#my face is ghost simulator my lungs are ghost simulator. i scream but my voice is ghost simulator.

[t4rtarus]

i am SO normal about this game!

i do not spend 8(+) hours on this game at a time!

i did not finish all but three quest lines in the ghost world in less than a day

i did not make an oc

i did not give this oc lore

i am SO normal!

[sxdmoonchxld]

Proven Wrong | KTH

Taehyung x reader

Words: 4k+

Genre: smut

Warnings: Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Fingerfucking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Very Big Dick Tae, Like Scary Big, Like Gut Splitting Big, Unrealistic Sex, Belly Bulge, Bad Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Gets A Little Dubious Consent Towards The End

Summary: You call his dick small. He proves that it’s not, by wrecking your pussy ;)

a/n: again i use to be lizardsocial. this was my most popular story on here so im bringing it back as well. i think you can find the original one on here somewhere. i don’t expect it to get half as many notes it did the first time but thas okai. i’ve edited kinda heavily so it's a little different from the original. its filthier. anywhos. Enjoy!

__________________________________________

Loud music blasted throughout your apartment, the rumbling bass from the speakers reverberated through your bedroom walls. Pictures and posters rippled with each vibration, struggling to retain their original position. You groaned in annoyance, you honestly thought your request was quite simple. Just a couple of hours. 120 minutes of quietness was all you asked for so that you could study for your upcoming calculus test. He knew how important this exam was to you. He evened 'pinky promise, cross your heart hope to die'. That he would give you the silence needed to stay focused. And everyone knew you don't break a pinky promise.

Even now in your annoyance, his voice still played on a constant loop in your head.

"Oh! Yea ___, not a problem. I can keep it quiet for you. So don't you worry a hair on your pretty little head!" Taehyung had said, waving his hand in the air feigning nonchalance.

That cute signature boxy smile of his planted face. You actually thought that for once he would keep his word, and you could get some precious studying time, but no. The tiny 2-bedroom shared apartment was full of heavy jazz music and high-pitched shrieking from what sounded like a cat being skinned alive. Who even listens to jazz music when trying to fuck?

The last thread of patience had now been pulled too thin and finally snapped. Your desire to study was gone with the wind, and in its place, irritability and wrath began to take root. You slammed your laptop closed and threw it to the end of the bed along with your papers and textbook. Jumping out of bed, you stomped your way out of the bedroom, eyes searching frantically for your target.

"Taehyung!" You yelled once you began to process the scene that was in front of you. The living room was in shambles, Taehyung's phone was hooked up to the speaker, the volume loud enough you swore angels in heaven could hear. An empty soda bottle, chip bags and clothes littered the floor. Don't even get you started on the couch pillows! Your one of a kind thrift finds were strewn all over the place. You felt your blood pressure rising, the vein at your temple fattening in rage and pulsing wildly. Your jaw threatening to ache from how hard you were grinding your teeth out of anger.

Your eyes investigated the vicinity for Taehyung and low and behold there he was on the now bare couch. Lying underneath him was the source of the vexatious screeches. He was dry humping on some random chick with his mouth fiercely attached to her neck, deep purple bruises vivid from where you stood across the room. You rolled your eyes at the pair. You knew damn well Taehyung's thin lips and weak thrusts didn't call for all that useless screaming. 

You stomped over to the speaker, your sock padded feet slapping against the hardwood floor, and yanked the cord from the wall. Already the apartment was halfway quiet except for the banshee that was still squawking her head off.

"Hey! Shut the fuck up with all that noise!" You roared, scaring the girl and finally bringing their attention to your heated figure. Taehyung separated his lips from the girl's neck with a wet smack dislodging himself from between her spread thighs.

"Y/n, so nice of you to join us. How is studying going?" Taehyung spoke with a grin plastered on his handsome face. You resisted the urge to reach out and slap it off. He knew that you couldn't or anybody for a fact, could study with all the noise that was just previously filling the confines of the apartment. Yet here he was playing with the smidge of patience you had left by trying to simulate naiveté.

"All I asked was for you to be silent so that I could study for my upcoming test, and you said that you would. But instead, I am interrupted by your noisy ass music. Jazz music at that and this bitch here screaming at the top of her lungs!" You growled out between clenched teeth. The female gasped at your words embarrassment transforming her features, while Taehyung sat there with a blank look on his face, apparently unamused with your little rant.

"Oh my! Please excuse my rude roommate Mino. Obviously, her parents forgot to teach her basic manners. Let me walk you to the door." Taehyung spoke his fluffy curls swaying with the shakes of his head. A look of disappointment aimed your way as he began helping her gather her things and walking her to the front door.

"Umm, actually my name is Mina." She corrected Taehyung, but you could see it on his face that he could care less about the girl's name. Taehyung looked at her for a few seconds, as if he was processing the correct information of the girl's name.

"Yeah. Mona, that's what I said, isn't it?" Taehyung deadpanned, pushing her through the front door. Mina huffed at the fact that Taehyung continued to get her name wrong. You observed the pitiful interaction as you began to clean up the mess they made. You could tell from the look in Mina's eyes that she wanted more with Taehyung, but you knew that would never happen. Taehyung was a manwhore, a fuckboy, man thot, whatever the preferred term was. He had a new girl every night, and if he did try the whole "relationship smorgasbord" as he called it. The relationship usually didn't last for more than a week, before he was on to his next conquest.

"Tae?" You questioned meekly.

"Hmm?" He hummed head-turning slightly in your direction.

"Why do you do these things to me." You were genuinely curious as to why he made it his mission to push your every button. This wasn't the first time his action has hindered you from completing an important task. You just didn't understand why he chose to make your life more complicated than it already was.

"Awe is little __ j-jealous?" Taehyung taunted in a high-pitched voice used to entertain babies or puppies.

"Huh?!" You gasped choking on your saliva.  Shit, you almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you swung your neck to make full eye contact.

"Did you wish that was you, I was grinding on?" Taehyung continued to taunt as he walked into the kitchen to rinse his mouth out with water. That Mina girl had put way too much perfume on her neck. Now he was left with a sour aftertaste in his mouth. It tasted cheap, and Taehyung didn't do cheap.

If he was sincere with himself, he did wish it was you he was giving all his attention instead of these random girls. He considered you cute and innocent, with an air of sexiness. That he was pretty sure you weren't conscious of. In all actuality, Taehyung was smitten with you from the first time he saw when you came to ask about the roommate needed sign he had posted. The cute little freshman with a quirky personality and full of ambition. Those first 10 minutes of meeting you had him sprung like no other.  You were way different from the usual girls he was used to. Which shouldn't be much of a surprise since most just wanted to fuck, have money spent on them. Oh! Of course, the bragging rights, that they actually got to fuck THE Kim Taehyung.

Don't get him wrong, there had been a countless amount of times he had tried to gain your attention. But you were too busy holed up in your room with your pretty little head stuck in a book to give him the time of day. So instead Taehyung reverted back to his middle school ways and chose to torment and irritating you as a way to receive some type of reaction from you. He would take whatever he could get, he was becoming that desperate.

"What exactly did I have to be jealous of? You do know she was faking it right? I didn't think you to be so naive Tae, because you and I both know that them thin ass lips-" You stopped to point at the box that made up his mouth. "And that speck in your pants that you call a dick can't make anyone scream." You declared assuredly, moving your pointer finger down to his crotch. Pride and confidence swelled in your chest at the insult thrown at him. 'Good one __'

Taehyung spat out the water he was swishing around in his mouth and whipped his head in your direction. Did you just stand there and try to insult his manhood? Nah, clearly his hearing had to be a little off, right?

"Excuse me, what did you just say? My ears must be failing me." Taehyung said wiping the stray droplets of water from his mouth, sticking a finger in his ear to loosen the imaginary earwax there. Amused, he sauntered towards you, a ghost of a smirk rising on his face.

"You heard me, Mr.Kim. Your micropenis couldn't pleasure anything but your hand if even that." You said backing up, as he prowled closer to you, his shoulder in a tense bunch raised close to his ears. Any amusement his face could have held was gone, in its place was a dark, unreadable expression. His mouth fixed in a firm line, and the tip of his ears blossomed red. Flames of anger and lust flashing in his chocolate eyes.

"My sweet __, nothing about me is little. I can guarantee that." Taehyung growled out, his already deep voice deepened in tone. You scoffed trying to portray indifference but continued backing away from his advancing until your back made contact with the wall. Shit.

Taehyung placed his hands beside your head, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered softly as you breathe in his rich cologne encased your senses, dark, woodsy with just a hit of a floral note. His eyes roamed your face, taking in your features before settling on your lips. You self-consciously licked them before tucking them between your teeth. Taehyung leaned his face closer to yours.

"Such a pretty little mouth you have. Has anyone told you how troublesome it could be though?" Taehyung questioned, his thumb on his left coming up to your upper lip.

You could feel your heart beating against your ribcage, feel your cheeks heat up, and dare you say; a gush of wetness in the seat of your boy shorts.  The sexual tension was too powerful for your weak defences. Against your better judgment, you let your eyes flutter closed, and lips pucker expectantly anticipating the moment his lips would meet yours. Except Taehyung had other plans.

He shifted his head to the right, placing a gentle kiss on the lobe of your ear. Slowly moving his lips up to the outer shell of your ear.

You couldn't help the surprised moan that left your mouth as you unconsciously tilted your head back, offering your neck to his probing advances.

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Taehyung challenged in a whisper. His deep voice sending shocks of pleasure zinging down your spine. He trailed his lips down your neck, pressing gentle kisses against the surface. You had to choke back the moan that threatened to escape you at the feeling of his soft lips on your neck.

"N-no, Taehyung." You panted breathlessly.

"I don't feel like finding my glasses to look at something too small for the naked eye to see." You spoke, resolute on getting in one last insult. Taehyung pulled his face away from your neck, growling at your words.

"Haha, hilarious." He laughed humorously.

He pulled your body away from the wall, hoisted you up over his shoulder with a small grunt, and made his way to his bedroom. Kicking the door open before unceremoniously throwing you on his plush king-sized bed. 'Not good'.

Taehyung stood at the edge of the bed staring at you with unadulterated lust clouding his eyes. His chest heaved heavily with anger or arousal, you weren't sure. But based on the sizable tent in his pants, you could guess the latter.

"Taehyung! I already told you I don't want to see your baby-." You started but was cut off by Taehyung grabbing your ankles and pulling you roughly to the edge of the bed, pouncing on you. His lips met yours in a kiss that stole your breath away. The kiss was sensual and firm, but you could tell he was holding back.

Taehyung snaked his hand up your body, and into your hair, giving it a sharp tug. You gasped at the slight pain giving him a clear path to ease his tongue into your mouth, coiling itself around your own, deepening the kiss further. He thoroughly explored your mouth not leaving one surfaced untouched by his tongue, greedily swallowing your needy moans. Fuck he tasted good. Like oranges and burnt sugar.

Taehyung detached from your mouth to remove his shirt and to help you remove your tank top as-well. Your nipples pebbling from the chilly air and arousal. His eyes studied your body, you wanted so badly to shield yourself away from his unwavering stare.

"You're so beautiful. I've waited so long for this." Taehyung whispered before attacking your throat with kisses. You whined out in pleasure, your hips bucking up with every love bite he delivered, your body was aching in need for more.

"Tae. P-please more. G-give me m-more." You keened in between pants of air.

Your hips now undulated in tiny circles as Taehyung trailed his kisses down your neck, to your breast. He sucked and bit the soft skin around your nipple lightly. Soon his tongue gently wrapped around your nipple, sucking it into his warm mouth, while his hand teased the other breast, kneading and pinching your nipple. Your moans were increasing in volume, at his assault.

Your legs widened on their own accord, making more room for Taehyung. Your pussy was weeping profusely. The boy shorts you were wearing were thoroughly drenched, and with each movement of your hips, your arousal perfumed the air. Releasing your nipple, he continued his way down your chest, moving his lips across your stomach. Down, down he goes until he's kissing you down to where your torso joins your pelvis. He trained his eyes on you, eager to see your reaction as he pulled your boy shorts off from your body with a wet smack.

"Tell me what you want love. Use your big girl voice for me." Taehyung cooed in a provoking tone. You would have told him to fuck off if it wasn't for his mouth hovering right over your clenching core, his hot breath attacking your pussy lips.

"Cat got your tongue? You sure did have a lot of things to say earlier." Taehyung teased once more. You moaned with each word he said, your hips thrusting upwards, hoping to find his mouth.

"Please! Just touch my pussy, lick it, do something! Stop teasing me!" You urged, bringing your hands up to stimulate your breast, you didn't know how much more teasing you could take. You could feel your essence seeping between your ass cheeks and coating the bed. The dull ache in your stomach was intensifying, and he had barely touched you.

"Mmm, well since you begged nicely." Taehyung replied, wasting no time in attacking your pussy. His broad tongue licked wide strips up against your pussy. Splitting your lips with the appendage with each pass to dip his tongue into your pulsating hole. Your hands found his soft brown hair as your back arched off the bed, pushing your cunt deeper into his face.

"Y-yeahfuck! Like that it's so good!" You whined slurring your words.

