.

“It’s a very minor issue. However, water damage won’t be tolerated,” Vanessa says while she stops before another door.

You tilt your head back to read the big childish font painted in primary colors: “Super Starfish Daycare Pickup.”

No way! They really have their own mer tank for the daycare? You have to see it for yourself.

You contain your excitement while the door rolls up like the previous one, but this reveals a terrible dimness. Your brow raises in mild surprise. Vanessa already has her flashlight in hand, clicking it on before the door even finishes its mechanical motion, and she steps inside. You stare into the large open space. Save for a few feet of light bleeding in from the hallway, it’s dark. Leading with the bright beam on the floor, Vanessa takes off into the empty and eerily silent room. 

You chase after her power walk after staring for a second longer. Adjusting your grip on your tool bag underneath your arm to clutch it a little tighter, you cross what seems to be a higher level of the daycare. The open space leads to a lower floor, accessible by a long staircase just a few feet from you, where the daycare is surrounded by a massive playground net. You’re guessing it’s a safety precaution to keep kids from climbing out or perhaps to catch any thrown toys. Something glints in the center, spanning from ceiling to the floor.

You squint harder through the overwhelming darkness and make out the faintest refraction of light off of water. An enormous cylinder tube is stationed in the middle of the lower level. The water within lies still.

The kids get their own all-surrounding view of whatever mer is set in there. A pretty ingenious concept. You mentally tuck that away for questions later, maybe with a repairman or even an aquarium designer, if you could stumble across one.

“It’s causing problems,” Vanessa says. You look back to find that you’re falling behind and sprint across the dark while keeping your footsteps as quiet as possible. Was she saying something before that? You honestly couldn’t tell, you were too distracted by the beautiful tank.

“How big is the hole or crack in the tank?” you ask. You look up ahead at a soft outline of a maintenance  door with a soft light glowing behind it. You’ve crossed about a quarter of the daycare just to reach this marked place warning that only staff members may enter. Maybe Vanessa is rushing because it takes forever to talk anywhere in this place. The ‘mega’ part of the Mega Aquariumplex is truly living up to its name. 

“It’s a crack. About six inches,” Vanessa says as she stops at the door. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem to fix.”

“It shouldn’t be.” She turns her head back to you as she places her palm on the door. Her green gaze pins you, filled with consequential seriousness. “It is only a patch job. Stop the leak until one of the official repairmen can address it.”

You frown. That’s not how you work. You don’t ‘patch job’ things. You fix water tanks, tanks that house mers that could otherwise get hurt or killed due to the incompetence of tank handling.

She says your name sharply.

“Do not get in the water. Do not get any blood in the water. It’s stated in your company’s agreement in sending you that Freddy Fazfish’s is not responsible for any injuries or death.”

Before you can ask her with great incredulousness what exactly she means, she uses her trusted badge to unlock and push open the door. A gentle yellow light spills onto you and illuminates the doorway. She walks inside, holding the door open as you follow. You lift your head to survey the bleak gray floors and bare walls, empty save for the sizable tank taking up most of the space in the middle of the room. A makeshift staircase climbs up to a platform hanging over the top of the temporary aquarium. Several large fixtures in the ceiling shine yellow lights down, illuminating the murky water. The only place the brightness doesn’t reach is where the platform falls over the edge and casts a dark shadow into the pool. Immediately, your trained eyes find the crack on the front of the tank near the right corner, jagged and fractured.

A whole new wave of disbelief crashes against you when you see that the tank is half filled with water. A flash of something bright and quick turns your attention for a moment. A fin of a mer. It disappears in the murky, unclean water, hiding. You don’t give yourself a moment to marvel at how beautiful the sea creature could be because you turn on Vanessa, confused.

“Why isn’t the mer placed in a holding tank?”

She’s unphased, letting the door swing shut behind you. If anything, she’s more annoyed that you’re keeping her with questions.

“There are no other tanks.” She flicks her flashlight off though grips it tight in her fist. Her eyes narrow.

You carefully shift your tool bag under your other arm and then punch your fist into your hip, taking a firm stance.

“I can’t work in these conditions.” You make sure you look serious, too, and hold Vanessa’s gaze. “The tank must be emptied and dried before I can even start.”

“Your company reassured us that the sealant will adhere even when applied in water.” She crosses her arms, lips pressing into a thin line.

Caught off guard, you shake your head. Just because something can be, doesn't mean it should be, especially when it comes to sealing in water. You keep your burning curses for your company inside your mouth as you try to explain.

“Yes, but—”

“The water level has been lowered below the leak.” she interrupts you, and now you’re annoyed. “You’ll have your working conditions. A harness and rope have been provided to allow you to reach the crack. As for the mer in the tank, he won’t surface. Those are the rules every mer follows in the Aquariumplex.”

Her gaze flickers to the leftover aquarium behind you. You’re not sure, but the green of her eyes seem to darken under the shadow of her blonde bangs but then she’s back to you.

“Like you said,” she eyes you sharply, “it shouldn’t be a problem to fix.”

You clench your jaw. What can you say? No, I won’t take this super important commission from Freddy Fazfish’s Mega Aquariumplex? That will absolutely anger your company and put you at risk of a great penalty on your employment. Vanessa turns around at your silence. 

You pull at the collar of your jumpsuit, readjusting how it rests around your neck. It got slightly ruffled in your protests. You don’t really want to leave. You want to do your job and maybe you really want to see a mer up close for the first time, but this, after Vanessa’s warning, doesn’t fit right with you.You have repaired tanks for so long, every single time within or outside of a dry, empty tank. The stupid jumpsuit of bright azure feels insulting now. You eye the tank and the glaring creak set in the glass. It’s dangerous to have any imperfections within a mer’s aquarium. It could shatter.

The mer deserves a safe tank. 

You fix your hold on your tool bag and draw in a deep breath.

“How many mers?” you ask while gazing at the dense blue liquid within your soon-to-be work site. 

“One, but two states of being, depending on the situation in the water.” Vanessa angles her body towards the door. She’s awfully eager to leave you and get back to power walking through the Aquairumplex, you note. 

“Two states of being?” you echo.

“He’s very unique.” She pauses. “They’re very unique.”

You’ve never heard of such a mer, or much less one, or two, advertised at Freddy Fishbear’s. Your brow furrows in contemplation.

“Finish quickly then leave.” Vanessa grabs the door handle, “The leak is on the right front corner, just above the water line. You’ll see it.”

You hold up a finger in question, stepping towards her.

“Wait, is the mer alright with—” 

The resounding slam of the door is your only answer.

“...Me entering their tank.” You lower your hand and sigh.

Lovely.

You hug your bag of tools close and face the towering tank before you. The water is perfectly still, yet you feel a presence—eyes watching you. Resisting the urge to shiver, you make your way to the stairs and onto the platform hovering over the surface of the half empty tank. The glass is thick and clear and, thankfully, dry where Vanessa said it would be. You lean over the edge to search for the crack. There.

On the corner closest to you, you see the smallest fragment of crystal on an otherwise clear wall. The edges of the tank are lined with industrial strength steel painted a pretty deep blue. Gotta keep up with the theme, you guess. You set down your bag and flip open the cloth flap to pull out your pristine tools. Waterproof and mer safe silicone sealant, a straight razor for removing old sealant but, unfortunately, you’ll have no use of that today, a bottle of acetone, and an old raggy cloth that’s been so thoroughly stained you have no idea what color it was originally.

Several massive lights shine down onto the surface of the water. At the very edge of the platform, draped over the handrail, you spy the harness and rope that’s supposed to help you. The harness is old and frayed with rusted metal rings connecting it all together. The rope is haphazardly tethered to a support beam on the corner of the platform that’s about as stable as jello. You grimace at the sight.

You square your shoulders and prepare the sealant while internally plotting the lecture you’re going to give to your boss about how ‘well’ these working conditions are. But, the mer in the half-filled tank needs you to do this. If the crack expands or, heaven forbid, shatters the glass, the mer could get injured or left to dry out at the bottom of an empty tank.

As you twist the cap off the tube of sealant, you grimace at the condition of the water. Murky blue and undoubtedly not attached to a long term filtration system. This entire room appears like a maintenance area that’s been forcibly made into a temporary situation for the aquarium, which you're sure that’s exactly what it’s for. It puzzles you all the more as to why this mer is being held inside a leaky tank, as if forgotten, shoved into the back of a storage closet.

At the thought, you take out a small plastic pouch of mer safe cleaner that you always keep on hand to recommend to customers. It won’t fix this, not by a long shot, as the entire tank needs to be drained and scrubbed with thousands of sponges, but you want to do something. You carefully take a handful of pale blue coarse powder and sprinkle it into the water. It falls, dusting the surface but immediately sinks in. You watch for a moment but it’ll take a little bit to activate. You hope the mer doesn’t mind. You scoop up a few more handfuls of cleaner and toss more into the tank before eyeing the harness.

You grimace at the state of it. Standing up, you slip on the confusing mess of straps and tightening mechanisms. You feel a scratch from one sharp ring which holds together several pieces over your shoulder. Pulling and folding where it feels appropriate, you brace yourself for the rope that looks a second away from disintegrating. It’ll be all that tethers you to the lackluster support beam. Tucking your tools into your jumpsuit pockets, you’re ready as you can be. Hands tight around the rope, you sit on the ledge of the platform and look down. Oh, you really shouldn’t have. One side of the tank holds ominous water and the other guarantees a sheer fall to an uncaring concrete floor.

Find the crack. Fix it. You breathe in and slowly lower yourself off of the platform and dangle on the outside of the tank. You brace yourself as the rope creaks and groans while it takes on your weight, but it holds. The skin over your knuckles turn white from how hard you clutch the rope. 

The heavy beat of your heart is annoying—you don’t want to be so freaked out—so you turn your mind to the crack set in the tank right before you. It’s clear as day. A slice damaging the crystal glass. You stick out your tongue in concentration while you check the old beads of sealant in the corner of the tank. You can’t see it as distinctly from where the steel covers lie over it, but it's clear it's aged. Not that you’re touching it right now. Vanessa just wants a ‘patch job’.

Ugh.

Unable to follow your usual routine, you leave the old sealant be and take the bottle of acetone out of your jumpsuit pocket. You dab a small amount of liquid on the rag you brought as well then thoroughly wipe over and around the crack. You wouldn’t put it past this place to try and do a botched patch-up job of their own. 

You lower your rag, satisfied, when the smallest sound of water lapping against the glass draws your gaze. The water level is just a little under the fissure but you can see the restless ripples pushing down the glass from where you dangle on the rope. Something moved inside.

You peer closer at the water. The murky blue blooms with clear spots of visibility from where you had thrown in cleaner. You don’t see the mer. Perhaps he’s shy, or aggravated, or both. The warnings Vanessa gave about not going into the water nor getting blood in it pops up in the back of your mind. You watch a moment longer out of curiosity before ducking your head to fish out your tube of sealant.

You find it. Grasping it in your hand, you lift your head. Pressed against the glass right in front of you is a wide grin filled with sharp teeth and big round white eyes. 

