#Ghost Planet

[clyde49]

Happy 30 Years To Space Ghost Coast To Coast.

[greetingsfromghostplanet]

[texasthrillbilly]

[thenefilim]

Review - Ghost Planet (2024)

At its heart, Ghost Planet is an updated version of films like Planet of the Dinosaurs and Dark Star. More importantly, it’s one that gets the balance between telling an entertaining story and cheesy nostalgia right.

https://www.voicesfromthebalcony.com/2024/07/25/ghost-planet-2024-review/

[moviesandmania]

GHOST PLANET Sci-fi mystery - trailer and reviews

‘At the edge of the universe lies mystery and imagination.’ Ghost Planet is a 2024 sci-fi film about a group of astronauts who venture to a mysterious planet to claim the find of the century. Philip J. Cook (Pungo: A Witch’s Tale; Malice: Origin; Malice: Emergence; Malice: Metamorphosis; Despiser; Invader; Beyond the Rising Moon) wrote, photographed, directed, edited and co-produced the movie.…

[soapcloth]

CW: 18+ MDNI, mech!ghost x pilot!reader, scifi, noncon/dubcon elements, guided masturbation, temperature play, voyeurism - 1.6K words - dividers -> @/cafekitsune

Another long night in the cockpit.

You could only grin and bear it at this point. Reaching compatibility with your assigned vessel was slowly eating away at your psyche- and worst of all, you couldn’t even leave; not when your prospected affinity levels with the infamous machine had been deemed unprecedented, and certainly not when you knew what happened to deserters.

Conscription was non-negotiable these days; the large colony you had grown up in now ravaged by some otherworldly force and desperately bleeding out resources in response, be it weaponry, rations, or bodies.

The faction had been gifted the GH-05t Mech as an act of goodwill, but ask any official and you’d be informed that the powerful, unused machine would serve better as scrap parts- the real kicker being that they were no longer equipped with the resources or the manpower to dismantle the damned thing. 

GH-05t was a battle vessel; had been lauded as a ground-breaker and a boundary-pusher with the integration of an intelligent battle protocol system, all trained posthumously off the stored memories of some long-dead pilot, surely without his consent- Simon, they had named it in an attempt to make it more user friendly and assistant-like in nature.

Hubris. The system failed to run, turning the fully-functional mech into a glorified mountainous paperweight due to all of the instrumental functions being locked behind unresponsive intelligence. You speculated that the machine had passed hands to save face- to keep the public hopeful despite the system refusing to wake up.

-Wake up. You groaned, slapping lightly at your face.

You hated it here, longing for lazy days on the bleak outer walls, surrounded by the buzz of cicadas and rustling long grass as you waited for your father to get back from the drillsite. Your parents had been so proud when officials showed up at your dilapidated front porch, neat suits, shining eyes, and big smiles blissfully ignoring the very same surroundings they had left to rot;  all while you reeled internally- shaken by the worst news you had received in your life. It was a death sentence. 

It had been years since that day, and you were absolutely sure you had only been given a position like this because of some made-up numbers all while they tried to remind you that you were special, somehow different from your peers.

All damned to the same fate in your eyes.

“-load of shit.” you hissed, rubbing at the uncomfortable neuro-valve hooked into the back of your flight suit. Frustrated, you kicked at the mechanical console snug against your leg, the low rumbling whirr of the machine staying the same in response- apathetic to your misdirected rage. 

A moment passed before you finally leaned back in your seat with a grimace.

You still weren’t used to the flight suits in the mech pilot regs. You almost missed the starchy cargo pants that were worn throughout training- both had been unbearably stiff, but at least the latter hadn’t been so form-fitting.It always freaked you out a bit; the pilot suits were more akin to sleek exodermis, responsive and shock absorbent- It felt wrong to have something so foreign covering your entire body; unnatural. 

Your hips squirmed in the seat, friction suddenly becoming apparent the more you thought about it. The low tone of your monitored vitals raised gradually with the fuzzy heat beginning to shamefully pool in your gut; making you all too glad these late night bonding-sessions were done in an all but abandoned mech bay- your observed progress dwindling along with your prospects as time went on without result. 

Grinding into the seat, you swallowed back the thick saliva coating your mouth, teeth catching on your dry bottom lip as you held back a low, audible shudder; eyes fluttering shut. 

The bulky panel separating your legs became all too appealing as you acknowledged the press of it at your sealed cunt, nudging your apex into the blunt peak while your gloved hands curled around the padding of the built-in armrests.

Then, there was a pulse at your core. 

Eyes snapping open, you became all too aware that the sensation hadn’t come from your body. Straightening up in your seat you were met with a dull blinking text on the panel that had never been there before- 

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: LOADING’

You were rooted in place as you witnessed the glowing, digital bar slowly fill.

