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awkwardgamergirl · 3 months

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Best games for mental health&relax?

As someone who deals with anxiety and depression when I want to relax or am just feeling low and drained I’ll usually choose what others would consider “cozy games” because I don’t want any stress from shooters, strategy games, or anything that has a lot of stakes. I’ll do switch games for now since it’s my main console but I do have a 3ds, psvita, and my computer so I’ll make a list of those games later 💕

So my favorite games to relax to are:

~ stardew valley~ (you already knew this was coming) it’s just a really cute game with lots of options on how you can spend your time. You can farm, fish, forage, travel the mines, talk to the towns people, interact with love interests. There is just a lot to do in it and it has a really cozy small town cottagecore vibe that a lot of people find relaxing. Amazing replay value. I have like four different lives just so I can choose different farms, partners, things like that.

~ animal crossing~ (second most obvious answer) we all know animal crossing is a chill low stakes game that has a lot of similar elements I listed for stardew valley. You get to interact with cute little animals, decorate your house and character, forage, fish, find fossils, shop. It’s just a relaxing and positive game and is very popular for a reason. Idk about replay value because I really couldn’t imagine deleting my island tbh.

~ fashion dreamer~ if you like cute dress up type games this one is a decent lil game. It’s got lots of different styles for whatever your lil fashion heart desires and you basically walk around dressing up characters and they rate your outfits. It’s from the creators of style savvy and while it’s super cute I would wait for it to go on sale because it’s a bit overpriced imo. Style savvy is definitely the way to go if you have a ds/3ds. Still cute though. Don’t know about replay value because I’m fairly new to the game and haven’t come close to finishing or restarting anything.

~ unpacking~ this one is pretty cute and definitely a game that helps with anxiety. It’s a relaxed little puzzle game that unlocks parts of the story as you go along organizing each room to your home. You can try to solve the puzzles or you can just organize the furniture to your liking. Either way you want to play it’s super cute and relaxing and has some decent replay value after you complete it.

~calico~ super cute game where you run a cat cafe in a magical town with unique characters, little missions, and lots of cats you can pet and play with. There is magic, desserts, and you can ride giant cats like horses. Super soothing game. Character customization and decorating your cafe. The only drawback is it can get a bit glitchy but for the cuteness and the price I have no complaints. The music is really cute too. Not sure about replay value because my cafe is so cute I wouldn’t want to start over.

~coffee talk~ you run a coffee shop in the future and talk to all the incoming guests and learn their stories as you give them their coffee. This one is super relaxing and how I like to spend my evenings before bed if I want that extra cozy time to destress and relax. Cute art as well with different species and how they interact. I haven’t restarted yet but I’m sure there will be replay value with just how cozy and in depth the story is.

~rune factory 4 remastered~ this was originally a 3ds game they remastered for the switch and it’s so amazing that they did. One of my favorite 3ds games that is an offshoot of the harvest moon series with very pretty art, farming, cooking and crafting, romance, monster fighting, and just really fantastic story telling. Very cozy and hard not to get sucked into. Such a gorgeous game imo. Fantastic replay value.

~good pizza, great pizza~ you run a lil pizza shop and upgrade it to get better ingredients and equipment. Super cute chill game to pass the time and hard not to spend hours mindlessly making pizzas. Haven’t replayed it because I haven’t completed it but I imaging replaying it would be fun because you’re just making pizza and unlocking different ingredients. Relaxing game with cute art.

~monster prom~ cute game where you have to convince one of the monsters to go to prom with you. Funny writing, pretty art, and the ability to romance any gender while choosing your pronouns. It’s funny, the game play is question based, and it’s like little rounds of 15 mins and either you get them to go to prom or you get rejected. Then you get to try again. Replay value is obviously strong because I keep playing it no matter how often I’m rejected 🥲 being real though this game is funny, unique, and worth the price. I just have to beat the first one so I can try the second.