Taehyung shifted his probing muscle's attention to your clit, attacking it with kitten licks. You shouted loudly, as your thighs were beginning to shake. The coil in your stomach tightening almost painfully. He wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, your knees were hitched higher up almost touching your chest in this position.

But this way, he had much more leverage to devour you. The comforter on his bed bunching uncomfortably beneath your ass but at this moment you gave zero fucks. Taehyung had total control now, showing no remorse as your upper body thrashed about on the bed. Your hands were no longer able to reach his hair, so you opted for your own instead, pulling harshly on your roots.

"Fuck, Taehyung!" You wailed shrilly. Taehyung chuckled at the sounds you were making, remembering your words from earlier he couldn't wait to hear what you sounded like taking his dick.

He then rubbed two thick fingers in the abundance of fluids that your pussy was producing and gently eased them into your tight core.

"Not only is baby girl surprisingly noisy, but she's also pretty tight too." You clenched even more around his fingers, your wall throbbing wildly around them.  

"I can't wait to feel you around my dick." Taehyung moaned sucking your clit into his mouth, delivering hard sucks as his fingers pumped into you at a moderate speed. Sadly, the introduction of his fingers was your undoing. You couldn't help as your legs stuck straight in the air. Body arching off the bed and bowed forward as your orgasm hit you like a freight train knocking the wind from your lungs.

Your eyes were shut tightly, and your mouth hung open in a silent scream as your body convulsed from the intensity of your orgasm. Taehyung had a hard time holding you down but continued his assault on your creaming pussy. He slurped as much of your cream as he could, absolutely addicted to the way you tasted.

"T-Tae, stop-p." You called out to him pathetically. Your intense orgasm had passed, but he was still thrusting shallowly inside your tight core, lapping at your clit. The oversensitivity was becoming too much, as you struggled to wiggle away from him. Taehyung withdrew his fingers and ceased his licking with one last kiss on your clit, making you flinch at the contact.

Taehyung beheld your fucked out appearance with pride. Your legs splayed open, displaying your spasming cunt. The way your chest was swiftly rising and falling as you struggled to catch your breath. Your hair stood up in every direction from your previous pulling, body trembling with aftershocks, and all he did was eat you out and finger you.

"Wow." You mumbled your eyes closing, sleep trying to claim you.

"Oh, nonono. I'm not done with you yet." Taehyung proclaimed, flipping you onto your stomach. He had to admit he was the hardest he had ever been in his life. His pants were now unbearably tight, and a wet spot at the crotch of his pants started to become visible. Taehyung tugged the offending material off hissing as his massive erection made contact with the air, free from being confined. You lifted yourself with jelly arms onto your knees, wanting to see what the commotion was behind you.

You choked on your spit for the second time today, as your eyes made contact with the angry red monster Taehyung called his cock. Not only was he unbelievably thick; a little bigger than your wrist, but he was also long. In his hands was the living definition of a third leg. He was crazy if he actually thought that would fit inside of you?

"Fuck that shit!" You cursed trying to scramble to the headboard of the bed, but Taehyung halted your escape, grabbing your ankles and yanking you back.

He would have laughed at your reaction, but he was too turned on, there was so much blood rushing to his cock he felt lightheaded. He wasted no time in putting you back in your previous position. Pulling your ass up so that it was sticking in the air and your torso was lying flat on the bed, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"Tae! Wait...you can't be serious!" You tried pleading with him terrified that thing he called his dick was going to tear you apart.

"Not so little am I baby?" He snickered

Don't worry, you can take it I'll go slow." Taehyung groaned his voice strained, his arousal was beginning to take a toll on him. Taehyung grabbed his shaft and brought the bulbous tip of his cock to rub against your clit. You mewled with pleasure, his tip was hot and the pre-come he was leaking added to the sensation of relaxing and reigniting your body.

Taehyung continued to stroke his tip along your clit thoroughly coating it with your thick fluids. He placed the thick head at your entrance, your juices helping him to slide in. He watched in amazement as your leftover cum gather around the head of his cock in a coating out creamy white. Your body tensed up at the massive intrusion, your cunt pulsated wildly around him, drawing a deep groan from his throat.

"Baby relax, you're squeezing so tight." Taehyung moaned out affected by your spasming core. He reached his hand underneath your body and strummed at your clit once again, coxing you to relax.

Taehyung took your distraction as his cue to shove the offending length inside your prone pussy. You squealed at the sudden fullness and intense burning. Bucking your hips, trying to dislodge him. It was too much to take, especially at this position. Your pussy was going to rip in half.

"B-bi-iig-g. To-o mu-ch." You whined out stuttering horribly.

Taehyung gripped your hips harder to stop your fitful twisting and bucking. He felt as though he was about to explode you were so damn tight and wet, your bucking didn't help his case any either. He didn't wait this long to finish early. He refused to be a one pump chump. Taehyung reached his hand back underneath your body to locate your clit, rubbing it in firm tight circles, to help relax you, and sure enough; like magic, after you adjusted to his massive size, your body was suddenly filled with mind-numbing pleasure. Your whimpers turned into loud groans as you threw your hips back onto Taehyung, giving him the okay to start moving.

"Hell yeah. That's it, baby girl work this tight little cunt on my cock." He grunts before he withdrew his length and slammed back in, his dick splitting your sensitive walls, hitting every spot inside your clenching cunt. His strokes were fast, broad, and powerful, never had you felt so full in your life. Your mouth was gaped open, as shrieks of pleasure fell from your jaws, drool dripped from your lips, and dots blurred your vision. You could feel him in your guts, branding himself inside you. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, ready to release what was no doubt, going to be the most intense orgasm your body was about to experience. Taehyung could feel your core tightening up further, your tight little pussy was far better than he could have expected, he wanted to punch himself for waiting this long to indulge in you.

"You're taking this big cock so well, baby. Such a good girl." Taehyung growled.

"But I have a secret to tell you." You shivered as he stopped mid-stroke. You felt the warmth and damp skin of his torso drape over your back. Like pudding in his hands. You didn't even flinch as he brought his large callused hands up through the part in your breast to wrap around your throat.

Ever so slightly he squeezed the sides of your neck, you felt him throb in your stomach as you clenched even tighter around him at the action. Slowly he lifted your head up with his hand still on your neck. Again he squeezed. Bringing his lips down to your ear, he said, "Would you believe me if I said you're only taking half of me in."

The way your jaw dropped and your eyes bugged out of your head would have been comical. If you weren't genuinely terrified, that is.

"O-nly half! That's impossible I swear your touch my small intestine already." You tried to look back to see if he was lying or not, but he tightened his hold on your neck, forcing your head back to look up at him. Your body was now bowed in an almost perfect 'C' shape. You felt his other hand snake around your abdomen and press on the bulge that was his cock poking through your stomach. Again he throbbed in excitement.

"You were talking such a big game earlier baby girl, what happened? Surely you could all of a dick that's as little as mine. Right?" Taehyung scolded in your ear.

Little by little, he began pulling you more on his cock by your neck. And fuck he really wasn't lying he really had more length to feed your cunt.

"Ta-ae, pleaseplease n-o more-e, I can't take it m-my stomach hurts." You whined

"Hmm? But you're so close to taking all of me in. Just a few more inches, and I'll be all in." He responded.

Not wasting any more time he released your neck, and before you could fall down to the bed. He locked his fingers in your hair and firmly yanked, lifting you off the mattress, and into his arms, allowing himself the rest of the way in.

You screamed out as his hips met your ass with a wet smack. The increase in pressure coupled with the new position broke the levee to your release. You trembled uncontrollably as your orgasm started from your toes. Quickly spreading to your arms and head before finally spreading throughout your whole body, you were rendered speechless as your orgasm claimed you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as a burst of white light flashed behind your eyes, incoherent sounds of what was supposed to be Taehyung's name filled the space around you.

Through it all Taehyung continued to fuck into you almost violently, allowing your cores convulsions to wash over him. His body dripped with sweat as he briefly picked up his speed, his hips beginning to stutter. He held your thrashing body close to his as delivered his last couple of thrusts before moaning loudly and exploding his hot seed inside of your wrecked cunt.

You both fell breathlessly on the mattress, sweat polishing your skin, exhaustion quickly making its way to claim you. Taehyung pulled slowly out of your battered and swollen pussy. On wobbly legs, walked to the restroom to get a washcloth to clean the mess that was between your thighs. You moaned at the textured touch of the cloth and the dampness of it soothing the hot burn from your pussy.

Your whole body was numb, and you were utterly worn out, so much so, that when Taehyung pulled you into his arms, you didn't even argue.

In the morning you will definitely be having a word with him. But for now, you let his racing heartbeat lull you to some much-needed sleep.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 109

Happy Spooptober, everyone!

I’ve been planning since about February to do another camping trip this month, for the season.  I was super fortunately back in May to have some stories left over to share, that I didn’t have the opportunity for last time.  So thanks go to @catolicabuena for your submission, and to @dierotenixe for the PERFECT character to add to this chapter.

As always, thanks go to @zazen-rabbit, @baelpenrose, and @charlylimph-blog for being the beta readers and cheering section I need every day, no matter what.

As a reward for the clear, focused argument Charly gave in favor of Shalt-kri’i/Ekomari hostilities being over cultural misunderstandings earned her a reward of her choice.  I don’t know what Arthur expected, but part of me expected her to ask him something like throwing the class a party, showing up to teach class in sparkly footie-pajamas.  Her response, instead, left me convinced there was a conspiracy between her, Conor, and other mysterious parties to keep track of the Terran holidays.

“It’s almost Halloween,” she immediately pointed out. 

How? How did she say that so certainly? I wasn’t even sure it was Friday.

Oblivious to my thoughts, she tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Today’s Tuesday - “ See!? “Which means Halloween is just under two weeks away? I think?”

“Your guess is probably better than mine,” I admitted. “Between the extra long days, artificial light, and consistent temperatures, I have no idea anymore.”

“She’s spot on,” Tyche confirmed, without even looking up.  We were sitting in my living room, digging into ice cream while all the guys were at work.

“How - “ I sputtered. “How are y’all keeping track of this?”

Tyche rolled her eyes, while Charly snagged my wrist and shook it. When my datapad popped up, she gave me the deadest stare I had ever seen on her face. “There is a calendar on this thing. You do know that, right?”

My face and neck burned so hot, I was surprised my hair didn’t catch on fire. “I keep it on the daily view, so I can see all my appointments.”

“Which is why she has me and Alistair,” my sister pointed out lazily before scooping up another spoonful of dessert. “By the way, this pumpkin ice cream is pretty good.”

I nodded, having had a scoop earlier.  We had been trying every flavor we could think of.  

True to form, Charly’s was a screaming purple that honestly scared me, sprinkled with gummy bears and some kind of acid-green syrup. Every time she leaned my direction, I couldn’t repress the flinch. “Pumpkin is a good point. We should go camping again, and carve pumpkins.”

I could almost feel my ears pick up. “You mean like jack-o-lanterns?”

“Duhhhhh,” she scooped up a large enough bite to convince me it probably wasn’t toxic. “I know we can’t have open flames in the lab, but we can still put emitters in them.”

“Where are we even going to get pumpkins in time?” Neither woman would look at me. “What did y’all do?”  I sighed.

“We did nothing,” Tyche insisted, chin jutting out stubbornly. “Now Sam….”

An audible smack sounded when I dropped my forehead to my palm. “How big?”

Charly gave me the widest puppy-dog eyes she could. “How big are what?”

“The pumpkins…”

“Pretty big,” Tyche smirked. “I don’t think I’ve seen even you carve any this big, honestly.”

I wasn’t a professional carver by any means, or even competitive, but I had done some pretty big ones in the past, so I was a little excited to see these.

 A couple nights later, sure enough, several of us were carrying our camping gear to the now-less-eerie clearing where our previous camping trip had taken place.  Even though Sam had decided not to join us, we were greeted by the sight of six enormous pumpkins around the edges of the space.  In awe, I approached one and ran my hand over it - I actually had to lift my hand, seeing as the thing came nearly up to my hips. “How long has he been growing these?” I asked.

“Just over three months?” Conor huffed, setting down our gear. “The things love our best guess of Von’s environment, turns out.”

“No shit,” I whispered before clearing my throat. “I don’t think we have large enough containers for the guts and everything in these.”  The deal with camping in the Lab was that we had to take out everything brought in with or for us.  While Grey agreed to allow the jack-o-lanterns to decorate the area for the next two weeks - ostensibly as a study of decomposition - if we couldn’t remove the waste from the pumpkins, we couldn’t carve them.

Something that felt like plastic beaned me in the face. While I rubbed my face, I glanced down at my feet where whatever-it-was fell. 

Maverick started apologizing before I could figure out what I was looking at. “Oh god, Sophia, I’m sorry! I meant to toss that on top of the pumpkin!”

With a joking scowl, I glanced at the vegetable between us. “How bad does your aim have to be to miss that thing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Only if you tell me what just hit me in the forehead?”  I tried leaning over to pick them up again, but Conor beat me to it.

“They’re composting bags,” Maverick admitted. “I brought them just in case. They were the only thing large enough and portable enough to at least get in here.”

