#Subliminal Space Fish

[moderator-monnie]

@an-artist-place-for-extra-art Artist/Friend Who Drew This @sonicexelle-junkary Owner of Ira

This is an amazing art piece was done by my friend rose! as a gift/com for my birthday, I'm so fucking happy about this, I'm all giddy.

hfrrjhfhbfhjahbfhffhhf

I love my fictional kids, I love my fictional romantic partners.

and I love all my friends so much! I'm so damn happy this is gonna be my damn pc background for a very long time.

Here's a list my fictional partners and my fictional adopted kids.

My Wives: Pomni, Empress, Karen, Valarie

My Husband: Ira

My Kids: Billie, Fish, Tails Doll, Space Core.

Genuinely thank you again rose, and remember to check her out!

[plague-hav3r]

some random perilous drawings!

[caoalie]

[flcwermimi]

❛ TAP INTO THE VOID STATE / SHIFT INTO YOUR DR THROUGH LUCID DREAMING ❜

Okay I believe this is one the easiest method if we stay consistent to the routine ( well the routine isn't that long y'all are just lazy to do it and later you will cry about saying ' I will never have my dream life , void is fake , vlogger are lying and blah blah ' I know u are all frustrated overwhelmed defeated by your failures but persist isn't living the life you've dream is worth?

— okay no more motivational speaking I guess you all know what is best for you

What is lucid dreaming?

‣ Lucid dreaming is when you’re conscious during a dream. This typically happens during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, the dream-stage of sleep ( though my thoughts on this are you can do it anytime you don't need to be in REM STAGE )

‣ During a lucid dream, you’re aware of your consciousness. It’s a form of metacognition, or awareness of your awareness. Often, lucid dreaming also lets you control what happens in your dream.Some people report that lucid dreams feel very vivid and real, while others say they feel a bit hazier. Others say their lucid dreams feel different every time.

Why lucid dreaming?

‣ So I know most of y'all in this community find it too hard believe in the void/reality shifting and no matter how hard you try to believe the vlogger and anon you can't because of failures and other outer forces which has rooted in your subconscious conscious and unconscious mind since your childhood.But you all are very familiar with lucid dreaming you all have experienced it and even studied it thorough diffrent phase of your life so you know it's not fake

— remember every method you try is right you don't need perfect void concept , a perfect method, a perfect subliminals or perfect space to enter the void or shift it's all within you - believe that you're doing right trust yourself and everything is on your command

' let's start with the steps '

🤍 : first keep a dream journal and jot down your previous dream and if you don't remember your previous dream script a dream which is alike your everynight dream

🗒️ : Listen to this subliminal at least two hours a day ( you can do 1 hour in morning when you wake up and one hour in the night when are about to fall asleep & also when you're listening to subliminals you can just affirm that 'you all aware when you're dreaming/ you can lucid dream on your command/ you can lucid dream easily and effortlessly every night)

🌬️ : Do reality checks every 1-2 hours day ( counting your finger, pinching nose , bitting tounge)

What to do at night first?

→ Lay down in star fish position

→ Start counting & affirm [ I will be lucid dreaming tonight ] till you fall asleep

What to do when u are lucid dreaming ' actually '?

→ Many people when they are aware of dreaming get's excited and start creating a portal which cause the dream to collapse or slip away and the end either they wake up or fall asleep so if you want to not end up here follow the steps written below:

Now u are aware that you're finally lucid dreaming so don't excited or get scared every individual have different dream's so what u will doing first is the reality check ' count your fingers & remember u never have 10 fingers in your dream' - touch the grass or even bite your tongue

After doing reality check affirm 4-5 times ' stabilize dream & increase lucidity ' this will help you remain balanced

Now it's time to create Portal in your dream' there must be some kind door or windows ( it can also look like a cave or something werid) so u will enter the door/ window/ portal slowly and u will affrim either what u want [ if u want to enter the Void - I am in the void/ and if u want to shift - I am in my DR ] That's it congrats u did it

Okay so some people don't have doors/windows they also have people together them u will just gonna say to them take me to to void or to your DR and pls😭 don't try to control your dream too much your intrusive thought might win & u can create a portal itself like can make a door with anything!!

That's all you all got this luv y'all 🤍

[pocket-watcher]

I really loved the massage fic you did awhile ago! I don't really have another idea but could you do another one like that?

Hiya anon! My ongoing back pain and I can definitely dream something up for you!!

“…Why the hell are you standing like that?”

Aiysha’s disapproving gaze looked over Henry, who was contorting his body to stand in the most unnatural way possible.

“This is the only way I can stand where the pain is tolerable.” He whined.

Aiysha tutted. “You’re a grown man, Henry, I told you that this was going to catch up with you! You can’t sit like a gremlin while you work anymore.”

Henry shifted, whimpering in pain quietly.

Aiysha cared. A lot. More than she’d like to admit, and seeing her friend in pain? Well…

“Ugh. Fine, look.” She fished a card out of her purse and handed it to Henry. It read:

DR. MONTGOMERY

Liscenced masseuse and chiropractor

The address wasn’t too far from his house, Henry thought to himself.

“When I broke my back he worked magic. Maybe he’ll be able to help you.”

Henry thanked her, and she pulled him into a hug, and he felt his back twinge in pain.

Yeah, he’d need to make an appointment. Today, if possible.

—————————

“Henry Williams?” The receptionist called out.

He stood, and allowed himself to be navigated to a room where presumably Dr. Montgomery was waiting for him.

“Ah! Henry! What seems to be the problem?” The man asked, as Henry hopped up onto the massage table.

“So, uh, my posture isn’t great, and my whole back hurts. I don’t think it’s like anything wrong, just all my muscles aching a lot.” He explained.

The doctor scribbled some notes as Henry talked.

“Okay, if you can take off your clothes and lie down on the table then we can start, and if the problems persist I can talk to you about further treatment. How does that sound?”

“That sounds great, thank you!” Henry began unbuttoning his top and the doctor looked away. Henry positioned himself, a towel covering him.

As he put his face through the hole in the massage table he noticed a screen below it.

“Oh, cool! What does this do?”

He could hear the doctor approaching him.

“We use it to play soothing music and visuals to help our clients relax. Here, let me show you.”

The doctor bent down and flipped a switch. The screen came to life, playing a soothing video of the ocean.

Henry felt the cool touch of hands on his back and allowed himself to melt into the table.

Dr. Montgomery’s hands worked expertly, as if the man knew exactly where the pain was coming from.

Henry bit back moans of relief, trying to focus on the screen below and not the glorious feeling of relieved tension.

The screen might have glitched a little. It was like another image was burned on top of the calming beach video.