You immediately flinch back, almost falling head over heels in your harness, but you snag the rope at the last moment. Gasping, you clutch sealant to your chest as you register that a glass wall is all that stands between you and the mer. The mer tilts his head, bright eyes squinting in pleasure while his smile remains ever stretch. So many teeth. You stare blatantly in awe as you slowly straighten back into the position you were before he came along. He’s so bright in color. Warm yellows and burning oranges run down his slick body, and frills, so many yellow frills adore his head. His face reminds you of the sun. Spiky red fins circle his neck and wrists, and the sunray-esque splay of his tail fin makes you think of sunny beaches and a calm ocean front.

You’ve never been so close to a mer before. When you’ve previously repaired cracks and replaced old sealant, the fish were placed in a separate tank, sometimes in the same room, but this is the first time you’ve worked on a mer aquarium. As well as the first time with the resident of said aquarium right in front of you. You give a small smile to the mer and his pointy white teeth. He presses his face harder against the glass as if hoping for something, like a hello. 

“Hi,” you breathe out, now having collected yourself. “You startled me, but I suppose I startled you, too, dropping in like this.”

His eyes shift downwards, hands clasping together (those are sharp claws he has, you notice) in a sheepish or worried manner. Maybe he’s nervous? He’s hard to read or perhaps you can’t decipher a mer’s expression. His tail fins flutter at a high frequency. You guess that he’s anxious, his sunny demeanor quickly dampened. 

“It’s okay!” you blurt out. You’re hit with a pang of empathy for the mer. You place your hand on the glass with a reassuring smile for him. The quiet sound lifts the mer’s head, bright yellow frills fanning his face. He blinks before beaming without really moving his permanent smile.

He waves vigorously, whipping the water up with his arm and casting bubbles left and right. Your smile grows into a full on grin. Fixing your grasp on the tube of sealant, you softly wave back then gesture slightly above him to the crack. He doesn’t break the surface but turns his head almost at a 180 degree angle to find what you are pointing at, his body twisting behind him in a twirl of fins.

“I’m fixing your tank,” you say, then immediately feel guilty. No, you’re not. Not truly.

He inspects the crack curiously for a moment and then eyes you again, sharp teeth on full display. You point at the sealant.

“This will stop the leak for now,” you explain, not really sure he can hear you from across the glass.

His tail slows down from the rhythm back and forth motion he’s kept up since surprising you, zeroing in on the tool in your hand. A tip of a dark orange tongue flicks out of his mouth in displeasure, surprising you. You falter for a moment. What does he think this is? You can show him, you decide, as you lift the sealant up. You’ve never had an audience before, especially one that’s directly affected by your work. His large white eyes, that you now notice hold silver pupils, follow the tool in your hand. Carefully, you push the trigger and dot small beads of clear sealant across the crack, then draw the tip of the tube through the dotted line to spread it. It’s messy, mostly because sealant goes into the joints of the aquarium, not on the surface glass, but you smooth it until only a fine layer fills the crack. You lower the sealant and observe it a moment more.

“There.” You smile to ease the mer.

He lifts a claw-tipped hand, webbed with translucent yellow skin, towards the surface but shudders and draws back. He frantically swishes his tail before you hold up your hand. The poor thing looks worried.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you say. “You shouldn’t touch it anyways. It needs time to cure.”

He stops, large eyes blinking slowly. You nod in what you hope is a comforting way. His big grin returns full force and you find that his shark-like teeth aren’t so scary anymore. He’s a large mer, even compared to the star mers at the Aquariumplex. He’s long, slender, and much bigger than you. His flowing fins are extravagant—you really could stare at them all day, but you wrap your hand around the rope, and push slightly to get a grip on the stairs beside you. 

The mer swims along the glass to keep up with you, twirling back and forth in energetic and graceful spins. You almost drop your sealant while watching him. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he likes having an audience. Forcing yourself back onto the platform, you immediately kneel down to peek over the ledge and find him again. 

The water is still. Murky blue spans below with clearness spotted throughout.

Oh. Gone already? You stare for a long moment, willing him to reappear, but he doesn’t. You must not be something new and exciting to check out anymore. A wave of disappointment washes over you but you try to shrug it off. You shouldn’t be that disappointed to find the mer leaving you, and yet… You bite your tongue as you recheck your tools despite not needing to.

In the corner of your vision, you catch a blur of yellow in the water below. You swiftly turn back, hands on the edge of the platform to see the mer darting cheerfully back into your view, watching for your reaction. He waves his hands, as if to say, “here I am!” 

Oh, he’s a jokester!

When you laugh, he does a spin in the water to a happy rhythm. He seems to dance wherever he swims, mesmerizing you. Leaning down on one arm, you give him a mock scolding look while shaking your head. He blows bubbles, not buying it for a second. Probably because you’re unable to stop your amusement from bubbling over.

You’re smiling a lot, and you hope you don’t look goofy. You get the feeling he enjoys your attention, too, as he keeps staring up at you from underneath the wavering blue water, almost desperately trying to keep your eyes on him. He keeps flipping his tail fin to create waves, though never actually breaking the surface himself. 

He slows down when he passes through the clear areas in his tank, as if soaking in the cleanliness. The cleaner powder did its job where it could reach. The mer pauses in one of the spots. Yellow frills turning in the water, he looks up at you and you hold his gaze. The whiteness of his eyes are somber, almost emotional, as if deeply moved you would pay attention to the water in his tank. You wonder if he’s had company in a long time. A fist squeezes your heart. You really hope not, because otherwise…

You fix the rope, pulling it across the platform to lean over the water where you’ll descend into the tank. The surface ripples with the mer’s movement as he comes to a stop, watching you with a sudden anxiety chewing on his tail fins, as if you’re on the edge of a great cliff and he’s worried you’ll slip. His frills begin fluttering at great speeds.

As you gauge the short distance you’ll need to descend to reach that crack, you sigh in defeat. You don’t want to get wet. Your jumpsuit isn’t waterproof, as again, you’re supposed to work in a dry and empty tank. Freddy Fazfish’s will have to deal with you trekking water out of their building when this is done, but right now, you’re spitefully fine with that.

Plus you wouldn’t mind getting a more personal introduction to the mer.

“Coming down,” you announce as you awkwardly drop over the tank edge and against the glass, easing your boots on the slick surface. The harness pulls tightly on your legs but you’re at least hanging on, not falling into the water. You peer over your shoulder in time to see orange fins cutting through the pool to meet you. A small wake forms from his speed before you manage to adjust to the best position. You feel like a worm on a hook dangling above the water as the mer stops just below you, his maw open loosely in a frown.

Do not get in the water.

The warning Vanessa gave you rings through your mind when your boot dips into the half murky, half clean surface, sending out ripples. The mer swims below you with a quiet splash of his tail. You watch him through the liquid lens of the water. Gently, he sets one clawed finger on the rubber sole of your boot and pushes it out of the water. You pull your legs up while watching him with curiosity. Quickly retracting his hand, he sinks back down but lingers a few inches below you. His sharp teeth are hidden but his big eyes watch you with a frantic gleam.

“Sorry,” you say, “I’ll try not to get your water dirty.”

He looks no less anxious when you say that. Maybe that’s not the problem? Either way, you won’t upset him by getting into his water as he may be territorial. Perhaps he prefers no one in his tank. You’ll respect that.

You fix your boots against the glass like you’re about to walk up the sheer wall of the tank, away from the water. It steadies you considerably. Finding your acetone and rag in your pockets, you begin cleaning the other side of the crack while you glance down at your new companion.

You introduce yourself, then ask, “What’s your name?” 

Little bubbles float out of his mouth and crowd the surface over his face, nearly hiding him from view. The sight is adorable, and you enjoy how happy this all is: him, his sunshine like fins, and bubbles. Then he flicks his head towards the far wall, orange frills cutting through the water. You follow his gesture to look across the tank to the far side. Outside of the glass, you spy a giant poster set on the floor, propped against the wall. A massive black curtain almost shrouds it. 

Half of the poster is painted yellow while the other is coated in midnight blue. A cartoonish beach is set in the background of a mer’s face—one you immediately recognize as belonging to the mer swimming below you. It advertises ‘Sundrops’ with small hard candies in wrappers. From what little you can catch under the black curtain of the remaining half, you note a starry sky sprinkled with stars over dark calm waters. Printed on the edge in large font is ‘Moondrops’. A silver fin peeks out under the edge of the curtain but that’s all that’s visible on the night half of the poster.

Why is that poster in here and not outside, advertising the candies? A frown tugs down the corners of your mouth. As you think of it, you haven’t seen any other posters or plushies of the bright yellow mer as you followed Vanessa through the building.

You look down. He’s gazing up at you eagerly, his excitement about to explode out of the water.

“Sundrop?” you ask.

He makes a small noise, muffled and sending bubbles to the surface, but you acutely notice that he makes one syllable.

“Sun?”

The frills around his head perk up when you say it. You chuckle.

“Nice to meet you, Sun.” You’re glad that you can refer to him now by name rather than ‘mer’.

A quiet splash touches your pant leg, flicked by a carefully placed tailfin. You cry out a playful “Hey!” as Sun swims away. You half expect him to pop up on your other side, but you're stuck in the corner of the tank. He swiftly swims back into view while staying strictly underwater. You have to finish cleaning the crack but Sun continues to make bubbles as he watches you.

The poster lingers in the back of your mind stirring more and more questions with no answers in sight. Since when would Freddy Fazfish’s withhold a mer from the public when they’d make more money in showing them off? The beautiful cylinder tank you saw in the center of the daycare is evidence that they had Sun in there at one point. Why refuse to use such an exsitque aquarium, especially when the temporary one is damaged? That tank can’t be cracked or broken in any way as it was holding water nor could it have an issue with the filtration system as you could see straight through the crystal clear liquid, unlike what Sun swims in now.

You glance at the murky pool you hang above. Oh. Sun’s disappeared again. You begin searching for any sight of his yellow fins but the murky water, the cleaner already beginning to fade away, is about as helpful as fog on a dark night. What is he doing? Playing another ‘here I am’ game?

You really should finish patching this crack. You set your sights back on the fracture in the glass, drawing the acetone dotted rag over it. Your gaze follows the jagged line where it jackknives into the inside joint of the tank. You stop mid-wipe, stunned.

You lean forward, balancing precariously, but you need to be sure. The break disappears into the shadow of the joint. The steel covers on the outside of the tank reinforces the corner; however, from the inside, you now see that the glass tucked in the shadows holds a fissure that travels all the way down the length of the aquarium in a fractured line. You can’t even see where the break ends as the murky water swallows it up.

Oh no.

You pull your hand off the glass as if it were burning hot. All it would take is one wrong move—Sun pressing too hard against the glass to greet someone—and it will shatter, plunging the mer into a flood of glass. 

How long has this been here? Any repairmen in the building or those who tend to Sun should have been alert, watching for any signs of trouble with his tank. This is gross negligence. Your blood begins to boil but there’s no time to be furious. Sun needs to be moved, now.

The hazardousness of the situation sends your heart racing. You grab the rope and begin to pull yourself up when a small object falls in your lap. You yelp in surprise, sporadically catching it against your hip before it falls back into the water. You see Sun again. He’s grinning big, teeth submerged just below the surface. Slowly, you get a grip on the wet thing in your hand and hold it up.

A small yellow seashell, flat and shaped like a fan. Your lips slowly part in awe. You clutch it tightly as you look down at him and try to return from the whiplash of feelings inside of you. You’re touched he’s given this to you, and you’re panicking that he could very well be moments away from not having a tank at all. 