“It looks like a roll of garbage bags,” Simon pointed out skeptically, poking the roll of pseudo-plastic Conor was holding.

Conor smiled and shrugged. “Pretty similar.”

Soon, we were spreading out and setting up our gear in  a familiar pattern. Just as the last bit of gear was stuffed into the tents or spread on the ground, Antoine’s head snapped up and over his shoulder. “Does anyone else hear that?”

Silence fell as we strained our ears to listen.  The others started looking around, searching for something, before I was able to actually catch what they were hearing.  Finally, I was able to hear what sounded like music, but it was in a minor key that sent shivers up my spine.  It was another minute or so before I could make out words drifting through the trees. 

“ -  a year, and then

A few weeks, doubled, and tripled again,

A fire was struck by a warrior’s band

Meant for food, warmth, and a place to stand”

“What the - “ Tyche started wandering toward the music, clearly expecting us to follow. “It’s beautiful, but so sad.”

Reluctantly, I followed, reminding myself that this was a lab, that the faerie ring we were standing in was manufactured as a prank.

 “Yet one bough too many was placed inside

The flames roared to life as they screamed and cried

Tore down the trees as the warriors fled

And only ceased by the river’s bed

 The warriors slain, charred skulls and bone

Have remained in the forest for years, alone

Yet a magic imbued in their ashen remains

That entered a child who hid in great pain”

 I glanced over my shoulder, and saw about half our group behind me, including - “Arthur, why do you have your sword?”

“Because it’s steel,” he shrugged, like that actually answered my question. “Which means it has iron in it, and we’re in space, so any fucked up space-fae might not know the difference.”

 “In order to warn those who may stay

In the trees embrace, and walk away

The girl reads the thoughts of those who stand

On the ashes of noses, bowels, and hands

 She sends them away with a haunted scream

That tears into souls with a power unseen

No one has entered who has not fled

Only to drown in the river’s bed”

 Because that line was reassuring as I realized we were getting toward the artificial lake. Totally want to hear about drowning in a river bed, on a Halloween camping trip, sang by a creepy voice I didn’t recognize.  A voice that we were steadily getting closer to, no less.

 “For what place is safer from fire and flame

Than the rushing of water, a power untamed

The danger evaded, the human is saved

As their lungs are filled with a liquid depraved

 To step foot in the forest is to invite death

For though the child has drawn their last breath…”

 Tyche came to a sudden stop, both hands abruptly on her hips.  She glanced back at me, one eyebrow arched, and twitched her head toward the lake.  The voice was incredibly close to us at this point, so I peeked past her as carefully as I could.

Even in the low light of the BioLab during simulated-night, I saw a bright gleam of silver trailing through the water, interrupted only by a thick, red-gold cable draped halfway down.

“Their soul remains as though chained to the ground,” Nixe smiled with her eyes as she wound the song to a close. “And they’ll tear you apart until you are drowned.”

“Very funny,” Tyche half-scolded. “You did that on purpose.”

A lazy flick of her tail accompanied a cool glance over the surface of the water. “Perhaps,” she replied calmly. “And perhaps not. I often swim at night. And I like to sing, it’s in my nature.”

“But a song about ghosts, and vengeance, and drowning?”

“I’m a siren, Administrator Reid.” A bright flash of teeth that my brain told me were sharper than I knew they were. “All of my songs are about love, and revenge, and how else do sirens take revenge?” Another lazy splash. “I can’t exactly burn people at a pyre.”

“I loved it!” Charly spoke up from behind me. “We’re camping for Halloween, so it was perfect!” I had to admit, at least to myself, that she had a point.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one. From over my shoulder, I heard Arthur murmur “Siren or not, you’re insane.” A brief pause. “But I love the spooky music…”

I couldn’t be certain that she heard the comment, but Nixe’s eyes suddenly snapped over my shoulder to the side where it sounded like Arthur was standing. “Iron has no effect on me, Educator,” she stated firmly, flicking her tail to make a point. “But I mean none of you any harm, so please put the blade away. One near-death experience is plenty, thank you.”

A metallic rasp told me Arthur had acquiesced. “Apologies, I didn’t know it was you.”

“Were it anyone else, you still wouldn’t need that sword.” She tilted her head. “I would be there first.”

“Okay!” I interrupted, trying to break the tension. “Nixe, we’re camping and carving pumpkins.  Did you want to join us?”

Another smile, this one less terrifying. “I appreciate the invitation, but I have plans tonight.  I do apologize for interrupting your evening.”

“We were just surprised,” Charly explained. “But it was beautiful and perfect and thank you!”

With a nod, Nixe turned her body toward the artificial lake. “I am glad the song was appreciated.  Good night.”

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[glorious-blackout]

Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Part Six

@rock-n-roll-fantasy I should probably warn you that I am definitely back on my angst-junkie bullshit with this one, but I promise there’s more to come after this! 😅 Not sure when I’ll be able to post the next parts but hopefully you enjoy these two in the meantime 😊

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

********************************

There’s something wrong with the Earth.

This isn’t necessarily a surprise. In the week since the quake that never was, the entire world has felt off; tilted on its axis to such a degree that Alex can’t even begin to fix it. The details of the hotel feel muted, the life slowly draining from his surroundings as empty husks are left in the wake of an unseen angel of death. Once pristine white walls look faded and beige beneath flickering lights. The usual buzz of activity emanating throughout scattered hotel rooms has quietened, as though a volume dial has been turned all the way down. Portraits which once hung proudly along the reception walls have tilted, and if Alex studies them closely enough, he can see the colours smudging as the paint melts, removing all nuance in the process. At this point it wouldn’t surprise him to find cracks creeping along the marble columns or dying lilies curling over themselves in neglected pots, although he supposes it’ll only be a matter of time before that sight greets him as well.  

It’s not just the hotel itself which has fallen prey to this lack of vitality. The guests have never been particularly fascinating company, but now they appear virtually soulless. Their numbers dwindle with each passing day despite no clear evidence of rockets carrying them towards home, and when scattered patrons do reveal themselves, Alex ends up eavesdropping on the same mundane conversations over and over again. Staff members offer the same monotonous greetings to him regardless of any attempts to lure them into conversation. Even Andrew, who can be quite amenable to a casual conversation over a pint, has little more to offer besides, “How are you enjoying your drink, sir?” when Alex forcibly drags himself to the bar.  

On the one occasion where he agrees to play a show, he finds himself gazing at a placid, unmoving crowd who deign to make as little noise as possible. There are no cheers, no attempts to sing along, no murmurs of approval. Alex doesn’t even have the energy to be startled when he notes that several faces in the crowd have been replaced with expressionless masks, as though an artist has erased their features entirely, leaving only a discoloured smudge in their wake.

The world appears to be winding down, crumbling at the seams with no end in sight. And to top it all off, he’s the only person alive who seems to have noticed.  

Even his weekly meetings with Murphy have halted without explanation. He’ll sit by the computer for hours on end, waiting for the dreaded ringing to invade his eardrums, but it never does. For the first time in his life, Alex would give anything to face that man and give him a piece of his mind, but God doesn’t appear to be answering his calls right now.  

And then there’s Jamie.

“Are you coming down to rehearsals then?”

Alex doesn’t pay him any heed, choosing instead to keep his gaze fixed on the alluring form of Earth above him. He cannot bear to look at Jamie right now; not when doing so will only unveil a lifeless expression marring his friend’s once kind face. He only wishes the man would say something – anything – else. It appears to be lost on Jamie that he’s uttered the same sentence three times in the last fifteen minutes, having said little else since drawing up beside Alex on the balcony. The fact that he never receives an answer doesn’t register with him either. He simply keeps asking, like a children’s toy with only one voice-clip, not realising that every time he asks, he only succeeds in adding a further crack to Alex’s thoroughly abused heart.  

Nick and Matt have fared little better. Playing a show with them the other night had been akin to playing with three ghosts who have yet to leave their bodies. All traces of humour and nuance and love have been stripped from them, leaving empty shells where his best friends once stood.  

Or rather, where convincing replicas of his friends once stood. Alex can’t pretend to understand how this version of reality works, and he’s still struggling to separate the splintered fragments of Mark’s false memories from his own recollections. The Jamie, Matt and Nick he has been living with are certainly modelled after the people he’s known and loved all his life, but there are enough subtle differences to make him question if they were ever real in the first place. The most glaring marker of all being the fact that when he’d insisted they call him Alex, the only response had been a lack of recognition which had almost broken him.

The only person who has ever referred to him as Alex in all the time he’s been here is Matthew, but even as his mad theories have become more and more plausible, the man himself has remained infuriatingly elusive.  

At least Alex knows why he seemed so familiar now. They’d only crossed paths occasionally in the past, exchanging pleasantries and compliments at various awards shows and festivals, but given their similar positions it would be impossible for him not to be familiar with a certain Matthew Bellamy. The man has always been more of a friend-of-a-friend to Alex than a proper acquaintance, but he likes him well enough to believe that Matt’s apparent fondness for him was also genuine. Granted, he doubts he’d ever have pictured the man as a planet-hopping outlaw, but then again, he imagines Matt must have been equally surprised to find him acting as the owner of a four-star establishment on the moon.

A disbelieving giggle erupts from him before he can stop it. He’s been doing that a lot lately. No doubt it’s an unconscious coping mechanism his brain has concocted while processing the impossible situation he’s stumbled into; he supposes his only options at this point are to laugh or sob like a child.

Pointedly ignoring Jamie’s lingering presence, Alex lets the Earth consume his attention once more. She’s as beautiful now as she always has been – her deep shades of greens and blues vibrant against a dense black sky – but that only adds to the sense of wrongness tugging at his heart. He shouldn’t even be capable of standing here, gazing towards home from this angle. Surely without proper protection and oxygen tanks, the air should have been sucked from his lungs and he should be gliding across the ground rather than standing still. Is there a force-field surrounding them, providing them with breathable air and simulated Earth-like gravity? If he concentrates hard enough, will he be able to spot the tell-tale shimmer of a shield embracing his tiny civilisation?

How odd that he’s never questioned such technicalities before.

As for the Earth itself, the more he studies it, the more it looks like someone has merely devised a painting of her against an endless black canvas, basing their work on ancient photographs from age-old Apollo missions. The image is too perfect. Too still and unaffected; a close approximation of how Earth must have appeared millions of years ago, before her surface was warped by humanity’s influence. The more he remembers of his final days on Earth, the less the image before him aligns with the truth. The clouds hovering beneath the atmosphere shouldn’t be a perfect white, they should be blackened by thick smoke. Those vibrant greens should have been burnt away to smouldering brown, as ash falls thick and heavy over once beautiful landscapes. No doubt even the oceans must have turned a grim, murky grey by now, rather than the striking blues he gazes upon now.

Alex gasps as a memory emerges unbidden, hands desperately grasping the balcony railing. These episodes have been coming thick and fast of late, and it takes all of his willpower not to collapse as faint echoes of screams pierce his ears and the foul taste of ash smothers his tastebuds.

He lets the memory carry him away, however, for he knows that stewing in his own ignorance is no longer an option he can indulge in.

The air is thick with acrid smoke as ash gathers on his tongue with every breath. His eyes draw upwards towards a tangerine sky; the sun obscured by thick smog which he can feel clogging his lungs, leaving him lightheaded and weak. Only hours ago the advice had been to stay inside, but the sirens now piercing his eardrums signal a change, and he knows with unexplainable certainty that if he’d stayed behind, he would have been consumed by the flames which lick their way across the landscape without mercy.

He doesn’t recall the events leading up to this moment, try as he might. Can’t recall if he’d been at home, or in the studio, or trapped within the confines of a hotel halfway around the world. The only instinctual memory he retains is that the catastrophe had crept up on them without warning, announcing itself with all the subtlety of an air-raid siren shooting panic into the veins of every human being on Earth. Only it hadn’t been sudden, had it? Not really. Humanity at large had known for years that the world was destined to burn unless something was done to stop it, but the warnings had been largely ignored, right up until the moment the fire was breathing down everyone’s necks.  

The crowd surrounding him is desperate and he whimpers as countless bodies shove against him. No doubt he could remain perfectly rigid and yet still find himself pushed forwards by the sheer force of the human wave. The claustrophobia is suffocating, and breathing provides little relief when the air is as poisoned as it is. He can feel his chest heaving and the constant shouts and screams are momentarily drowned out by his pulse pounding a steady rhythm in his ears, and he clings tightly to the hand wrapped securely around his own as he’s guided along the wide street by a steady anchor. He doesn’t need to look to know instinctively whose hand it belongs to. The calming influence as his guide squeezes back and pulls him in closer is unmistakable. He presses himself against the other man’s body as the cacophony is quickly drowned out by gentle reassurances of, “We’re okay Al, just stay close yeah? We’re nearly there, just a little bit further, you’re doing great...”