He didn’t cock his head in confusion. No, it was more that the doctor had moved it to one side to get at a particularly bad knot in Henry’s shoulder.

A few moans escaped.

Henry kept watching the video. He realised they were words. Words burnt into the screen. He tried to make them out as his body sank into the massage table.

S…sub…mit?

That’s weird, he thought to himself.

Another:

Obey.

Giv…e in

Relax

The words became clearer the more he focused on them.

Deeper

Pleasure

Control

Henry’s mind, unfortunately, was too relaxed to panic. The combination of the calming atmosphere, the relief of the massage, and the subliminal messaging being beamed into his brain for the last 10 minutes had carefully moulded him into a puddle, with any resistance leaving his body with every moan and whine.

Dr. Montgomery tutted.

“You’re not taking care of yourself. You need to sit properly. Stand every once in a while. Maybe even a light stretch.”

The words washed over Henry, taking up all the free space that PAIN had previously occupied. He tried to agree, to nod, but all he could do was stare.

“Once this massage is over you’re going to forget all about this little talk we’re having, and you’re going to start being more sensible with how you work and how you sit. Aren’t you?”

Henry murmured in response. Which turned into a heavy breath as the doctor pushed down onto a sore point.

“Atta’ boy.”

Aiysha waited outside for Henry, but something was pulling her inside. Sure, her back was fine now - but a little self pampering never hurt anyone…?

Before she could make an appointment Henry, with a spring in his step, greeted her outside.

“You look better.” She grinned.

“I owe you, like, my whole life. Dinner? On me?”

Aiysha smiled at the building.

“Sounds great.”

[elvastan]

Subliminal Space Characters

I have the best concept art class ever, and this assignment was to draw 5 pre-existing characters over 5 days and analyze their design language. I drew the cast of Subliminal Space!

Day 1: Fish (Didn't label this one oop)

Day 2:

Day 3:

Day 4:

Day 5:

My headcanon lineup and size comparison

[pmrin]

i was at the doctor's office and even though i'm an adult i still see the pediatrician as my general doctor and last time i was there like a month ago they put me in a fish themed room and this time i was in a space themed room. subliminal messaging for luca (crazy)

[jdub795]

Friday, February 28th, 2025

How fitting - it's the last day of Black History Month, and I'm making my first post of the year.

There are two reasons for this - the first being that I brought it up to a friend, leading me to reason two - after I said something about my posts, I went to read them myself. I didn't get very far before feeling this urge to write.

Why do I feel so comfortable speaking my mind here? Is it because of the anonymous veil placed over me in this space? Is it because I'm shouting to a void that doesn't speak back? Why do I do it?

It's a place, I guess, for my thoughts to roam. Similar to Kendrick, I display my mind like an iMac (altered line from his heart pt 6). Using this platform as an outlet to communicate to others, be it like-minded or subliminally. Is that what I'm doing now? Confidently, I can say no.

My music will be subliminal though. Talking about issues in plain sight, while making it catchy. Work out those issues in my own way, in a musical way. Like Eminem said, I gotta lose myself in the music - in the moment, I gotta own it. But I don't think I'm ready for "my moment", whenever that is. I don't want to have a moment, but I want to be heard by so many people. I cannot have my cake and eat it too - How can you reach as many people as possible without getting recognized in the process?

I want people to know the name of the entertainment, but not want them to seek out what's behind the literal mask. I want to stay in the shadows, but talk about what goes down in the dark. Bringing light to the dark is risky for a shadow person like myself - there are sacrifices to be made, as J. Cole and Dreamville would sing/rap about. I've been quoting songs more these days, what's up with that?

I'm not spiritually linked to Kendrick Lamar, despite my birthday being before Tupac's and his being after Tupac's, therefore making us Geminis. But I feel a spiritual calling with him at times. It's just the music though...but sometimes it's like he's speaking to me too. Similar to him, I can still find myself within a song, I just gotta tune to the right frequency for the station first.

I can start with the podcast/audio show. But that falls into a similar path as the music - the recognition. I don't want to be recognized, yet I want people to hear me. Something to get over. I just need to start creating. Period. It's what I do. Music is a passion. Talking is a passive hobby. Thinking is subconscious - but that's obvious, is it not?

You know, with my tolerance levels having reset while I was sick, the edibles are hitting harder than expected. It's not bad - it's been awhile since I've felt stoned. I like the feeling, when I'm in control of it at least. If I overdo it, then we get into a problem. Luckily I try to play it safe, but accidents can happen - especially if one is not being mindful.

Speaking of being mindful... I got rid of that void filler, and almost immediately filled it back up with another. I don't get it, especially now that it seems to have...evolved? It's difficult to explain, especially when things occurred while my head was wrapped up in things that it shouldn't have been, and now that those things are no more, there are bigger fish to address. Foreign possibilities discovered.

There are things I wish I could talk about with others, but maybe Ariana was right - maybe some things are better left unsaid. Besides, if I don't talk about it, maybe it'll go away on its own. It's not like anything could come of it, that's just the delusion holding onto a false sense of hope. Just how it always does.

I'm happy in my marriage, happy with my partner, and yet I find myself also attracted to others, and it leaves me baffled. I know polyamory exists, I just didn't think that I was the polyamorous type, and I don't know what to do with that feeling nor how to address it with myself. It can get tricky, and I don't do well with tricky...

It will die down. It will go away on its own. There is nothing for me to worry about with it. They don't even know about it, just the necessary party. And maybe that's how it should be. Acknowledge that it exists, and then just go about things as if it doesn't exist until it fades away. It just takes time. Besides, this isn't one of those romances I like, so I don't know why I keep feeling like I'm in one of them. That shit's gotta stop; it's not good for my brain.