“Thank you. I love it,” you say quickly, mind still racing. “Sun, be very careful. Don’t swim too quickly or hit the glass. It’s badly damaged.”

Curiously tilting his head, he stares at you. Yeah, you’re giving a lot of mixed signals here, you know, but the problem is not so small after all. 

“Look,” you insist. You lightly, ever so lightly, trail your finger from the visible crack to the massive fissure hidden away. A half baked idea of sealing it together comes to mind, but that wouldn’t really stop it from shattering, especially as it would need time to cure. Sun needs to be removed from the tank and the water quickly drained so that this wall of glass can be replaced immediately. 

“It’s going to—ow!”

You pull back your hand, a slice of pain blooming on your index finger. You hold it up for inspection just as a fat drop of blood falls into the water, becoming a wisp of red in the cloudy pool. A pulse of pain begins in your fingertip. 

“Shoot,” you mutter under your breath. You haven’t carelessly cut yourself on glass in a long time. There goes your record.

The small cut is a minor annoyance but blood is starting to run down your whole finger. You’ll get a bandaid later. Right now, you turn back to Sun, mouth open to explain that the glass is severely compromised when you see the unnatural stillness of his body. His expression is frozen, teeth locked together. As his fins tremble, his big white eyes lock onto the drop of blood mixing in with water.

“Sun, I’m sorry,” you wince at your own stupidity. You said you wouldn’t get his tank dirty and now you’re bleeding in it. “Please hang on. I’m going to get help. You need to be moved to a safer tank—”

Sun turns sharply on his tail and dives away, clutching at his face and ripping at the frills along his head as if in pain. You stare in shock. Before you can call out to him, he disappears into the shadow cast by the platform hanging overhead. The water, hardly bearing any more spots of cleanliness, effectively hides Sun from your sights.

You want to apologize but the cracked glass is too dangerous to wait. You clutch the seashell in your hand, Sun’s precious gift, before you slip it into your pocket. You grab onto the rope, blood immediately staining the frazzled strands, and reach for the top of the platform. You hook your fingers onto the ledge. Dangling for a moment, the harness becomes dead weight around you. You grunt with effort as you pull yourself up.

Cold wet claws snatch your ankle. 

You gasp as you’re ripped back. A short moment of weightlessness makes your stomach drop before a harsh yank from the rope and harness catches your body. You hear a strange noise, a sharp hiss, from below you. Several piercing pains shoot up your leg from the grip on your leg. The moment you get your vision to focus, you watch the rope, the only thing between you and the water, slowly fray, unravel, then snap in two.

You fall into the tank of water with your heart in your throat.

The shock of the water engulfs you. You barely shut your mouth against the rush of liquid as you become acutely aware that something is dragging you deeper. You only have the breath in your lungs. It’s beginning to burn. You twist and try to kick free but to no avail, and look down to see what has a hold of you.

A mer. His tail is midnight blue with a crescent shaped tail fin, adorned with small star-shaped dots of pale yellow. You’re not sure if the stars glow faintly or if it’s just a trick of the water. Sharp and dark frills wrap around the wrist of the hand that’s digging its claws into your ankle. A paler upper body whips back to look at you, as if sensing your gaze of horror. 

This mer is not Sun. 

His silvery face holds a permanent grin of sharp teeth, much like Sun. But unlike Sun, this mer’s eyes are black pools offset by pinpricks of luminous red. A circle of dark blue fins lay around his neck. He stares back at you as if a shark finding a bleeding seal stranded in water.

The poster. The moondrop. Vanessa told you about the uniqueness of this mer, two in one. 

This is Moon.

He flashes his teeth with a ravenous grin.

You kick your legs, desperately holding onto the last of your precious air as you try to break free. You don’t know if he’ll let go, or why he has you. The last thing you want is for some poor staff member to find your corpse at the bottom of the tank being chewed on like a squeaky toy.

The blue mer is unphased by your struggle. A dark fleshy appendage on the back of his head that makes you think of a napcap flows in the water behind him. Smaller fins of silver frame his head like Sun but much shorter, less wavy. Keeping his claws around your ankle, he leans in close. You can’t get away as his teeth separate into a gaping maw.

“Little fish.”

The low voice of the horrifying mer cuts through the water. Your eyes widen. That’s what their voices were designed for—underwater. You’ve never heard a mer speak that wasn’t specifically recorded from one of Freddy Fazfish’s shows, but oh, you wish you weren’t experiencing it like this. And you really wish he wasn’t saying that.

He holds you down but his long arms and greater size lets him meet you eye to eye. The staggering difference in strength and mass makes your blood run cold. You’re no match, but you keep thrashing. Moon’s claws dig deeper into your skin. He lowers his jaw and comes closer, inches away from chomping down. Adrenaline fuels your next kick as you smash your heel into his wrist. A sharp growl rips through the water as his hand opens, releasing you. You immediately and frantically swim to the surface.

The growl becomes low and deadly. The intensity frightens you as you kick your feet, pushing yourself past your limit. Encouraged by the burning in your lungs and the fear crushing your heart, you whip your arms and legs faster. Your hand breaks the surface. You’re about to take a breath—

You’re ripped back by your harness. You cry out but it’s drowned under the water. A force much, much stronger than you drags you deeper and the murky blue quickly crowds you, cutting away any hope of air. Your mouth opens in a desperate desire to inhale something.

Blindly fumbling for the straps on the harness, you snag a piece that needs to be unhooked through a loop, but there are so many straps. You’re too tired. Blackness is creeping in on the edge of your vision. Bubbles rush around you as heaviness presses down on every part of you. Your shaking fingers manage to undo the loop and free your one leg. 

Before you can go for another strap, claws grab the front of your harness, jerking you through the water like a ragdoll. Two red pin pricks stare down at you. Moon floats above, long tail calmly waving back and forth. He has you. He must know it’s only a matter of time until water fills your lungs.

He grabs your hand—the one with the cut. It leaks small red wisps into the water as he brings it closer to his sharp teeth. He eyes the blood with hunger as his tongue flicks out, long and dark. Your heart hammers inside your chest. Fueled by the fear of losing your finger, you use your free hand to fumble for another strap. 

He growls. Widening his jaw in displeasure, he slams your back against the glass, stunning you. Pain blossoms at the back of your head. You would have lost your breath if you had anything left to lose. A sharp crack echoes through the water. Moon whips his head towards the noise as stars and blackness bleed across your vision. They look a lot like the dots on Moon's tail. You feel it’s wrong, but everything is getting hazy. A small part of you urges you to fight and breathe again, but you can’t. Moon’s hand presses against your chest. Your eyelids droop close as water gushes into your mouth.

A thunderous crack rings in your ears. You fall backwards, caught in a rush of water. The world is upside down. You feel the slightest brush of a fin before you hit something hard and flat and are carried away by a flood. The grasp on your harness disappears. You’re back from the darkness as air hits your face. Gasping deeply, you draw in oxygen before choking on the sudden breath. You cough so violently as you bump into another solid surface—the wall, you vaguely realize, and slump against it.

In. Out. Breathe. Just breathe. Get air in. You’re out of the water, but not entirely. You feel a soft trickle brushing against your pants. Your eyelids fly open. Your chest heaves as you tilt your head back until it rests on something solid. Breathe. In. Out. Don’t choke, just inhale.

You’re half propped up on the wall opposite of the tank. The bleak maintenance room is a flood: the entire floor is soaked while a few boxes and shards of glass float in the aftermath, pushed against the sides of the room like yourself. You warily watch a chunk of glass drift past you and hit the door that you first came through. The tank is all but empty save for the jagged crystal remains left in its frame. The sight reminds you of Sun's and Moon’s teeth.

You gulp in the air. With renewed energy from the fresh oxygen in your body, you swivel your head to search for the mer that was ready to bite your hand off. Where did he go?

You unsteadily get to your feet. When you take a slow step forward, your boot crunches on some glass. The sharp noise makes you wince. You’re lucky it didn’t break through the sole of your shoe. Carefully picking your foot back up and away, you feel the coolness set in, chilling your skin. Your jumper hangs heavy on your body, as does the stupid harness. You immediately rip it off and toss it aside. It lands with a heavy splash. Good riddance.

You’re rattled. You force yourself to calm but your hands are shaking. Still breathing heavily, and not just from lacking air before, you feel lightheaded and weak. A nervousness flows through your veins that refuses to disperse. The dark tail and those terrible red eyes were about to be the last thing you ever saw in this life.

You should leave, right now. This is a mess beyond your capabilities. A mer was trying to kill you. You almost died.

Inhaling deeply, you start towards the door when a crescent fishtail flops through the air to your right. You stop. In the depleting water, a fin slaps the floor. Moon. Your heartbeat jumps into your throat when you see him. The floppy appendage on the back of his head lies limply down his back. The mer claws desperately around a box but he can hardly swim in this shallow mess. He must feel your gaze for he whips his head to face you, expression frozen in shock. No longer pinpricks but full of luminous red, his eyes stare back at you as your entire body tenses.

He hisses quietly. Floundering further, he narrowly avoids a small shard of glass carried by the slow dispersion of what remains of the flood. He’s powerless in this condition. The thought allows you to breathe easier, but at the same time, you frown in concern.

You stare for a long moment, both frazzled and… sad. Watching Moon struggle touches you in a way that’s uncomfortable, and it’s not even deserved—the mer tried to drown you—but you still can’t stand it. Softly bringing your hand over your pocket, you feel the outline of the yellow seashell Sun gave you.

You sigh deeply. You are both an idiot and a bleeding heart. Slowly gathering your courage, you carefully pick your way across the debris littered floor towards the fumbling mer. Yeah, there’s going to be water damage. Vanessa won’t be happy. 

One problem at a time. That’s all you can handle.

You find a push cart dolly, the kind that’s used to move boxes around on its low platform. That’s great luck as you are not carrying Moon with his array of natural weapons at the ready. The water grows thinner, hardly trickling over the top of your boots as you shove the cart around a particular large slice of glass. Moon’s eyes follow you as he continues hissing and grasping for any purchase on the cement floor but only flops to his side. The silvery fins on his body sag unnaturally. His dark tail fin slaps the floor, hard, and you wince. 

“Hey, hey,” you say softly. Moon stops but narrows his gaze. You gesture to the cart. It’s situated between you and him as you’re not entirely ready to do this just yet. The residual ache of needing air still burns in your chest. 

You sternly return his glare.

“I’ll get you in some water if you don’t bite me.”

He twists and flashes his dagger like teeth as he curls in on himself as defensively as possible on flat ground. Head low and claws extend, he swipes the air in warning. He’s flexible; even for a mer.

You fold your arms and lean down to rest them on the bar handle of the cart. He can’t get you from here. You’re a little smug, you’ll admit, but it’s well earned after he almost drowned you.

“I can wait much longer than you can.” You tap your foot, making small splashes in the shallow water. “Your choice, Moon.”

He snarls but the sound comes out weak. His fins continue to droop as the water level sinks and leaves him out to dry. His slick body grows dull; the dots which remind you of stars no longer have their little yellow glow. You resist making a frown at the sight; you don’t want him to take advantage of your sympathy, despite his desperate situation. He rests his claws on the ground, pushing himself upright and pierces you with his red gaze.

He makes a strange hiss, attempting to speak, you imagine, but his voice doesn’t move through the air as a human’s vocal cords would. Whatever he’s trying to say, he still looks ready to finish what he started.