~what comes after~ you play as a character on a train of ghosts and you process the grief of passing to the afterlife and try to learn and console the other ghosts on the train who are passing. Pretty game that is mostly story based and worth a try. I haven’t finished this game so I’m not to sure on the replay value.

~little mouse’s encyclopedia~ a cute little game where you play as a little mouse exploring the outside and the dirt and you spend your time finding other little animals and bugs and plants and you read about them and what they are. Cute little educational game I purchased because I loved the art that ended up being super cute in the long run.

Honorable mentions:

- speed dating for ghosts (cute funny little game where you go on dates with ghosts. Short, sweet, and to the point. Decently priced for how quick you get through the game)

- cattails (you play as a cat that travels through its little territory you that you share with your other cat group. You gather little things, complete missions, scrap with rival cat gangs, and just walk around as a cat. Cute but a bit slow for my tastes.)

-rune factory 5 (don’t get me wrong, I love the fourth one and I’m sure the more I play this one I’ll learn to love it to. The gameplay is just set up a bit different and is a bit more similar to the harvest moon style than the fourth rune factory. The art is gorgeous though I was just hoping for more rune factory and less harvest moon when it came to the actual playing)

Games I’ve wanted and heard amazing things about:

The only reason I haven’t purchased and played these games yet is because games aren’t cheap and I need to finish the ones I’ve already purchased. That being said I’ve been looking at a lot of these for a long time and they are definitely going to make this list. I’m sure some of them would be ranked very high in the favorite games category as soon as I actually start playing them. Here’s the list:

* Spiritfairer

*Bear and breakfast

*Creepy tale

*Cozy grove

*Witchy life story

*Potion permit

*Hoa

*Littlewood

*Potion craft

*Gris

*When the past was around

*strange horticulture

*Lemon cake

*Wytchwood

*How to say goodbye

*Dreamlight valley

*Storyteller

*Cult of the lamb

*Little misfortune

*Night in the woods

* Sally face

And that’s it 🎉 sorry for such a long list but I wanted to include a bit of everything so you had lots to choose from. These are the games I play when I need a comfy happy place to go when life gets to be a bit too much to handle. I enjoyed making this list to be honest so there will most likely be more lists in the future. Maybe I’ll make a list of favorite otome games, anime/manga, kpop groups. Things like that. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading the list as I enjoyed making it 💖

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kinglazrus · 5 months

Text

What Comes After, Ch. 1

Written for Ecto-implosion 2023! Inspired by the amazing art of @ghozteevee, which you can check out here!

Masterpost | AO3 | Next

WC: 5016

The binding of the threads

There is something waiting to meet you, but it can wait a while longer.

—✧✦✧—

There is a hand attached to an arm attached to a body. It stretches up, fingers splayed into the darkness, forming a skeletal silhouette against the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, straining against the limits of blood and bone. Limits that exist only in the mind encased in the skull wrapped in the flesh of the thing. But flesh is not the right word. It is not flesh, which is soft and fatty and alive; it is skin, thin and pale as paper, stretched over jutting bones.

Sometimes, when the hand turns like so, the star’s glow seeps into the matrix of jagged veins branching out across its palm. There is no blood in these veins, only light, which creeps from the hand to the arm to the body to the heart of the thing.

The hand drifts, turning its scarred palm toward the window, where a spider is hard at work. The web has yet to take proper form. Currently, a single thread stretches from the top left corner of the window down to the bottom right. The spider dangles from it, lowering itself to the sill as it weaves the second strand. Its squat, brown body is illuminated by the rising sun.

Does it see itself reflected in the window with its many eyes? If so, does it recognize itself? Does it, too, sometimes forget what it is? Perhaps. But it doesn’t need to know what a spider is to be a spider. All it needs is to weave its web and feast on any unfortunate creatures that find themselves trapped there.