[whatilistenedtoatwork]

From October 14th to October 18th 2024

14-10-2024

THE WILD TCHOUPITOULAS “The Wild Tchoupitoulas”; MIRIAM MAKEEBA “Pata Pata”; THE HANDSOME FAMILY “Through The Trees”; FRANK SINATRA “Songs For Swinging Lovers”; BOARDS OF CANADA “Music Has The Right To Children”; LEON ROSSELSON “Harry's Gone Fishing”; JOHN LEE HOOKER “Burnin'”; ELVIS PRESLEY “Elvis Is Back!”; DREAM THEATER “Metropolis Pt.2: Scenes From A Memory”; LEFTFIELD “Leftism”; THE BEAUTIFUL SOUTH “0898”

15-10-2024

THE ROBERT CRAY BAND “Don't Be Afraid Of The Dark”; KIRSTY MacCOLL “Kite”; HORSLIPS “The Man Who Built America”; MAGAZINE “Magic, Murder & The Weather”; SPIRITUALIZED “Ladies & Gentlemen We Are Floating In Space”; HELLOWEEN “Keeper Of The Seven Keys – Pt. 1”; FUNKADELIC “Maggot Brain”; MARVIN GAYE “M.P.G.”; LEMONHEADS “It's A Shame About Ray”; THE JAMES TAYLOR QUARTET “Mission Impossible”; LED ZEPPELIN “Led Zeppelin III”; JACKIE OATES “The Joy Of Living”; PEGGY LEE “Mirrors”

16-10-2024

NICK LOWE “Jesus Of Cool”; ARCTIC MONKEYS “Favourite Worst Nightmare”; PIXIES “Surfer Rosa”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “Deep Six”; CLIFF RICHARD & THE SHADOWS “The Young Ones”; TEENAGE FANCLUB “Man-Made”; LINKIN PARK “Hybrid Theory”; BEN FOLDS “Rockin' The Suburbs”; TORI AMOS “Under The Pink”; OUTKAST “ATLiens”

17-10-2024

LL COOL J “Walking With A Panther”; TEENAGE FANCLUB “Here”; GRANDMASTER FLASH & THE FURIOUS FIVE “The Message”; GORKY'S ZYGOTIC MYNCI “Bwyd Time”; THE DECEMBERISTS “Picaresque”; SLIPKNOT “Vol. 3: (The Subliminal Verses)”; BLACK SABBATH “Vol. 4”; SOLAS “Another Day”; COUNTING CROWS “August & Everything After”; KATE RUSBY “Hourglass”; THE ADVERTS “Crossing The Red Sea With The Adverts”; GRIZZLY BEAR “Veckatimest”

18-10-2024

AFGHAN WHIGS “Congregation”; LCD SOUNDSYSTEM “Sound Of Silver”; VARIOUS ARTISTS “Dig For Fire: A Tribute To The Pixies”; THE PRODIGY “Music For The Jilted Generation”; BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN “Devils & Dust”; THE ORB “U.F.Orb”; DAVID BOWIE “Hunky Dory”

[xasha777]

In the radiant glow of a distant moon over Prince William Sound, a young woman named Alira found herself caught between two worlds—the Earth she knew, filled with the familiar beauty of Alaska's rugged landscapes, and a mysterious realm of celestial machines and otherworldly technology.

Alira, with her striking eyes and flowing golden hair, stood on the deck of her late father's fishing vessel, gazing up at the night sky. Her father had often told her stories of the stars and the secrets they held, but he never mentioned the map he had hidden away in the captain's cabin—a map that was now burning a hole in Alira's pocket.

The map depicted not only the constellations but also a cryptic sequence of interstellar coordinates. Driven by curiosity and the thrill of adventure her father had instilled in her, Alira set the coordinates on the boat's old navigation system. As she input the final digits, the air around her shimmered, and a whirlwind of cosmic energy enveloped the boat.

Moments later, Alira found herself and her boat floating not on water, but in the vast expanse of space, overlooking a colossal steampunk metropolis sprawling across a gigantic space station. Towering spires and cogs the size of islands rotated in harmony, creating a symphony of metallic clinks and steam hisses.

As she explored the station, Alira learned of an ancient prophecy from a group of celestial beings known as the Astral Keepers. The prophecy spoke of a terrestrial woman who would arrive to unite the fractured factions of the space station and prevent its decay into chaos. This woman, the prophecy claimed, bore the mark of the stars—evident in the celestial patterns hidden in Alira's uniquely colored eyes.

Reluctant but resolute, Alira agreed to help the Astral Keepers. Her journey led her through trials that tested her Earthly skills and her newfound abilities to manipulate cosmic energies—gifts bestowed upon her by the celestial energies of Prince William Sound, which, as it turned out, was a terrestrial mirror to this cosmic gateway.

Her ultimate challenge came when she had to face the corrupt ruler of the station, a megalomaniac obsessed with controlling the cosmic web that connected many worlds. In a climactic battle, using her skills and her father’s teachings, Alira harnessed the power of the Sound’s tidal energies, replicated in cosmic form, to overthrow the tyrant and restore balance to the station.

With peace restored, Alira was offered a place among the stars, but she chose to return to Earth, knowing that her heart belonged to the serene beauty of Prince William Sound. Before she left, the Astral Keepers altered the map, allowing her to visit the space station whenever she wished, thereby keeping her connection to both her worlds.

As Alira sailed back into the familiar waters of Earth, she realized that no matter how far she traveled, her adventures would always bring her home.

[moderator-monnie]

I've shared the character's I have crushes on/consider my partners.

(HERE)

Now here are my adopted children.

Tails Doll: From Sonic R

Billie: From Billie Bust Up

Space Core: Portal 2

Fish: Subliminal Space

(Artwork by squidinu on twitter/X)

[plague-hav3r]

fishhh

[weaselandfriends]

On Facebook in the mid 2010s I saw some viral post about Katherine Johnson, which went something like: "This woman did such-and-such number of mathematical calculations to ensure the success of the first crewed US space flight. Why didn't we ever learn this in school? They should make a movie about this!"

In retrospect, I'm tempted to believe this post was an industry plant meant to subliminally drum up interest for the upcoming Hollywood biopic about Johnson, similar to the person running Disney Channel putting fish fact bumpers on the channel to make kids interested in fish a year before Finding Nemo came out (as seen on Defunctland). But taking the post at face value: Math is kind of boring to general audiences! It doesn't make for a good mass market film! Do you really think there should be a movie about someone doing math?

Hidden Figures, the aforementioned biopic about Johnson, does everything in its power to tell you absolutely nothing about the math its main character does -- a trait it shares with a contemporary terrible biopic about a mathematician, The Imitation Game -- and instead invents a fictitious paternal white savior NASA director played by Kevin Costner as well as fictitious racist NASA employees played by Sheldon Cooper and Kirsten Dunce to manufacture drama that didn't actually exist. Ironically, given the film's title and all its promotional material emphasizing how the movie was telling you the "untold true story you don't know," it ultimately doesn't tell you the story of Katherine Johnson at all, not in any way recognizable as the truth. And it had to, in order to gross $236 million, because in reality nobody really wants to watch a movie about someone doing a bunch of math.

there's a fascinating type of post on this site which boils down to "what if, instead of being cliché, such-and-such work of fiction instead dodged all genre tropes in a way that instead made it really boring"

[honourablejester]

No I mean more like- how do I do a liminal eeriness right? I want to make it properly give it that liminal feel? I can figure out how I want the game to play but how do I give a fishing adventure the proper liminal eeriness?