“It’s okay,” you say gently, despite the quickening of your pulse, “Come on. It’s not safe to stay here.”

The quiet of the stalemate stretches into seconds before Moon makes another hiss and crawls forward, dragging his tail behind him. By the look on his face, he’s not enjoying the pathetic motion. He grabs the edge of the cart. You straighten, waiting on the balls of your feet as your heart pounds against your sternum. He awkwardly pulls himself up. For a moment you fear the push cart is too small but he tucks his long body around himself, curling into a tight ball. He narrows his eyes at you as he remains tense. Thankfully, he keeps his claws to himself. His tail fin droops off the sides but so long as you move carefully, he’ll stay on. His gaze hits you with impatience. Ready as you can be, you square your shoulders.

“If you attack me, I’ll dump your sorry fins here and leave, got it?” you warn. You haven’t touched the handles yet, remembering how tightly his claws clutched your ankle. You don’t want to check your leg for fear of seeing small puncture wounds and blood.

Moon growls quietly. Still, you can see he’s uncomfortable as he holds himself on the dry platform, even as he tries to hide it. He’s vulnerable now. You slowly place your hands on the handle and pull it back towards the door. Moon joustles from the movement but stays on, claws flexing with anticipation. You miss several small shards of glass as you turn him around and get to the exit. Stopping a moment and giving a great berth around Moon, you push the door button. It opens with a quiet whoosh and a small gush of water and glass. Quickly, you push him through and wait for the door to slam shut behind you to prevent any more debris from flooding into the main area. It does. In doing so, it cuts off your main light source as well. A chill rolls through your body as you face the daycare.

The darkness swarms you save for a few soft and sparse light sources overhead—stars painted on the ceiling, you realize. Vanessa’s flashlight didn’t allow you to notice them before. It’s actually a calming sight, and you would have stared for a lot longer if it weren’t for the cart and hissing mer you’re pushing.

Moon twists his head upside, unnaturally looking back to watch you. You step back at the sight, so shocked by the contoronish-like movement before shaking yourself and pushing him forward. An unease settles over you as you roll him through the dimness. Somehow, you know he prefers this over the light.

“You’re being creepy on purpose,” you chastise. 

He makes a strange hiss—not really a hiss, more of a low, breathy laugh. You arch your eyebrow, unimpressed, but that only delights him further. 

Great. He’s a jokester. 

A pang hits your heart. You miss Sun.

You also promised Moon water. The giant tube tank in the center of the daycare is at the front of your mind, and you circle the outskirts until you discover a sloped entrance on the opposite side to cart Moon down. Why is this entire place so big and confusing? Making your way onto the lower level without losing control or tripping in the dimness, you push him through the giant doors of the daycare. It’s a little bigger than you initially anticipated but this is Freddy Fazfish’s; everything is decked out to the nines. 

You notice Moon’s gaze locked onto a small pile of toys left in a bin as the heavy doors swing shut behind you, a thud reverberating. It looks like someone was trying to clean up but forgot about them. You roll the cart onto the multicolored pads of the daycare floor. Pushing harder due to the comfy resistance, you huff as Moon’s head lifts up to stare at the giant tube. The water faintly glitters with refractions of starlight filtering down from the black ceiling. You only see a silver slice of his face but his expression is unreadable. You wonder what he’s thinking. 

The tires of the cart squeak as you maneuver around the elaborate play place of brightly colored slides. A small bump over what you think is one of the many balls from the nearby ball pit almost spills Moon overboard. He catches his tail before it flops off then growls as you right the cart. Stupid ball. You kick it out of the way and say a quick apology to Moon. Chuffing quietly, he resettles. Ugh, you can’t see anything in this dark place. You cross a mess of what you think is a coloring station and reach the base of the tube tank, sighing in relief.

A pool opens up on the floor, ringing around the tank that you only notice due to the dark surface reflecting the stars back at you. It's separated from the main aquarium but you wonder if it's connected somehow, perhaps allowing Sun or Moon to travel between the open pool and the closed off tank. The design perplexes you. It’s not so shallow that you believe it’s a swimming area for small children, nor are there any fences or railings to discourage entrance to the water. A mystery you will have to prod out of some worker but for now, you concentrate on pushing the cart as close to the edge of the pool. This will keep him long enough until the Aquirumplex workers can find him something better.

Moon turns his head back to you as you step away, his ‘nightcap’ draping over his shoulder. His teeth flash in the dim light. He holds up his clawed finger and beckons for you to come back to him.

“No thanks,” you say. You’re not in the mood to drown again.

His small hiss isn't reassuring. He glances at the little space between him and the water, a couple of inches at max, then calls you again with a waving hand.  

You peer closer at him. No. You know he wants another chance to pull you under. The little frenzy he went into when your blood mingled in the water indicated his true nature well enough. He doesn’t need help… does he?

He impatiently watches you, growling louder in a complaining voice. You fold your arms with a huff. Which is a little awkward considering the durable material of your jumpsuit is still soaking wet and heavy with water. You’re cold, too, standing here, dripping wet while Moon stares with his red eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You’re going to kill me.”

He tilts his head from side to side, like a boat rocking. The dark appednange on the back of his head, still floppy and sad in his out-of-water state, limply follows his movement. He waves his hands reasuringly. You hesitate.

“Are you going to kill me?” you ask instead, uncertainty creeping into you.

His teeth gleam as he widens his smile, crimson gaze glinting mischievously.

“Moon, that’s not helping.”

He dials back the grin but remains impatient. His tail unfurls, flopping to the side as he sways off balance before gripping the edge of the platform and steadies himself. The foam pads stick to the smooth flesh of his tail. You didn’t think about the new terrain making it difficult, perhaps even painful, for him to crawl even a few inches to the water. He’s drying out fast, too.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Inhaling deeply as to remember what it feels like to breathe, you look Moon dead in his menacing eyes. 

“Do not kill me or I will be upset.”

He flicks a fin in response. Eyes upturned impishly, his head follows you as you trudge to his side. You pause as you hold out your arms. He’s larger than you, and no doubt heavier, so you consider how exactly you’ll get him to the water. It’ll take only one step to get him to the pool, if that. You can manage that, you think to yourself.

“This won’t be pretty,” you say, setting one foot on the step leading into the pool and kneeling on your other leg beside Moon. “Alright, keep your claws to yourself.”

You slowly wrap your arms around his middle as he grabs onto your shoulders. Like you’re two middle schoolers awkwardly attempting to slow dance. The stupid thought makes your face burn but you duck your head as you pull him from the platform. His claws push into your wet jumpsuit, but no further. The cart rolls from his weight then lets him slide off. Heaving backwards hard enough to strain the muscles in your back, you drag Moon across the carpet while he hisses in your ear. A wet fin flicks your cheek. You lower your other foot into the shallow water. Twisting quickly, you all but dump him into the pool with a heavy splash. He submerges immediately. The small dots on his tail and on his nightcap-like head begin to glow a soft yellow once more. Good.

He looks like the night. You admire him for a moment as you slowly sink down, sitting on the top step leading into the pool. The cool water sinking into your boots anchors you. Unconsciously, you smile. Breathing hard but steady, you watch Moon soak in the crystal clear water. He moves like Sun, not with the same energy but with a rhythmic motion. His body blurs underneath the water but his outline is enough for you to spy in the night-esque space of the daycare.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, half sarcastic. 

Moon watches you with his underwater grin.

You’re hitting your limit. Exhaustion begins creeping into your limbs; the aftermath of adrenaline and stress from one mer. Or two. Your head feels slightly fuzzy. Almost drowning couldn’t have been helpful, but hey, it looks like you made progress with Moon. You wonder where Sun is exactly, while studying the mer, and if he’s mad at you for getting blood in his water. Probably. If you hadn’t, none of this mess would have happened. You look away from Moon, disheartened to think you already lost the new friend you just made.

A heartbeat of pain pulses in your finger. You lift your hand and hold it to your chest absentmindedly. You should probably tell someone what happened. Rather, you need to chew someone out for not attending to Sun’s and Moon’s temporary tank.

You start to get to your feet but you hear a quiet splash. Claws encircle your wrist and pull you into the pool. Caught off balance, your other palm slams into the surface of the water as you fall forward. It’s too late. Moon holds his head above the surface while bringing your hand to his razor sharp mouth. Small pinpricks of red freeze you in place. The brief truce evaporates.

You idiot.

You brace for several fingers or even half your hand to be served, and close your eyes.

A wet and rough sensation runs over your bleeding finger. Slowly, you open your eyes to find Moon’s long tongue, half-wrapped around your digit. He keeps a tight hold of your wrist but a flash of impish glee fills his face as shock falls on you. He pulls back, your finger clean, and his tongue withdraws into his teeth lined mouth. You watch him visibly swallow.

“Gross!” You try to rip your hand free, but he keeps you in place. His grip is like steel. It’s no wonder how he caused the break in his tank by slamming you against the glass. You stop from familiar fright, but now you’re also confused and a little weirded out.

He flicks his dark tongue out again, drawing it over your cut in a way that, oddly, reminds you of an animal tending to a wound—it still weirds you out. His grin widens as he licks one last time before slipping his tongue back into his mouth. You don’t know if he’s saying ‘thank you’ or if that was to satisfy his own hunger.

You don’t want to think about it more than you have to.

“Let me go now.” You pause and try to look really cute when you say, “Please?”

He chuckles in that low sound that he makes, red eyes upturned in what you can’t decide is delight in your panic or amusement at your plea, but his fingers loosen. He reaches out with his other hand. You tense as he draws the ends of his claws over your knuckles, not scratching your flesh, but softly trailing the razor tips over your skin. You slowly loosen and shiver from the gentle touch. Then he lets go. 

You rip your hand back and leap out of the water. Scrambling to your feet, water flies from your freshly soaked pant legs as you escape the poolside. You stop a few feet away, breathless.

Moon’s gaze rests on you as he sinks under the water once more. His fins spray out, revigorized, and his nightcap appendage floats freely. You stare down at him as a bubble of emotion builds in your chest. A slow laugh escapes you while you lay a hand against your head. The noise you’re making becomes strain, fraught, so you cut yourself off. You force yourself to breathe in slowly before you lose it. The pounding of your heart against your sternum reminds you how delicate you are, how weak. Moon slips closer to the edge of the pool and makes gestures again, beckoning you into the water with a new insistence. His red eyes are waiting below.

“No, no. I’m done for today,” you say with a haggard chuckle. But you’re not. There’s a flood in the back room of the daycare, a broken tank, and you have one of Freddy Fazfish’s mers where he shouldn’t be. You slowly straighten and try to sort out the buzzing mess your mind has become. It’s mostly occupied by Sun and Moon, the strangest and most intriguing mers you have ever met.

A quiet splash brings you back into focus. Moon’s head is half poking out of the water, his mouth concealed by the surface but bubbles rise up in front of his face, like when Sun was trying to tell you his name. More bubbles. A muffled sound. One word. You lean down slightly towards the pool to make out what it is, but not too close.

“Rest?”

Moon bobs his head once.

“Oh.” You run a hand over your head before rubbing the back of your neck. Rest? Why is he suggesting that? Do you look like you need it that badly? You don’t think he would care if you needed a second to lie still, but maybe he’s calmed down after getting a taste of your blood. A violent shudder comes over you at the reminder. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take it easy,” you say dismissively. “I’m, uh, not sure what to do now. I should go tell Vanessa about the problem in the back room, but I'm not really looking forward to that.”