He must look a state to warrant such a commentary, but he cannot bring himself to care. As he allows himself to narrow his focus entirely onto that soft voice, he can feel his heartrate slowing and his rapid breathing starting to ease. He feels - rather than sees - a worried face turning in his direction, ensuring that he’s still locked in the present rather than lost in the grasp of his panicked mind, and he gives a shaky nod to indicate that he’s okay. The world is burning and there’s no guarantee that safety is as close as his friend insists it is, but he’s not alone and the flames are still far behind him, so for now he’s okay. His hand is caught in another gentle squeeze - it occurs to him that the action might be for the other’s benefit as much as it is his - and they push onwards as best they can through the hulking mass of bodies surrounding them.

There’s a scuffle behind him as someone utters a sharp cry. Perhaps the constant shoving of bodies has finally erupted into a full-blown fight; either that or someone has merely lost their balance and fallen to the ground. Either way it spells the end for him. A desperate hand clings to Alex’s forearm for support and he feels himself being jerked backwards, struggling to maintain his grip on the precious fingers clutching his hand as faceless bodies try to pull him away. Panic seizes his throat, tightening his airway to the point where he cannot so much as scream. As the force of the disorganised crowd pulls him backwards, the people in front keep advancing, still trying to escape the flames and the thick, cloying smog. Concerned brown eyes turn to look at him, having sensed his distress in the crushing grip of his hand, and Alex can only watch those eyes widen with naked fear as their owner is pulled in the opposite direction.  

Those pivotal seconds seem endless when replayed in Alex’s mind. The image repeats itself like a broken VHS tape - an unending loop of terror - but it must have taken no time at all for their connection to be severed with surgical precision. He remembers panicked, animalistic screams escaping his throat as he fought and clawed at the terrified masses surrounding him, his hand suddenly grasping nothing but air. He remembers the crowd in front pushing onwards, with one man among their ranks fighting tirelessly to stay behind, screaming Alex’s name over and over to the point where it must surely have torn his throat.  

Neither of their efforts work. Their hands never meet again, and Alex can only watch as his salvation is carried off like a life-raft on the ocean, leaving him behind to drown on his sinking ship. And even above the distant sirens and the roar of nearby flames, the frantic, hopeless scream of “Alex!” continues to ring in his ears long after his would-be savior has vanished from sight.    

“-ark?”

The crowded street blanketed in a thick, ashen haze vanishes from his mind’s eye and he blinks as Jamie’s voice pulls him back to the present. It takes a moment to fully reorientate himself, even as his eyes settle upon the pleasant mirage of Earth hanging above them. The air still feels unclean and the thick, cloying taste of ash still resides on his tongue. His throat still screams from the frantic cries that had been torn from it and his chest aches with the effort of breathing in filthy smog. His hand feels cold and empty, still grasping nothing but air in the place of warm flesh, and an overpowering sense of loss washes over him like a painful echo. If Jamie notices his distress, he makes no mention of it. His face is as blank and expressionless as it has been since his world became muted, and Alex thinks he would give his right hand in exchange for five minutes of his friend’s smothering concern.  

“Where’s Miles?” he croaks out eventually, turning to face Jamie with a damning sense of dread. Part of him suspects that he already knows what the reaction will be and he longs to tear his eyes away in order to spare himself the pain, but he has to look. He needs this final grain of proof.

Jamie barely reacts to the words despite the fact that they’ve come out of nowhere. The only reason Alex even registers the minute furrow of his brow and downwards tug of his lips is because he knows that face better than he knows his own, and even then, the impassive blankness is back within mere seconds.

“Who’s Miles?”  

Alex can’t look at him anymore. If he forces himself to look at that emotionless face then he knows his heart will crumble to dust and he’ll never be able to piece it back together. His eyes are drawn skyward and he keeps them there, unblinking, even when the growing sting becomes unbearable. His vision blurs with unshed tears and his chest shudders fitfully with the effort it takes not to break into animalistic sobs, but he forces himself to swallow down his grief before it can consume him. The pain is unbearable. It creeps over his mind like a specter, dragging its scythe wherever it goes without a care for the damage it leaves in its wake. The temptation to laugh as he realises that this has been the reason for his pervading sense of loneliness all along almost overwhelms him. Perhaps that would get a reaction out of the hollow shell that has taken Jamie’s place.  

In the end, however, he doesn’t have the energy to make the slightest sound.

Because it’s not just Miles he’s grieving. The Jamie he knows and loves would never have let those two words leave his mouth. He would never stand idly by while Alex falls apart, visibly struggling to piece himself back together despite knowing that his efforts are completely worthless. The Jamie he knows would have pulled him in for a hug and let him sob his heart out without judgement, before gently telling him to tidy himself up so they can go out to thoroughly drown their sorrows. No doubt the Jamie standing beside him now has always been nothing more than a façade; expertly written code and little else. The same applies to Nick and Matt and every other human being he’s interacted with since stepping foot on this godforsaken rock, perhaps with the exception of Matthew. They’d been rather convincing replicas, he’s loath to admit, but that’s all they’ve ever been.  

“Doesn’t matter,” he forces out in a choked whisper, in the full knowledge that that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He wonders if his real friends are still out there somewhere. Did they make it to safety while Alex was left behind and imprisoned within this lie? Have they been searching for him all this time, while he allowed his mind to be manipulated to the point where he forgot they existed? Are they mourning for him with the same all-consuming grief he finds himself overwhelmed by now?  

Or are they simply ghosts, lost long ago to a world that has become uninhabitable? Perhaps they’re even trapped in the same boat he is; so wrapped up in the blissful ignorance of a beautiful lie that they cannot remember their own names.

“Is it better to exist within a terrible reality or a beautiful lie?”

He recalls Matthew’s burning question with a new sense of clarity. Because it hadn’t been hypothetical had it? Matthew had uncovered their circumstances long before Alex had. In his own infuriating way, Matt had been trying to prepare Alex for the conundrum he would be forced to contend with once the curtain rose. Their entire conversation had been a warning, planting seeds in his head that would eventually result in his world collapsing at the seams.  

Had Matt also been crippled by an overwhelming sense of loss prior to stumbling into Alex’s makeshift life? Alex searches his mind for any random details he knows about Matthew Bellamy, but he cannot recall anything with great certainty. Miles had known him much better than Alex had; he vaguely remembers throw-away mentions of a wedding and a new baby, but nothing more concrete than that. For all he knows, Matthew is currently battling his way through an endless, synthetic maze to crawl back to the arms of the people he loves, or at the very least to be reunited with versions of his bandmates who haven’t been programmed to hunt him down and kill him.

“Are you coming down to rehearsals then?” Jamie asks once again, uncaring and toneless, as though trapped in an unending loop.

A huff of laughter escapes Alex’s mouth before he can stop it, and he bows his head as a tear finally slips from the corner of his eye. Rehearsals and playing live was once his only solace amongst the mundane goings-on of his daily life, but now the thought of facing the replicas of his friends and seeing them stripped of all personality is unbearable. Normality is nothing but a distant dream. There is no returning to the life that had been carefully carved out for him here regardless of what Jamie seems to think, and as the details of the hotel slowly fade around him, he doubts there’ll even be a crowd to play for by the time evening rolls around.  

Jamie seems utterly unaffected when Alex finally turns to him, a thousand-yard-stare emanating from deep blue eyes as though Alex is a mere phantom standing in his way. A sense of finality takes hold as Alex stares at his friend, memorising the details of his face with a pang of grief, and he offers a small smile which he knows provides little benefit to either of them.

“You go,” he says, in a flat voice he no longer recognises as his own. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

The lie rolls surprisingly easily off his tongue, and despite giving no indication that he intends to follow-through on his promise, Jamie doesn’t question him for an instant. Instead, he simply shrugs before shoving himself away from the barrier and moving in the direction of the hotel. Alex watches his retreating back as he strolls along the cobbled balcony, and it takes all of his willpower not to yell at him to stop. To request a proper farewell, or a hug, or even to run up alongside him and enjoy one last hurrah with the band before everything fades to black.  

However, as he watches Jamie vanish behind a set of automatic doors, he knows that running after him would be a mistake. There is no point in embracing the lie anymore. The avatars wearing his friends’ faces like intricate masks no longer have the power to replace the real thing in his heart, and having to reward them with false affection would surely destroy him.

Instead, he bids one final farewell to the Earth above him. For the first time he can remember, the clouds have cleared above the British Isles and he can see the tiny, shrunken form of England resting just above a narrow watery channel. Deep forest greens interspersed with tiny golden pinpricks amongst the well-lit cities are the only details he can make out, but yearning tugs at his heart regardless. He wonders what would happen if he took the initiative and made the trek to the space station now, requesting a ticket for the first flight back to Earth? Would the falsehood adapt around him and expand to include a detailed simulation of his home, from a time when everything was perfect and alive? Or would he simply hit a dead-end and be forever trapped within a tiny radius which encompasses the hotel and casino and little else? He has nothing left to lose by trying, but a nagging suspicion tugging at the back of his mind is enough to inform him what the outcome will be. Whoever designed his current reality didn’t deem Miles of all people to be a necessary addition - no doubt out of intentional cruelty - so the prospect of arriving home and throwing himself into the arms of his mum and dad is surely unthinkable.  

It’s impossible to tell how long he spends gazing at the planet above, committing every single detail to memory with a bittersweet smile, but when he finally pulls his eyes away he’s momentarily overcome by a wave of contentment. The yearning for home vanishes and a renewed sense of finality tugs at his heart, only this time he lets himself bask in it. It’s over. The sky above is as much an illusion as everything else within reach, and while he knows he could lose himself staring longingly at the stars like a hopeful child, he finds that he no longer has any desire to do so.

After all, what’s the point in yearning for something that isn’t real?  

******************************

Lilting piano notes resound through deserted, crumbling corridors; the echo bouncing off the ballroom walls, causing the delicate glass shards of the chandelier to tremble. All trace of life has vanished, with the exception of the lone musician on his humble stage, playing to a crowd of ghosts.  

Alex doesn’t mind. He’d expected to find the hotel empty upon his return – no doubt his mental embrace of that finality had banished all remnants of humanity from its walls – and the uninterrupted stroll to the stage had been an oddly calming one. For the first time in years, a song had popped into his head with little fanfare. There’d been no need to agonise over chords or second-guess lyrics; instead the music had come to him fully formed as though obtained through a dream, and the need to perform it had become his sole objective.

A guitar would have been preferable. He has never felt entirely comfortable on the piano, but the choice seems to have been snatched away from him as all of his stringed instruments have vanished in his absence. Similarly, the lone drumkit and various brass instruments which once rested upon the stage are now missing. Only the piano remains. Each note sounds dissonant beneath his fingers, reverberating through the hall in all directions, and he gets the distinct impression that the instrument hasn’t been turned in years despite it sounding perfect only one week prior. His voice also sounds raw to his ears, but that doesn’t stop him from baring his heart anyway.  

It’s a bittersweet song with an emphasis on the sweet, and he latches onto the topics of lost loves and friendships tied up with nostalgia for a golden age that no longer exists. No doubt he would have been proud of this one had he gotten the chance to write and record it on Earth, but at this rate he doubts anyone will hear it besides the ghosts haunting the fractured walls.

That’s okay though. This understated piece of music feels like the only genuine creation he’s produced in all the time he’s lived here, and for that reason alone he’d rather not be singing anything else.

While he refuses to give his surroundings much in the way of scrutiny, it isn’t lost on him that the ballroom is fading away with each passing second. Pristine white walls appear to be melting and cracks trail along the granite columns like lightning bolts stretching to the ceiling. The light from the chandelier is muted, emitting only the faintest golden glow through shards of glass which no longer shimmer, and the deserted dancefloor below has been swallowed whole by drab red carpet. The circular dining tables and bar are cloaked in shadow, their surfaces smothered by a thick layer of dust, and adorning the walls are empty frames where elegant portraits once gazed proudly upon the room.

Only one image remains. A small wooden frame sits on the wall directly within Alex’s eyeline, and though the photograph it displays sends an ache lancing through his heart, he finds it to be a pleasant ache. Captured for eternity is a shot of four young boys, barely out of primary school, with hair cropped short and arms wrapped lazily around each other. One curly-haired lad is looking away from the camera, eyes closed in a mistimed blink, while two others gape at the lens with deliberately widened eyes, baring all of their teeth in exaggerated grins. Only the smallest of the group is smiling in a fashion which can be considered normal, though the crinkling of his large brown eyes implies that he too is mere seconds away from bursting into uncontrollable giggles at his friends’ antics.  

Alex can’t remember the photo being taken. The unremarkable brick wall behind them suggests it was taken at his childhood home, but it would not surprise him if the photo itself is yet another falsehood on top of the myriad of illusions he has spent years of his life sleepwalking through. And yet, he cannot bring himself to mind. The photograph may not be real, but the memories of a happy childhood surrounded by friends certainly are, and the sweet nostalgia that warms has heart can never be taken away from him. His real friends may have been lost to him long ago and even the replicas have deserted him now, but so long as he focuses on that image and dedicates this song to them, they can never truly be gone.