Wind buffets the spider, making it sway back and forth. Its legs tremble as it reaches out, but the window is too far, and the breeze keeps pushing the spider away.

The hand reaches, and the body follows, tumbling out of the warmth of its bed. Paint flakes away under the bony fingers as they dig into the windowpane and lift. A mouth attached to a throat attached to empty lungs falls open and breathes in the brisk morning air.

The breeze flows into the room, pulling the spider in. It finds purchase, finally, on the hand attached to the thing.

The thing blinks. It stares at the jagged curve of its fingers digging into the window pane, whose wood has cracked and splintered. When it pulls away, slivers drag out of its fingertips. It barely even stings, but it’s still something for the thing to feel. It breathes again, filling its aching lungs.

The spider waits patiently for the hand to lower it to the sill. Its legs twitch, almost like it’s waving, and it goes back to its web.

—✧✦✧—

The alarm that drags Danny into awareness is not his own. It isn’t loud enough to startle, but the steady ringing digs into his mind and hauls him back into his body. He blinks, not out of any real necessity, but because he’s made a habit of reminding himself to do it, particularly when he’s at home.

According to his phone, which lies on the nightstand next to his bed, it’s just after six in the morning.

Danny groans and tips his head back, pressing his hands against his eyes. Sunday morning, his last chance to sleep in on the weekend, and he’s awake at 6 a.m. The sun hasn’t even fully risen yet, although it’s well on its way. The sky is growing lighter, and it looks like it’s going to be a clear, warm day. Which is sickening, since it’s almost October.

He could go back to bed, but who is he kidding? He wasn’t sleeping, anyway. Might as well see what all the noise is about.

The lab door is already open when he gets down to the first floor, and his parents’ voices float through it. As Danny descends into the basement, he catches the tail end of their conversation.

“I don’t know what could cause this,” his mom says, in a way that is not at all foreboding.

“Most of these are pretty scattered, but look at these two,” his dad answers.

His mom hums. “That’s obviously the portal, but this other one? That’s somewhere in Polter Heights.”

“We could ask Vladdy about—” His dad turns just in time to see Danny reach the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, Danny! Come to see what the fuss is about?”

Calling the jumble of equipment his parents are standing in front of a computer is a bit of an oversimplification. While there is a regular keyboard, it’s embedded into a console, which is as wide as Danny is tall, that’s covered in all kinds of dials, switches, and blinking lights. Four monitors are bolted to the wall above the console, two of which always show the same thing: a radar of the Ghost Zone, or at least the area immediately surrounding their portal; and another that covers all of Amity Park.

The city radar is lit up in a way Danny’s never seen before. White spots flicker in and out all over the screen, seemingly without reason, but after staring for a few seconds, he notices a pattern. While the lights dance over the whole city, more appear in the south-east. The longer he watches, the easier it is to draw a line around the active area. An oval that covers almost a third of the city, and at one end is their house, Fenton Works.

Danny spots it easily because it’s one of only two lights that aren’t fading. While the others appear at random, shining for less than a second before they fade, the light over Fenton Works holds steady. Another solid light marks the other end of the oval.

“What’s happening?” he asks. His ghost sense hasn’t gone off, which must be a good sign. He looks to the portal embedded in the furthest wall of the lab. The doors are firmly shut, and the warning light above it is dim.

“White spots are areas of densely packed ectoplasm, usually portals, although these aren’t very bright. So, if portals are forming all over the city, they’re either very weak or very small,” his mom explains. “But this shouldn’t be happening.” She points to the spot over Fenton Works. “Natural portals have complex signatures, but the Fenton Portal, as a stable point, has a unique signature that we can isolate from other portals. We had to calibrate the city scanner to ignore our portal because it kept setting off the sensors.”

“Maybe it’s broken?” Danny suggests.

“Danny.” His dad has never sounded so disappointed. “Fenton Tech doesn’t just break.”