I mean. A lot’s going to depend on the vibe and the gameplay. IDK. Some general thoughts?

Liminality is about betweenness, being neither one thing nor the other, a transitional place where things become strange and unreal. In terms of fishing, that fits nicely, because the boat and the port are a place between the land and the sea, neither one thing nor the other, carrying strange elements of both. So emphasise that. Have the port, the transitional space, be tangibly strange to both the land and the sea. Fish that you brought up from the ocean perfectly normal start looking strange in the fishmonger’s ice trays. The landward boundary is always oddly fogged. People in the port sometimes just change, between one time you dock and the next. Slowly, at first, there’s just small things different about them, subliminal things, maybe eye colours or a different voice actor, and then gradually, if you want, they can become more overt. Things like that. Those of the land are lured by the sea. Those of the sea are changed by the land. Strange things happen on the boundary.

For some general ambient happenings, maybe things like unexplained lulls in the soundscape? You’re just out fishing and nothing abnormal is happening, but the background noise or the background music just fades away for a little while, for no reason at all, and then comes back again. It’s a bright sunny day and you’re fishing, and maybe something slightly strange-looking drifts past on the edges of the screen. A pod of whales or dolphins, and there’s just something slightly weird about them. Strange things in the water. A ship passes you when you’re sailing into or out of port, and maybe it’s curiously archaic, or looks strangely waterlogged, but then it’s sailed on past you, and you can’t be sure, and no one comments on it. Things just … exist. Happen. That are off, that are strange, and apparently you’re just supposed to deal with it.

Mostly it’s a matter of a slow build, and a suggestion of strangeness, and a lack of concrete foes or causes for a good long time. You just want time for the unease and curiosity and worry to build, without an overt threat to explain them. A gameplay loop based on activities that start out completely mundane, completely normal, and then gradually begin to incorporate weirdness that goes worryingly unexplained. Your fish start changing when you bring them in. At first you thought maybe these were ones caught by someone else, and yours were fine, but you do gradually notice that your catches are changing as they come into port. The people who buy them start changing too. Or … Are they changing, or are you beginning to see them as they always were? Are you changing? Would you notice?

Is it the port? Is it you? What’s happening?

And you might have some people, players, who genuinely won’t notice. They’re just chilling, they’re just fishing. The catch won’t stay the same once you haul it in, well, that’s the port’s problem, not yours. You’re just getting paid for hauling. And that’s kind of cool too. But just a subtle, slow build. Strangeness around the edges. Unease. Then let it gradually grow more noticeable. You don’t necessarily have to draw direct attention to anything. Just let things build through a few iterations of the normal tasks the player does.

Like I said, I don’t really know. I’ve never even thought about game design. But. Some thoughts, if they help?

[welllpthisishappening]

All the Subliminal Things (3/3)

Emma Swan does not believe in soulmates.

Or so she says. Because if her soulmate did, actually, exist, he should have shown up by now. So, she must be a fluke, a broken cog in a system that really doesn’t make much sense anyway. It is, she figures, why she agrees to meet David’s friend before Regina and Robin’s wedding. This guy doesn’t believe in soulmates either.

She’s intrigued.

Until she hears him talk. And everything flips after that.

—–

Rating: Teen Word Count: Still around 5K’ish AN: The kissing! It’s here! As always, I cannot thank you guys enough for reading the words I throw at you and for saying nice things about those words. It’s the best. As is the completely unplanned coincidence that this fic finished posting on the same day the Jonas Brothers released an album. (It’s really good. I listened to it four times while I was driving across most of New York state today.) An also very loud shoutout to @resident-of-storybrooke and @cssns for being fantastic.

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam.

—–

“What kind of music is this?” “Good music.” Emma shakes her head, slumping further into the passenger’s seat. She rests her feet on the dashboard, fully expecting the eyebrow arch she gets. From both eyebrows. And Killian’s lips twitch. She may, admittedly, be picking a fight.

So his lips will twitch.

She may be staring at his lips.

She slept so well the night before.

“This is not music,” Emma argues, lolling her head to the side. Killian’s eyes flit towards hers, not taking his gaze completely off the road, which is probably for the best, since there’s a surplus of weekender traffic and the Long Island Expressway is starting to look a bit like a parking lot. “This is...I don’t even know.” “Your points are really astounding, love.” Emma can’t help the smile that splits her face. It makes her cheeks cramp and leaves something in her stomach that may be butterflies, a warmth and ease and--”What kind of appetizers do you think they’ll have?”

“Locksley mentioned something about a cocktail hour and a fish course.” “Wow,” Emma says, a low whistle that draws a laugh out of Killian. She’s still staring at his mouth. And the fingers that flutter on the steering wheel, not sure if he’s keeping time to the music she doesn’t really dislike all that much or doing his best not to reach for her.

She hopes it’s the second.

She should tell him the truth at some point. Maybe after the wedding.

She doesn’t know what happens after the wedding.

“I hate seafood,” Emma adds, and that time his laugh is a little louder. He reaches for her hand.

“Tell you what, Swan, you can eat all the baked mozzarella--” “--Baked mozzarella?” “That’s apparently what Cora is calling it, because fried is too offensive or something.” “Ah.” “So you eat all the baked mozzarella and I’ll make sure it looks like you’re an actual adult who’s actually willing to try and eat new things.” “This is getting a little opinionated, don’t you think?” Killian shakes his head. “Not at all? We got a deal?”

Emma considers it for a moment -- the sound of her pulse in her ears beating in time with the music. “We’ve got a deal. But you’ve got to eat, like, at least four shrimp.” “That’s fair, love.”

He squeezes her hand and they stay exactly where they are. In the middle of the world’s largest traffic jam.

The whole thing is a little overwhelming.

That is a lie. Little is a gross understatement. The castle is a castle in a fairy tale sort of way, rented out for the weekend because Regina’s family may actually be royalty and Mary Margaret looks a little embarrassed by the whole thing.

Emma keeps sending photos to Ruby.

If only to show Killian her responses. It makes him laugh. And linger in Emma’s space. She’s a crazy person.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk, so goddamn depressed she’s positive she reeks with it, an incredible overpacker and maybe a little clingy.

And they’re hours into the day, traffic long forgotten and whatever Killian wanted to talk about never discussed because there was an accident by exit 37 that kept them at a standstill for a solid forty-five minutes and Emma’s not worried about it.

It hasn’t lingered in the back of her brain all day, making it difficult to pay attention to a rehearsal dinner she probably shouldn't have been a part of anyway. David kept shooting her and Killian furtive looks from the other side of the hall.

This was the kind of castle where the dining rooms looked like halls.