Her and her cheerful attitude. Ugh.

The bubbles and muffled noise comes again.

You sigh deeply. Not entirely stopping yourself, your legs collapse until you’re kneeling. You’re a good foot from the edge of the pool Moon lurks in. His tail slowly waves back and forth, his dark tail fin cutting through the water. You curl up on the floor. Are you in shock? Maybe a little. Drowning and rescuing a mer will do that, you suppose.

“Fine, but not because you told me to,” you grumble. Your jumpsuit is soaking but the foam pads are super soft. You almost cry out at out nice it is. Your wet hair sticks to your hands as you hold them together underneath your cheek. You probably look pathetic as Moon stares, watching you as if he’s watching over you.

“Just for 5 minutes,” you mutter drowsily, “then I have to get going, okay?”

His eyes narrow, like he has no intention of letting you get that little amount of time. You’re too exhausted to react.

Your thoughts are left in shambles, and though your body is pulling you down, you can’t quite drag your mind into the black peace of rest yet. As if anything is simple here. You look at Moon. He’s slipped close to the edge without you realizing and only the thin space of the floor stretches between him and you. You wonder if Sun is okay.

Your vision becomes hazy before your eyelids start to fall. You really hope you’re getting a peaceful nap and not just passing out.

“Moon,” you say slowly as he tilts his head at your voice. You only see a blur of a silver face with luminous red eyes. “I still need to fix that tank.”

#fnaf sb #fnaf x reader #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #fnaf moon x reader #fnaf sun x reader #sun x reader #moon x reader #fic: a flood tide of sunshine and stars #naff writing #oneshot #mermay #mermaid!sun #mermaid!moon #no beta reader so good luck lol

[tv21pollshowdown]

Stingray Episode Showdown

Elimination round - Group Four. Which was your favorite episode out of these five? There will be no abstain/see results option this round.

Top four proceed to the next round. Synopsis below the cut, taken from wikipidia.

Hostages of the Deep. An undersea being kidnaps a World Navy admiral and his wife as a trap for Stingray. The Man from the Navy. The World Navy Missile Test puts Stingray in Danger, But Troy is more annoyed by the opposing Captain. Stingray (pilot). When a World Security Patrol submarine is mysteriously destroyed, Troy and Phones are assigned to investigate. However, they are captured by the Aquaphibians and sentenced to death by King Titan of Titanica.

 Marina Speaks. Audio Drama Alanta and Commander Shore discover a letter from Marina that reveals how she and the rest of her people came to be mute. Aquanaut of the Year. Named "Aquanaut of the Year", Troy sits before a live TV audience as a selection of his adventures are recalled as flashbacks.

#stingray 1964 #thunderfam #episode showdown #polls #stingray episode tournament #stingray tv show #tournament poll #tumblr polls

[riallasheng]

Anderverse Uniform Master link post

WARP (World Astronautical & Rift Patrol) Uniforms

WASP (World Aquanaut Security Patrol) Uniforms

Spectrum Uniforms Flag Officer and Senior Officers Junior Officers, Warrant Officers, and Enlisted

Bonus Penny and Parker

Other uniforms (and bonus character compilations will be added to this Master Post as I make them

#masterpost #Uniforms #Anderverse #Fireball XL5 #Stingray (1964) #captain scarlet

[gerryandersontv]

Captain Scarlet: Death In The Deep! - A Gerry Anderson A21 News Story

Captain Scarlet: Death In The Deep! – A Gerry Anderson A21 News Story

Continued From Previous Report Lieutenant Green’s discovery resulted in one of the fastest joint mobilisations the respective organisations had ever seen. Within the hour, surface and submarine vessels from the World Navy, World Aquanaut Security Patrol and Spectrum were dispatched from bases closest to Sturgeon’s wreck area. Their objective: to destroy the Imperial at all costs. Green’s feeling…

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#angels mysterons #black #blue #captain scarlet #cloudbase #colonel white #grey #lieutenant green #magenta #ochre #spectrum

[r2d2upgrade]

March 26th 2021

"Anything can happen in the next half hour! My durr in the uniform of the World Aquanaut Security Patrol from Stingray!"

#art #oc #furry #scalie #dinosaur #raptor #stingray #gerry anderson

[cultfaction]

Stingray

Running for 39 episodes from October 4th 1964 to June 27th 1965, Stingray  was created Gerry and Sylvia Anderson (Thunderbirds, Space: 1999) and filmed using their classic SUPERMARIONATION technique. The flagship of the World Aquanaut Security Patrol (W.A.S.P.), Stingray is the world’s most highly sophisticated submarine, capable of speeds of over 600 knots and the ability to submerge to the very…

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#Don Mason #Filmed in Supermarionation #George Lee "Phones" Sheridan #Gerry Anderson #Phones #Robert Easton #Space: 1999 #Stingray #Supermarionation #Sylvia Anderson #Thunderbirds #Troy Tempest

[hedwigstalons]

High Expectations - Ch7

You know those 1 minute doodles people do?  Well this is pretty much the digital equivalent.  As soon as I sat down I had a kid perched on each knee and a constant refrain of ‘Can I go on the magic drawing pad?’ which made doing anything just a little tricky.  I would love to have half a day to sit down uninterrupted and get to grips with even the basics of digital drawing but that’s not going to happen any time soon.  Instead you have to make do with what I could manage around two small humans (literally - I had one tucked into each arm).  

More thanks to @willow-salix​ who has put up with my ramblings every step of the way.

Earlier parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six

AO3 chapter link

Chapter Seven

Gordon was awake long before Virgil the following day.  He quietly flicked through the TV channels, the volume down low, until he heard his brother moving around in the bedroom.  Experience had taught him not to disturb Virgil’s slumber unless he fancied being in close proximity to a grumpy bear.  

As Virgil stumbled through his morning routine Gordon made himself useful fixing breakfast.  He searched through cupboards and the fridge and was relieved to see that Virgil kept the apartment well stocked.  Both brothers had a voracious appetite and a fast metabolism.  By the time Virgil had finished his shower the eggs were in the pan and the coffee was brewing.  When he emerged from his bedroom wearing yet another red checked shirt Gordon was just plating up.

“Hey, you can stay more often.”  The appreciation was mumbled around a slice of toast from the large stack in the middle of the table.  The portions were generous and the eggs were light and fluffy with just the right amount of seasoning.  “When did you learn to cook?”

“Right around the time you and John moved out and me and Alan got shipped to the coast.  Dad wasn’t often back in time for dinner.”

Virgil could sense there was a story to tell there but knew better than to press the issue, especially before he had had a second cup of coffee.  During his own visit back home he had taken on the cooking without even thinking about it and hadn’t given a second thought as to who normally kept the household fed.

“I’ll cook tonight if you want” Gordon said, tucking into his own pile of eggs.  “If you want pizza though you’ll have to ask Alan next time you’re back.  That kid has a knack for dough.  Just don’t touch his pasta, I’ve never known someone find simple boiling so hard.”

“Sounds great, you can show me what you can do.  Maybe you’ll end up at catering college.”

Virgil’s joke fell flat as he sensed the shields rising up around Gordon.  It seemed any mention of the future made his brother touchy as hell.  He made a mental note to avoid all talk of future plans for the rest of Gordon’s stay, even if they were only made in jest.  Unfortunately he still had his own work to do, troubled brother or not.

“So Gordon, I’ve got a lab slot today.  I was going to take you in and show you around but perhaps engineering isn’t really your thing.”

Gordon shook his head gently.

“Hey, there’s a pool a couple of blocks over, it should be pretty quiet at the moment.  How about you put yourself through your paces this morning then we can hang out in the afternoon once I’ve got back from campus.”

This sounded infinitely preferable to Gordon.  The routine of swimming was ingrained now and he had thrown his kit into his bag as a matter of habit.  The idea of watching Virgil doing…whatever it was Virgil did was not appealing, especially now knowing of his father’s ulterior motive for suggesting he spend time with one of his college based brothers.

With breakfast over and the dishes carefully washed the brothers departed and headed their separate ways; Gordon heading to the pool while Virgil made his way onto campus.  

Just a few short minutes later Gordon was stood, bag in hand, outside the pool building.  It was shut.  A noticed taped to the door proclaimed the apologies of the management for unscheduled maintenance and the assertion that the facilities should be open again the following day.  

Gordon dug out his phone and tried to call Virgil but the line connected straight through to voicemail.  Virgil had warned him that there was a policy of no phones in the labs and workshops and it looked like he had already missed the opportunity to get hold of his sibling.  He didn’t have a key to the apartment either.  Apparently the spare set was with the letting agent, whoever that was, but even if he could find the right place there is no way they would just hand over the keys to him even if he did have the right surname.  Instead of a morning burning off his frustrations in the water he was faced with the prospect of being stuck in a strange city, alone for the next few hours until Virgil resurfaced from his project.

He wandered back past the apartment and towards campus with the vague hope that he might bump into Virgil but deep down he knew that hope was futile.  Shopping didn’t appeal and galleries and museums had never been his thing.  He was destined for a boring morning.

His footsteps led him to a small square and he flopped down onto one of the hard, metal benches that lined the perimeter.  He may as well wait here as anywhere.  The wind was picking up and the enclosed space gave him some protection from the chill air that felt like it was blowing straight off the surrounding mountains.  The clouds above looked dark and stormy and the day had turned unseasonably cold.  The turbulent sky matched his mood.  It felt like the entire world was conspiring to stop him from swimming.  

The first rain drops soon began to fall.  Heavy, penetrating globules of water that hit the ground with force before bouncing back up again several inches.  Within seconds the drops had turned into a raging downpour; the sort of rain that obscures your vision and soaks everything in an instant.  The drumming sound of rain hitting concrete and roof slates filled Gordon’s ears with white noise as though attempting to drown out his very thoughts.  He sat there as the stinging rain beat against his body, turning the exposed skin of his cheeks a raw pink.  In some perverse way the discomfort was enjoyable.  A penance for being the sole aquatic element in a family that revolved around the sky and the stars.

A hand landed on Gordon’s shoulder and broke through his reverie.  He spun round on the bench to be confronted by a young man in military uniform gesturing to the store front behind him.  He didn’t have much choice but to follow as the man picked up his bag and dashed back to the cover of the building.

As the door slammed shut behind him the noise of the storm became muted.  Two men were in the room, one sat behind a desk while Gordon’s assailant and bag thief was shaking water off his cap.  Both looked to be about 25 and were in contrasting uniforms.

“So, were you aiming on hypothermia or just trying to drown yourself out there?” his attacker come rescuer asked.

Gordon just shook his head mutely.  His hair was slicked down against his head and the action caused trickles of water to drip down his cheeks.  He unzipped his kit bag, pulled out a towel, and scruffed his hair back to some semblance of dryness.

“I was meant to go swimming but the pool was closed.”

“And swimming in that downpour looked like a better idea than going home?”

“I’m just visiting.  I’m locked out until my brother gets back from class.”

“So how long do you need to wait?”

Gordon looked at his watch.  “He’ll probably be another couple of hours.”

“Well you can’t go back out in that, you’re already shivering.”  