‘Battle Intelligence System 

STATUS: ONLINE’

You scrambled to pull at the neuro-valve connecting your suit to the mech, only for the small port’s flight locks to engage; a stark hiss emitting from the cockpit door’s airlock.

“Disengage locks.” you commanded, completely lost on what was happening. 

There was a low, fractured robotic groan directly in your comms “-Fuck…” the voice was deep, aggressively masculine and breathy in your ear- the sound holding more human emotion than you were prepared to rationalize. “Where am I?”

“-Disengage locks.” you repeated firmly. 

“The fuck is this?” he snarled, apparently coming to as he barked out questions, disoriented. “-Who are you- why are you in m’head- Fuck, why can’t I see?” 

Your suit was flexing and constricting, going haywire in the confusion. “C-calm down!” you stuttered, a pendulum in your head swinging between gripping dread and the low, heady heat of unmet needs. “Just-Just let me see if I can fix this.” 

Panting shakily, you swiped at the flight panel’s screen- spotting something containing the words ‘optical’ and ‘sensors’, you tapped frantically.

There was an audible wince deep in your ear, then a growling hum met with silence.

“M'dead, aren’t I?”

“-You’re a memory bank- not a person.” you asserted, clarification necessary when it came to a massive mobile death machine. ”C-Can you lay off the suit, please?”

A pulsing wave passed the length of your suit as he listened to your embarrassed response over the comms, the sound of his voice bouncing around in your head. “Fuck, bet tha’ feels nice, yeah?”

A whine bubbled at your lips before you could stop it. “I- You’re not l-listening, Simon.” 

There was a long silence following your plea- air electric and tense.

“Tha’ name- How do you know it?”

“N-not the point!” you argued, only to be met with a full body squeeze- a threat. “-It’s the name of the o-operating system! P-please!”

He relented, your chest heaving as your muscles released tension.

“Well, if you an'I are so close...”

The screen flashed with a notice. 

‘[Main Cockpit Camera Feed - Status: Active]’

Followed by another

‘[Manual Override - Feed Transmission Blocked]’

“-Keep things between us, yeah?” 

Your head swivelled around to look for a camera, landing on a lackadaisical red blink coming from right above the reinforced windshield.

“You're a sight, aren’t you?" listening closely, you could hear the audible scroll of the lens focusing.

You frowned. “Let me out-”

You gasped as a cold heat focused at your core, reminding you that your suit’s temperature regulating measures were completely under his control. “-No need for fuss, we were just getting t’know each other.”

“Th…” you paused, panting softly. “-This doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s not to get, Love?” there was a pause as your seat adjusted forward, bumping your cunt into the console. “Give us a show, yeah?”

You whimpered in response, pressure unbearable.

“Look at you.” he snarled, the deep sound goading your rocking hips onward. “Fuck- Wish I could taste you…”

There was a small noise from the screen that had your heavy lids pulling upwards- database bringing up the low-res file of a soldier. 

“-Look at the man doing this to you, love.” 

Your lips parted, eyebrows drawing downwards in confusion as you looked at the attached image; a masked man with voids for pupils staring back at you.

“Y-You’re not-” you gasped as a concentrated cold rushed your breast, nipples pearling up uncomfortably at the sensation- the friction of your undergarments and the newly dropping temperatures sending your head soaring as your hips worked at grinding into the blunt metal. ”-not r-real.”

“-I am.” His voice was a sharp, humorous growl that threatened you to challenge his word, followed by a single deep laugh. “Eyes up- on me, love.”

Your head bobbed as you glanced lazily at the file, unable to make any sense of the written data- not that it mattered anyway.

“Think you can finish for me?”

The suit pulsed rhythmically as you practically humped your seat with eyes screwed shut, the humiliation of your current position itching at something unfamiliar deep in your abdomen. With flushed cheeks, you chased the bubbling pot that made a home in your gut; willing it to boil over.

 “Look at me.” he ordered. “Need y'to look at me.” 

Glancing at the screen in a haze, the exomuscles of your suit flexed in response.

“No- Up.”

your head shot towards the camera, holding contact with the whirring lens as the overstimulation finally became too much- pussy fluttering in euphoria with elbows bracing you, hips pathetically grinding out the high. 

Struggling to catch your breath, you slumped back into the chair- gears adjusting your seat back into a comfortable position.

“Good.” the voice in your ear barked, before lowering incrementally. “-Good…”

The screen lit up with a notice that compatibility requirements had been met- although it didn't mean much to you in your state; chest heaving slowly while you tried to make sense of what happened. 

“Gonna’ let you out- but this has got to stay our secret, yeah?” 