So, Emma grabs two glasses of champagne for herself, finds a spot outside where she can see some stars and takes her heels off. She makes it through half a glass before she hears the footsteps. It makes her smile.

“You trying to run away, love?” Emma downs the rest of her champagne, holding the other glass up over her shoulder. “Nah, just trying not to scream with all that romance in there.” His fingers are warm when they brush over hers, pulling the glass away and sinking onto the bench, close enough that she swears she can feel the warmth radiating out of him. There’s a pulse to it, as if it’s trying to get Emma’s heart to match up with its rhythm and that’s far too romantic a thought, particularly with all the things she’s already run away from and, maybe, running towards and--

“What did you want to tell me before?” Killian tenses, breath catching audibly. “Oh, uh...that’s--”

“--And, as a follow-up were you in Boston at some point?”

“Yeah.” His voice is clipped, cautious and something else that sounds a bit like the absolute fear Emma can feel in the pit of her stomach. She needs to tell him the truth. She’s not sure how that’s going to end well.

She can still hear the music coming from the hall.

“When?” “That’s uh...that’s kind of what I wanted you to talk about.” Emma blinks, neck aching when she nods as slowly as humanly possible. Killian’s tongue darts between his lips. “So, uh...I know David told you I didn’t believe in soulmates, but that wasn’t---I told you my mom died when I was a kid. And Liam couldn’t afford to take care of me, so I went into the system until I aged out and followed him. Navy,” he supplies when Emma’s face presumably does something vaguely confused. “Served for awhile. Until--”

He lets out a shuddering breath, eyes falling towards his lap and Emma reaches out instinctively. She squeezes his hand, a tight smile on her lips. “Did Liam die?” “Badly. As if there’s a good way to die. But it was...well it was a mistake and there was lots of paperwork, but then he was gone and it was over and I didn’t really--I left, Swan. Ran, honestly. As quickly and as far as I could and I ended up in Boston the day after the funeral with no plan and no idea and I…” “What?”

Emma hates the way the question shakes out of her, but she’s got half an idea and an inkling of hope and Killian tugs her hand up towards his lips before he answers. Her heart stutters. “It was like the Earth flew into a black hole or something. Like I could feel everything and want everything and I was standing on a T-platform in Beacon Hill and I swear it was--it was like waking up. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me at the worst moment in my life.”

She blinks. It’s a pretty lame response, really. She can’t come up with another one.

“I don’t…” “I met Milah three days later.” Oh. Oh. Damn. God damn. God damn, fuck, shit damn.

“Right,” Emma mumbles, trying to pull her hand back to her side and it doesn’t work. He’s holding onto her too tightly. There’s probably a metaphor there. It’s probably depressing. “Right, right, well...that’s good, then, huh?” Killian gives her a rueful laugh, half a smile. “I don’t think you’re supposed to watch your soulmates die, love. That seems wrong, don’t you think?” “You watched her die?” “Car accident. All the tragic high points of wrong place, wrong time and she’d only just left her husband, which...soulmates probably shouldn’t have other husbands to begin with, right?” “Probably not. Is that…?” She nods towards his hand, fingers ghosting over the plastic.

“Yeah, yeah, the whole thing was incredibly horrendous. Twisted metal and I can remember things being on fire and I was in the hospital for a small eternity. It kind of...you said before I was a little bitter? It’s more than that, Swan. That night changed everything, left me with nothing and no one and I thought Milah was my soulmate. Was sure of it, couldn’t come up with a scenario where she wasn’t, but…” “But?” Emma prompts, not sure she wants the answer.

“I don’t think soulmates really exist. There’s no way. Not if I felt that and then got it pulled away and this has been--” Killian shakes his head, another laugh pressed into the bend of Emma’s knuckles. She can feel him smile. “I’m not faking it, Emma. I like you and I like spending time with you and I--”

She doesn’t let him finish.

She should. She should tell him that he’s her soulmate and she’s been thinking about his voice since she was sixteen, but the words get caught in her mouth and kissing Killian Jones is better than anything Emma imagined.

She imagined it quite a bit.

His lips move over hers in a pattern that is impossibly familiar, tilting his head until they’re practically occupying the same space and whatever noise he makes as soon as her fingers fly into his hair will be branded on every one of her memories for the rest of her life.

She tries to arch up, but that only ends with her climbing onto his lap and they’re half a second away from public indecency. At a castle.

They don’t move. They don’t even try. They rock against each other, falling into a rhythm and a bit of momentum, both clearly desperate for any kind of friction and Emma is certain the stars she was looking at a few minutes before explode as soon as Killian’s mouth drops to her collarbone.

He laughs.

“Asshole,” she grumbles, but it’s an endearment and he knows it and maybe she can work with this. Maybe she’s the worst. Maybe she just wants to be greedy for a moment.

She wants to be wanted. At least for the night.

“Yeah, that’s definitely the sentiment I was going for,” Killian grins, another kiss to her skin and more goosebumps. “You cold, love?” “Oh my God, I’m going to strangle you.” “You’d mess up your nails.” He knows she got a manicure two days before. Her nails had looked like shit from guns and criminals and that second one wasn’t really an excuse, but Emma was irregularly hopeful and she really can’t think when he kisses her.

“That’s frustratingly practical,” Emma mumbles, dragging her nails down the back of his neck. He makes that noise again.

That’s why she did it.

“You want to be anywhere that isn’t here?” she asks. She yelps when Killian stands up. With her. “Jeez, neanderthal. I can walk on my own.” He hums, still kissing her and it’s kind of messy and decidedly not practical and Emma has no idea how they get back inside. They stumble and trip, hands moving quickly and slowly, a weird give and take of emotion and feeling and everything Emma isn’t telling him.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk, so goddamn depressed she’s positive she reeks with it, an incredible overpacker, maybe a little clingy, and exceedingly selfish.

She gasps when her back collides with a door, head bouncing slightly. Her hair’s fallen down her back, strands threatening to poke her in the eye, but then Killian’s fingers are brushing across her cheek with a reverence that makes Emma wonder if time itself hasn’t paused to let her linger in this moment.

She wants to put up camp in this moment.

She wants to hoard it and think about it and it’s still not the moment. That’s...that’s weird.

“I like you too,” Emma says, and it’s not nearly enough, but it might be as good as she’s going to get and she really wants him to know. His answering smile makes it seem worth it.

Killian ducks his head almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, tongue brushing across her lips and hand still cupping her cheek. It’s a mix of heady and not, of absolutely normal and the complete opposite and Emma never has any idea how they get the door open without falling over.

They leave a trail of clothes in their wake, shoes thrown without much thought to their direction and the rush of feeling that moves from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as soon as Killian hovers above her is enough to change the course of the universe.