This was true.  Stood there with his clothes plastered to his skin Gordon became uncomfortably aware of just how cold and wet his was.  He tensed his core muscles in an attempt to still the shivers that made his body tremble.  

The man behind the desk stood up and headed over to a coffee pot that was set up in the corner of the room.  He called over his shoulder to his companion.  “Kid’s not getting ill on my watch.  I’ll make some coffee and you can take him upstairs and stick his clothes in the dryer.”

Gordon felt like he had little choice but to follow the man through a door at the back of the office and up a narrow set of stairs.  They were right about one thing; he couldn’t sit out in the rain for hours. 

The upstairs of the building was converted into a tiny flat and the two military personnel evidently lived up there, despite their conflicting services.  There was a small living area with kitchenette built along one wall and a couple of extra doors that Gordon assumed led to a bathroom and bedrooms.  Gordon soon found himself kitted out in a pair of dry sweatpants and a hoodie while his own sopping wet clothes were put through a drying cycle.

Back downstairs, with borrowed clothes and a hot coffee warming him through, Gordon began to take more notice of his surroundings and his temporary companions.  Emblems of the World Security Patrol and its four component parts adorned the walls.  Badges of the World Space Patrol, World Navy, World Army Air Force and Universal Secret Service all had their place. 

With nothing else to do until his clothes had finished drying Gordon settled in to make the best of it.  The two staff seemed personable enough.  One wore the uniform of the World Army while the other was clad in the WASP insignia of World Aquanaut Security Patrol, the submarine service of the World Navy.  The pair were good natured with a touch of friendly inter-service rivalry.  Coming from a military family himself Gordon was well versed in the different factions although he was more familiar with the United States Air Force that the various world forces on display.

“What is this place?”

“Joint Services Recruitment Office” came the response.  “The World Security Patrol has offices all over the place.  Good engineers are like gold dust which is why this office is so close to the campus.  The different services staff it on rotation, two at a time.”

“So how did the pair of you end up here?” Gordon asked.

“Random allocation for me” answered the World Army representative, who Gordon soon learned was called Daniels.

“I’d just got back from an extended submarine tour and my C.O. thought I could do with some sunshine.  Not much of that today though; I stayed drier under water” laughed Green, the WASP who had pulled him in from the storm.  “It’s not too bad though, except for the land snails.”

“Hey!”  Daniels launched a promotional stress ball at Green.  “Less of the land snail you jumped up sardine.  Thank goodness I’ve only got to put up with you for another eight weeks.”

The two men evidently got on well together.  The traded insults were laced with laughter.  It was a far cry from the attitude his eldest brother displayed while in uniform.  Maybe it was the lack of officers to keep them in check or maybe Scott just didn’t have a sense of humour any more that accounted for the difference; the pair in front of him certainly weren’t dour or serious.

“I can’t see Scott being happy getting sent to one of these places.”

“Scott?”

“Eldest brother.  He’s Air Force.  He’s not happy unless he breaks mach three at least twice a week.”

This description was greeted by a double eye roll, evidently WASP and World Army were prepared to unite against a common enemy.

“That’s flyboys for you.  I guess this isn’t the brother who locked you out?”

“Nope, Virgil’s here doing his postgrad at the moment.  Some sort of engineering project.  I’m only here for a few days while Dad is out of town.”

“So you like to swim, huh?  Think you can swim 200 meters in under three minutes?”

“Stop trying to recruit the kid, Green.”

“Hey!  It’s my job at the moment, of course I’m going to have a try.”

A competitive glint appeared in Gordon’s eye.

“Think I can do it in under three minutes?” he mused, cocking his head as though seriously considering the question.  “I know I can do it in one, forty-four point two.”

“Like hell you can.  Jeez, that’s gotta be some kind of record.”

Gordon just smirked.  Out of the pool and with clothes on he wasn’t particularly recognisable, his father’s policy of minimal contact with the media had seen to that.  The pair in the recruiting office only knew his first name and had nothing to go on to connect him to the Olympics.  He couldn’t help but feel a little bit boastful at the chance to show off his achievement.

“Yup.  Butterfly.  Set it out at the Games a few weeks back.”

“Wait?  You’re Gordon Tracy?”

Gordon nodded.

“Bloody hell.  The guys back at base aren’t gonna believe I had you in my recruiting office.”

Green was now actively goggling at him and even the more reserved Daniels was looking slightly thunderstruck.

“Told you to stop with the recruitment spiel.  He’s got better things to do than mess about in your tin cans.”

“Those tin cans are highly specialised submarines I’ll have you know.”

The pair were back to the ribbing that seemed to characterise their working relationship.  Gordon looked on enviously at the obvious camaraderie that existed despite their differing career paths.  It showed a team spirit that he yearned for and the idea of locking himself away from his family at the bottom of the ocean was sounding pretty good at the moment.  

Before his brain had fully caught up with his mouth he blurted out “So what would I have to do other than swim to get my hands on one of those subs?”

Gordon left the recruitment office a few hours later with more than just dry clothes.  Stuffed in the bottom of his kit bag was a print out of the scores from the aptitude and reaction tests he had sat there which showed he more than met the standard required for WASP.  On top of these Green had placed an application form which, if submitted alongside the test results, would earn Gordon an invitation to a selection week.  

He had no real plans and sitting the tests had more been something to do to pass the time until Virgil was back.  The military was Scott’s thing, not his, but Green had been animated and engaging in his description of the submarine service giving Gordon much food for thought.  The picture he painted of service life was very different to the stories Scott brought home.  Perhaps it was because WASP was a peacekeeping entity rather the aggressive environment of Scott’s fighter unit or perhaps it was the idea of exploring the oceans that appealed but something made him keep the forms.

Gordon shoved the whole idea to the back of his mind, burying it as deep as the paperwork that was hidden at the bottom of his kit bag.

xoxoxox

By the time Gordon made it back to the apartment Virgil was there to let him in.

“Good swim?”  A mug of the ever-present coffee was placed in front of him before Virgil returned to the kitchen.  Gordon picked up the mug and wandered over, leaning against the door frame to watch as his brother made a start on lunch.

“Pool was shut.  Should be ok tomorrow though.”

“Shut?  You found something else to do, right?”  Virgil looked up from where he was buttering a stack of bread for sandwiches, feeling a gnawing guilt at his little brother being left alone in a strange city.  The concern was clearly evident in his voice.

“It was fine.  Even without a pool I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself for a few hours.”

“I know you are.  Do you want tomatoes in with your ham?  Or I’ve got mustard if you prefer.”

“Tomatoes please.  You got any cheese?”

“Sure just grab the block out the fridge for me and I’ll add some in.”

The pair manoeuvred round each other in the small space, passing ingredients back and forth until a sizeable stack of sandwiches had been created.  They carried them over to the table and settled down to eat.

“I’ve rearranged my lab slots so I don’t have to go back to campus for a few days” Virgil mumbled around a mouthful of bread.  “I’ll still have to fit in some work here but it means you won’t be on your own so much.”

“You didn’t have to do that.  I don’t need babysitting.”

“I didn’t do it because I think you need babysitting,  I did it so we can actually spend some time together.  Maybe watch some movies.  You know, catch up a bit.”

Gordon looked for signs of an ulterior motive but instead saw only genuine honesty in Virgil’s expression.  Now it was his turn to feel guilty for second guessing his brother’s intentions.  Since when had he got so suspicious of everything?  Probably since he found out this trip was yet another attempt by his father to mould him into the narrow ideals of what a good son should look like. 

“Sorry.  I guess I’m still a bit on edge.  Even half a continent away I still feel like Dad is watching and keeping an eye on me.”

Virgil swallowed his mouthful, all too aware that Jeff was rather more than half a continent away.  At that very moment he knew their father was somewhere in the South Pacific making sure the island that had been chosen as the future family home was just right before completing the purchase.

“So, this afternoon?”

“Films sound good, just none of that art house stuff.”  After his soaking he didn’t fancy heading out anywhere again that day but he also wasn’t in the mood for some high-brow foreign language film or any of Virgil’s other niche preferences.  “You sure you don’t need to do any more work today.”

“Maybe just half an hour or so to transfer my notes from the lab but I can always do that later.”

“How about you get that done while I clean up from lunch and fix us some snacks for the film.  I think I spotted some corn kernels when I was looking for the salt earlier.  Can’t have a film without popcorn.”

“If you’re sure?  Kernels are in the top cupboard.  I don’t have a popcorn maker here so you’ll have to use the stove, are you ok with that?”

Gordon’s only response was to roll his eyes; of course he would be fine making popcorn on the stove.  He started to clear the plates.

Virgil, free of chores, headed over to his desk.  He rummaged through his bag and dug out the smart moleskin notebook that he liked to use for rough notes, he found it easier to doodle down sketches on paper than on his tablet.  Soon he was completely engrossed in transposing figures and observations into his main files and cross referencing against the work he had done previously.

He was snapped back to the present by the arrival of Gordon on his elbow with a cup of coffee.  Once he was in the zone he could completely lose track of his surroundings, he had almost forgotten his brother was even there.  

“We can save the films until tomorrow if you want to carry on.”

“No, it’s fine.  Just give me a couple more minutes, I’m nearly done.”

Gordon picked up a file that was half covering a coaster to make space for the mug.  One or two loose pages slipped free and made a bid for freedom.  He carefully put down coffee then dived under the desk to retrieve the pages.

“Oh, sorry”, he took a look at the pages as he straightened up.  “I didn’t realise your project was in aviation.  That thing doesn’t look like it should be able to fly though, it’s like a bumble bee with those stupid stubby wings.” 

Virgil flustered slightly and snatched the pages out of Gordon’s hand with a little more force than was strictly necessary, hurriedly stuffing them back in the folder before shutting the whole bundle away in a drawer.

“Um, it’s not.  I mean, that’s not my project.  That’s just something I’m working on for, um, after.  Please, I’d uh, appreciate it if you didn’t tell Dad what you’ve seen.”

Gordon quirked an eyebrow in surprise.  Whatever Virgil was working on it looked like their dad was unlikely to approve, or at least that’s how it came across from Virgil’s reaction.  The last time he had seen Virgil acting so guilty was when he tried to deny eating Scott’s Easter chocolate while still having the remnants smeared as evidence across his face.

“Chill, Dad and I don’t exactly have a ‘chats over dinner’ type relationship.  So what’s the big deal?  I thought I was the only one not toeing the parental line about future plans.  Is he pressuring you to go into the Air Force like him and Scott?”

“It’s nothing like that.  And anyway, I’m a pacifist, remember?  I think Dad knows me better than to suggest the military of all things”

“Well at least he knows what one of us likes.  So, is this some PhD topic you’re thinking of?  Cos if it’s to do with planes I’m sure Dad will be fine with it.  Unless you’re thinking of setting up solo as a competitor to Tracy Aviation, now that would make him pissed.”

“Look, can you just drop it, please?” 

Gordon was slightly taken aback by the abruptness, it normally took a lot to get their gentle giant riled up.  It was almost impossible to have a fight with Virgil because it just wasn’t in his nature to be argumentative.  That wasn’t to say that Virgil didn’t have strong opinions, it was just that he was normally so uncontroversial that it was hard to disagree with him.  Perhaps he wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure to conform with their father’s ideals.