But no technology is perfect—Tucker would kill him for saying that—and Danny opens his mouth to argue. Nothing comes out, though. He’s “borrowed” his parents’ equipment enough times to know how well it works. They might have a lot of mishaps in the testing phase, but once a piece of Fenton Tech is done, it’s done. “Okay, fine, it’s not broken. But wouldn’t that many portals be, like, really obvious?”

His parents blink at him.

“Have you not looked outside?”

Apparently not, because they sprint across the lab and charge past him up the stairs. He follows them up to the front door and, as he already saw from his room, the sky is bright and clear.

“That can’t be right,” his mom says.

“Maybe it is broken,” his dad says, in the same tone one might tell a child their beloved pet is dead.

Danny gives him a consoling pat on the back. “Sorry, Dad. Maybe we should shut off the alarm?”

With the front door open, the noise spills out into the street. It shouldn’t be loud enough to bother the neighbours, but Danny rather enjoys it when the police don’t come by to deal with noise complaints. It happens so frequently that he’s on a first-name basis with most of the officers in the area.

He also likes not having a headache, and if the alarm goes on any longer, it’s going to drill a hole right through his brain.

“Okay,” his mom says. “We’ll take the RV and see if we can find anything. Danny, can you tell Jazz we’re out when she gets up? She wanted me to look over her paper on cellular processes, but I don’t know if I’ll have time now.”

Danny stiffens. “Jazz is home?”

“Last night. You didn’t see her?”

“I was out. Why is she home?”

“Honestly, Danny. You need to pay more attention to things.” Because Danny’s the one who doesn’t notice things, yeah. His mom shakes her head. “Her roommate has family visiting. She offered to give up her room for the week so that they wouldn’t need a hotel.”

“Right. I’ll tell her.”

At half past six, Danny shoves a note under Jazz’s bedroom door. He waited a whole half hour for her to wake up; it’s not his fault that she didn’t before he had to leave. And he does have to leave, right now. He has a lot of important things to do that aren’t here. What a shame.

—✧✦✧—

Danny’s best friend Tucker enjoys a lengthy waking-up process on the weekend. He knows this from the many sleepovers they’ve had since preschool. First, Tucker becomes aware that he is no longer asleep. It happens slowly today, as he clings to a fading dream, the minutes slipping away. Second, he searches for the most comfortable position, turning first one way, then the other, flipping his pillow, and tugging his blanket up to his chin and kicking his feet out at the bottom. All without opening his eyes. Then, he snuggles as deep into his bed as he can and dedicates himself to its warmth for as long as physically possible. This can last anywhere from ten minutes to an hour, maybe longer.

Tucker’s record so far is three hours wasted just savouring this quiet time.

Today, he gets three minutes before Danny moans from the beanbag chair beside Tucker’s bed. “Jazz is home.”

Tucker awakens with a shout. He thrashes, tossing his covers away, and rolls to the opposite side of the bed, shouting again when he tips right off the edge.

Danny hears this all happen, but his gaze is locked on the Dumpty Humpty poster taped to Tucker’s ceiling, tracing the edges of the cracked-egg logo. Breakfast would be good right now.

“Danny!” Tucker pops up on the other side of his bed. “What—when did you get here?”

“Uh...five hours ago. Angela took your stash, by the way.” Danny waves toward Tucker’s desk.

The stack of plates and cups piled on the corner had been impressive, although nothing compared to the hoard scattered around Danny’s room. It’s a good thing food tainted with ectoplasm doesn’t grow mould, otherwise his room would be a biohazard.

Actually, never mind. He’s enough of a biohazard as it is.

“You owe me twenty bucks.” Danny glances over at Tucker, who is crawling back onto his bed.

His sleep shirt is a baggy t-shirt covered in black roses. Not Tucker’s, then, but something he stole from their other best friend, Sam. His shorts, decorated with constellations, aren’t his either. Danny had wondered where that pair went.