Like a second Big Bang.

Or fireworks. Of the metaphorical variety.

She wakes with a start, breath catching in her throat and if everything exploded a few hours before, then the debris is suddenly landing on Emma's head. 

It's painful. 

She leaves. It’s stupid. She hates that she does it. She does it anyway, sunlight creeping in through gauzy curtains and she gets ready with Mary Margaret because Emma doesn’t have her own room.

She’s there with Killian.

As fake soulmates. Real soulmates. Kind of. It’s not going to work.

She’s an idiot.

And Mary Margaret doesn’t look all that surprised when she opens the door. “C’mon,” she says with a softly smile. “I’ll do your hair.”

She tells Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret’s eyes widen.

That’s the only reaction.

Emma can’t decide if that’s good or not.

Her dress is very red. 

It is genuinely unfair how good he looks in his tux. It’s well-tailored and he should probably never return it and Emma nearly bites her tongue in half sitting in a chair that’s getting more uncomfortable by the minute, listening to vows and promises and Killian tries to meet her gaze no less than eleven times during the ceremony.

Emma ignores him every, single time.

Because there are soulmates getting married and the whole thing is probably one, monumental joke the universe is playing on her and there was never a moment.

Not the right one, at least.

It doesn’t make any sense.

She ignores looks twelve through sixteen too, each one getting a little more concerned and pinched, the mark between his eyebrows likely going to become permanent at some point.

And she’s so busy doing whatever it is she’s doing that Emma barely hears Mr. and Mrs. or kiss the bride, just glances up to find look seventeen staring at her with enough feeling that she has to dig her nails into her palm to stop herself from moving.

“Swan,” Killian calls, a few minutes later with the crowd mulling in the lobby and a camera shutter snapping in the background and he’s already tugging his tie off.

Emma plasters a smile on her face, well aware of how fake it looks even without Killian’s arched eyebrow. “Swan,” he repeats, a hand landing on her hip. “Hey, where--where did you go before? I--David texted me that you were there and--” “--That’s where I was.”

“I kind of wanted to talk to you.” “Didn’t we do that?” Emma asks. “And not talk?” His tongue flashes, the tip of it lingering in the corner of his mouth and that’s only slightly distracting. “Yeah, that’s true. Still doesn’t explain why you went to Mary Margaret and David’s room. You could have woken me up, you know.” “I had to get ready.” “Your stuff was in our room.” That word bounces around her brain with the memories and the wants and, probably, some more misplaced hope. She nods. She must. Her hair moves, at least. “Swan,” Killian sighs, and this is only getting worse. That’s almost impressive. Or it would be if it didn’t suck such so much. “What is going on? If it’s--listen, I know last night was--” “--Last night was not something we should do again,” Emma interrupts. “It was...well, it was a mistake and this has been--we’ve been pretending, right? To get David off our collective and individual backs and get drunk? Did they open the bar yet?” “What? No, I--Swan, I told you yesterday. I’m not faking anything. You said you weren’t. You said--” “--I know what I said,” she snaps, and one of them should be able to finish a single sentence. Killian’s shoulders slump. “I know. I just...maybe you had a soulmate. I don’t want to--”

“You’re not.” “Killian, c’mon, let’s be honest--” “--I am being nothing but honest with you, Emma. The whole truth. My whole…” He inhales sharply, hissing the air through his teeth and there’s a glossiness to his gaze that wasn’t there in the last seventeen versions.

Emma’s nails are going to cut her palms.

“I meant what I said,” Killian finishes. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I think this is--”

He nearly growls when someone coughs behind them, less-than-polite and a little familiar and Emma knows Cora doesn’t remember her. “Mr. Jones,” she says cooly. “And guest.” “Emma,” Killian hisses. “This is Emma. She’s friends with your step-daughter.” “Oh, yes, of course. I thought I recognized the face. Did you two come together?” “Yeah,” Emma mumbles, several thousand emotions clinging to each letter and all of them might just boil down to disappointment.

Cowardly and a great, big giant liar, kind of petulant, just sort of a jerk, so goddamn depressed she’s positive she reeks with it, an incredible overpacker, maybe a little clingy, and exceedingly selfish.

Sad.

That’s the word for it. All-encompassing and all-consuming and she’s sad.

The tear that lands on her cheek seems a little pointless.

“Swan?” Emma shakes her head brusquely, but the tears don’t stop. If anything, they fall quicker, like they’re trying to prove a point and she should have told him from the start. She doesn’t understand why it hasn’t happened yet.

Maybe she’s just crazy.

That might be better.

“Together,” Cora echoes, either not reading the situation or, simply, not caring. “Interesting. And soulmate as well, I’d assume. You look rather close.”

Emma squeezes her eyes shut, praying to a variety of Gods she isn’t sure actually exist that she can disappear. She doesn’t. She feels Killian’s arm wrap around her instead, pulling her flush against his side and his cheek brushes over her hair when he nods. “Yeah. Soulmates.” Cora’s smile looks less than impressed. “Good for you. Always so wonderful when two people are able to find each other like that.”

“Would you excuse me?” Emma asks, voice rough and there are tears falling off her chin now.

She doesn’t wait for a response, just uncurls herself from Killian’s arm and marches down the hall with a purpose she absolutely does not have. A soulmate without a match and an orphan that no one wanted and, really, magic can go suck it.

Her legs stop moving about three-quarters of the way down the hall, dim lighting and a horribly patterned rug that she can’t believe Regina didn’t demand be removed and Emma’s dress bunches under her thighs when she slides down the wall.

It takes Elsa two full rings to pick up.

“Bad?”

“Yup,” Emma says, popping her lips on the word and the soft sigh in her ear is comforting in an end of the world sort of way. That feels melodramatic and kind of exactly what’s happening, something about the Earth and its previously affected rotation.

“Did you tell him?” “I can’t.” “Em,’ Elsa chastises. “You’ve got to tell him. What’s the worst that could happen? You’ve been together almost non-stop for more than a month. Even if he doesn’t believe in soulmates, this could still--” “--No, no, you don’t get it,” Emma cuts in, and eventually she will stop crying. Maybe in the next ten years. Whatever magical feeling she’d been feeling the night before has disappeared though, leaving an echo and an emptiness that feels as if it’s taking over her entire being.

A black hole.

She thinks that’s how the science works.

“What don’t I get?” “He doesn’t believe in soulmates--” “--We knew that already, that was part of the pitch.”