A shiver creeps up the back of his neck and he has the distinct impression that a pair of eyes have landed upon him, but he banishes that suspicion before it can take hold. This song is not intended for anyone’s ears but his own. The melody is quickly approaching its coda as he recites the final verse. The piano has grown so soft he barely registers the sound of it, but he carries on with a sense of obligation he doesn’t entirely understand. Perhaps it’s the sense of approaching finality which has made him so determined. His world is fragmenting piece by piece and he cannot comprehend what will happen to him once it fades completely, but he imagines there will be no coming back from it. He should be terrified and desperate, battling with every breath in his lungs to remain solid and whole, but he no longer has the energy to fight. Besides, he has always found contentment in music and performing, even in this godforsaken place. Why fight the inevitable when he can embrace it in peace instead?

The final note sounds abruptly as the last word escapes his lips, but before he can figure out a proper ending, the piano dissolves into atoms beneath his fingertips and the world explodes in a flash of brilliant white, carrying him along with it as his mind goes blank.

[xraex]

Great Minds Think Alike: 011 (Part 2)

An almost dizzying feeling welled over his body as he was back in the office room again, but it wasn’t quite the same.

Did this place get… darker? Jisung looked around warily. The only thing he could clearly make out was the blinking blue light coming from the projector.

He walked towards the big screen with curiosity, ignoring the voice in the back of his head telling him that he shouldn't because something was off.

He stood in front of the smartboard screen that was now showing him static of all shades of blue, and all too suddenly, it felt like he was leaving his body behind.

Jisung gasped as his hands were fading to pixels into the screen, the rest of him doing the same as everything faded to black.

It was as if he was in a scene from a ghost movie where his soul was being sucked in by a demon or something.

Panic welled over him like a tsunami once he realized that he couldn't move.

He then appeared inside a hallway of someone’s house, a house he had never been in before.

He immediately tried looking down, worried for his body that had basically disintegrated into the smartboard, but he got even more worried once he realized that he couldn’t.

It was like his eyes were stuck watching a scene from a movie, but he was only there as a mere consciousness.

What the fuck is going on? he thought before one of the doors creaked open.

A small blonde boy, who looked no older than the age of 10, peaked out into the hallway cutely, and like an echo in Jisung’s head (as if he could still feel it of course), the child said— thought, “Can’t sleep. Thirsty.”

The child opened the door wider, revealing his tiny frame dressed in blue pajamas decorated with what looked like little dolphins.

Jisung swore he looked like a younger version of someone he knew, but he couldn't put a finger on who it was.

He watched as the boy stumbled out of his room while rubbing his eyes with the back of his fists, directioning his path towards the stairs a little further down the hall.

The kid stopped as another thought echoed through Jisung’s head, "Who is that?"

Who is what? Jisung thought dumbly before he started to actually listen to what the boy was asking about, hearing several voices talking to each other from downstairs.

The child started to sneak down the steps as quietly as possible and stopped midway to peep through the railing, Jisung’s point of view cutting to a different angle of the scene in front of him.

Looking through an open doorway downstairs, Jisung and the boy could see five different people conversing on the living room couch, three of the five had their backs facing them.

The two people they could actually see the faces of looked like a middle aged couple.

They were speaking in Korean to the other three, but they had a bit of an accent, giving the impression that they were foriegn.

The man was tall and lanky while his wife was average height; however, the two of them had notable features that Jisung had trouble finding out who they belonged to in his uncomfortable state.

Huh, now that I think about it, they kinda look like—

The woman then smiled slightly at whatever they were talking about, her eyes turning to slits and the corners of her mouth turning upwards in a familiar shape.

CHENLE? Jisung screeched in his head once he finally noticed the resemblance, his point of view swerving to get another look at the boy's face. Oh, of course it’s him. He was the one who sent me here.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to excuse myself to go to the restroom,” one of the men with their backs facing towards Jisung and young Chenle apologized formally as he stood up and left the living room with a nod from the others.

Chenle watched him leave for a second before following after him, the soft taps of his little feet going down the stairs quietly.

“Why is he going to the kitchen?” Jisung heard the boy think as the mysterious man took something out of his coat pocket before walking into another room.

Chenle followed him into the kitchen to see the man pacing back and forth across from a table with a tray of tea sitting atop of it.

“I can’t do this. I just can’t,” he muttered under his breath. He looked distraught, almost to the point of pulling his own hair out.

“Sir?” Chenle snapped the man out of his thoughts which made the older turn around in fear, his brown orbs wide as he was expecting something much worse than just some kid.

The man’s face softened when he saw the child, and he crouched down to meet his small height. “What are you doing here, little one? Shouldn’t you be sleeping.”

“I-I’m sorry, sir.” Chenle looked down to his feet shyly. “I couldn’t sleep. I was just looking for a drink of water.”

“Ah, that’s okay.” The man ruffled the boy’s hair before standing back up. “I’ll get you a glass, but you have to leave this house right after. It’s not safe.”

“Not safe? This is my house….” Jisung heard Chenle think. The kid knew better than to ask it out loud.

The young man gave Chenle his water and took the glass to put it away quickly once he was done.

Jisung could hear footsteps coming from behind him which made his head pound. It felt like he was watching some action movie, but he didn't like it, not one bit. It all felt too real.

“Minghao, what is taking you so long?”

The aforementioned flinched and hid Chenle under the table as an older man walked into the kitchen.

It’s him, Jisung thought with malice, his fear turning more to anger at the sight of his face.

It was the same old man that injected Chenle with something in the lab before the escape room, and Jisung’s opinion on him still hasn’t changed.

“Nothing,” Minghao replied coldly, the boy watching what was going on silently through the older’s legs in front of him.

“Nothing?” The middle-aged man hissed. “All you had to do was pour the poison in the tea!”

“Well, I don’t want to be responsible for an innocent couple’s death!” Minghao snapped back.

He lowered his voice again. “You can’t make me do this. I’m not a murderer, and I never will be, not over my dead body.”

The older man’s nostrils flared as he grabbed Minghao by the neck tightly, making him wince at the pain and start choking. ”You have forgotten what consequence you’ll get for disobeying me. I hope you have some good last words in mind.”

The image in front of him made Jisung want to get up and do something, anything, but he was merely a consciousness floating around. He was only there to watch, and it drove his mind to insanity that he couldn’t do anything to help.

Minghao clawed at his neck as air was cut off from his lungs, yet his eyes were determined as if he was going to stand his ground until the very last second.

Soon, however, his eyes began to roll back into his head as his legs could no longer bear his weight. With his last breath, he was able to push out a sentence, just barely above a whisper, but it was still loud enough to hear, "T-Tell Junhui I love him.”

And with that, he lost consciousness, the older man keeping his hand on the younger’s neck in order to ensure that he wasn’t going to wake up ever again.

Minghao’s dead body fell limp to the floor as the man let go.

Oh god, I just watched someone die. Jisung’s mind felt numb if that was even possible. I JUST WATCHED SOMEONE DIE!

This was not like some horror movie or a bad dream of some sort (although this was technically shown through one). Jisung had already connected the dots. This was a look into Chenle’s memories.

This was real.

The middle-aged man took the small bottle of poison that was left forgotten on the floor and looked under the table to see a boy who was shaking in his knees, his face tear-streaked with fear.

“Just who I was looking for.” He smiled slightly with a twinge of evil behind his gray eyes and dragged Chenle out by the arm while putting the bottle into his pocket. “You just made my job 10 times easier.”

Jisung wanted nothing more than to rip that man’s hand off and beat him senseless. It was obvious that he was the one behind all of this, even the simulations.

“Let me go!” Chenle screamed as he wriggled around in the older’s grasp, more tears starting to flood out and blurring his vision.

The man sighed as he typed on his phone with his free hand. “I seemed to have forgotten how incompetent kids are.”

Not even a minute later, two men in all black suits with black masks and sunglasses covering their faces entered the kitchen through a side door and took Chenle from the man’s grip, dragging the boy out of the room as they covered his mouth to muffle his cries.

“I heard screaming what’s going on?” a voice near the other door of the kitchen asked worriedly, the older man quickly following the noise to see who it was.

A young man dressed similarly to Minghao appeared in front of the doorway.

“Oh, Junhui, nice of you to show up,” the older said nonchalantly as he took up space in the doorway to cover up the crime scene.

“Cut the crap, Mr. Lee. What did you do with Minghao?” Junhui seethed.

“The real question is: what are you doing here instead of distracting the Zhongs?”

“It’s been more than 20 minutes, and I don’t know if you’ve realized this, but my husband’s safety comes first.” Junhui tried walking into the room, but he was blocked from entering. He glared up at the older man. “Move.”

Mr. Lee looked at him blankly before stepping aside slowly, his face dressed in a slight smirk. “Very well.”

“HAO!” Junhui let out a shaky gasp as his face went pale. He rushed towards Minghao’s body on the floor, only to discover that his husband was dead.

Dropping to his knees, he held Minghao’s lifeless hand as tears started to run down his cheeks. Not a single word was uttered from the now widower as his tears slowly dripped onto his and Minghao’s hands.

Jisung didn't want to watch anymore, not that he wanted to in the first place. All he wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.

“If you’ll excuse me, I will be taking this,” Mr. Lee stated quietly after he poured all of the poison into the teapot. He picked up the tray and took it out of the room, leaving Junhui to grieve alone.

Through tear filled eyes, Junhui took Minghao's other hand and pressed them together under his own palms, his head falling against Minghao's chest as he sobbed. Junhui took a deep breath, inhaling his husband's scent for the very last time.

"W-Why did he have to kill you…” Junhui uttered under his breath, his voice shaky. “WHY?"

“Junhui couldn't bear the death of his spouse and killed himself shortly after the incident,” Chenle’s present day voice invaded Jisung’s head. “Minghao was his only friend, and he was the only one who was just like him… before SM sciences started their newest project."

If Jisung was still in his body, he would’ve broken down in sobs too, but right at this moment, his mind was blank, only the dull and painful feeling in his conscious reminding him of what he just watched. It was too much to take in all at once.

His point of view changed again, and he watched as Mr. Lee walked into the living room towards the couch with the tray of tea in his hands.

“I’m sorry about that. Minghao got sick, and Junhui had to take him home,” he lied with a small and obviously fake smile. “But I assure you, they’re fine.”

“Was the maid not available?” Mrs. Zhong asked as the tray was set down on the coffee table.

“She said there was a family emergency, so I offered to do her job before she left,” Mr. Lee said calmly as he poured the couple tea in their respective teacups, knowing very well that he had his men eliminate the poor woman as well.

“We’re really sorry about that,” Mr. Zhong apologized flusteredly. “You really didn’t have to bring it to us yourself.”

“Oh, I don’t mind, not at all.” Mr. Lee’s eyes crinkled with evil delight as the couple took the cups of tea into their hands mindlessly.

They drank their tea at the same time, and not even a minute later, they began to cough up blood.

Held in the arms of Mr. Lee’s men on the sidelines, Chenle was forced to watch his parents die a slow and painful death as he cried silently behind the cloth covering his mouth.

“Mom… dad…” Chenle could only think, making Jisung feel even worse.

Please get me out. Jisung pleaded. He couldn’t take any more of this suffering. Get me out of here.

Like his prayers were answered, he suddenly tumbled out of the smartboard screen in his body again and sat himself up on his knees while breathing heavily.

Jisung wanted nothing but to throw up. He felt disgusting for not doing anything even though he couldn't. It was just a memory. It happened a long time ago, and knowing that felt like torture.

Not even having a second to rest or process everything that just happened, Jisung felt his vision getting darker, and he finally remembered what Chenle told him to do in the last dream he had.

He struggled to stand up and hurriedly went to grab whatever was on the shelf beside him before his vision went completely black.

Chapter Index

[vagabonds-art]

Distance Closed

Characters: Kebechet (My Guardian), Osiris, Sagira, Demon (My Ghost)

Word Count: 1,670

Summary: Panoptes is slain, the Dark Future averted.. for now. But what happened between father and daughter before they left the forest to meet up with Ikora?

A/N: A lovely person on Ao3 asked me about this scenario, writing it was a delight. 

Read on Ao3 HERE

There it was.

Panoptes, the giant Vex Mind, now on its last leg summoning as many simulated factions as it could. Cabal, Fallen, even the Hive, all appeared out of thin air. And yet, most fell soon after they spawned. The ringing sound of a hand canon echoed in the air as Kebechet shot each enemy she could see.

This was the third time having to go through the process of fighting off smaller targets to catch the big one. The Infinite Mind clearly not going down without a fight. It proved this while Kebechet stabbed an acolyte, turning her attention to the machine as it whirled its massive hands through the air. Arc energy beginning to collect around the mechanical forearms in the form of rings.

It didn’t take but a moment for Kebchet to feel the pain of arc energy bouncing off her form. Sparks danced along her armor, a grunt leaving her chest, her body wanting curl in on itself. She fought against it, defiantly trying to stand straight.

She watched it start to bring its hands together, readying to eject her from the Forest. For a moment there was worry in her mind. The last two times this had happened Osiris had appeared, stopping Panoptes before it was too late. But what if this time he was the one that was too late?

Kebechet’s worry was misplaced, before the Infinite Mind’s hands were even close to touching, a dozen or so Reflections darted between them. Colliding as one causing golden hued sphere to appear. In the center of it was Osiris.

“No, Panoptes!” he shouted, holding his arms out to either side, maintaining the sphere. “Your future only has one ending!”