Tucker sprawls across his bed, flaunting his stolen goods. Not that Danny’s any better. He’s pretty sure the sweatpants he wears right now are Sam’s, based on the cut. And he doesn’t own a hoodie that’s the same eye-straining blue as an old Windows error screen with a sad emoticon face on the chest, but here he is, wearing it.

“Ugh. Dumbest bet I’ve ever made.” Tucker jerks his chin in Danny’s direction. “I think there’s a twenty under my shoe over there.”

The shoe is behind Danny, under Tucker’s desk. Just the one shoe. As promised, a crumpled twenty is stuck under the heel. Danny unfolds it and starts flattening it against the edge of Tucker’s desk leg.

“My mom didn’t say anything about you suddenly appearing in my room when you weren’t here yesterday?”

“Tucker, I love your mom, but she’s an adult. Adults don’t pay attention to that kind of stuff. Also, I pretended I was asleep.” He would have liked to actually sleep, but couldn’t with how his thoughts kept spinning. Jazz is home. Jazz is home. Jazz is home.

“So.” Tucker’s bed squeaks as he rolls onto his side to peer down at Danny. “Jazz. Have you seen her since…?”

“No.” Danny runs his thumb over a corner of the twenty that refuses to lay flat. “She’s home for a week. Can I crash here?”

“All week? Your parents won’t notice?”

He shoots Tucker a deadpan look.

“Right. Obviously, yeah, if you really need to. But, dude? I think you should try talking to her, first.”

What a novel idea. Amazing that Danny hadn’t thought of that already. Not once in the months since Jazz graduated and moved out, or the half year before that, when he tiptoed around the house avoiding her.

If only they just talked.

“Don’t give me that sassy look,” Tucker says. “But fine, don’t talk to her. At least try being in the same house.”

“Tried that already. Didn’t work out too well.”

“Danny.”

His hands drop into his lap. It’s not that he’s trying to be difficult, but he already knows how it’ll go. He’ll wait until Jazz is somewhere open and preferably facing the door, like the living room or kitchen. His steps will be unnecessarily loud as he approaches, giving her plenty of warning before he appears, but it won’t matter. She’ll still make that face when she sees him.

“One night,” Tucker says. “We can hang out all day today, and you can stay here the rest of the week, but you need to spend tonight at home.”

Danny wants to spit his reply, but it comes out with soft resignation instead. “Fine.”

—✧✦✧—

Just as Danny suspected, Tucker’s parents don’t say anything about him showing up without warning when they creep out for lunch. Maurice, Tucker’s dad, even reaches out to ruffle Danny’s hair, but when Danny sees the hand coming from the corner of his eye, he flinches away. He doesn’t mean to, but it’s instinctual, and he tries to brush it off. Neither Maurice nor Angela comment on it, although surely both of them saw it happen.

Adults just don’t like to see things.

Danny and Tucker spend the day playing video games and scarfing down day-old pizza. He doesn’t hear from his parents, but he gets one text from Jazz.

Jazz | Today 4:56 p.m. Need a ride to school tmrw?

Tucker reads the text over Danny’s shoulder and slowly raises his eyebrows, as if to say, “I told you so.” Which is ridiculous, because Tucker didn’t tell him anything except that he had to spend one night in the same house as Jazz. But he didn’t say how long that night had to be, and it’s so easy to lose track of time when playing video games.

It’s well into the night when Tucker yawns for the fifth time in as many minutes and rubs his eyes. “Dude, see what happens when you wake me up at ungodly hours?”

He’s sprawled out on his bed again, having given up on the game some time ago. Danny sits beside him, cradling a controller in his lap. He isn’t really playing anymore, just going around shooting things. His only goal now is running down the clock so that he can spend as little time as possible at home tonight.

“I woke you up at 11 a.m.,” he says.

“Exactly. A.m. That was cruel. It’s not even”—Tucker squints at his phone—“midnight, and I’m falling asleep.”