“I’m sorry.  I promise I won’t tell Dad but, whatever it is you’re working on, don’t let him put you off.  I’ll understand if you don’t want to talk about it but don’t let him dictate your life.  No point both of us being miserable.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Virgil felt guilty leaving Gordon with the wrong impression but it was easier to let him believe that Jeff disapproved of his future plans than try and explain away what was really on the cards.  He made a mental note to take better care of the notes he had made.  Of course it would all be much easier if the whole family knew what was going on but Jeff had been adamant; no sharing anything with anyone he hadn’t personally brought into the scheme, and that included younger brothers.  

By mutual consent the brothers treated the future as a banned topic of conversation and by the time Gordon was due to return to Los Angeles he was in a much calmer frame of mind.  A few days without the burden of responsibilities or parental scrutiny had soothed his soul and left him feeling lighter and more relaxed than he had for a long time.  

Unfortunately all good things had to come to an end; he couldn’t hide out in Denver forever, tempting as it may be.  As the plane headed back west Gordon found his mood sinking like the setting sun he was heading towards.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #my art #high expectations #Gordon Tracy #Virgil Tracy #future plans #career choices #keeping secrets

[willow-salix]

This story came about after a hilarious conversation with my kid on a car ride home, she picked most of the questions and answers, all based on real events. Thanks to @hodgehegposts for picking the charity.

I tried really hard to get it all to fit on a post but unfortunately it was just too large with too many paragraphs, so here is a snippet, you can read the whole thing here on Ao3. Enjoy you some silly boys.

"You cannot be serious, Gordon, tell me you're joking," Scott's voice was muffled by his hands, his whole body slumped forward in his seat as he prayed for death.

"What? It'll be fun!"

"You seriously signed us up for this? All of us? ALL OF US?" Virgil wondered how hard it would be to train Selene as his new co-pilot because the position was about to become vacant.

"No?"

"Gordon, don't answer with a question! You did, didn't you?" Scott couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"OK, yes, I did, but Penny was desperate and she said the WASP team had already signed up, we can't let them have all the glory. Come on, we can beat them, our honour is at stake!"

"Ah, that explains it, not only are you totally wrapped around her pinky, you want bragging rights," Virgil shook his head in despair.

"But Alan said it was cool!"

"Alan thinks everything is cool! And he is not the one in charge here!"

"But it's for charity!"

Scott sighed, knowing he was beaten. It was too late to back out now, plus it was for a good cause. "Fine, what's done is done, but you're the one that has to tell John."

"Easy," Gordon grinned. "No problem!"

"You can't make Selene do it for you," Virgil warned him.

"Nuts!"

***

Gordon stared across at their rivals, dressed in their World Aquanaut Security Patrol uniforms, looking perfectly relaxed as they chatted amongst themselves. He looked at his brothers, Alan bouncing excitedly beside him, John sandwiched between him and Virgil looking like he was about to cut and run, or duck and hide under their podium, Virgil who looked fine now that he had gotten used to the idea and finally Scott who still looked like he wanted to murder someone. It was obviously going to be a fun day.

It was hot under all lights and John could already feel the sweat beading on his brow, made a thousand times worse by the anxiety pounding through him and the metric ton of makeup they had held him down and forced on him backstage. Apparently so much time in space had left him with a completion the makeup artist had rudely called "the underbelly of a fish". Dark circles from too little sleep had been scrubbed away with something in a little tube , they had painted on layers of gunk and then brushed on so much powder he had begun sneezing and only just stopped.

All these people, a live studio audience, a too cheerful host and he was in hell, utter hell and it was all his brother's fault. Selene had told him he wasn't allowed to kill him, but John was sure there would be a way he could make Four have a sudden unexplained air lock failure while deep under the ocean.

"I can't believe we're going to be on TV!"

"Alan," Scott's voice dripped with forced patience, "we're always on TV."

Alan paused, looking surprised for a second, then brightened. "Oh yeah, we are."

"I'm in hell," John shuddered as a screaming lady with a clapper board and too much hair spray ran past their podium.

"Just don't think about it," Virgil soothed. "Focus on the fact that it's for charity, you're probably the smartest person here and soon it'll all be over and done with."

"Two minutes to go!" screamer yelled, making John jump.

Alan bounced excitedly. "This is so great, I love this show!"

"Kill me now, just tell Selene I died heroically."

"Fine, I'm happy being her backup husband."

By rights the glare John shot Scott should have been enough to make him combust on the spot, but his annoying older brother just grinned.

"One minute people!"

Gordon waved to Marina when she lifted her hand in a little acknowledgement, having already called out greetings to the others.

Troy, as usual was standing between Marina and Atlanta, Phones on the end of the line next to Marina, with Commander Shore as team leader.

"Going live in 10...9…"

"I've never dreaded a countdown more," John whispered to Scott who sniggered.

"6...5…"

"Please, welcome your host Cass Carnaby!"

The singer turned TV host bounded onto the set, waving graciously to the applauding audience.

"Hello, and thank you for joining us for another Celebrity edition of Family Feud!

#thunderbirds are go #Tracy boys #Everyone kill Gordon #John will never forgive him #thunderbirds tag #Thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction

[dyedmaxiian]

Last night I spent 3 hours thinking about what a Fallout game in Florida would look like ( being a FL native myself and all ) and here are my thoughts:

First things first the NAME of the Wasteland would be ‘The Glades’ because of the fact that boundary speaking, the Everglades takes up a good chunk of the southern part of the Floridian Peninsula.

The primary cause of the GECK / Garden of Eden in Florida becoming sorta like a larger scale Vault 22 is, surprise surprise, as a result of ANOTHER Vault, I went with Vault 17, don’t ask me why i just did. 

A massive chunk of Florida, specifically the southern part, is actually under water. In regard to Vault 219, the GECK actually forcibly mutated a sorta makeshift island in the form of heavily mutated / irradiated Mangrove trees that people from the Glades would refer to as the Great Grove.

Florida is actually split into TWO larger landmasses, meaning that functional boats are a big thing within the greater Florida area because of the fact that mass flooding caused a great deal of the Floridian land mass to be under water.

The Northern Glades is where most of the people who are still alive, live in Florida, while the Southern Glades is largely inhabited by irradiated aquatic & semi-aquatic creatures such as Irradiated Sharks, Alligators, & Snakes. 

However there IS one very large settlement in the Southern Glades known as ‘Miami Nuevo’ which is the CITY of Miami but rebuilt on top of the sunken old Miami. It’s sort of like a top down tier city, fashioned not unlike The Strip & Freeside from New Vegas but instead of a gate that blocks you from getting in, it’s one very large elevator since the top parts of Miami Nuevo is where all the rich & elite live and thrive. It’s also to be assumed the Enclave has a heavy influence over Miami Nuevo.

As aforementioned, The Great Grove is the wider everglades area as well as the origin point of the GECK that created the mutated & irradiated plants that started infecting & killing everything. It’s said that people don’t really go into the Great Grove anymore because there are innumerable hazards that can’t really be dispatched and that the biggest problem aside from the spores is the Radgators because they’re viciously territorial.

In the Northern Glades, things are quite a bit different. The Brotherhood of Steel IS present in the Northern Glades, however not unlike the Mojave Brotherhood, they actually keep to themselves. They originally had a heavy presence in The Glades, but a massive faction war broke out between a number of different factions inhabiting the various Theme Parks in Florida’s Orlando area ( E.g. Universal Studios, Disney World, Sea World, Busche Gardens ). 

Essentially, The BoS used to Control two of the major theme parks ( Disney & Universal ) but were pushed out after an uprising of locals. The issue with that being that they left a great deal of technology behind that has sparked a sort of 8 way faction war in the area because each INDIVIDUAL park ( aka there are 4 factions fighting for control over Disney because Magic Kingdom, Animal Kingdom, Hollywood Studios, & EPCOT ) is vying for control of not only their respective park properties but ALSO the greater orlando area. 

As such, the Brotherhood was pushed out West toward Tampa. They did eventually expand north and managed secure St. Augustine, so Tampa is sorta like their BAY area and they have an established Naval Base there in which they use their aquatic vehicles to patrol the coast and keep larger creatures from the Gulf from pushing into the Northern Glades area. 

The larger faction war in the Orlando ‘Hot Zone’ is between each of the individual theme parks that belongs to different factions: Sea World is home to the Aquanauts, Busche Gardens is owned by the Bushwhackers, Magic Kingdom in Disney world belongs to a faction called the Magicians, Hollywood Studios is run by the Silver Souls, Animal Kingdom is run by the Croatoans, and EPCOT is widely referred to as the Misfits.

The factions in Universal are somewhat unique as they actually WORK TOGETHER, so the Crusaders in Islands of Adventure, and the Conductors in Universal Studios work together but do function as two separate factions. They played a large role in pushing the Brotherhood out of Orlando.

The entire Florida area had the LEAST amount of Vaults of the entire United States due to its position AT sea level. Across the entire state there were only a total of 5 Vaults, and of those five vaults only ONE was in south Florida. 

The location of the five vaults were as follows: The Everglades ( Vault 17 ), Downtown Orlando ( Vault 25 ), St. Augustine ( Vault 43 ), Gainesville ( Vault 83 ), and Tampa ( Vault 66 ).

Vault-Tec planned on making a Control Vault in Miami, however they were unable due to the fact that Miami’s proximity to sea level made the creation of such a Vault extremely difficult without astronomical costs as well as problems with flooding and foundational issues.

Port Canaveral is a bustling hub city that are where most functional boats are built and sailed out from. The only other functional port still left is in Tampa Bay but it’s completely Brotherhood controlled and has a functional Aircraft Carrier that belongs to the Brotherhood of Steel. 

#ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜᵃᵖᵗᵃⁱⁿ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ* ( ooc ) #just some thoughts

[atomic-chronoscaph]

Stingray (1964)

#stingray gif #supermarionation gif #stingray #60s tv series #60s sci-fi #supermarionation #gerry anderson #sylvia anderson #world aquanaut security patrol #phones #puppets #sixties #1964 #gif #gif set #chronoscaph gif

[its-lovelyhappycollection]

Wasp

So I just rewatched 'legacy' if thunderbirds are go and apparently wasp does not stand for world aquanaut security patrol, instead it stands for wide area safety protocol and I'm like....why? Like why would they change it?!

#thunderbirds are go #wasp #legacy

[qtbrniis]

~Marina's Story~

I was challenged on FaceBook by the amazing Thomas J. Chee of The Reds Studio to re-create my sim-self as a Super Hero. I chose Marina. Although technically not a true “Super Hero” she has her "superpowers".

Marina is a young woman from under the sea, not a mermaid, but an aquaphibian, a human form of sea creature. She is the former slave 

of King Titan of Titanica. (Captured at age 19, she is now 21.) She is the daughter of Aphony, ruler of the undersea city of Pacifica, and is mute like all other Pacificans.

She was one of the main characters of Stingray, a British children's science-fiction television series. Which was set in 2060s. The series follows the exploits of the World Aquanaut Security Patrol (WASP), a military organisation responsible for policing the Earth's oceans. The WASP's top vessel is Stingray, a combat submarine piloted by the daring Captain Troy Tempest, aided by his loyal navigator, Lieutenant "Phones" Sheridan, and Marina. Stingray's adventures bring it into contact with various underwater civilisations, some friendly and others hostile. This is where Marina's special skills come in to play, as she communicates through telepathy as do all sea creatures.