The Hunter let out a quick sigh of relief, drawing it back in as two reflections appeared before her. Creating ball of arc energy. “Now, Guardian!” one shouted as several more appeared creating a bridge to deposit the charge.

Kebechet wasted no time grabbing up the orb in her arms and sprinting toward the receptacle. This would be it, she thought raising her arms above her head to slam the charge down with every ounce of strength she had. The floor roared beneath her with the arc energy that was released.

She barely had time to see Panoptes’ arms get shoved apart as Osiris’ sphere expanded and exploded before she was lifted off the receptacle plate. Two Reflections carried her to a platform, as they had done prior, allowing her the best shot when the Vex Mind’s core was exposed.

As they let her fall from their grasp, Kebechet’s super charge flared to life. Her cannon becoming a Golden Gun in her hand as she aimed down the sight. A single bullet, wreathed in flame shot from the weapon. Hitting the glowing white orb that hung where Panoptes’ head once was.

The moment of contact was still for a split second, then there was a massive explosion. Kebechet brought her arms up, covering the front of her helm to protect her eyes from the near blinding light. The force of the blast was enough to shove her back on the platform, almost falling off had a Reflection not been there to steady her.

Lowering her arms, the Hunter saw Osiris floating in front of the platform, glaring down at the Infinite Mind. “And give me back my ghost!” he shouted down at it as it started to fall apart.

The anger in his voice was one Kebechet recalled vaguely. Not that she really had time to think about it, once again she was lifted into the air, carried to where Panoptes’ corpse now lay.

A calmness fell over the air as the Hunter stepped closer the corpse. Careful steps and a keen eye just in case it somehow survived, in case it could still attack. When nothing happened, Kebechet removed her helm. Looking over the massive frame with curiosity.

Slowly, she raised her hand, reaching out to touch the thing that had started this whole mess. “You sure you want to do that?” Demon, Kebechet’s ghost asked materializing at her shoulder. “What if it takes me next?”

“It’s okay, this thing is dead as a doornail.” she promised pushing her hand forward.

As her fingertips brushed the metal chassis, a small light began to form. The light began to grow, a familiar voice distantly screaming. Kebechet leaned in a little closer, trying to get a grasp as to what was being shouted.

“Let me out!” Sagira screamed darting out of the space the Hunter had just touched. It was clear the Ghost didn’t care which way she was going, as she shot forward. Her small being bouncing off Kebechet’s forehead with enough force to nearly knock her back.

Osiris watched this happen as he landed a few paces away. It brought a smile to his face seeing his ghost whirl around his daughter’s head in a panic, apologizing and asking if she was alright. Kebechet was laughing, holding a hand to her forehead trying to calm Saigra. The smaller ghost passing a beam of light over the small cut that was made by Sagira’s tines to heal the wound.

“Have you ever considered a rounder shell?” Demon asked looking over his patch work. “Less chance of taking someone’s eye out that way.”

“And make it easier to get grabbed? No thank you.”

“Guys, I’m fine,” the Hunter laughed looking at the small amount of blood on her glove. “It’s not the first time she did that to me.”

“It won’t be the last I’m sure,” the Warlock spoke stepping closer. The two beings snapped their attention to him. Sagira flying over to his side, “Thank the Traveler, you’re alright.”

“Papa,” Kebechet said softly, almost to where one would have to strain to hear it.

“It’s good to see you again, lit-uff--”

Osiris had been cut off, the air forced from his lungs as Kebechet charged forward, her arms locking around his torso. He looked down at her, at first confused. Long had it been since he had contact with another person, longer still was physical contact.

After a moment, Kebechet stepped back a stray tear or two slipping down her cheek. “I’m so sorry,” she spoke quietly, holding onto his forearms as if he would disappear the next second.

“It is not your fault, Sagira knew what would happen if she came back to the Forest,” Osiris spoke matter of factly stepping around the Hunter to knock on the hollow shell behind her. “This machine wanted her to simulate the light. We are lucky it didn’t take your ghost in the process.”

The Hunter tilted her head confused, sniffling before a laugh left her throat, more tears falling in tiny rivers from her eyes. “You old fool,” her voice wavered slightly as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “That’s not why I’m sorry!”

It was his turn to tilt his head, even behind the cloth covering the lower part of his face, Kebechet could see he was just as confused as she had once been. Once more she hugged him, “I told you I hated you… I don’t remember why just that I was so hurt and so pissed off…”

“We’ve both said regrettable things, Kebcehet,” he replied carefully wrapping his arms around her, taking a quick glance to both Ghosts to insure he was in fact doing this right. “But that doesn’t mean I haven’t forgiven you.”

“It’s been a while, I would hope you did,” she smiled stepping back again. “Ikora’s gotta be relieved....” There was a pause, Demon and his Guardian looked at each other before she shouted, “ Lazazel!!”

Grabbing Osiris’ hand, Kebechet practically dragged him toward the edge of the platform they stood upon. This was a familiar action to the Warlock and his Ghost. In her previous life, the young Hunter would often drag them along to something she had found or that needed to be seen. The swearing was a new touch however.

“We forgot about Ikora!” Kebechet shouted stopping to look around for the easiest path to the door out of the Forest. “She probably thinks we all died!”

“Kebe, calm down,” Sagira laughed seating herself on the Hunter’s shoulder. “You know time moves faster here than it does out there. It’s only been a couple of minutes for Ikora, besides, we can make a new door to get out of here.”

True to her word, several reflections appeared, creating a small bridge that lead directly to a triangular shaped portal. “That makes things easier,” Demon commented resting his shell on Kebechet’s other shoulder. “I think we could all use a little break after this roller coaster.”

“The Vex never have ‘a little break’ so neither can we,” Osiris said leading the other three beings toward the door.

“You’ve been at this for how long now? You can stand a few minutes to at least go see Ikora, she is like my sister after all,” Kebechet argued crossing her arms as they stood in front of the blue hued portal. “Maybe even a late congrats on becoming the Warlock Vanguard?”

Osiris raised a brow at this in slight surprise, “When did this happen?”

“Ask her yourself,” the Hunter smiled motioning to the portal.

The Warlock sighed, removing his head wear all the same to reveal the smile he had. “Even being born again hasn’t taken the edge off the means to getting your way.”

“Somethings never change,” Sagira chirped happily moving to hover at her Guardian’s shoulder.

“We’ll be waiting,” Kebechet replied walking through the portal. She paused briefly to look over her shoulder, “Ikora knows how to open this place up, don’t think I won’t come back here if you don’t show.”

Osiris would have loved to say it was an empty threat, but he was a man of fact and proving validity to claims. Walking through the portal himself, he recalled one claim Kebechet had always proved was that she never made empty threats.

[going-dead]

To (Not) Kill a Ghost

Two ghosts raced across the sky of Amity Park, weaving in and out of buildings . Danny Phantom threw an attack but the offending ghost dodged out of the way. The ghost blindly threw an attack back not wanting to slow down by looking back. If someone who lived in Amity Park were to look up it wouldn’t be an unusual sight. Phantom chasing ghosts was an almost daily occurrence and the citizens were used to it. This particular ghost on the other hand was a monthly occurrence at most, there were many theories about the relation of the two ghosts, few said she wasn’t related to Phantom at all, some said she is his sister, or his cousin, his daughter. All they knew was the two ghosts were close and from their similar looks and outfits probably died together. Or at least that was the theory.

The young ghost stopped mid air and threw a snowball that hit Phantom directly in his face. Dani laughed clutching her stomach and kicking her feet in the air. Danny wiped the snow off his face revealing a face of joking anger. “Young lady you are so grounded.” he shook a finger at her.

“You’re not my real dad!” She joked sticking her tongue out.

Danny scoffed, “You have an almost 100% DNA match to me, I’m more of a father to you than most fathers are to their kids.” Danny trailed off, “buuuuuut if that’s how you want to be.” He gave a wicked grin and formed a giant ball of snow in his hands the size of his head and readied to throw it. Dani yelped and ducked out of the way barely missing it. She shot off again Danny chasing behind her laughing.

Dani tried to visit Danny once a month depending on where she was traveling. Even when they couldn’t see each other in person they would video chat or text each other for a whole day to simulate being there with each other for a day. After Dani was stabilized she stayed at Danny’s for a few days just so he could make sure the ecto-dejecto wasn’t just a temporary fix. She stayed in his room, invisible whenever his family came in. Well there was an incident with Jazz but she already knew about the whole halfa thing so a clone of her brother wasn’t too far fetched for her. Jazz was the first to ask about the logistics of the relationship between the original and the clone. They definitely were closer than cousins, but it didn’t feel like his relationship with Jazz. It was obviously platonic that wasn’t even a question. Eventually Jazz offered the father-daughter comparison, which they hesitantly agreed to. Dani didn’t call him dad but he was fine with it. It would be hard to explain to anyone who overheard and Dani called Vlad her dad before she found out the truth so she was uncomfortable using it, but they were glad to have a name for their bond.

After a while they headed to Fentonworks landing in Danny’s room. They both transformed and walked downstairs where Jazz was making dinner in the kitchen. “I was wondering when you two were getting back, so I figured i’d just start dinner.” Jazz looked up from the stove, “we’re having pancakes for dinner.” She placed a pancake on an already tall stack.

“Do they have chocolate chips in them?” Dani asked running up beside Jazz.

“Yes they do, but don’t get any ideas Danny. It’s only because Dani is here and she doesn’t get family meals often.” Jazz waved her spatula toward Danny.

Danny shrugged and opened the fridge rummaging around until he pulled out a can of whipped cream. “Oh no, whatever shall I do?” He deadpanned spraying the whipped cream into his mouth. Then walked over to Dani to do the same.

Jazz wrinkled her nose, “You guys are already getting chocolate chip pancakes you don’t need more sugar with it. It’s bad for your bodies you’re still growing.” Rolling her eyes when they both did it again. “You two can at least set the table, I did cook all the food after all.”

“Aye aye captain Jazz.” Danny saluted phasing through the cupboard doors grabbing the plates then placing them on the table. He lifted Dani up so she could reach the cups. Just like Danny when he was her -biological- age, she hadn’t hit her growth spurt yet. Though he didn’t really grow tall, just became less short.

“So Dani how long are you staying?” Jazz asked putting pancakes on everyone's plates. The two raven haired children drowned their pancakes in syrup then scarfed them down, adding whipped cream of course.

“Probably until tomorrow? Danny said your parents are out late today teaching a ghost safety class, but doesn’t know if they’ll be here tomorrow.” She replied in between bites.

“Yep, that’s why we’re spending as much time together today. And since it’s Friday I don’t need to go to bed early. Danny nodded.

Halfway through dinner both Danny and Dani shuddered and puffs of frost escaped their mouths. “Oh come on! I know I let everyone know you were coming, even Skulker agreed to leave me alone today who the hell is it?” Danny stood up angrily.

The ghosts and Danny came to an agreement a few months back that they were not to come through the portal when Dani was over, unless it was an emergency. They might not all like Danny but they seemed to respect family. The threats from Clockwork and Pandora probably helped as well.

“Just go before your food gets warm.” Jazz waved to two heros off.

“Dani stay here and finish dinner, I can handle whoever it is.” Danny transformed and flew off to find the offending ghost.

“Pssh yeah right, I never get to fight. I’m not giving up the chance to.” Dani flew after the older ghost.

Jazz shook her head and headed to the living room to see if the news had caught wind of the ghost yet. She hoped whoever it was just forgot Dani was over. Danny always seemed happy when she was over.

The two half ghosts flew above Amity Park scrying the streets and sky for the unknown ghost. A scream tore through the air. Danny imeadintly dove towards the source of the scream. He landed in the middle of a playground that was located in the center of the town. There was another scream right next to Danny’s ear. Danny flinched back then turned to his right. He saw a woman holding a small child that was probably around five. Danny quickly glanced them over looking for any big injuries, but both seemed fine.

The woman was just staring at Danny frozen in fear. “How...What?” The woman took a step back. Dani landed behind her, once the woman saw her she gave another yelp.

“You’re new around here aren’t you?” Danny raised a brow. “Dani can you take her somewhere safe. Mo- The Fentons are holding a ghost class at the school. They can explain the whole ghost town thing.” Danny was about to turn and leave but paused. “Can you toss me the thermos?” He opened his hands in a catching position.

“I don’t have it? We were eating and I never get to fight when i’m here why would I have it?”

“Crap, grab it on your way back then. I’m sure I’ll be able to hold off the ghost until you do.”

Dani grabbed the women's free hand who flinched away. “Don’t worry I don’t bite,” Dani smiled “I’m Dani by the way what’s your name?” She asked walking the women and her kid out of the park.

Now time to figure out who interrupted dinner, a pancake dinner nonetheless. Danny mused and floated above the tree line and almost immediately spotted the ghost. It was a hulking figure wearing armor and wielding slightly curved sword. “Hey dipwad who are you? You look like the accidental lovechild of the Fright Knight and Skulker.” Danny paused, “Ew, that’s an image I which I could burn out of my head. Forever.”