He frowns. The screen goes dark, and he taps it to wake it up again. 11:34 p.m., it reads. Tucker’s head slowly turns toward Danny, whose eyes are firmly locked on the TV.

“Do you remember if there’s a secret on this level?” Danny asks. “I’m only missing one, and I’d really like to finally hundred percent this game.

“Dude,” Tucker says.

“Can’t take that long to find, right? Half an hour? An hour?” Maybe longer if he missed it and has to backtrack. Wouldn’t that be a shame.

Tucker drives his heel into Danny’s hip and shoves him off the bed.

Danny squawks as he tumbles to the floor. When he hauls himself back up, Tucker is glaring at him. At least Danny thinks he’s glaring. It’s not particularly vicious. Lacks that oomph. It’s adorable, actually.

“One night, man. One night. That’s all I asked for.” Tucker shoves Danny again, this time kicking his shoulder, but he’s prepared this time. He sways, if only to humour Tucker, who smirks for a moment before glaring again.

Like he said, adorable.

“It’ll still be nighttime when I get home!” Danny says. And really, when does it stop being nighttime? Not until the sun rises. That’s a good seven hours away.

“And Jazz will be asleep.”

“Yeah, that’s generally what people do at night. I think you should do that. Right now. You look tired. Let the sounds of virtual gunfire lull you to sleep.”

“Danny.”

Oh. Oh, no, Danny was wrong before. Now Tucker is glaring, and it’s not adorable. It’s scorching.

“I can’t go home,” Danny says.

Tucker doesn’t say anything.

“I can’t be in the house when she’s there.”

He just glares.

“It’s not about me! It’s about her! She doesn’t want—I can’t—”

And glares.

“Okay, fine. Fine! I’m going.” Danny shuts off the console and the TV, then takes a big step away from them—and checks for any other electronics—before changing. The ring that expands out of his chest sparks and snaps. It splits in two, electricity arcing between the rings and his body. His skin buzzes where the rings pass.

It’s surreal to watch the bolts of electricity transform his body, replacing his hoodie and sweats with a black and white jumpsuit, almost bringing him back to the moment he died. The only thing missing is the bloody mess on his left arm.

When the rings fizzle out, Danny turns to Tucker with his hands on his hips. “Happy?”

“Moderately. Good night!” Tucker is probably trying for some dramatic plunge into darkness when he turns off his lamp and throws himself back against the bed, but Danny’s ghostly aura ruins the effect. It illuminates the room in a soft glow.

“You’re still here,” Tucker says.

“Just want you to know how much I hate you.”

“That’s nice. Now go exist in the same building as your sister.” Tucker flaps a hand in Danny’s general direction. He hesitates another minute before finally leaving, phasing through Tucker’s wall and taking off into the sky.

It’s a nice night for flying, though, and Danny never said he would go home right away.

—✧✦✧—

Fenton Works is quiet. Jazz is in her room, waiting for her brother to come home. Maddie and Jack are asleep, exhausted from a day of scouring the city, searching for portals they had no chance of finding to begin with. The third bedroom lays empty, its occupant dawdling somewhere halfway across the city.

So no one sees it when the lights on the computer in the basement change. When the flickering stops. When a dozen faint spots are scattered across the city.

No one sees when those lights converge into two brilliant points, so bright the whole screen goes white before fading into black. And finally, the alarm shuts off.

—✧✦✧—

There is not enough room in all the worlds for the things that want to emerge. Their bodies press against the seams of infinite realities, but they cannot break through. While they are beyond simple concepts like physicality, it would not be wrong to say they thrash, and howl, and gnash their teeth as they push into the void In Between, stretching out, out, out but never reaching the end, because there is no end. And yet, that eternity is not enough.

They are many, and they are one, and they are far too much and need more.

But they were also prepared for this. Not all of them, but a part, one that calls itself they-she-it, calls herself clever, calls itself Mother.