You swallowed, eyelids tugging open as your suit tensed in warning.

“How copy?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good,” he paused. “-don't need anyone but you poking around up here.”

[savanir]

You shouldn't summon a Ghost King

Danny had felt the weird tug to the entirety of himself and instantly knew he was finally actually getting summoned for the first time. 

He'd winced through the whole process, knowing he should have listened to Clockwork and changed the requirements now that he was Ghost King... but even though Clockwork had seemed pretty serious about it, it just... kept slipping Danny's mind.  Listen, it's not that he didn't want to! executive dysfunction is a bitch alright, and it sounded like boring ghost paper work.

And it's been like... months now, maybe even a full year, maybe even longer. People don't really summon the Ghost King apparently, and Danny has been busy! He has school, he's trying really hard to get his grades back up. At some point he just completely forgot about it. 

He's really regretting not taking it as seriously as he probably should have now that he's randomly on top of a skyscraper in some massive city he doesn't recognise. And the city is... for a lack of better words, on fire. 

He can feel the suffering he can hear the screams, there is pain, chaos and fear all around him. Like a physical force pressing down on him.

The sickening part of it all is that he feels stronger than ever like someone injected him with 50 energy drinks directly into his veins but at the same time his stomach is recoiling violently, extreme jitters but not in a good way, absolutely nauseous. 

He's not really listening to whatever is going on directly around him on that roof, that's all far in the distance somehow, maybe he's disociating, maybe something else other ghost thing is going on, but Danny is just floating there in full king regalia. 

All he cares about it is snatching the weird creepy looking grimoire and getting some answers. 

And answers he gets because its very clearly stated in there that the Ghost King (Pariah Dark) wants a tribute to himself. Whomever deigns to summon him must prove willingness to his cause. Aka the whole conquering and genocide and tyranny thing. 

Over five hundred deaths would probably do but over a thousand was preferred, even more was obviously even better. That would show dedication and earn favour and- blah blah blah. 

Danny thinks he's going to throw up. 

It doesn't help that that's when the heroes show up and Danny is very clearly the big bad in this scenario even if it was completely unintentional.

Maybe they'll let him explain? Oh shit, that one looks so upset they're crying- maybe he can just go invisible instead...

This might be the worst night of his life. 

[without-ado]

Exploration is in our nature. We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still.

l photo: Sara Hunt l quote: Carl Sagan

[spacewonder19]

Ghosts of star Gamma Cas ©

[emacrow]

Um.. Superman.. what that thing stuck on your cape?

Clark's brain short circuit for a moment as he just got back of flying at great speed in the middle of deep space to thrown one of Lex's giants bombs destroy the city and come back in record time.

He turn a bit to look at his cape to see a tiny humanoid starlight dust covered child with white hair, glowing full green that look like white specks stars were implanted themselves into his big ol eyes, nawing on a handful of stardust with inhumanly sharp itsy bitsy fangs.

A small yet floating crown that look similar to one of Nasa pictures of far out space.

Did he just accidentally abducted an royal alien child/teen?

[greetingsfromghostplanet]

[morgan-n-cheese-91]

old Obi-Wan is so funny to me because his sass and overall bitchiness is like the last thing he's got and I'm so proud it survived the great depression of his 40s.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Clone

~

Danny has heard about Superman's dislike for his clone,

Dead men do tell tales.

Danny grows angry with Superman,

There he was showing hate to his clone, his flesh, his blood,

Conner wasn't in the wrong,

He was just a child

He didn't ask to be created this way.

Danny hated Clark Kent

More and more with each story he heard from the ghosts around him, Danny knew what it was like to be cloned to feel that violation of his person, but he could never hate Ellie,

His clone

His cousin

His sister

His daughter

His family

She was precious to him and her being a clone would never lower the amount of love he held towards her.

So to see this hero, this adult, not give two shits about Conner?

Oh that burned

So he decided to do something about it, If Superman didn't want Conner then he would take him, show him the love and care that should have been his from the very beginning from what should have been his own family.

Danny could teach him more about Krypton than Superman could ever wish to know, show him his birthright.

~

Danny & Ellie on their way to surprise adopt Conner: "New family, new family~!"

Connor: "Why do I feel like something very important is going to happen?"

~

Superman feeling like he's being followed

The Krypton ghosts following him around being disappointed in him, and going back to the King to tell him all the things he's done.

~

The Justice League summoning King Phantom

Danny takes one look at Superman and is ready to give him the beating of his life

Danny: "You want a deal? Sure! In return for it I want 20 minutes alone with Supes over there, no reason why!

~

Danny seeing Superman after another ghost told him how bad he's been treating Conner:

~

Just an Idea

[prix-zero]

The Specials - Ghost Town / Ghost Planet