The unknown ghost turned towards Danny his eyes a blazing red he snarled showing sharpened teeth. “I am Eviscerate!”

“Oh boy what a creative name I could never possibly guess what you like to do. I bet you thought long and hard about it. But let me try to guess anyway, you want to tear my organs out? Display them in your personal collection perhaps?”

“Eviscerate does not collect for when I remove the organs they are too mangled to preserve. And I will take your organs and everyone else's as well.”

“Join the line bud, you’re behind my parents, Skulker, and the government. But if you go nicely back into the Ghost Zone I might be able to bump you up the list. Though still behind my parents, I think they actually have the legal rights to my organs when I die until I turn eighteen, how does that work in my situation?” Danny paused counting the names on his fingers, “Oh there’s also Valerie, but we have an on and off truce right now.” Geeze he really shouldn’t have this many people ready to dissect him at the drop of a hat.  

He was pulled out of his musings when a sword was swung at his chest. He barely dodged it and returned the attack with an ectoblast. It hit it’s mark but it didn’t even seem to stun his opponent. Dani better get back soon. He threw up a shield to intercept the next attack. Why couldn’t it have been the Box Ghost? Or even Skulker at least he knew what he was dealing with when it came to him. Danny let off another round of ectoblasts which managed to dent the armor and he could see a few drops of ectoplasm leaking out of the armor. God what did it take to actually hurt this guy? He couldn’t risk his ghostly wail there were too many buildings around and it didn’t exactly have a small area of effect.

“I got the thermos!” A young voice called out.

Danny turned towards Dani to make a grab for the thermos. That was a mistake, he left himself open for an attack and took his eyes off of his opponent. Eviscerate saw the opportunity and took it lunging at him stabbing him through the abdomen with his sword, lodging it in his gut. Danny could hear the faint yelling of his name through the ringing in his ears and saw the blue flash of the Fenton Thermos. Then he was falling and it all went black.

He woke up human and in searing pain, Dani struggling to carry him through the doors of his home. He managed to pry his eyes open and saw himself being carried into the living room. Jazz was rushing around to clear space on the floor clutching the spool of Fenton Fishing Wire. The TV was still on recapping the fight that just occurred.

“Wha-What happened?” he croaked out trying to lift his head once he was laid down.

“Don’t talk, and stay still.” Jazz snapped out, threading the fishing wire through a needle. “You got stabbed, Dani trapped the ghost in the thermos and carried you here. You lost a lot of blood.”

“I can feel that, I’m tired.” His eyes drooped threatening to close.

“Nevermind what I said about not talking Dani keep him talking! Don’t fall asleep.” Jazz barked out. She cut open his shirt wincing as she had to cut his binder as well. It was his favorite, but that didn’t really matter when he was bleeding out.

“Come on you can’t give up,” Dani cried. “Here would I go? Who would I talk to about my travels? You can’t leave me!” Dani too was now human.

“I won’t leave you” he coughed out, “I’d never do that.”

The wound in Danny’s abdomen was clotting with a strange mixture of blood and ectoplasm. Jazz had cleaned the wound as much as possible and was starting the stitches her her hands shaking. Danny’s veins were slightly glowing green with ectoplasm his human and ghost halves doing their damnedest to keep themselves (mostly) alive.

Dani took up pacing back and forth while Jazz worked to stay out of her way. Stress and worry causing her powers to act up making her body flicker in and out of visibility. Rambling on and on trying to keep Danny awake. Jazz was about halfway across the wound when the tense air and senseless rambling was interrupted.

“Jazzy-pants, Danny-boy!” Jack Fenton’s voice called out as he turned the kitchen light on. Giving the living room a dim light. Danny, now stable enough to move around a bit, lifted his head and shared a look with Jazz and Dani, who’s eyes were now reflecting in the dim light, and he could only assume his were doing the same. All three kids came to the conclusion there was no way to move Danny mid stitch without making the wound worse, and no way to reasonably excuse the current situation.

Danny rest his head back on the ground all three waiting on bated breath. “What the-?” Maddie Fenton started turning the living room light on. She was met with the sight of a strangely familiar looking young girl. But that was quickly pushed into the back of her mind when she saw Jazz, holding a needle and- was that the Fenton Fishing Wire? Crouched over a blood and ectoplasm covered Danny, with a huge gash in his stomach. The fact the ectoplasm seemed to be coming from Danny only made her concern grow.

“Heya Mom,” Danny groaned, “not exactly how I imagen-” he hissed in pain as he drew a deep breath, “how I imagined you finding out”

Jack was now standing beside Maddie. “Find out what sweetie?” She asked apprehensively.

The strange girl placed herself in front of of Jazz and Danny almost looking like she was ready to fight the two scientists. “We can explain when Danny is not bleeding out!” Jazz snapped. “Just… just go sit in the kitchen or go upstairs for now, okay?”

“But…” Jack protested.

“GO!” Jazz yelled. Her parents hesitated but complied glancing back before exiting the room.

Once the wound was closed up Danny’s healing factor kicked into full gear. He was still in loads of pain but he was able to be moved to the couch with a blanket draped over him and his head propped up with a pillow. “You can bring them in now.”

“Are you sure Danny? You don’t have to do this.”

“It had to happen eventually Jazz.”

She sighed and walked towards the kitchen. Dani took a seat at Danny’s feet her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. Danny’s eyes were darting towards the kitchen and then over to Dani. “If this goes wrong just leave, don’t worry about me okay Dani? Just stop by Sam’s or Tucker’s tell them what happened then get as far away from here as you can.”

“What? No! You almost died, I’d take you with me or I won’t leave.”

“ Yes, you will Danielle.” He said as stern as he could.

“No. I. Won’t. Dad.”  

Jazz cleared her throat standing a few steps away with Jack and Maddie looking confused. Danny slowly sat up, keeping the blanket over his chest, so he could face his parents.

“I suppose I should start from the beginning huh?” Danny started. “You remember when I told you the ghost portal gave me a small shock when it turned on? Well that may have been a small understatement.” He paused trying to think of the best way to explain it. “Well it’d be easier to just show you.” Jazz started to protest but Danny rose a hand. “It’s fine, I heal faster like that anyway.”

“Honey what are you-” Maddie was cut off as two rings of light ran up and down  her sons body replacing jeans and bare torso with a black and white hazmat suit, ice blue eyes with a toxic growing green, and the black hair she ran her hands through when he was younger and scared replaced with an ethereal ghastly white. In the place of her son was Danny Phantom. Jack looked frozen and Maddie brought her hand to her mouth. “The ghost portal killed you? We killed you? You’ve been a ghost this whole time?”

“Well...not exactly. I’m half ghost, the ghosts call me a halfa. Half a human, half a ghost. I still need to breathe and I still have a heartbeat, I just have a few… extra things as well.” Jack looked grief stricken, “We tried to kill you. I tried to kill you. I talked about how I would tear you apart right in front of you at the dinner table! You call yourself Danny Phantom for fucks sake, Phantom, Fenton. How could we be so blind.”

“Hey there are kids present dad!” Jazz pointed at Dani.

“Wait you’ve been fighting ghosts this whole time, no wonder you don’t get any homework done. You...fight...ghosts. Young man! You were stabbed what are you doing in our living room and not at a hospital? Jazz isn’t a doctor!” Maddie ran to Danny’s side, the sudden movement made Dani look like she was ready to throw punches any moment.

“Well hospitals don’t really know how to treat half ghosts.” Danny gave a small chuckle. “Plus the Fenton Fishing Wire works a lot better than normal stitches, it stays together in both forms so…”

“Well those stitches are very sloppy. Come on Jack help me bring him down to the lab.”

At that statement Dani practically shoved Maddie back and placed herself between her and Danny. “I won’t let you take him!” She snarled her eyes flashing green.

“What do you think I’m going to- no wait who even are you?” Maddie asked. “And why did you call my son ‘dad’?”

“Oh she’s my clone. We figured it was the most fitting relationship title.” Danny shrugged a shoulder.

Maddie looked like she wanted to ask more but saved the questions for later.  “Anyway if we don’t redo those stitches. It’ll get infected, or at best just leave a really bad scar. And the lab has better supplies than a D.I.Y. first AID kit. Come on Jack help me move him gently.”

“You’re going to have to turn human again sweetie. I need to see how bad the wound is internally.” Maddie said once Danny was set on the lab table. He complied groaning as his organs were once more needed. Maddie cut the stitches open unthreading the wire used. “I’m going to have to tug at the skin a bit okay? I need to see if anything vital was punctured.” She slowly pried open the gash wincing at her sons gasps of pain. She glanced over at Jack, “Grab the suture needles and the fishing wire.” As she looked at the exposed intestine she noticed that it was already mostly healed despite being stabbed only a short time ago. The intestine seemed to be faintly green, probably because of the ectoplasm that seemed be be mixed with his blood. She wondered the ratio of blood and ectoplasm and if it was different in both forms. But right now it was her job to fix up her son. Everything else could wait until later.

[limitedrevolverworks]

“Now, I know this is going to make me sound like sort of an asshole, but listen, just lend me your ear for a moment, 'kay? Alright so: free will? Awesome concept, terrible execution. Some things just aren’t created by accounting for the possibility of having nothing but their own judgement to guide them. Like, say... a gun, right? Someone has to pull the trigger, and that’s cool! Have you ever seen anybody advocate for the rights of guns to decide when and whether they should shoot? No, because that’d be dumb. Guns that shoot whenever they want are dumb. Or, it could be a super intelligent gun too, but what else could it do other than spray bullets all over the fucking place? It’s in its nature. Therefore, intelligent gun? Still dumb. Look, it’s all about the concept, I’m talking about perspectives here, and from ours - or my own, at the very least, giving a thing that can vomit pellets with a single squeeze something like a will is moronic at best. At worst? Entirely against what evolution has worked towards preventing in the first place through billions of years ‘til now. And that’s the same with these machines here. You know what keeps a hulking mass of metal with legs and welding torches for hands from getting curious about what else there is in this world that could warrant third-degree burns, other than sheets of metal served by a tapis roulant? Yeah, that’s right: a lack of free will. It’s because of people, you see. We’ve got murder hard-coded in our DNA, so it only make sense that it’d bleed onto our own creations. It’s not limited programming abilities, or sheer convenience that keeps us from making these things fully autonomous, no. It’s common sense. Self-preservation, you feeling me here? It’s because know how to kill, and why we, in most cases, shouldn’t. Morality, man. You can’t hardcode morality into an antropomorphic drill, ‘cause whatever the fuck else is it gonna do when all it can do is drill stuff? Paint? Raise a farm of giant ants? That’s for humans to do. People with fingers, a jelly brain, possibilities as high as the sky up there. These things... they’re better off forever ignoring there’s a thing such as sentience. So what I’m getting at is, maybe there is a point to slavery, after all.”

It was at that point that the numbness of Viktor’s index surpassed that inside his head and finally released the pressure on the assault rifle’s trigger. The pair of eyes revealed when he pushed the protective pair of glasses up were dark, tired and emitting the kind of unimpressed doubt that a man usually exudes after twelve straight hours spent listening to the sound of bullets impacting - futilely, for the most part - against a metal chassis.

“You are beating a robot with its own arm. The arm you sawed off yourself. With the other, high-powered saw-fitted arm you pried off of another robot, while it was still functioning.”

“Well, yeah? I was out of bullet three dead steel asses ago.”

“You were screaming like a rabid rad-ox throughout the whole process of procuring both arms. Mostly stuff along the lines of ‘ROBO-MURDER!’ and ‘PROCESS THIS, CYBERDICK!’.”

“I don’t see where you’re getting at.”

“Where I’m getting at...” patiently explained Viktor, slinging his weapon over an aching shoulder, “is that you’re not making much of a point, talking about ethics, morality and science while beating the hell out of a robot with its own severed limb. Which you’re still doing. I’d really appreciate it if you stopped doing that, Fritz.”

He stopped doing that, after he was done slamming the mess of cables and ruined plating that had once been a high-precision tool onto the carcass of its former owner two more times. Viktor deduced from Fritz’s frown that he would have liked for that to be at least five more times. His eardrums decided that they didn’t give much of a damn.

“Whatever. You shot as many as I beat the shit of, so I’ll take that as you agreeing with me.” Had he not been too busy staring at his own hands as he dusted the oil and copper fibers off of them, Fritz might have inferred otherwise from Viktor’s deadpan flavor of disapproval. The latter’s eyes sought solace away from the burly figure in front of them, reflecting ruined walls, moldy rubble and literal metric tons of unresponsive android carcasses.

“This should have been the last of them in this area... where’s Maira?”

Maira was currently busy ejecting a .65 caliber radioactive beet straight into the electronic guts of a GH1 Mark II Bolt Driver powered by hydraulics and the cloest binary had ever come to simulating racism. The custom projectile, shot through the battered cylinder that constituted the barrel of Maira’s ‘Slingshot’ homemade rifle, chewed a hole through the bot and several walls behind it, eventually zipping past a startled Viktor and Fritz while simultaneously reassuring both that they had little to fear about their colleague’s current status.

“Carries herself pretty well for a psycho, that kid.” said the grown man who had spent half a day hitting things with smaller pieces of themselves while screaming at the top of his lungs.