There is not enough room for all of them, but there is enough room for a thread, already cast. As the thread that weaves and binds and pulls and puppets thrusts its way into existence, it meets something not unlike itself.

Another thread, caught in something that is many things but also one. The Beyond stares with holes that are not eyes, opens a gaping maw that is not a mouth, and lets the two threads meet.

It is still too much.

Reality tears itself open to make room.

The sky cracks as the universe shifts. With it, Danny Fenton’s chest is carved open. His vision shatters into light and shadow as the space around him splits, filling him with spiders, and hornets, and the deep below, and oh so many things that push against his skin from the inside but still cannot break through.

As the tear closes and the acidic light it leaks disappears, Danny plummets. Lightning crackles around him, arcing off his skin in blinding waves, and sinks into the earth when he hits the ground. He lands on something that isn’t hard but isn’t soft, just enough to keep his skull from cracking like the sky. Slowly, the shards of his vision start to mend, darkness expanding, light shrinking into twinkling points.

Eventually, the world settles around him. The pressure in his body remains, making his ribs creak as something pushes from the inside, but the burden on his mind lessens. The static fades, taking with it the sound of fluttering wings, shifting earth, and crackling fire, until Danny can hear his thoughts again.

There is nothing quite like pain to make him feel human again.

“What the hell?” he asks the stars overhead. Not glow-in-the-dark, this time. Real stars, which twinkle at him, sparkling with mirth, and do not answer.

His back aches from the rough landing, although it’s still better than breaking open against the pavement. A line of heat swoops across his torso, stretching over his shoulder and cutting across his spine.

Danny sits up, hissing when his back peels away from whatever broke his fall. The alley reeks of burnt flesh, a smell not dissimilar to Sunday barbecue. He studies his new burn with a sigh.

His jumpsuit has been melted through, and the skin beneath is a blistering white rimmed with red. Second degree, then, widespread but not deep. He probes it gently, mindful of how sensitive the skin is right now, and traces the burn’s path from his navel to up and over his shoulder. Craning his neck, he tries to see where it ends, but it stretches past his vision. He can feel it, though, burning against the small of his back.

Danny touches his shoulder and hisses. While the burn narrows to a point on his stomach, it stretches as wide as his splayed hand when it crests his collarbone, creeping along the curve of his neck and just over the slope of his shoulder. He breathes deeply through his nose, trying to ride out the heat building beneath his skin.

This wouldn’t have happened if Danny had been paying attention. He tries now, raking his gaze across the sky, then down through the alley, searching for his attacker, but it’s hard when the walls keep shifting and the shadows stretch to impossible depths, filled with a void so dark Danny could stick his hand in and lose sight of the limb completely.

But there is no enemy waiting for him.

Not a ghost hunter, then. They tend to follow the motto “shoot and suppress,” and descend upon him the moment he hits the ground. At least that was his experience the last few times he was struck down by a ghost hunter. They could be trying for stealth, but even through the ebb and flow of stone and shadow, Danny knows he is the only living thing awake at this hour.

Although, living is up for debate. Danny is constantly weighing his inhumanity against the corporeal needs of his body, like Anubis weighing the goodness of his heart. What’s heavier: lungs without air or a stomach that hungers? Eyes that don’t blink but still burn from lack of sleep? It’s a balancing act that Danny still hasn’t mastered with his clammy skin and sharp teeth.

Thing, however, is entirely accurate no matter what side the scale tips toward.

And Danny is searching for a thing. While a ghost hunter would have come for him by now, a plain old ghost is more likely to shoot him for fun and leave before he can retaliate. And they must have left, because he doesn’t feel the telltale shiver of his ghost sense.

Danny’s jaw clenches. Someone attacks him in his haunt and doesn’t even have the decency to play the game right. Someone bold, then, or incredibly stupid. Could be a new ghost, but it’s been a while since someone new really tried fighting him, and ghosts don’t usually resort to potshots; they’re a far too dramatic bunch for that.