Prominent among these advanced sea civilisations is the undersea city of Titanica, ruled by King Titan. A despot, Titan commands a group of war-like Aquaphibians to attack the Stingray but the sub & it's crew are rescued by Titan's slave, Marina and the help of sea creatures that she can communicate with and command. When she helps the Stingray, the crew in return, rescue her, freeing her from captivity.

Her superpower is that she can communicate & command the inhabitants of the sea through telepathy and she is an advocate of clean oceans and abundant sea life.

Marina's Song: (outro of Stingray-TV show) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CD96RQ1-wnY ~Marina’s Tray Files~ ~Marina's CC~ Thank you all for the wonderful #cc you create!

#Kijiko - Eyelashes             #NataliS - Bracelet & Rings  #S-Club - Glitter Nails         #S-Club - Flower Accessories #Bobur3 - Shell Earrings     #DarkNightTt - Esme Necklace            #Christopher67 - Face Pearls V2      #EnriqueS4 - Kim Hair                     #QTBrniis - Sarong Pants recolor/retexture: 

[newworld-raequinn]

Gerry Anderson

Stingray (1964-1965)

Stingray was a science fiction TV show set in the 2060s. It is about a oceanic patrol team known as World Aquanaut Security Patrol (WASP).  The oceans are patrolled by a combat submarine called “Stingray” crewed by  Captain Troy Tempest, navigator Lieutenant Phones and Marina, a woman who is mute. 

Andersons inspiration for the show came from childhood memories of U-boats in the Second World War, as well as by the mysteries of the ocean.

The 39 episode series took months to complete requiring about 11 days of puppet filming and five-and-a-half days of effects filming. The character puppets for the series took 4 months to create and duplicates were made. 

“Stingray was the first Supermarionation series to feature puppets with glass eyes and poseable hands for increased realism.To make the puppets' eyes sparkle in a lifelike way, they were polished with silicon and illuminated by a small lamp.Another innovation was the creation of alternative heads to allow characters to display emotions: besides their "normal" heads, which had neutral expressions, the main characters could also be fitted with smiling and  frowning heads.The female puppets' wigs were made of human hair; for the male puppets, mohair was used as it was softer and easier to style.

[gerryandersontv]

Thunderbirds And Stingray Battle Ocean Blaze! - A Gerry Anderson A21 News Story

Thunderbirds And Stingray Battle Ocean Blaze! – A Gerry Anderson A21 News Story

We have received a report that International Rescue and the World Aquanaut Security Patrol joined forces to battle a terrifying ocean inferno threatening major shipping routes in the North Pacific. The disaster unfolded when the bulk fuel carrier MT Superior suffered a critical hull breach after a collision with an unidentified submerged vessel. The Superior’s cargo of highly volatile superon…

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#brains #gordon #international rescue #jeff #Marina #phones #shore #stingray #thunderbirds #troy #virgil #WASP

[thunderbirdcarebear]

New Beginnings - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 can be found here

Chapter 2 - The Accident

It was about twenty past two when I finally woke up.

I was still tired but I felt a lot better. Until I remembered what Scott had told me.

I sat on the edge of my bed, thinking. Before I went to bed, I'd explained to Alan why I was close to Scott. He'd understood immediately, then hugged me.

I looked at my bedside table. That was where I'd put my photo frame, which I'd picked up in our hurried departure. It was the sort that could hold more than one picture. This one held eight. Scott, John, Virgil, Gordon, Mr. Tracy, father and two of Alan. One was a professional picture and in the other, he was in the pool. I would like to have had a picture of my mother in there, too. I don't know what happened to her and I don't have any pictures.

I picked up the photo frame and looked at the pictures closely, studying each one for a brief moment until my eyes came to rest on the one of Gordon. I sighed as I put the frame down, then crossed the room to where I'd dumped my bags.

Due to our late arrival, I'd only unpacked my nightdress, but after rummaging for about five minutes, I found my dressing gown. I put it on and headed down to the kitchen.

From behind the closed door, I could hear voices. I stood outside and listened for a while.

"They are going to be so surprised when they find out."

"Calm down, Virgil. We don't tell them anything yet. At least, not until Gordon's up and about again." Mr. Tracy's voice seemed to waver as he finished his sentence.

I pressed a button and as the door hissed open, all eyes in the kitchen were on me.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. Or is it good afternoon yet?" John announced from the other side of the kitchen. "We were beginning to wonder if you were ever going to get up. Thought we'd have to send in the search parties!"

"John, don't tease her, she's had a long journey," Scott said. "One was cramped, she had bad company and a cabin full of luggage, the other was with Alan and me!" He and Alan started laughing like it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said, while the rest of us sane people looked at them with straightjackets in mind.

"Nice to see you, too, Scott." I said.

After lunch, the boys went for a swim while I sat up in the lounge, on the balcony, watching them duck and race each other. I looked behind me to where Mr. Tracy was tidying his desk as he spoke to me.

"Tin-Tin? Do you think you could shout down to them to keep the noise down, please? Gordon's still asleep." I knew Mr. Tracy was joking, but I could see it was hard for him to say.

"Is Gordon all right, Mr. Tracy? Scott told me last night what happened."

He sighed and sat on the edge of his desk. "He's all right. He just needs a lot of rest at the minute," he glanced at the picture of Gordon on the wall. "I'll tell you what. I'll go see if he's awake. If he is, you can go see him. I know how much you two like to talk about water and all, might help him feel better." The possibility of seeing Gordon made me feel happier. I watched as Mr. Tracy started to head towards the door, then double back. He went over to his desk and pressed a button, which set off a buzzer outside, by the pool. He spoke into a microphone at his desk and his words were reproduced through a speaker in the trellis of the patio.

"Can't you lot behave for five minutes? Keep the noise down please, boys," he said in a humorous tone. He smiled, then left.

I looked down as they started whispering and trying to swim quietly. It was very comical to watch, but it didn't last more than a few seconds.

When Mr. Tracy returned, I knew there was good news, it was written all over his face. "He's up, alright. He got up and answered the door! You go ahead and see him. I'm gonna go and tell the others. I just hope they don't get me too wet this time. Last time I went to talk to them with that many of them in the pool at once, I got soaked!"

I don't think I'd ever seen him so happy. I headed off toward Gordon's room, while Mr. Tracy left the villa and started down the steps to the patio.

I remembered where Gordon's room was from my last visit, as I'd spent about four hours in there, looking through his research books with him.

Being an oceanographer and an aquanaut meant that most of Gordon's research material was marine based. I loved looking through it to find dolphin pictures.

I reached his room and knocked the door. "Hang on a minute," I heard him call weakly, "I'm coming."

"Oh, you don't have to," I called through the door.

It opened and stood behind it was Gordon on crutches and with a bandage on his head, but with a huge grin across his face.

"Tin-Tin! I'm so happy to see you!" he cried, leaning forward to hug me.

"I'm happy to see you, too," I said, "but I'm going to need full use of my lungs."

"Oh, sorry," he said, releasing me, and gesturing me in. "I've had a hell of a time these last few months."

We went into his room and he eased himself down onto his bed and rested his crutches against the wall beside him. I sat down on the bedside chair, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Five months ago, I was out in my speedboat. I was just sailing round, killing time. I guess I didn't turn in time because I hit the other craft at 400 knots. My vessel was completely smashed and I've been in a hospital bed recovering for four months. According to Scott, I was in a coma for most of that time. I got home a month ago, but the course of drugs I was on meant I still spent a lot of time sleeping. I've only just finished them. Dad would come in every morning and every evening bang on 9 o' clock to give me them. As soon as he had, he'd leave and I'd fall asleep again. There were a couple of times when he'd stay in my room when I fell asleep again. On those occasions, he was still sat in the chair asleep if I ever woke. He doesn't come in very often any more, not since the medication ran out."

We talked for a while longer about his time with the World Aquanaut Security Patrol, which he referred to as WASP, and the year he spent underwater investigating marine farming methods.

He also mentioned something about a thunder bird, but I'd never heard of one of those. I assumed it was some sort of bird that lived on the island. When I asked him about it, he looked a bit sheepish. "Dad hasn't told you yet? Oops. You'd better ask him."

About an hour later, Gordon surprised me completely.

"Do you want to go down to the pool? I expect the others are still there."

I did want to, but I didn't want to just leave him. "What about you?"

"I was thinking that when we get to the stairs, you take my crutches and I lean on your shoulder. One of my legs is still good, so it won't be too bad."

My mouth dropped open with surprise as I looked for the words I wanted. "Oh, you want to come with me. Are you up for that?"

"Yes, of course I am. Don't look so shocked. I've been practising on my crutches in here since I came off my medication last week, but the others rarely come in to see me. They think I still sleep twenty-four-seven."

"Well, okay, if you think you can," I said. I still wasn't sure, but we left anyway.

It took a while, but we made it down to the patio. The others were still floundering about like they lived in that pool, but they all stopped splashing about and jumped out one by one as they saw us coming and offered us assistance.

"Gordon!" John yelled.

"Are you all right?" Scott asked

"How are you feeling?" Alan shouted.

"It's nice to see you're looking better," Virgil said.

They spoke with genuine affection for their brother and all looked very happy to see him.

"Look, will you fellers stop fussing over me?" Gordon shouted above their comments and they eventually settled down.

He sat down on the edge of the pool and lay his crutches down beside him, then gently lowered his legs over the edge, letting his feet dangle in the cool water.

It was a strange sight. While one leg swung backwards and forwards, stirring up the water, the other hung nearly lifelessly.

Virgil went and sat next to him and started to talk and I suddenly realised I still hadn't gotten changed and it was nearly quarter to six in the evening.

I turned toward the villa, meaning to go and get changed, when I heard someone call my name. I spun round as John swam to the edge of the pool and called my name again. "Yes, John. What can I do for you?"

"Why don't you join us?"

How could I refuse? I've always loved swimming. "Do I have a choice?" I called.

"No, not really!" he answered, laughing.

I had to hide a grin as he waited for my response. He hadn't noticed what I had. Scott quietly swam up behind him and after taking a breath; he submerged. The next thing I knew, Scott had hold of John's ankles and was pulling him under.

The latter surfaced, spluttering, but Scott was already sat on the other edge of the pool, enjoying a cool drink.

I laughed, then headed up the long flight of steps, colliding with Mr. Tracy just inside the lounge. He groaned and stepped back a little. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tracy," I said, smiling.

"Oh, don't worry, just watch where you're going," he replied, smiling back as he rubbed his chest. "How's Gordon?"

"You can ask him personally if you want. He's down by the pool with the others."

A look of shock crossed his face, then happiness. He looked down at the pool to see Gordon still cheerfully talking to Virgil. We also saw Alan swim underwater towards him, but when he surfaced, Gordon kicked water over him with his good leg. He looked up, saw us looking and waved.

I waved back, smiled at Mr. Tracy, then headed off to my room to get changed.

About a week later, at about half one in the morning, I was woken by a loud noise. Usually, I can sleep through anything, once I'm asleep, but this was so loud, so close. It sounded like a rocket was taking off from somewhere on the island. I didn't know what it was, but it scared me, yet ten minutes later, the noise was gone as quickly as it had started.

#thunderbirds #fanfic #New Beginnings #chapter 2 #Tin-Tin Kyrano #thunderbirds fanfic #thunderbirds fanfiction #fanfiction #old story #Tin-Tin Kyrano's POV