Emma shakes her head. Elsa can’t see her. She’s in a castle hallway. “He doesn’t believe in soulmates because his was killed. Tragically. And horribly. When he was in Boston, right after his brother died.” Elsa doesn’t respond immediately. Emma blinks. Twice. And one more time. “Thoughts,” she says, dragging the word out cautiously.

“Several thousand, honestly. But mostly...he was in Boston? At the same time you were in Boston? Like, maybe the same days, even?” Emma will promise for the rest of her life that she doesn’t freeze. And she doesn’t really – she’s blinking almost hyperactively, breath coming in pants and the fist she makes at her side causes her fingers to ache. She doesn’t freeze. She does everything else. Because she doesn’t have an answer.

And the thought hadn’t ever crossed her mind.

“I don’t--” she starts, jerking her head up when she hears cautious footsteps and he doesn’t move any further, standing stock-still with his tuxedo jacket gone and his hands in his pockets and the ghost of a smile lingering in the corners of his mouth.

“What day did you get to Boston?” Killian asks.

“What? That’s---I don’t understand.” Elsa’s saying something in the phone. Emma hangs up. She’ll apologize for that later.

“The date, love, please,” Killian says, and he still hasn’t moved. “Or the month. What month did you get there?” “What day did you get to Boston?” Emma challenges. His smile wavers, turning into something almost incredulous. Emma understands that. She can’t believe she’s asking for qualifiers, more misplaced hope lingering at the base of her spine. “Did David tell you something? Some crazy idea of this working and happily ever after? Because it doesn’t add up. It doesn’t. I’ve, well, I’ve been here for two years. It can’t--it’s not what you think it is.” “And what do I think it is?”

Emma glares at him. “Stop it. This is--” “--How long were you in Boston? A straight answer, Swan, it’s not that hard.”

“Yes, it is! It’s--” She shakes her head, jumping up and her phone crashes to the ground. Her skin is cracked. That’s probably a sign. “And it’s so stupid because soulmates are just forced love and expectations and I hate it. I hate the whole idea of it.”

Her whole body sags as soon as her jaw snaps shut, completely pitiful and just as sad as advertised. She’s crying again, tears blurring her vision which is probably why she doesn’t see Killian until he’s crowding into her space, an arm wrapping around her middle.

Emma’s hands move to his chest.

“It’s so stupid,” she repeats. “But I knew. I knew as soon as you walked in and you ordered that stupid coffee. I’d heard you before. When I was sixteen. I’d just been dropped off at a new group home because the last thing had been a disaster and it was like getting struck by lightning and--I knew, Killian, I knew.” She pulls in a deep breath, trying to regain her bearings but that’s admittedly difficult when Killian’s fingers lace through hers. “That was the moment. But it wasn’t for you. There was no--”

He doesn’t let her finish.

It’s incredibly cyclical.

One second she’s stammering out explanations and tears and the next his lips are back on hers and she’s pushing up on her toes to meet him easier and she should arrest herself for self-inflicted torture.

It’s better than it was the first time, more metaphors to be made about space and probably something about gravity and Emma briefly wonders if there are magnets in Killian’s hair.

It makes her laugh, the sound bubbling out of her. She can feel his smile, the arm around her waist tightening and she genuinely can’t believe she didn’t realize before.

She should have known as soon as she saw the world’s ugliest carpet.

Killian pulls away, dragging his mouth against her jaw instead and Emma’s back arches when he lands on her neck, tracing across skin and that spot behind her ear and she refuses to be held accountable for whatever noise she makes as soon as she hears the words.

Her words.

In her voice.

“It’s you, Emma.”

And just like that, it’s as if everything has settled. The world takes a deep breath, everything calm and normal and perfect in the way that nothing has ever been before and couldn’t ever hope to be again. “This whole time, Emma,” Killian continues, “it was you.”

“How?” “How? Did you just ask me how? What do you mean how?” “Exactly what that word means,” Emma mumbles impatiently, and that should not be an adverb she’s using in this situation. Her calves are starting to ache. “Ok, ok, I’m very confused. You don’t have a soulmate anymore. That’s...that’s right, right?” Killian shakes his head. “When did you leave Boston?” “Um, it was...December. It was freezing cold. It had snowed the night before, some kind of record-breaking thing that probably had to do with the water or whatever.”

“Record-breaking,” he repeats, a mix of disbelief and something Emma refuses to acknowledge in his voice. “December 20th? Did you leave on December 20th?” Emma clicks her teeth, trying to pinpoint dates and frustration over a moving service that blamed the snow for showing up three hours late. “Yeah, I think that’s right, actually. Where are you going with this?” He kisses her again. A little bruising and a little determined and as if he’s very certain of the next few words that are going to come out of his mouth. “I got to Boston on December 19th. I was supposed to get there the next day, but I couldn’t stay in Norfolk anymore and I just...I got in my car and drove and I was in Beacon Hill when I felt it. You.” Emma gapes at him. She’s doing that weird breathing thing again. “But, I--you said you met Milah three days later.” “I did. And I was very sure of a lot of things for a very long time, Emma. I really did love her. That--that hasn’t changed, but it was...I didn’t think I’d ever be able to feel what I felt in that moment again or even believe in much of anything after I lost her. Until you.”

She should respond without kissing him. She doesn't. He doesn’t seem to mind much. And they are very good at it.

“But that’s,” Emma starts, and part of her soars when Killian makes a noise as soon as she pulls her mouth away from his. “Ok, ok, hold on. So, I have my moment when I’m sixteen. You have yours two years ago and we’ve just been--” “--Idiots? Yes, I think that’s blatantly obvious. Why didn’t you tell me?” “About the moment?” Killian hums, and maybe he can actually see the pattern he’s following on her back. Something magical, probably. “Because it happened a lifetime ago and I’d been through so much shit and the Neal thing blew up in my face and I--David said you didn’t believe in soulmates.” Emma blinks when the realization slams into the back of her head. “Oh. That’s why. It hadn’t happened for you yet.” “I don’t understand. What hadn’t happened?”

Emma swallows, nodding at the arm still wrapped around her middle. “I couldn’t feel anything,” she whispers. “There was--” “--No hand, huh?” “I’m so sorry.” “That’s not your fault, love,” Killian says, brushing a kiss over her hair. “That’s...well that’s the world and I--well, you’ve been here for both of those things, Swan. Even if neither one of us realized it.”

“What do you mean?” “You never did ask why I decided to come to New York.” He does something ridiculous with his eyebrows and it takes Emma half a second to realize he’s having fun. She’s having fun. It’s exciting and ridiculous and, well...fun. “And I wasn’t going to,” Killian continues. “But Locksley was adamant and it was a good opportunity and all the hype. I just...I didn’t really decide to come until I got in my car and started driving and I knew it was right.” Emma has no idea what sound she makes. A laugh. A cry. The pure sound of complete and utter joy. “You knew?” “It felt like I was supposed to. That this was where I needed to be.”