Someone familiar, then. Confident enough to hurt him, wise enough to flee, and, in all likelihood, friendly enough to rub it in his face when he’s less inclined to beat them for it.

The list of possible offenders is long.

Blisters are already rising along the deepest part of the burn, clusters of bubbles decorating the centre swath. Danny’s hand is hovering just over the blisters when the name pops into his head.

Ember.

Something clicks. Not only in his mind, but in the alley. A single, sharp noise that echoes between the shifting walls and makes Danny flinch. He looks up, not quite sure what he’s searching for now. There’s nothing to see, anyway. Only the stars, dim as they are. He can’t tell if they’re laughing at him anymore.

Danny’s thoughts take a moment to catch up with him.

Ember.

Suddenly, everything sharpens into focus. The alley walls stop moving. The shadows lose some of their depth. The box he is sitting on solidifies. It’s like the world around him had been caught in a state of flux but is now settling back into place.

“Really, Ember?” No answer comes, of course. She saw her opportunity, got her shot in, and now she’s running away before he can retaliate. Danny’s annoyance spikes. Not at the burn—it’s surface-level, after all, and will be nothing but another scar in a few days—but at Ember’s absence. They have a deal. Her, Danny, and the others.

It’s hardly surprising that she, of everyone in their little group, would leap at the chance to ruin his night and leave him hanging. She’ll probably come around in a week or so to crow about it and check out the new scar, maybe sooner.

The whirlpool in Danny’s mind spits out the occasional thought, but does not tell him when he and Ember are supposed to hang out next, or if they even have plans. Something about guitar lessons? When he dips into the eddy, it threatens to drag him down, down, down to where the static and crackling and crushing earth lies.

What time is it? What day is it?

His phone flares to life when he raises it from his pocket, and the sudden brightness in the dark alley sends a spike of pain through his skull. He groans and drops it, pressing a hand to his temples. A few seconds pass before the throbbing fades.

Blurry vision, dizziness, and confusion.

“Concussion,” he mutters, still massaging his temples. Wonderful. Fantastic. Ember not only roasted him, but also knocked a few more brain cells loose. Just what he needs. He doesn’t remember hitting his head, but that’s not a point against having a concussion.

Looks like this outing is over. Even without the concussion, he would probably stop. Breathing deeply pulls at his new wound. Unfortunately, accelerated healing does not spare him from pain.

He snatches his phone from the ground, steeling himself for the brightness, when something skitters across the back of his hand. Danny yelps and flings his arm wide, phone slipping from his grasp. It hits the alley wall with a crack and falls to the ground, dead.

“Really?” Danny scans the pavement, looking for the spider that startled him, but it’s long gone. “I was very nice to one of you, earlier,” he calls. “Shit.”

So much for texting Tucker or Sam for help, although maybe it’s for the better. Tucker will be mad Danny didn’t go home right away. What time is it, anyway? His phone met its untimely demise before he could see. The dark screen taunts him, a web of cracks branching out from the corner. Another soldier lost in the line of duty. It will be missed.

Maybe it’s early enough that he can swing by unannounced.

No, Danny decides. No point bothering Sam with this, and he doesn’t want to face Tucker’s ire again. Ember’s burns are hell for a moment, but the worst will be over by morning. Treating it now would be a waste of bandages.

He staggers to his feet, giving the world a moment to stop spinning, and glances at the box that had broken his fall. It sits just out of reach of the streetlights, in the exact middle of the alley. Weird place for someone to throw it away. The lid is caved in from his landing, but it still holds most of its shape.

“Thanks, I guess,” he says. Great, now he’s talking to boxes. “Enjoy getting picked up by the Box Ghost, or whatever.”

Danny stares at it a moment longer before shaking his head and taking off, leaving the file box behind. It doesn’t matter, though. The threads are already tied.

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