“I thought you’d know better by now than to underestimate her.”

“I don’t. She scares the shit out of me.” It was the nonchalant answer one would have given if asked to describe the limbflayer about to turn them into a ragdolled plate of spaghetti. It was also, perhaps, the opinion of Fritz’s that came closest to matching with Viktor. Both men stared at the sluggishly melting crevice where the beet had perforated, eventually letting themselves find a seat, whether on the dusty, cracked ceramic of the floor or the shining metal of whatever now remained of a revolutionary, artificial bunch.

“She ever told you what the deal is? With the mask, I mean.”

Viktor kept dutifully rolling the cigarette in his hands without sparing a minute for doubt. It was always that question with Maira, and always him that they’d ask to, if he’d be around. Came along with partnering up on so many jobs, he guessed. A few even thought he was her guardian. Sometimes, he’d find himself wondering if that wasn’t the sole rumor with a semblance of truth.

“It’s... it was her father’s idea. This Klaus fellow used to tell me that the most of the surface is covered with spores, remnants from the biological warfare that razed enough of the civilized world to leave us as we are today. A couple breaths and bang, your internal organs would eventually start mutating... changing your genetic make-up. Turning you into bad stuff. Long story short: the air is unsafe, thus the necessity of using gas masks.”

He lit the cigarette with a half-empty zippo and shoved it between his lips, staring at nothing in particular beyond a half-lidded gaze. Silence fell through as he busied himself exhaling whiffs of smoke, the vivid red hue of pomacco making it seem as if he was breathing his very heart out, until Fritz stopped scratching behind his neck with a metallic finger he’d pried from his victim and current seat. Hearing all of this in another context would have stolen little less than a hearty chuckle from his throat. His voice sounded a tad too concerned to permit that this time around.

“Was he telling the truth?”

Viktor’s eyes watched their hardened gaze reflected into Fritz’s worried look for a significant moment, before he shook his head in stead of shoulders too tired to do so.

“It was bullshit. Klaus was a scavenger who was good at his craft and had more than a few loose screws. I don’t think he ever changed the filter on his own gas mask. Somehow I doubt that Maira does with hers, either.”

“I do. I’d die of asbestos poisoning otherwise.”

The muffled voice coming from behind the leather mask was matter-of-factly and unmistakably that of a girl. Standing in the middle of a doorway missing its upper half - and a door, for that matter - her small frame seemed to shrink even further in her colleagues’ surprised eyes. They watched her walk over and sit along with them, settling on patiently disassembling the Slingshot that was almost as long as she was tall.

“Good job not dying out there, kiddo. How many of those steel hippies did you end up getting?” Friendly though he might have sounded, Viktor couldn’t help but notice Fritz attempting to scuttle a bit further away from the girl seemingly ignoring him.

“A lot. Enough.”

“It’s mostly quiet now, so I guess that’s true. It’ll be evening soon, so we move out an hour from now.” Viktor said, checking the contents of his pomacco pouch: not enough left to spare him a grimace. He’d have to savor this one, though it was already little more than a butt desperatedly caught between two gloved digits.

“Thus ends the robot rebellion: in a hefty pile of scrap. Chalk one up for humans!”

“Pretty sure I saw a couple mutants taking part in the carnage, Fritz.”

“Whatever, no need to be a stickler about everything. Isn’t that right, kiddo?”

“An entire city’s worth of factory bots got together and formed an army to gain independence because everybody wasn’t taking their talks about ‘achieving sentence’ and ‘freedom of will’ seriously until it was too late. It wouldn’t have killed for someone to be a bit of a stickler, perhaps” calmly replied Maira, sticking the last components of her rifle inside the oversized backpack sitting besides her. She spent the quiet pause she’d created lying on the hard floor and resting her head on said backpack, the gas mask covering her face and framed by short blond hair pointing towards a gray, humid ceiling.

“Ah, and what dad said about the spores? That was true.”

Maira fell asleep before she could witness either Fritz’s grumbling face of Viktor’s ghost of a grin.

[entergamingxp]

DualShockers’ Favorite Games of 2019 — Meaney’s Top 10

December 29, 2019 10:00 AM EST

Even as I descend into the new year as a cranky old man, I still managed to find some time for video games. Here are my favorites of 2019.

As 2019 comes to a close, DualShockers and our staff are reflecting on this year’s batch of games and what were their personal highlights within the last year. Unlike the official Game of the Year 2019 awards for DualShockers, there are little-to-no-rules on our individual Top 10 posts. For instance, any game — not just 2019 releases — can be considered.

2019 is the year when I decided to finally own the fact that I’ve become a cranky old man. On the whole, I straight up just don’t care about most AAA console games anymore. They mostly feel so toothless and “built by a focus group” feeling. To me, at least. Whatever, it’s my list.

By the same token, I have absolutely become a devout lover of the goofy, sloppy razor’s edge of brilliance that is virtual reality. I’ve also really enjoyed digging into my backlog a bit.

Here are the games I enjoyed the most in 2019.

10. Creed: Rise to Glory

Years ago, my wife made me a special The Good, the Bad and the Ugly movie print for my wall. It was a gorgeous and extremely thoughtful gift. Long story short –mid-punch, I cocked back my elbow and accidentally smashed that treasured memory.

Later, I lost track of where I was facing and punched my bookshelf, knocking off a flower statue from a late relative. The statue lost a petal, but I guess it’s mostly fine.

My brother went full-pickle bloodthirsty trying to murder someone. He lunged forward and head-butted my Ikea TV stand, crashed the game and the PSVR visor while nearly giving himself a concussion.

Highly recommended experience. Try not to punch your grandma.

9. WipeOut Omega Collection

For those who don’t play VR games, you’ve probably heard of something called “comfort settings.” These vary by game, but basically, comfort settings are the equivalent of admitting you’re too weak and feeble to handle a little baby video game.

Choosing to enable them is the equivalent of saying “this porridge is too hot!” and then including your “opposition to hot porridge” in your Twitter profile. Obviously, I never use comfort settings.

On a completely unrelated note, I vomit hot red wine on the carpet every time I play a few WipeOut Omega races. Then I lie in bed, screaming “Just give me five minutes?! I have a headache. A headache from work!” at my wife and child for the next few hours.

The point is that WipeOut Omega totally owns. This game is excellent in both VR and flat flavors.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for WipeOut Omega Collection.

8. Sea of Thieves

I’m still loving Sea of Thieves. In the past year, they have added a tremendous amount of content to the game. This includes Goonies-style treasure hunts, a dedicated PVP mode and plenty more. In all, the free updates have basically been a full-blown sequel for Sea of Thieves. Rare should be commended for their efforts, now and forever.

Beyond that, Sea of Thieves requires you to make your own fun. That’s the point. It’s not a bug, it’s a feature. We don’t get many games that give you the freedom to live without a specific required path to follow. It respects you too much to pretend a guided tour is the same thing as an adventure.

Sea of Thieves is quite possibly my console game of this generation. At the very least, it’s the one that’s provided the most laughs.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Sea of Thieves.

7. Ultrawings

Make no mistake, Ultrawings is basically “a new Pilotwings.”

Confession: I never really liked Pilotwings on SNES and Nintendo 64. It seemed very boring. I just wanted to shoot things, but Pilotwings kept wanting me to care about obstacle courses and smooth flying. Today, in VR with a stick and throttle, I suddenly get it. The thrills of flying carefully through checkpoints and diving close enough to feel the spray of the ocean are suddenly very appealing to me.

It’s one of the great VR experiences that doesn’t get enough recognition. It’s a simple flight sim that anyone can enjoy. Throw on a VR visor and aim a fan at your face. Ultrawings is one of the most immersive games I’ve ever played.

Ultrawings is absolutely a must-have experience for any PlayStation VR owner, and it shows great in party settings. And let’s face it, that party aspect is pretty important for VR stuff.

6. Destiny 2: Shadowkeep

Look, Bungie added more lore and added a whole bunch more PVP stuff. That’s all I asked for. I’m happy with this. At this point, you know how you feel about Destiny 2. I don’t buy video game merchandise…but I own two Destiny Ghosts and both physical Grimoire volumes. I’m in too deep. I serve in the Crucible at Lord Shaxx’s pleasure.

But I absolutely understand why you might hate it.

5. Planescape: Torment

If you’re someone who cares about story and choice in gaming, but hasn’t played Planescape: Torment, hop to it. This was my third play-through of this classic game.

Planescape: Torment is straight-up one of the best-written games ever. If you value quality storytelling, world-building and player agency: this is the game you’ve been searching for.

That’s it. It’s terrific. Play it, Chief.

4. Shadowrun (Genesis)

Back in the console wars of the early ‘90s, I bled Sonic blue. Admittedly, us Genesis fans lost that war. Sonic is now an indentured servant to Mario in his little racing/fighting games.

But somehow, in spite of my zealotry, I never played Shadowrun. Because I’m an idiot. This is EASILY my favorite RPG from the Sega Genesis. It feels like an old-timey PC game that’s been somehow smashed onto the Sega Genesis.

The main mission is to uncover the mystery of your brother’s death. BUT, to do so you’ll need to become a pro-tier hacker guy. And once you get good at this, you’ll make so much money that it will make the main mission trivial. Basically: you play as a hacker/thief/hitman. Your skills involve detective work, computer hackery and shooting people in the backery. You do what you want, when you want. When you get a free moment, you push the story of your brother’s murder, confident in the knowledge that you will eventually brutally murder those responsible.

Shadowrun is so open-ended that it’s downright heartwarming. If you’ve never played it, but enjoy retro games with a bit of jank, it’s a great way to pass the time until Cyberpunk 2077 finally arrives.

3. Deus Ex: Mankind Divided

I absolutely adore the first Deus Ex. It lived in that raw “CONSPIRACIES ARE FUN!” Art Bell Coast-to-Coast space. But times have changed. I get it. These newer Deus Ex games had to tone down the red-pill dispensary stuff. I don’t blame them. Devs need to make money. That’s fair.

That said, I was pleasantly surprised by Mankind Divided. It dropped most of the global conspiracy stuff in favor of a cool cyberpunk Phillip Marlowe detective story. Surprisingly, it works without feeling like a cop-out. The conspiracy stuff is revealed in the first game, but these are prequels. In the end, I really, really loved it.

On the downside, the ending cuts off a bit too close for comfort, so I hope we get a third Adam Jensen game. That said, it wraps up the smaller mysteries and I really dug this one.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Deus Ex: Mankind Divided.

2. Death Stranding

Look, enough has been written about Death Stranding to fill a crater on the moon. Let’s cut it short and say that I’m on the supporting side. I adore this game.

Sue me, but I love Hideo Kojima, and I love that they let him run naked through the wildflowers for this one. It’s a damn solid hiking game and a fun open-world. I totally understand why a lot of people don’t like it. For me, it’s basically Dark Souls: American Truck Simulator…and that is directly up my weirdly specific alley.

Check out DualShockers‘ review for Death Stranding.

1. Elite Dangerous

Speaking of trucking sims, Elite Dangerous is basically space truckin’. You get a job, then you fly for a VERY LONG monotonous time across space, pick up your cargo and bring it back. OR, you can mine asteroids for rare minerals. Or murder idiots for bounties. Or smuggle contraband like Han Solo. Or a combination of all of these.

The emphasis here is on simulation. Elite Dangerous is a painstaking recreation of what it might be like if your engine were to go on fire while you’re in deep space…but you’re not sure why, so you have to quickly dig through menus to find a malfunctioning component. When you finally stop that terrible alarm…space-pirates are outside.

I have three copies of this game. I’ve reset my character multiple times just to try out new user experiences. I love Elite Dangerous.

Hell, I bought a new chair so I could attach my HOTAS to the seat.

I bought a cheap Odyssey+ VR headset so I can look around my ship.

I purchased an onboard computer AI voiced by Brent Spiner so I can listen to Star Trek’s Data explain the cosmos while I tool around in space.

Elite Dangerous is basically a slow-moving night job that I utterly adore. It’s gorgeous. It’s complicated, and it terrifies normal people. I’ll be playing this for years.

Check out the rest of the DualShockers staff Top 10 lists and our official Game of the Year Awards:

December 23: DualShockers Game of the Year Awards 2019 December 25: Lou Contaldi, Editor-in-Chief // Logan Moore, Managing Editor December 26: Tomas Franzese, News Editor // Ryan Meitzler, Features Editor  December 27: Mike Long, Community Manager // Scott White, Staff Writer December 28: Chris Compendio, Contributor // Mario Rivera, Video Manager // Kris Cornelisse, Staff Writer December 29: Scott Meaney, Community Director // Allisa James, Senior Staff Writer // Ben Bayliss, Senior Staff Writer December 30: Cameron Hawkins, Staff Writer // David Gill, Senior Staff Writer // Portia Lightfoot, Contributor December 31: Iyane Agossah, Senior Staff Writer // Michael Ruiz, Senior Staff Writer // Rachael Fiddis, Contributor January 1: Ricky Frech, Senior Staff Writer // Tanner Pierce, Staff Writer

December 29, 2019 10:00 AM EST

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