“But wait, why didn’t you say anything? Did you realize it was me when you got here? Or feel something? And what did David say to you?” “Several very pointed things in the last two minutes, actually. But mostly that I was an idiot and that it was obvious how much I was into you, which is very true, just for the record.” Emma bites her lip.

“Anyway,” Killian continues. “He said he knew about Milah, but had been thinking about it and wasn’t it interesting that you and I might have been in the same city at the same time before?” “And you figured it out just like that?” “I’m very perceptive. Plus, I’d, well...I’d been thinking things. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I felt it again, that pull and the want and we were sitting on my couch and it was as if I’d only just realized the sun was still rising every day. I was sure I was going insane, but I figured even if we weren’t soulmates, it was--I would have followed you anywhere, Swan.” “That’s stupid romantic.” “Yeah, that was the goal.” They really are exceptionally good at kissing each other. They linger in each other’s space for awhile, more than content to press lips anywhere they can reach and she’s not sure which one of them makes what noise when another set of footsteps join the fray.

“Go away,” Killian says, not bothering to move his mouth away from Emma’s. She laughs again.

She can’t really help herself.

David does not, in fact, go away. “Did I do something good?”

“Are you here to gloat, Detective?” “I mean, a little? Was I right?” “Oh man,” Emma groans. “Were you following some kind of lead here? Was this just an exaggerated hunch?” “Not at first,” David admits. “But I did follow the overwhelming evidence that you two were spending nearly all your free time together and I knew you were both faking this date to get me off your back.” Killian scoffs. “Were we faking this, Swan? I’m not sure that we were.” “Nah,” she says, grinning when David rolls his eyes. “Probably not. Hey, you want to go on a date or something? Like...tomorrow.” Emma is very proud of the flush that forms on Killian’s cheeks immediately. “Tomorrow?” “Yeah, or like...today. Dates end with kissing, right?” David mumbles a string of increasingly creative curses, Killian’s eyebrows doing something impossible and the butterflies in the pit of Emma’s stomach feel strong enough that they could very easily plan world domination.

“Yeah, they do,” Killian nods. “C’mon, love, let’s go critique alcohol options.” They don’t wait for David to say – or curse – anything else, Killian tugging Emma down the hall with smiles on their faces and her phone still on the floor. She assumes David picks it up, shouting something that sounds like “I knew you’d do that” at them.

He dances with her.

She’s never danced with anyone before.

Emma can’t stop smiling, spinning and twirling and she’s never thought the world twirl before in her life.They dance and they drink and, at some point, someone asks Killian if he’s there with his soulmate.

His answering smile could probably power whatever machine this piece of garbage DJ is using.

Emma can’t believe Regina’s wedding has a DJ.

“Yeah,” he nods, the arm around her waist tightening slightly and it’s difficult to understand the words when they’re pressed against the top of her hair. “I am.”

Mary Margaret’s answering squeal can probably be heard on the moon.

She calls Ruby. In the middle of the reception.

Ruby’s answering scream is piercing.

“Can’t keep a secret to save her life,” Emma mumbles, but then the music shifts and they’re moving again and she can’t seem to catch her breath. “Hey, um,” she adds, glancing up and she’s fairly certain he already knows what she’s going to say. She says it anyway. That’s a nice feeling. “I love you.”

They keep moving when he kisses her, an impressive show of balance and romance and really sticking it to the whole soulmate trope because Emma’s fairly certain she’d mean it without the labels or the names and--

“I love you,” he says, mumbled against her lips and the curve of her jaw and the bridge of her nose. Over and over. A repeat and return and some kind of joke about rhythm that’s appropriate with a really shitty DJ in the background.

It’s perfect.

And they don’t actually do much except sleep later, curled up in the middle of a very expensive hotel room bed because it’s still a castle and Killian mentions something about liking the color of your dress, love and Emma closes her eyes with a smile on her face, certain, for the first time that she can hope for everything.

And get it. 

They go to Disney World two years later.

After they elope.

No one is surprised.

[xasha777]

In the dark alleys of Neo Buenos Aires, where shadows clung to the remnants of the old city, Ana was known as the Ghost of the Patagonian Shelf. Her pale, blood-streaked face and haunting, wild eyes became the last image many saw in the sprawling underworld of bio-enhanced smugglers.

Ana wasn’t always a specter. She was once a marine biologist, studying the impact of climate change on the Patagonian Shelf, the rich marine ecosystem off the southern coast of Argentina. But after a shipwreck caused by a rogue wave, something in her changed. Exposed to experimental bioluminescent algae intended to boost marine life, her skin had taken on an unnatural pallor, her eyes glowing eerily in the dark.

Rescued by a band of smugglers, Ana found herself stranded in a city where cybernetics were more common than humanity. Her rescuers, seeing her transformation and potential, employed her unique abilities for their operations. Ana could navigate the darkest waters and tightest spaces, her form almost ghostly, enabling her to infiltrate the most secure facilities.

One night, Ana’s crew received a tip about a shipment of illegal cybernetic enhancements arriving at the submerged docks of the old marina, now a gateway for all contraband into the city. As they prepared to intercept the shipment, Ana slipped into the water, her presence undetected by the automated security systems. Her mission was clear: retrieve the tech and escape without a trace.

However, as Ana approached the cargo, her enhanced senses detected another presence—something not entirely human. A new model of AI guard, designed for underwater defense, patrolled the area. It resembled a large, mechanical squid, its tentacles armed with sensors and stunners. Ana, remembering her old scientific fascination with marine creatures, carefully observed its patterns, timing her moves with precision.

In a silent ballet beneath the moonlit water, Ana evaded the AI, reached the cargo, and secured the cybernetic enhancements. But just as she was about to leave, the machine detected her. A chase ensued, a terrifying dance of predator and prey, weaving through the rusted pillars of the old docks.

Using her intimate knowledge of marine behavior, Ana lured the AI into a trap—old, tangled fishing nets hidden among the debris. Once entangled, the machine’s efforts to free itself only tightened its binds. Ana surfaced, the stolen goods in tow, just as her crew arrived to extract her.

Back on their ship, as they sailed away from the glittering lights of Neo Buenos Aires, Ana couldn’t help but feel a pang of loss for her former life, studying the serene beauty of the ocean’s depths. Yet, she knew this dark city needed her—both as a specter and as a savior.

Ana, the Ghost of the Patagonian Shelf, continued to haunt the corrupt waters, a legend born from the very essence of the sea she once loved.